#that last part was not a pick up line but

[thenevarranaccord]

I disagree completely about Tav. One of the things that made this so clear to me was playing BG3 at the same time as DAV.

Most of the core companions in BG3 are in the “a nobody with some skills,” category, similar to the DAO companions. Astarion and Karlach are runaway slaves. Wyll is a rogue warlock whose noble father disowned him. Shadowheart is noted as a talented healer but seen as entirely disposable by her cloister. Lae’zel is a young, low-ranking githyanki with big dreams. Gale is the only core companion who would actually qualify as “at the top of his field” at the start of the game, and he’s been rejected by his goddess and disgraced. To top it off, he also has probably the most embarrassing (for him) introduction of any companion.

The secondary BG3 companions are more famous and competent, but you have to earn their loyalty by saving nearly all of them, and there is a clear reason why they are not as close to this situation as you are and can’t go where you can go.

It’s very rare for Tav to be set up to look stupid or be the punchline of a joke so that the companions can look smart or cool. Some of the companions might make fun of Tav if they have low approval of Tav, but Veilguard has one companion in particular who seems to go into every conversation looking for a chance to get an MCU-style one-liner at anyone else’s expense, and several other companions will do it to Rook too occasionally.

I can’t think of a single time when Tav was forced to ask a stupid question about something that both Tav and I should already know, just so that the companions can show off how smart they are. For Rook, there are at least a dozen conversations where Rook’s only role is to say, “uh… what?” There are entire conversations with Bellara and Harding where that’s basically all Rook says while Bellara/Harding rambles to herself. Rook is so stupid that they don’t even know what an eluvian is after a year of tracking Solas. It’s not an optional dialogue you can pick; most of these are automatic lines. The game decided for me that my Rook does not know multiple things that I think he should already know.

Halsin does check in on Tav. I think Shadowheart does too. Even without the companions initiating these conversations, though, *you* can initiate conversations with virtually any companion about the Absolute and the Dream Guardian. Even when you have to initiate them yourself, these conversations still make Tav feel more like a real part of this group with real relationships with the companions.

Yes, Tav can be removed from the story entirely and the story will go on. But that’s also true of every companion. You can choose not to recruit a companion, you can drop their approval so low that they leave, you can kill them, or you can let them die and choose not to revive them. This may close off a few avenues for resolving the main quest, but resolving the main quest is still very much possible without any one of them. It’s possible without *all* of them. This is also true of the warden. I believe either Alistair or Loghain has to be a companion going into the last battle, but you don’t actually have to take them up to fight the archdemon with you. Hawke can go into the final battle without anyone except Varric. The Inquisitor doesn’t have as much freedom to kick all of their companions out of Skyhold—many of them have to stay, no matter what—but it IS possible to solo the main quests.

Stopping the Evanuris is not possible without the help of your companions. You are dead in the water without Bellara and Lucanis. It’s implied that you wouldn’t make it past the prologue without Neve. There are vital NPCs that you can only contact through Harding. You can’t do a solo run of Veilguard; the game simply doesn’t give you that option on main quests. Even if you choose to leave your party empty, the companions will still have important things that only they can do during major quests. The one time that one companion can die before the final battle, it’s a necessary death to stop the Evanuris.

Incidentally, I think Veilguard would have benefitted massively from an origins playthrough option. It would have made many of my complaints about Rook moot and also massively improved the game’s replay value.

Anyway, Tav has a number of points within the story where they get to shine all on their own, even if you don’t do a solo playthrough. Tav’s victories feel like Tav’s victories, even if it’s only right to acknowledge that Tav had help; Rook’s victories are all the Veilguard’s victories, except perhaps for escaping the regret prison.

What’s really jumping out at me on my second playthrough is that the writers of the first three games understood that your character was the main character. The Veilguard writers clearly thought that the main characters were their characters, the companions.

Every scene is about setting the companions up as cool or competent or sympathetic. Often, this is done at Rook’s expense. The companions get all the witty one-liners; Rook’s attempts at humor not only frequently fall flat, but are frequently called out for falling flat (even when they’re completely automatic and the player has no say in them).

The companions have all the knowledge and skills; Rook just brought them all together and gives them all pep talks so they can focus. I’m trying to edit out all of the comments where Rook is like “Um… what????” from my videos, and let me tell you, it takes WORK. There are A LOT of them. I can count on one hand the number of times when the Inquisitor or Hawke comes across as dumb, but it seems to be a built-in, unavoidable part of Rook’s character. I have not selected a single “purple” option in all of Act 1, and Rook is still coming across as the kid who tries to be the class clown to cover for the fact that he’s always confused. Rook’s role in most scenes is to say “Uhhh… what?” so that the companions look smart.

Rook is always the one offering sympathy and never the one getting it. No one actually comes to comfort you after Varric’s death. No one asks you how you’re feeling about having to lead the team now that Varric is gone. No one tries to reassure you or give you advice for dealing with the trickster god haunting your dreams. We’re told that Neve could keep Solas out of your head, but she never actually offers to do this for you. No one comforts a Shadow Dragon Rook when Minrathous is destroyed or a Grey Warden Rook when Weisshaupt is destroyed. Rook’s problems don’t matter. Only the problems of main characters matter.

Rook is a secondary character in their own story.

[lyonnerileyauthor]

your orc mechanic 🔧

your car wouldn't start this morning. fuck. but your last mechanic, he always talked down to you, and tried to sell you things you knew you didn't need.

you'd heard about this new guy, an orc, who worked out of his garage. you didn't think orcs were car guys, but you learn something new every day.

you go in, ready to turn down all the extra services he wants to charge you. instead, he takes your keys, pulls the car into his garage, and invites you to take a look with him.

the starter plugs are bad, he says after only a few minutes of poking around the engine. the cost is parts plus labor. he glances at you over his shoulder, and one of his big tusks lifts as he gives you a lopsided grin. actually, I'll throw in the labor.

he must really be trying to make a good impression in town, you think, as he gets to changing out the starter plugs. but he watches you as he works, that grin climbing higher and higher on his cheek.

you might have an oil leak, he says after he's almost done, and points to a spot on the floor. sure enough, there's a dribble of oil there. I can fix that for you, though.

how much? you ask, because you don't have cash to throw at your car right now.

it's on me.

well, that seems rather generous, but you won't turn it down.

he takes off his shirt, exposing an incredibly large body, with a full chest and a thick belly, all of it coiled muscle under a layer of protective fat. you can't help but stare as he drops down onto the floor and slides under your car, his knees parting as he works. the massive bulge between his legs is obvious, even with loose jeans.

jeez, he's packing.

you wait patiently as he works, trying not to stare but unable to tear your eyes away. when he slides out from under the car again, he catches you in the act, and finally he shows all his teeth as he grins.

do you like what you see? he climbs up to his feet.

your mouth is painfully dry, but you have to admit the truth. yes, of course he's absolutely gorgeous. he laughs when he hears it, and closes the distance between you.

I was hoping you would, because I like what I see.

he tilts up your chin with one grease-stained hand, leaving his fingerprints behind and marking you as his. he has to lean down to reach you, and you find yourself rising up on your toes to meet him.

the orc's kiss is fierce, consuming. it's new to you to navigate around his tusks, but they frame your face perfectly as he takes your mouth, devouring you, conquering you. he pushes you up against the garage wall, making the tools hanging there rattle. the lump in his jeans presses against you as his hand ventures up under your shirt.

you explore him just as ravenously, feeling his sturdy body, the tree-trunk size of his arms. without a second glance at it, the orc clears everything off the work table and picks you up by your ass, setting you on it.

show me, he growls low in his throat. so you obey, taking off your shirt, then shucking your own pants. his pupils are huge and blown-out as he unbuckles his own belt, reaching into his jeans to pull out his cock. he strokes it as he watches you.

touch yourself. you can't help but do as he says, finding yourself already wet. his hand speeds up, pre-cum dripping from that green cockhead as he pins you to the table with his eyes.

are you ready? he advances on you, dragging you to the edge. reflexively you spread your legs, and he smirks as he lines himself up with you. I hope you can take me.

you hope so, too.

but you're so slick, so ready for him, that the soft head of his cock pushes through. you grab onto his arms as he continues guiding himself inside you, biting his lip as he tries not to plunge in deep.

what a perfect pussy. the orc grunts as he squeezes even more of that enormous beast inside you. swallowing me up so well.

you shake and moan as he reels his hips back, then slides in even deeper, until he's fully sheathed in you. you clutch him so tight your nails dig into his strong arms as he starts to fuck you. he kisses you, swallowing all of your moans and cries as he sends you spiraling up higher and higher.

then, all at once, you crash to the earth in a burst of pleasure. your scream fills up the garage as he slams into you once, twice more. he yanks his cock out and his cum arcs out, covering you.

your orc mechanic takes a deep, shuddering breath. now you smell like me, he says with satisfaction, rubbing his cum all over you. I guess I had better fix that oil leak now.

[cutiecusp]

Memories, part three.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader.

TW, Memory loss, mentions of PTSD, light fluff.

You watch him as you both enter your shared home together, the tightness in his chest obvious as he scans the room, his dark eyes flitting over all the things that made your home unique to you both before settling on a photograph.

"You look beautiful, cant believe you got me in a suit." He remarks gruffly, staring at the couple in the photograph.

You take the frame off the table, and hand it to him, your smile genuine.

"What's more unbelievable is Soap ate the cake before we even cut it."

You watch Simon throw Soap an annoyed look, the Scot held his hands up in mock surrender, before joining the others in the kitchen.

Simon heads to the mantlepiece, his fingers tracing over the frames, as if he was trying to bring back every memory by touch.

"There's no doubt we look good together." He smiles, picking up a picture of you both on holiday, the sea in the background, your face beaming as you hold a giant ice cream.

"We had to share that ice cream." You quip, standing next to Simon.

Your cheeks redden as you remember all the sugary kisses afterwards, melting into his arms as he held you close.

Simons gaze flickers over your face, taking in the blush, but not remarking on it further.

"And who's this?" He asks, pointing to a picture of himself, with a dog.

"That's Scout, and in the back is Riley." you point out, your eyes soften.

"My brother owned Scout, and Riley was ours, you brought her home-"

"I brought her home from a mission." He finishes, his gaze steady.

"I remember her."

You smile sadly. He could remember your dog, but not you?

He picks up on the mood change, and offers a hand, and without hesitation, you take it.

"Sorry love. I wish i could remember more."

You shrug it off, as if it wasn't a big deal, and while your heart was breaking, you had to remember he was home. So you put on a watery smile, and change the subject.

"Tea?" You ask.

He nods, and finding his way to the kitchen, it allows you a minute to breathe.

Your eyes take in the first photo he saw, you in a white dress, your smile brightening up the shot, your eyes shining and focused on Simon, who stood tall and broad in a black suit, mask off, his eyes burning back into yours with desire and love.

Tears threatened to fall, and at the sound of laughter from the kitchen, you let them. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you cry, your vision blurring out the real world for a minute.

After a few minutes, you feel strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into an embrace. You look up, to see a familiar jaw line, and honeyed eyes.

"He will be okay, petal." Kyle remarks, his voice soft.

You shake your head, how can he be, when he cannot remember the life he's created with you.

Kyle rubs soothing circles on your back. Out of the taskforce, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick felt the most like family, calm, collected, always ready for an adventure, and the one you confided in the most, he was like a brother to you, so it wasn't unusual that he was there to comfort you.

After a few minutes, you caught your breath and took the tissue Kyle offered.

"Thank you, Kyle, i should be grateful he's home, and i am, its just-"

Kyle nodded, his face solemn.

"We are going to give you guys some space, but if you need us, call us, I'm on paperwork duty tonight, so ill be awake."

You sigh, before nodding. You look up to see Price and Soap at the door, sad smiles on their faces. Over the last five years, these men had become your family, and it hit you hard that they must be grieving a friend too. You hug them both, pressing a kiss to each cheek before they head out, a clear understanding that this is the first day of a new life for both you and Simon.

The rest of the evening was consumed by dinner, Simon helping you prepare a basic dish, and asking small questions along the way. The mood felt awkward, hollow, with shallow conversations, Simon caught up with the year without him.

You hide in the bathroom, emotionally strung out. Essentially Simon was a stranger to you now, and while your heart yearned to break down the door and wrap your arms around him, he didn't feel like yours anymore.

You hear him shuffling around in your bedroom, so you go to investigate.

"Jus' looking for some shorts for bed," He calls out, seeing your shape in the doorway.

"I'll take the guest bed tonight, Simon." You say softly, looking everywhere but him.

"You don't have to do that, i will." Came the gruff reply. You look up to find Simon staring at you.

"I know, deep down you are my wife, and you are someone special to me, and i also know that this is a sore situation for you, so I'll take the other room."

You nod, returning to the bathroom, unable to argue with him. All you want is your husband back in your arms.

As you wash your face, and apply your skincare, you notice Simon watching you over your shoulder.

"You still use the vanilla cream?" He asks nonchalantly

You pause. How would he..

"Your dressing gown smells of vanilla in the bedroom. Made me think of cake. I thought the smell could trigger something" He admits sheepishly.

You nod, it had been a favourite of yours, and he routinely brought you more, even on deployment.

"Thank you." Simon says quietly.

You turn around, a questioning look on your face.

"For not giving up on me. For always believing I'd come home."

Your eyes soften, and you nod, unable to speak.

He throws you a smile and heads into the guest room, leaving you to finish rubbing lotion into your skin.

** A FEW HOURS LATER.**

You wake up with a start, a loud noise coming from the guest bedroom, throwing the covers back, you race into the next room.

Simon is drenched in sweat, his eyes unfocused as he tosses and turns in his sleep.

You know better than to wake him physically, so you call to him from the edge on the bed.

"Simon, its me, love. You are home, in the guest bed. You are home. " You chant your mantra a few times, before he groggily opens his eyes, before they settle on you.

"I'm home?" he asks, his voice deep with sleep and fear.

You nod, slowly approaching him.

"Yes, Simon. You are home, its me, you are safe."

You sit on the edge of the bed, watching Simons chest heave, his foggy gaze drinking you in like a cold glass of water on a hot day.

"Love?" He calls, his voice strained, his arms open.

You settle between his arms, your hand stroking his cheek, soothing him.

"I'm here." You assure him.

His breathing evens out, and you hold him closer, your heartbeat settling him.

"I remember the ice cream." he murmurs.

You raise an eyebrow.

"The ice cream?"

"From the photo, i remember it took you forever to eat it, it was when i came home from Paris, and we took a holiday. I remember kissing you after, your laugh as you put some on my nose."

You smile, Your thoughts going back to that day.

"I did, and do you remember the cat we saw, getting all the old ladies to feed it croissants?" You chuckle.

Simon pulls away, his eyes locked on yours, your bodies still close. Your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

"I remember the dress you wore for me that night, love." He remarks, watching you blush.

"I remember it not lasting long on your body." He continues.

His eyes flicked down to your lips, and back up to your eyes.

" I remember a lot, now love. But will you stay until i remember it all, and we can build our lives back together?" He asks, his voice full of vulnerability.

"I promise." You whisper, before his lips press gently against yours.

"I promise you forever."

......................................................................................................................

@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @mims900 @skeletonsucker @vmaxis

[takimakiiiii]

The Adventures of Loverboy and Twinkle Toes ~

lando norris x driver!female & platonic!grid x reader

angst, fluff, more angst with a dash of extra angst + established relationship + breakup 

¡happy ending! dw, i’m not that mean

TW: swearing/profanity, bullying

WC: around 1k-ish?

disclaimer!: not all of these stats are accurate and the timeline doesn’t stick to the 2019 as it had to change for the story also the drivers had to be shuffled around for the story to make sense. basically it’s a big of a mess ALSO THERE IS USE OF Y/N IN THIS FIC

a/n: this has been sitting in my notes app for the last few month cuz i got bored one night at 3am

ALSO THE STARTING IS SO CHEESY SO LIKE BARE WITH ME IT GETS BETTER I SWEAR 😭

also with the driving parts it’s so bad okay I don’t even know what I’m talking and so pls don’t hate on me 

sorry if it’s so bad I just wanted to finally post this so it doesn’t die w me in my notes app

<—————————————————————————————————>

You first met Lando Norris at the ripe age of 8 and my god was he an asshole. A constant pain in the ass, he attended the same private British school you did in Bristol, an academy for only the brightest and well, richest in the country.

Lando Norris’s family was a wealthy and famous one too, it wasn’t a secret. Yours, on the other hand wasn’t, and that too wasn’t much of a secret either. You’d gotten a scholarship to attend the academy after winning a competition. And from the minute you stepped into the school Lando Norris never failed to make you feel like you didn’t belong there. 

You came from a line of mechanics and at a young age your Father got you into karting. And it was clear you had a talent for it.

Well as expected, it didn’t sit well with Lando, you were the only girl. It didn’t sit well with any of the boys who you karted with. That brought along of other things too, you were treated like a boy, something that you’d come to expect whenever you stepped onto the track. The boys would call you horrible names, something such a young girl shouldn’t be hearing, they’d belittle your wins and make you feel like shit.

You were a girl who’d fallen for a boy’s sport. 

Something Lando would constantly remind you over and over again - that you didn’t belong there. Not at the fancy rich academy and definitely not on the race track. Only to make matters worse, he was incredible at karting. By the time you were both seniors at the academy he was already well on his way to the glory of F1.

Yet somehow you both were always the ones battling in that final lap, perhaps that’s what made him hate you so much was because you offered something no one else could:  competition. 

“Hey Twinkle Toes, you’ve got balls coming back onto the track after what you pulled last time.” a voice cut through the silence of the garage.

That same voice that had been annoying you for years on end, snapped you from your train of thought. You looked up and saw Lando pulling his gloves on, looking down on you as you sat on the steps of the garage. Something inside you began to tick, like a bomb about to go off. 

He was referring to your last competition in which you’d pushed him off the track, unintentionally of course but he didn’t see it that way. He’d had a good yell at you afterwards in front of everyone, embarrassing you in front of all the other boys too. You clenched your fists as you stood up, yet his height was unmatched as you glared up at him. You hoped your face was able to match up the words that were about to leave your mouth. 

“Yeah? Well at least I have balls dipshit.” you retorted angrily as you picked your helmet up from the stairs. 

You turned around and he was now closer, a few mere centimetres away from your face. You nearly caught yourself jumping in surprise but managed to keep a collected face as he spoke. 

“If you try that again today you’re going to wish you never stepped foot onto that track. Got it, Twinkle Toes?” his voice was laced with poison as he stared straight down at you. You stared back into his deep green eyes that seemed to glint with a harshness you’d grown to hate. You poked your inner cheek as you bit back an insult, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. 

“Whatever you say, Loverboy.” you replied with a humorous chuckle as you walked past him. You could basically feel the anger radiating off him as you exited the garage, heading in the direction of the track as your pulled your helmet on. 

<—————————————————————————————————>

“What? Do you think you’re better at karting than me?” Lando asked as he lowered himself to your level, you were still sitting at your desk. His hands were down on the wooden table as he glowered down at you. Class had just finished for lunch and to explain it briefly - Lando wasn’t happy how the race had ended that weekend. 

“I don’t think I’m better than you, Lando Norris. I know I am. So why don’t you stop being such a dramatic prick and leave me alone.” you shot back with a smile, knowing that would piss him off. You picked up your books and stood up, he did the same, now towering over you once again. You could feel his eyes on you as you pulled your bag off the chair. 

“You’re so full of yourself, you don’t belong here Twinkle Toes, you never have and you never will. You’re a fucking outsider.” he replied, you swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath. You knew you shouldn’t take his dumb remarks to heart but the words would often eat you alive because deep down you knew he was right. Surrounded by all these rich kids with their rich parents, compared to them you were absolutely nothing. 

“Fuck you, Norris.” you spat, inhaling slowly, looking away so he couldn’t see the tears welling up in your eyes. 

“Go cry about it.” 

And that’s how you found yourself sobbing in the bathrooms during lunch. 

You could hear hushed whispers outside of the stall as other girls walked in and out of the bathroom. You knew they could hear you crying, yet none of them had the decency to even ask if you were okay. Rich British  people were just like that, you guessed as you wiped your face with the back of your hand. 

“Is someone crying in there?” a girls voice whispered in a hushed tone outside of the stall, you could see two pairs of black shoes and white socks from underneath the door. 

“Yeah. I think it’s-“ the other girl replied, voice dropping low out of earshot. There were more hushed whispers before you heard one last remark.

“He’s such an asshole.” 

That, you could agree on. 

There was a moment of silence before a gentle knock came through from the other side of the door. Your heart jumped in your chest as you stared at the stall door, the girls on the other side still unknown.

“Hey girl? You okay in there?” one of the girls asked. You weren’t sure how to answer so you got to your feet and slowly unlocked the stall door. It swung open to reveal two girls, one a tall sun kissed girl with beautiful braids. The other, a pretty asian girl you recognised from French class, her name was Lisa or something. 

“Hi.” you finally said. There was a long dreading moment of silence as you waited for them to laugh in your face but it didn’t come. 

“It was what’s his name, Lanky Norris or something, right? He likes to pick you on, doesn’t he?” the tall girl asked, you instantly liked her. You let out a laugh through tears, the two girls smiled, success clear on their faces. 

“Yeah.” you nodded, wiping your face for any stray tears that still lingered on your cheeks. 

“He’s so annoying, the only reason he’s here is because his Daddy’s rich, ya know?” she grimaced as she crossed her arms.

“You’re also here because of your Daddy’s money, Sandy.” Lisa reminded her with a gentle nudge, you let out a laugh at Sandy’s frown. 

“Okay, calm your farm, girl. I’m trying to insult him to make our new friend here feel better.” she shot back, throwing an incredulous look your way as she shook her head. 

Lisa held her hands up in defence with a grin on her face. 

“Okay, okay. Well, Y/N, let’s get you out of here and get you something to eat.” she suggested. The two girls pulled you out from the bathroom stall and you left the bathroom with two new friends and a smile.

<—————————————————————————————————>

Lando had heard the rumours going around, two popular girls he wasn’t a big fan of had found you in the girl’s bathroom crying. He knew he was the one at fault for that, Lando knew you weren’t as strong as you came off to be. But he always let his pride and selfishness take over because the truth was you were right, you were better than him. And he knew it too. 

And that’s what pissed him off the most is that you were and would always be better than him. Not only at karting, in school and everything else too. 

He guessed he owed you an apology, the hard truth was that he sort of admired your strength, you weren’t as strong as you came off to be because you were much more stronger. He’d seen you be treated badly by most of the other boys on the track, but he was too much of a coward to stick up for you because that would mean his feelings for you would be obvious. If only you knew-

“What do you want, Norris?” 

He stopped in his tracks oblivious to the fact that he’s stopped right next to your locker. His palms instantly became clammy like they did each time he saw you as he attempted to find his words that had gotten caught in his throat. 

“I didn’t- I mean- “ he stumbled on his words, mentally cursing himself as he made a fool of himself in front of you.

You let out a scoff as you shut your locker door with a loud SLAM, gaining the attention of other students who lingered around, their eyes floating toward you both. Lando flinched from the sound, becoming aware of the surrounding eyes.

“Save it. Your words mean nothing but shit to me.” you spat angrily. 

Lando stood defeated as he watched you walk away. His heart was beating loudly in his ears, his mind was telling him to do something, but what? He didn’t know. 

“I’M SORRY!” he yelled at the top of his voice before he lost the courage to do anything at all. Everyone in the hallway stopped to stare at him. If people hadn’t been interested, they sure were now. A scarlet red hue appeared across his face as you slowly turned and walked up to him, a giant grin on your face. 

“What’d you say? I don’t think I heard it the first time?” you held your hand to your ear, propping up on your heels. He let out a sigh, you could be a big pain in the ass when you wanted to be. Yet he could still fell his heart beating ever so loudly in his chest.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled, aware of all the eyes now watching you both. 

“Didn’t catch that, wanna repeat it one more time?” you asked, a smile pulling at your lips as you leaned closer which only made his face redder. 

“Fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all those thing. It was dumb and fucking stupid. You do belong here, hell you’re probably the only one who does, you didn’t use your parents money to get here unlike the rest of us. So, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve all of the shit I’ve put you through the last few years.”

You pulled away, staring him in the eyes you nodded. A silent thank you. 

“It’s alright, Norris. It’s no secret i’m better than you anyways.” you chimed with a laugh. Lando felt his heart flutter as your laugh echoed through the hallway. 

“C’mon, we have English class.” you turned on your heel and that’s all it took for Lando to follow after. 

<—————————————————————————————————>

School passed in a quick intense blur as both you and Lando graduated in no time. A couple months after becoming close friends you’d gotten together, a bit of a shock to everyone at school who’d only ever seen you fighting before. Especially Lisa and Sandy, whom you were still close with despite your busy schedule now.

Your relationship with Lando was going great, both of you had slowly moved from the ranks of F4 to F3 to F2 and now you were both at the age of 19 soon to make your F1 debuts. 

Lando had signed with McLaren, a team he’d had close ties with ever since he was a teenager his father was a close associate with Zak Brown. Lando alongside Carlos Sainz were to be the 2019 McLaren team. 

You, on the other hand had signed with Ferrari, a big dream ever since you were a young kid. You were going to be driving with Charles Leclerc, a guy who was like a god to your family. You’d be driving alongside some of the greatest drivers of all time, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Fernando Alonso and many more. 

It was no secret that you were dating Lando, most of the public seemed to take it well and the media weren’t too concerned with trying to pry into your relationship. One thing you were thankful for. Yet you were oblivious to the fact that it might change once everything started in F1.

You knew with Formula 1 more obstacles would come your way and attempt to break you and Lando’s relationship, you just hoped it would be enough to stand it all.

“Hey love? You alright?” Lando’s voice sailed across the living room of your parents’ house from the kitchen. Your silence when he asked a question prompted him to check if you were okay.

“Yep.” you quickly replied, laughing when Lando poked his head from around the corner for the sole purpose to raise his eyebrows at you. 

“You sure? Wanna talk about it?” he offered, walking over to you and joining you on the couch. You smiled as you pressed up against him, pecking him gently on his cheek. 

“Just thinking about what it’ll be when the season starts.” you told him as he wrapped his arms around you, allowing you to lean against him. His touch allowing a sense of peacefulness in the moment making you believe it would be okay. 

“Me too. It’s kinda of scary isn’t it? Everything we dreamt of is coming true.” Lando mused as he leant his head down against yours. You let out a gentle exhale, “Yeah.”

There was a long moment of calm silence as you both sat there in the comfort of one another. Lando drew circles on your palm with his fingers as you closed your eyes. 

“But. . .?” Lando offered, looking down at you with a soft smile. You chuckled, “You know me so well.” you grinned as you nestled your face in the crook of his neck.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked. 

You let out another sigh as you pulled away facing the tv that was playing FRIENDS. 

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just scared of what might happen to. . . us. You know? I’ve seen what can happen to couples when their lives are shoved into the spotlight.” you held your breath as you looked up at him, awaiting his reaction. 

He gently rested his head on yours again, relieving the tightness inside you. 

“That’s not going to happen to us, I promise, Twinkle Toes. I trust you, I trust us. I always have. Whatever happens we’ll get through it together” he assured you with such certainty it nearly made you believe him. You smiled, he always managed to make your heart flutter no matter how long you’d been together. The chemistry had managed to continue after all these years was unmatched.

“I love you, Loverboy.”

“Love you more, Twinkle Toes.”

<—————————————————————————————————>

“ITS LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO.”

Your heart jumped inside your chest as you hit the accelerator, the car moving forward to your command. It almost didn’t seem real, the loud cheers of the people in the grandstands were one to rival a concert. 

It was the same exhilarating feeling each time you raced, pressure but nonetheless excitement resting on your shoulders. The first few laps went by smoothly, you were in P12 after beginning in P14 after qualifying. Not too bad if you could say so yourself.

Soon enough you found yourself in the second last lap, you were currently in P6 after a spinning out from Daniel Ric took out three other drivers. The commotion after that had lasted quite a while as everyone was forced to wait. But the race still continued,  a certain McLaren was on your tail as you both fought for P6. You were struggling to keep Lando at bay, defence was never one of your strengths. In this case it proved to be a big liability.

The waving checkered flag came around in no time as you and Lando crossed the finish line half a second apart. 

“Who’s pole?” you asked your radio engineer as you pulled off the race track, loud cheers greeting you as you stopped the car.

“Hamilton, P1, Verstappen P2 and Leclerc P3.” your radio engineer replied. 

“Sweet, that’s great for Charles.” you replied, “Good job guys, P6, that’s not half bad.” 

<—————————————————————————————————>

The 2019 Championship went by in a quick exhilarating blur. And so did 2020, 2021 and 2022. Covid posed a problem for a while but everyone managed. Lando and you had been stuck at home focusing on other things, he with his Twitch channel and you on your own things. 

Maybe you chose to ignore it, too focused on your career to pay attention to the cracks that had begun to surface in you and Lando’s relationship. 

So now here you were in off-season awaiting 2023. Both unsure of what to do with each other’s time after being away from one another for so long. 

“Hey, love? You going to come sit down and eat?” Lando’s voice called from the kitchen table. You’d moved in together in an apartment in Monaco not long after your first F1 season. A sense of hopelessness tainted his words, one you chose to ignore. 

“Yep! Give me like one second!” you yelled back from your bedroom. You knew you had to stop pretending everything was fine, it clearly wasn’t and you both knew it too. 

It was the time and the media at fault, something you would constantly tell yourself over and over again. Yet if you really thought about it you could only really blame yourself. There was no use in blaming all of those other things if it was just the two of you in the relationship.

You got up and walked into the dining room, smiling softly upon seeing Lando sitting down already. But the smile wasn’t reciprocated on his face and the one on yours had vanished by the moment you got to the table.

“Y/N, I think we need to talk.” he said gently, looking up at you. You let out a breath one you hadn’t noticed you were holding, nodding as you replied. “Yeah.” you breathed, the shakiness in your voice evident. 

You took a seat across from him and awaited for everything to spill out. 

“What’s been happening? What happened to us?” his simple words hung in silence as you found your own. 

“I don’t - I don’t know.” you admitted, unable to meet his eyes that you knew were filled with disappointment, you stared down at the plate in front of you.

“Then why haven’t we tried to fix it? Is this it? Do you not want to be with me anymore?” he asked, his voice breaking as he looked at you helplessly for your answer. Your heart jumped as you looked up at him, his face breaking your heart as they searched your eyes for an answer.

“No! Lando, of course I want to be with you, I just- I’m scared.” you inhaled, tears stinging the corner of your eyes. Your heart was thumping loud in your chest as you closed your eyes. 

“Scared of what?” Lando asked, reaching his hand across the table to hold yours. You took another breath in. . . and the words slipped out. 

“They want me to take your seat at McLaren.”

“What?”

“No- It’s not what it sounds like, I promise. I just found out, I swear. I was going to tell you when they told me but I-” you stammered as you searched to find some way to salvage from the damage that was now done. 

“When did you find out?” Lando asked, his hand had now retracted from holding yours and now at his side. Your lip wobbled, unable to lie to him you answered, your throat closing in on you. It was something impossible, a change in seats and teams being so close cut to the season? 

It was basically impossible and yet here you were. 

“At the end of last season.” you managed to say as your voice wobbled.

That was well off two months ago. 

You knew you should’ve told him the moment they suggested it to you. It would’ve been the right thing to do but you just could never find a good time to tell him. Yet that was just something you’d told yourself to make it seem better.

Lando let out a scoff, “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, standing out of his chair, a loud scraping noise filled the apartment, dinner on the table long forgotten. You stared up at him, regret tainted your face. 

You stood up too, reaching out for him. 

“I did, I mean I tried to. I just didn’t know how to tell you, they didn’t want me to. I know I should’ve told you. I’m sorry Lan, I really am.” you stammered, tripping over your own words. 

He pulled away from your grasp like you had burnt him. “I thought we were in this together, I trusted us, I thought you did too. But apparently not.”

“No, wait, Lando. Stop, where are you going?” you asked helplessly as you followed him to the door. He grabbed his keys from the kitchen bench, unable to look in your direction as he answered. 

“I have to go. Go somewhere away from you.” 

The front door slammed shut behind him and you collapsed against the wall in a heap of sobs. 

<—————————————————————————————————>

A week passed and Lando didn’t come back home. You called him, texted, all of them going to either voicemail or delivered and unanswered. 

You tried asking the other drivers of the grid whether they’d spoken to him but they all answered with the same thing: that he’d asked them to leave him alone for the time being.

You hated yourself right now. You should’ve told him the moment McLaren offered his seat to you. You had been scared that if he knew he’d leave, and well, keeping it from him resulted in just the same thing you wanted to avoid. 

You wanted to feel mad, mad at him because your selfishness couldn’t help but want to blame him. Yet, you knew it was wrong, the only person at fault was you. So here you sat in the waiting lobby of McLaren, surrounded by so many people who were associates with Lando it made you feel like a fool. You felt as if everyone was staring at you and not only that but judging hard as if they knew what had happened. 

That’s when you spotted him, Lando was walking through the lobby, he was in the same clothes as that night. Your heart dropped as you stood up, unsure of what you were going to say him but you pressed forward. Your footsteps echoed around the lobby as you caught up to Lando who wasn’t yet aware of your presence.

“Lando!” you called, he paused and hesitantly turned around to face you. All those walls you’d broken down throughout the years were now back up again as he stared at you coldly. And it was just like it was back in school, Lando staring down at you as you looked up at him helplessly.

“What are you doing here?” he asked bluntly as he looked pass you, unable to meet your gaze. You swore your heart broke a little when he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Please don’t do this, Lando. I know I messed up. I should’ve told you the second they offered the seat to me. I didn’t want to lose you, I thought that if you knew you’d leave.” 

“Well looks like you’ve lost me either way. I don’t care about the seat, Y/N. I care about the fact that you chose to hide it from me, I thought we were in this together.” his eyes flitted from your eyes to away as he took a step backwards. You could feel him slipping from your heart, you reached forward. 

“We can! Please, I promise we can fix this, I can fix this. Just don’t leave me, please.” the words tumbled out of you only to come out as desperate and pathetic. It was wrong, you knew it too. 

“I can’t do this right now, Y/N. I have to go meet Fred Vasseur at Ferrari.”

“Ferrari?”

Lando let out a sigh, stepping past you as he replied.  

“Yeah. Ferrari’s offered me your seat.”

You felt like you’d been kicked in the stomach as you watched Lando walk out the McLaren doors. Tears slipped from your eyes and rolled down your cheeks as you stifled a sob in your hands. You watched him leave, taking your heart with him.

<—————————————————————————————————>

A couple of months later

“Race in 15 minutes.” a voice called in passing as you sat on the steps of your garage. Your eyes floated around to where Oscar stood next to one of the engineers, both peering down at a screen, jabbing at something on it every so often whilst nodding. 

Oscar was the other driver who joined the grid this year to race alongside you with Mclaren. He was a young polite funny Australian guy and from what you’d heard and seen- one of the best drivers of the newest generation. He’d already impressed you before on numerous occasions when you would go with Lando to go watch the F2 races when you got the chance. The two of you would go watch your old buddies race and join them in drinking afterwards. 

“All good.” you replied, anxiousness creeping its way into your voice as you attempted to banish any thought of Lando. You swallowed hard as you pulled your gloves on, hands trembling as they did before any race. 

It was the first race of the 2023 season, there was a new lineup of drivers, some old, some new. Many of the drivers had transferred teams, this included both you and Lando, Carlos, Daniel Riccardo making his comeback and a couple of others. 

You and Lando had both decided to call it quits after the whole thing that went down during the off-season. The other drivers were aware of what had happened and honestly it didn’t take a lot of thinking to put the two things together. You and Lando had swapped seats at Ferrari and McLaren, and alongside it your relationship had crumbled and fallen apart. Charles and Max, the two drivers you were closest with and looked up to like brothers had also provided comfort, saying they would’ve done the same. But you knew it wasn’t true, they just said it to make you feel better. 

You and Lando hadn’t spoken since the day he’d packed everything up and left the apartment. You’d been absent when he’d left. 

Neither of you had the bravery to reach out yet and neither of you could too busy with other things. Yet, two months later you still missed him, longing for his comfort and endless love he’d given you. It made you feel sick, it all felt so misplaced and wrong. 

Both Sandy and Lisa had provided you with solace and comfort with their weekly movie nights at your apartment with buckets of ice cream. But it wasn’t the same, you still felt like you were missing something. Or someone. And either way, it would’ve been Lando. 

Life just felt so wrong without him. There wasn’t anyone to ramble to each time you came back from work, no one to sit down with and watch corny movies with popcorn with. No one to sit on the balcony with and watch the stars late at night, no one to go on day trips to beach with and build sandcastles only for them to be swallowed by the ocean at the end of the day. 

All of those things you’d found within Lando ever since Day 1. He was the person who kept you grounded, the person who’d stay up rubbing circles on your palms late at night when you couldn’t fall asleep or who would keep you company as you cooked in the kitchen.

And all because of a few dumb thoughts you’d lost it all in a mere few days. If you could turn back time you would’ve gone back and fixed everything. Now the only thing you could do was sit and wallow in regret and self pity.

<—————————————————————————————————>

You felt a soft tapping on your helmet, you looked up through the visor of your helmet to see Charles standing next to you, a wide spread grin on his face. 

You broke into a smile as you stood up, pulling your helmet off. 

“Hey old man, what’s up?” you greeted your former teammate with a hug. His smile dropped, replaced with a grimace upon hearing the nickname from you. 

“Came to see you, you traitor. Can’t believe you’d choose this colour over this colour.” he remarked in disgust as he pointed to your suit and then his own.  You had to admit, the bright red did look a lot nicer than the papaya orange you were currently sporting.

“Part of the job, I can’t say no unfortunately. It’ll grow onto me eventually.” you shrugged spreading your arms out and looking down at the papaya coloured suit. 

Charles clicked his tongue dismissively before his expression turned soft, something you’d seen too much of lately. 

“You sure you okay though? Have you spoken to-“ he cleared his throat, leaning in before whispering, “Lando.” like it was some sort of forbidden word. You bit back a laugh. 

“It’s okay you can say his name.” You chuckled, Charles eyed you suspiciously.

“Are you sure? Because the last time I did you cried for 2 hours.” He answered. 

You swatted him defensively, “That was ages ago!”

“That was last week.”

“Whatever.” You huffed, crossing your arms. 

“Will you talk to him?” Charles asked. 

“Nah, it’s fine though, we can’t talk. Not for now at least.” you told him, but your voice was strained as your eyes flickered around the garage. Charles knew you hadn’t taken breaking up with Lando well. As your “older brother” alongside Max the two of them made it their sole mission to keep you from harms way, that being Lando. 

He looked at you with pity, you caught his eye before scoffing. Wallowing in self pity was something you’d done too many times this year. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Charles.” You said, letting out a huff. 

“Like what, Y/N?” he prompted cautiously. You couldn’t get pissed at Charles, he knew it too. After all, that’s what a big brother did, annoy the shit out of you. 

“That you feel bad for me. I’m fine, I swear.” 

But you didn’t believe the words that came out from your mouth either. He chuckled as he ruffled your hair affectionately before you swatted his hand away. 

“I know you are, petite soeur.”

Your nose scrunched up at the nickname Charles had dubbed you ever since your first season. It meant little sister in French or something like that, you were yet to Google it.

He let out one of his contagious laughs before patting you on the back gently, before leaning in and whispering;

“But seriously, if you want Max and I can push him off the track anytime.” 

“Okay, time to go, old man.” you said as you shoved him out the garage door. He rounded the corner with one last dumb grin and salut. 

“See you out there, petite soeur!”

<—————————————————————————————————>

1 more lap to go. 

You could feel your foot getting a cramp from switching between the accelerator and brake, you could feel beads of sweat rolling down your neck and your breathing was heavy. 

Right next to you, battling for P2 was Lando. Such a coincidence. Thanks universe, you thought as you turned the steering wheel as you rounded turn 3. Max was long gone in the distance probably nearing the checkered flag already leaving the rest of the grid in dust. 

Zhou and Stroll were out already both crashing into the same barriers at turn 7, something you were used to at this point. (IM JOKING, I love them)

In the corner of your eyes you could see and feel Lando closing in on you, pushing you off the track. 

You gripped the steering wheel, turning it in the direction of the Ferrari but he was quick to use this as a chance to slip in front of you as you both rounded a corner. You hit the steering wheel angrily as you watched Lando in front of you. 

A long strand of curse words left your mouth as you crossed the finish line. The FIA was sure to have fun with that.

 Your heart was pounding in your ears loudly as you pulled the car aside to a stop. Your team cheered, you’d gotten on the podium. But it wasn’t a win to you, you’d fallen for Lando’s terribly obvious trap and allowed him to take advantage. You felt like such a fool, he seemed to have that effect on you. 

Thanks, universe, you’re a pain in the ass, you thought as your team surrounded you celebrating loudly. Any thought of Lando disappeared in an instant as you were pulled into hugs from your team and instead replaced with smiles and laughter.

You were pulled up onto the platform next to Max, and Lando whom you avoided interacting with the entire podium stand part. Everything after that was a quick blur until the after race press conference. 

“Here we’re joined by Max Verstappen, Lando Norris and Y/N 

L/N.” 

You forced a smile, honestly the only thing you wanted right now was to be at home eating ice cream with Sandy and Lisa. Or be sleeping, you’d be okay with either of those options. Yet, here you were sitting on a couch alongside your friend and ex-boyfriend in front of a bunch of reporters.

You glanced over at Max who’d thoughtfully placed himself in between both you and Lando. Something you were sure to thank him for afterwards. He sent you a gentle smile, one you returned without hesitation.

The first couple of questions were pretty simple ones, you avoided adding onto Lando’s answers and he to yours and there was no need to. 

That was until a young female reporter took the opportunity to ask about you and Lando’s relationship. Something that caught you unprepared and by surprise.

“So Y/N and Lando,” she began, you could feel your heartbeat spiking as you looked around, every PR training you’d sat through instantly disappearing from your mind. 

“There’s been rumours going around that the seat transition wasn’t something that was thoroughly discussed before the contract signing. Is there something you’d like to add on about this?” 

You swallowed hard as you avoided meeting Lando’s gaze, one you could see in the corner of your eye. 

“N-no comment.” you managed to say.

“Right. So how about you and Lando’s relationship status, there’s been some sources claiming-“

“Okay. I think that’s enough. We’re here to answer questions about the race, nothing else.” Max cut off as he stepped in with a stern voice, one that was sure to make anyone go silent. You prayed to god that no one heard the giant sigh of relief that you let out after Max interjected. You could feel yourself shrinking under the stares of all the reporters and photographers as you sat in front of them. 

The rest of the conference went by in plain awkwardness, answers were now only answered by Max, yet another thing you had to thank him for. 

You finally exhaled as you stepped out of the conference room, Max behind you, Lando had gone out the other door. You leant against the empty corridor wall, head pressed against the cool plaster. 

“That was a nightmare.” you groaned loudly, the exhaustion obvious in your voice. Max let out a sigh as he crossed his arms disapprovingly. 

“That was unacceptable on their side to allow the reporter to keep asking such questions.” Max mused, anger tainted his voice. You let out a laugh as you turned to him. 

“Thanks, Maximilian.” you broke into a grin knowing how much he hated being called that. He huffed disapprovingly, “Maybe next time I wont save your sorry ass.”

“Okay, okay. Calm your farm, pal.” you replied as you both began walking down the corridor headed toward the entrance where there was sure to be a giant crowd waiting. 

“I’ll go get that reporter fired.” Max announced loudly despite it only being the two of you in the corridor. You looked up at him, holding back a laugh despite the look on his face being the opposite.

“Admirable goals, but it’s fine really. I’m sure Twitter will have a fun time tearing her apart.” you waved it off with a gentle smile knowing just how brutal the audience on Twitter could be.

Max chuckled, “Everything else okay though?” You knew instantly what he was talking about, you appreciated the concern, you really did but you could handle yourself. 

Your smile fell, replaced with narrow eyes and a clenched jaw as you eyed him.

“Did Charles put you up to this?” you asked him skeptically, he shook his head. 

“I’m allowed to worry about you too, you know.” he added with a comforting pat on the shoulder. 

“Thanks Maximilian, for everything.” 

“Okay, you can shut up now.”

<—————————————————————————————————>

“Y/N?” 

“One second!” you called, trying to avoid the oil that was spattering into a puddle beside your face. You were currently in your father’s mechanic shop underneath a car working away at it. You were still blowing off steam after the press conference that had happened on the weekend and your father was more than happy to lend you the garage for just that. You knew some part of you wanted Lando to approach you after the race, even if it wasn’t to talk but just to say something, you know? 

But even if he had you were sure how you’d react. 

“Can you pass me the wrench?” you called to the unknown person. You heard a loud clatter of metal before a wrench was stuck in your face. 

“Thanks.” you grumbled as you took it from them, pausing as a shock of realisation hit you. 

Wait, that watch on their wrist.

Your dumbass tried sitting up on the board while still under the car. 

BAM. 

“Ouch, fucking hell.” you swore loudly as you pulled yourself out from underneath the car. Rubbing your forehead in pain as you stood up, before your eyes settled on the person in front of you. 

Your mind blanked as Lando stared back at you. You could see him biting back a laugh at your misfortune. He was in a white shirt, one button too many undone for you to know where this was going. His hands were shoved in his pockets as he stood watching you as you walked his way. 

“Fine. Laugh, you asshole.” you grumbled as you brushed past him. Gripping the wrench in your fist as you held back the strong urge to whack his head in with it. Lando laughed and you’d be lying if the sound of it didn’t still make your insides turn and do flips. 

“Calm down Twinkle Toes, I’m not here to laugh at you. I’m here to . . . apologise.” his tone turning serious, you let out an steady exhale. 

You missed being called that, it was a dumb nickname he’d given you as children, back when you were each other’s biggest rivals on the track. 

Twinkle Toes and Loverboy, a duo to rival Chandler and Joey. Or at least that’s what your dumb asses came up with at the time. 

You let the wrench fall from your grip and onto the bench with a loud metallic clatter, breaking the silence before you spoke. 

“Yeah.” you breathed, staring at the wall in attempt to not let your guard slide down so easily. 

“Want to go for a ride?”

You turned around with a confused expression, eyebrows furrowed and all. Lando stared back at you, heat flushing up your cheeks as a smile tugged at his lips. 

“What?”

“C’mon, Twinkle Toes, let’s get out of here.” he said with a gentle nod of his head in the direction of his car parked outside. 

And that’s all it took for you to drop everything and follow him out the garage. 

<————————————————————————————-—————>

You let out a soft gasp when Lando pulled up at the track where you both used to race on during your karting days. The sun was already beginning to slip back the mountains and buildings and out of view, you bit your lip nervously as you opened the car door. 

Was this right? 

Were you making a big mistake? 

Despite your lingering doubts you followed him onto the empty track. The first few minutes of walking were full of silence, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable despite everything that had happened. It was peaceful of all things.

“I-“

“I-“

You both immediately retracted your words as you both began at the same time. You looked away, “God this worse than that movie we watched that one time.” you murmured with a soft laugh. Lando found himself chuckling knowing exactly which movie you were talking about. 

“Let me go first, then.” he offered, you nodded silently. A long string of silence filled the air, only the sound of your footsteps on the track could be heard. 

“I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Honestly? I would’ve done the same thing. I shouldn’t have given so easily on us, I should’ve given us a second chance. Because bloody hell these last two months without you have been absolute shit. I don’t even know who I am without you, and maybe in someway that’s a bad thing but I don’t care as long as I have you.” he stopped in his tracks and faced you, his dark green eyes reflecting the light in the sunset as it cast its gaze over his face. 

Your hand cupped his cheek softly, your heart fluttering when he pressed his face into your hand, loving how it fit perfectly. 

Just like that it was like you were both high schoolers again. Slipping out of class to steal kisses in the hallways before they were crowded with students. Sneaking out at night through your window to go walk around the streets late together. 

You swallowed hard and spoke.

“After everything happened, my life completely just stopped still. And it felt like I had lost half of who I was because the truth is, Lando, that you’re a part of me. Ever since we were kids it’s like without you i’m lost. I should’ve told you the moment they offered me the seat, I was just ashamed and scared. Because I wanted a future with you, because I still do. I want to marry you, have a family and grow old right next to you.”

You stared longingly into his eyes as he pulled you closer. You fell into his arms as they wrapped around you like your own protective shield. Because the truth was that Lando was your home. You let out a shaky breath, as you pulled back and leant in for a kiss only for your lips to be captured in a gentle motion. 

It was something out of a cheesy teen movie, one that the two of you would just hate - two figures kissing as the sun set in the back of a race track. 

“You’re crazy.” you whispered against his lips. 

“Crazy for you.” he whispered back, sending you both into fits of laughter. This was it, this was right, this was home. 

“C’mon, let’s go home Twinkle Toes.”

“After you, Loverboy.”

A/n: STOP ITS SO CRINGEY I WANNA DIEE

Jk.

Tysm for reading! I apologise again for the bad writing, this is just an old piece that I really wanted to get out there, I hope u cringed just as much as I did reading this! Stay safe and have an amazing day - xoxo takimakiiii (yes I changed my name it was long overdue lol)

[bring-forth-his-sac]

Not sure if this is too far but maybe some dads best friend mixed in with close calls and very rough stuff if ya know what I mean 😏

Stained

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings/Tags:  rough sex, degrading name calling (slut), mentions of a facial, cheating (soz Lucille), alcohol consumption, hair pulling, semi-public sex

It happened again.

By now, Negan knows the routine. Argue. Say shit neither one of them can take back. Lucille kicks him out or else Negan reaches his limit and storms out. Make up later. It’s their pattern.

But tonight is different. 

They were supposed to go to a friend’s house for dinner, which threw a wrench in their usual routine. A part of Negan still wanted to go. Sure, he dreaded the tension-filled conversation, Lucille throwing in her usual passive-aggressive digs, but there was a silver lining: he could vent afterward. He needed to. To someone who’d actually get it, without the sugar-coating.

Negan has been friends with your dad for years, long enough to know they could trade a few sharp words and move on without it turning into some dramatic scene. Sometimes, Negan could really use that kind of blunt, no-nonsense talk with another guy. 

But hell, he wouldn’t mind shooting the shit with you either. You always got his humor and honestly, you were the only one who could make him laugh without trying so damn hard.

Instead of your home, he finds himself at a bar. Lucille was quick to call dibs on going solo to your parents house, not wanting to deal with Negan in front of friends. 

He left without another word, driving to the local watering hole like a man on a mission.

The bar is the usual kind of dimly lit place that doesn't ask questions. Negan doesn’t need questions tonight. What he needs is a drink and a distraction.

He settles onto a chair by the bartop and orders a whiskey, the burn of it going down smoother than he expected.

Lucille’s parting words echo in his head, the sharpness of her dismissal stinging all over again. The way she had shut him down so easily, almost like telling off a child. Negan can feel the frustration creeping back in. He could’ve used a laugh tonight but instead, he’s stuck here. 

Alone, as usual.

On a typical night, Negan hates how quiet the bar is. He can’t stand silences, everything about it gets on his nerves. The patrons are too tight to even cough up a quarter to play a song on the jukebox. It always feels like the kind of place where the air is thick with nothingness and every minute stretches on longer than the last.

Negan doesn’t have the luxury to brood over that on this particular night. Instead, the loud chattering of a group of girls fills the bar, cutting through the silence like a chainsaw.

Just a handful of them crowd around a table, all bright-eyed and wide smiles, laughing as though the weight of the world hasn’t yet found them.

His brow furrows as he watches them out of the corner of his eye. They’re not doing anything wrong but the racket they’re making feels invasive in the normally subdued space. 

Every time they laugh, the sound hits him like a hammer to his skull, ringing in his ears. It’s like a constant, steady hum of disruption. Negan can appreciate a little noise and some new life in the place, but tonight?

Tonight, it’s too much. It’s frustrating him. He takes another swig of his whiskey but it doesn’t quite block out their high-pitched, frantic laughter. 

One of the girls spills a drink, and the others burst into a fresh round of giggles, the kind that seems to echo through the entire room. 

He’s about to look away when another girl quickly picks up the drink and continues to say something. She's sitting across from the others, leaning forward and talking animatedly, her hands flying through the air with each word. 

One of her hands subtly goes to her thigh and she tries to discreetly yank down her dress. 

Negan wonders if women know they don’t need to wear tight mini dresses or the crop tops to get laid. But he supposes that’s the joy of being a  youngster. They do stupid shit, wear stupid shit, drink stupid shit. Some grow out of it while others still say stupid shit and end up drinking alone at a bar.

His eyes flicker over her figure. Negan can’t see her face, the angle of her head and the way her body is half-turned away from him hides it. 

Negan doesn’t mind. He can still appreciate her thighs and the curve of her ass from his seat at the bar. Her hair and back covers most of her upper body too so Negan can’t appreciate any titty action just yet.

His fingers drum against the bar and he catches himself, realizing that he’s staring. He quickly looks away, taking another drink of his whiskey as if the liquid will wash away whatever was just stirred up inside him.

In a way, Negan’s glad you’re not like that. You’re pretty without all the extra shit. Since elementary school, you've never been the type to crave attention or stand out in a crowd. Yet you're not the kind of introvert who keeps completely to yourself either.

You fall somewhere in the middle, comfortable with who you are without needing to put on a show for anyone.

There’s been plenty of times you’ve been the most entertaining thing to Negan at your parent’s dinner parties. He loves the witty remarks you toss his way and how you both quietly poke fun at the evening while the others remain oblivious. Those little moments are the highlight of his night.

But, of course, there are also those other times. When a careless comment from your father or mother hits a nerve and you retreat into yourself, disappearing into the background. Negan can always tell when that happens; the sharpness in your eyes dulls and the sarcastic remarks you usually offer him vanish. 

He wonders if you’ll be disappointed tonight, when it’s only Lucille who arrives for dinner. You make the dinners bearable for him but surely you reciprocate that feeling. Both of you are as thick as thieves in your own subtle way.

The woman he’s been checking out stands, saying one more quick thing to her friends before she turns and heads for the bar.

Maybe it’s because you’re already clouding his thoughts that seeing you in person hits him even harder. He’s imagined you a thousand times, with your quiet demeanor and the casual clothes you wear that make you almost invisible.

The mental image of you is so vivid, it’s like you’ve been etched into his mind… yet here you are, so different than that.

You do the same action that you did earlier, yanking down the end of your dress as it threatens to ride up your thigh. Negan lets out a gulp, not sure how he feels at the fact that he’s been checking out his friend’s daughter.

Turning back to say something to your friends, you let out a laugh as you clog along in your high heels to the bar. 

This is exactly what you needed. A night away from all your worries and stresses… and your parents. 

Besides, you're an adult now. You’re allowed to have fun! Whether that be crazy golf, drinking until you need your stomach pumped or smoking whatever. No matter how much guilt or pressure your parents try to put on you, tonight is yours. You’re no longer bound by their expectations. You can take a break from being the person they want you to be and just be.

Maybe that’s why the words “Lydia found out her boyfriend cheated so everyone was going to go over to hers and cheer her up!” came out of your mouth when you told your parents you couldn’t stay for dinner instead of “We all want to go out and down tequila shots!”.

Whether your actual reasoning would’ve worked or not, it doesn’t matter because they let you out with no more than a remorseful look as you left to help your heartbroken friend.

“Get more salt sachets!” a giddy Lydia calls out as you clip-clop up to the bar. 

You’re so caught up in your own little bubble of excitement that you barely notice the guy at the bar. You wait beside him, leaning on the counter and waiting until the bartender comes over. When you feel his eyes linger, you glance his way, wondering if you’ve found some fun for the night. 

You look over, pre-emptively batting your eyes lashes everything seems to slow down. There, standing just a few inches away, is Negan. Your dad’s friend. 

You freeze for a moment, excuses caught in your throat, as you realize that it’s not just the familiarity of his face that’s throwing you off. It’s the way he's looking at you. Negan’s expression is unreadable but the way his gaze lingers has a weight that catches you off guard.

You try to swallow the sudden lump in your throat. What is he thinking? How long has he been standing there? And why, of all people, did it have to be him?

You hate it. On one hand, you want to ignore him. Maybe give him a nod of acknowledgment before pretending like you’re not in front of someone you’ve known since you were a kid. 

But on the other hand, you know what Negan’s like and the last thing you want is for him to loudly draw attention to your… friendship? 

Ushering yourself closer, you hurriedly whisper “What are you doing here?!”.

Negan struggles to maintain his composure, forcing himself to keep his eyes on your face instead of letting them wander. 

“What am I doing here?” His jaw clenches as if readying himself to barrage you with questions “What are you doing here, dressed like that? Are you drunk? Do your parents know you’re here? I swear….”.

You scoff defensively, glancing down at the glass of whiskey in front of him. “Oh so I can’t go out with friends but you’re allowed to drown your sorrows?”.

Negan doesn’t even entertain your question, immediately waving it off. “That’s not the damn point,” he hisses “I’m not the one with my tits out and stumbling around a bar!”. 

He shoots some other patrons a glare as they try to eavesdrop, making sure they keep their eyes to themselves. You gasp, putting a hand on your chest. Maybe your dress is a lower cut than what you’d usually wear but your boobs aren’t about to pop out of the thing!

“You— you can’t talk to me like that!” despite how your face flushes, you stand your ground. You’ve always known Negan to be raunchy but not once has he ever spoken to you like this before.

"Can't talk to you like what?” Negan doesn’t give you the time to ponder that rhetorical question, crossing his arms as he continues to lecture you.

“You think you look appropriate right now? You think your parents would approve of this outfit?" his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“I’m out with friends, not at dinner with my parents!” You defend, deciding to add in your own jab “Besides, I thought you were at theirs tonight, having dinner with Lucille… not drinking alone”.

Negan can’t keep still. He’s too antsy, wanting to shake some sense into you but trying to stay cool in public.

With an elbow propped up on the bar, Negan points a finger at you “Watch it, before I haul your ass outta here”.

This is the closest you’ve ever seen Negan to real anger. Whenever he’s been at your house, it’s always been the aftermath of it you’ve witnessed. His sullen mood and Lucille’s small comments at him whenever the conversation allowed; both of them handling their simmering frustration in their own way. 

To not only witness his anger first hand, but to have it directed at you… you’re not sure if you want to pout or get on your knees right then and there.

You scoff, trying to seem unbothered. “Enjoy your drink, I’m going back to my friends,” you say it with just enough sass, turning to retreat back to your table.

You know it’s a pointless endeavour. 

Negan won’t allow it. And you know it.

His hand snakes around your upper arm, his grip firm but not painful. "Oh no you don't,” he tugs you back, urging you to face him again “we’re leaving. Now”.

You were hoping for a little more time here, a bit more back-and-forth, rile him up before hopefully breaking down those stubborn walls. 

“You can leave, but I’m not!” you snap, digging your heels in.

He leans in close, his anger flaring back to life as his voice drops into a dangerously low growl. “I’m not asking you, sweetheart, I’m telling you” the pet name slips out like a command, making something tighten in your chest. 

“You’re drunk, you’re dressed like a goddamn slut and you’re not staying in this bar another second”.

Is it bad you can feel the heat between your legs as he degrades you? How is it your dad’s friend, someone you kinda considered your own friend too, is calling you a slut so easily? And why does he keep trying to steal quick glances at your chest?

Heh, well, you know the answer to that last question.

Still, you play your part and you slap his arm. “Don’t call me that! Jackass” you say with a defiant huff.

His eyes widen but Negan doesn’t acknowledge the slap in the way you wanted him to. Instead of continuing to bicker, he grabs his leather jacket from the back of his chair and throws it on, his movements sharp. 

“Jackass?” he repeats, clearly not amused.

“Yes! You’re acting like a major jackass!” you fire back, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in your voice. 

Negan grins, that mocking, almost wicked smile spreading across his face as steers you away from the bar.

“Yeah, and you know what else I am?” he asks “The one dragging your drunk, barely dressed ass out of this bar before you make a complete fool of yourself”.

He starts tugging you toward the exit. “I had like… two drinks!” you protest, stumbling slightly to keep up.

But just as he’s about to drag you out the door, you use all the momentum you have to shove him into the door right next to the exit. 

The ladies toilets. 

Your friends giggle as you both disappear from sight, assuming you’re hooking up with the stranger. They’ve always known you have a thing for older men but little do they know who he really is…

Negan stumbles into the bathroom, his mind still trying to process how he went from the exit to somehow ending up in here instead. His brow furrows as he takes in the situation.

Before he can say a word, you speak, your voice steady but firm “Negan, I’m not leaving”.

He steps closer “Yes. You. Are. We’re leaving. Right. Now”. His hand shoots out to grab your arm, but you’re already one step ahead. You sidestep him, narrowly avoiding his grip.

“No!” you exclaim, more forcefully than you intended. Hoping to get through to him, you soften your tone, offering a sliver of vulnerability. “My parents don’t know I’m here… they think I’m just at a friend’s place” you admit.

Your words hang in the air, a soft confession of rebellion. But Negan’s response is as expected—he rolls his eyes, the action exaggerated as if he’s heard this excuse a thousand times before. 

“I don’t give a fuck if your parents ground you for a year!” He snaps, his voice low but intense “You’re not staying here dressed like that and acting like this”.

“Acting like what? Having fun?”.

His jaw clenches. “By acting like you’re only worth a quick fuck in the backseat of someone’s car,” Negan replies, the words carrying a weight that makes your stomach sink.

The insult stings, but you refuse to back down. With a small scoff, you shake your head and tilt your chin up slightly. “You’re telling me you didn’t do that when you were young?” you challenge.

Negan’s expression falters for a split second, his lips twitching as if he’s about to crack a grin but he maintains his steely expression. 

He exhales sharply through his nose, his stance stiffening. “I did it because I’m a guy,” he mutters, his tone clipped “so it’s different”.

“That’s misogynist,” you point out as you cross your arms, unintentionally making your cleavage more noticeable.

For a moment, you catch Negan’s gaze flickering downward before snapping back up to your eyes, his face strained. 

His lips press together in a tight line, his eyes briefly closing in frustration as he fights to maintain his composure. “Fuck, can you just…” Negan gestures vaguely at you “Cover up or something?”.

Without waiting for an answer, Negan turns away, running a hand through his dark locks. 

You let out a quiet sigh. “I didn’t bring a jacket,” you say flatly, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

He mutters something under his breath, too quiet for you to catch. With a dramatic huff, he whips off his leather jacket. “Of course you didn’t. On top of everything else, you want to get hypothermia too” His voice drips with exasperation.

Negan turns back to you, holding out the jacket, his eyes briefly look to your chest again before quickly darting back to your face, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You catch the slight pause, the way his gaze betrays him, but you choose not to acknowledge it— at least, not directly. You stare him down, not hiding the smirk plastered on your face. Then, in one swift movement, he practically hurls the jacket at you. 

“Here,” he says, the word a little too resigned.

Instinctively, you catch the jacket, but you don’t put it on. Instead, you hold it in your arms, letting it drape over them as you roll your eyes at his comments. 

“I’m not some delicate little flower,” you tease, your smirk becoming playful “maybe I like it rough”.

The words slip out without thinking, a little too flippantly, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

Maybe those two drinks were enough to get you tipsy after all.

Negan’s eyes narrow at you and you can see the gears turning in his head. There’s a flicker of something in his expression. Maybe amusement, maybe disbelief, but before he can say anything, you catch the faintest hint of a smirk forming on his lips.

He steps closer, his imposing frame shadowing you as he leans in. “Damn, you’re something else,” he says, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the overwhelming presence he has, but for the first time tonight, you feel a small shiver run up your spine. 

“Rough, huh?” His words are like a threat, his tone smooth and dangerous.

Before you can respond, his hand shoots out, and suddenly, he has a firm grip on your hair, tugging it just enough to pull your head back. 

“Ow! Negan!!” You whine, your voice a mix of surprise and irritation. Good job at proving you like it rough.

He loosens his grip, but his fingers stay tangled in your hair, holding you captive in his gaze. He stares down at you, his dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You think I don’t notice how gorgeous you are?” he murmurs, his voice low, almost possessive “But this? Telling me you like it rough? Tsk, tsk, tsk”. 

Your heart skips a beat at the admission, and your eyes widen ever so slightly. The words settle in your chest, warm and electric, and for a split second, everything else fades away. 

Negan thinks you’re gorgeous. 

You can barely process it but you don’t get a chance to let the moment settle. His fingers tighten in your hair again, this time with purpose. 

“There’s a difference,” he growls, his voice rougher now, “between making eyes at some random guy at a bar and teasing a man who actually knows what to do with you”.

You swallow hard. His grip on you, the way he towers over you, his scent— all of it feels like a pressure you can’t escape. You can barely breathe.

“And you…” You pause, testing the waters “You know what to do with me?”.

And then, possibly the most un-hot thing happens. A toilet flushes. The sound is loud and sudden, causing you both to freeze. It comes from one of the stalls at the end of the room and it’s quickly followed by the drunken shuffling of feet and a zipping noise. 

Without a word, you and Negan lock eyes, an unspoken agreement passing between you in that single, charged moment. 

“Shit,” Negan mutters under his breath, his hand still tangled in your hair, but now pulling you toward the nearest empty cubicle with urgency. 

“Ouch!” you whisper, batting at his hand and making him untangle his hand from your hair. You barely have time to shoot him a glare before he’s guiding you into the small space, his body close behind you.

Just as the cubicle at the end of the room unlocks, the lock to your cramped cubicle slots into place with a soft click.

For a moment, you both hold your breath. You’re pressed together in the cramped space, his chest against your back, your bodies flush together.

You hear the drunken patron stumble, mumbling something unintelligible as they turn on one of the taps and start washing their hands. You both hold still, waiting for the heavy footsteps to move away. Negan holds you against him, one hand on your waist to keep you close. 

Although that’s not the only thing that’s touching you. 

It’s hard not to notice the unmistakable press of his semi-erect cock nestling against the curve of your ass. It feels firm yet pliant, a promise of things to come. 

Turning your head just enough to look up at him through your eyelashes. He doesn’t meet your gaze, too busy zoning into some spot in the stall door as he listens intently to the patron outside.

His brow furrows just slightly, the lines on his forehead deepening as he focuses. You can tell he's strategizing, weighing up different excuses in case he’s caught in the ladies room. Negan’s lips are pressed together, a slight tension around them, but it's not a scowl. 

Deciding you want some attention, you press your ass back slightly. You hear a grunt.

“You’re not making this easy on me,” he huffs. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he looks down.

Through the thin walls, you can hear the drunk go on their way, their footsteps slowly fading as they stagger out of the bathroom. The door swings shut with a final, echoing creak. 

As if to prove his point, Negan moves his hips forward, forcing his erection against your ass. He’s harder than you thought and you shudder at the mere size of the thing in his pants. 

He makes a quiet, pleased sound against your ear as his hand trails up your waist, teasing passing the side of your breast before settling on the back of your neck. 

“Fuck, you're responsive…” He pulls back slightly, making sure you can still feel him.

“Is that a good thing?” you ask softly.

He chuckles, his voice low and husky. “It's a dangerous thing, darlin,” he squeezes your neck teasingly “Nothing good ever comes from being too responsive... unless you're trying to drive a man wild”.

“Maybe that’s exactly why I’m trying to do” you push back against him again, this time bending your body slightly to really accentuate your ass.

Except all that does is encourage your dress to ride up your thighs again, stopping just before your ass. Grabbing his leather jacket from your arms, Negan tosses it up on the stall door before moving to your thighs.

Negan isn’t a one to waste time, especially when it comes to taking advantage of certain situations. Bringing both hands down to your thighs, he helps you dress by tugging it up in one swift movement. You let out a gasp as the cool, thankfully air conditioned bathroom making the skin on your ass get goosebumps.

“Negan! I-“ you move to turn away so he can’t see your ass but Negan’s one step ahead this time.

 Looping an arm around your torso, he makes sure you keep the squirming to a minimum. With his other hand, he brings it down between your legs and presses a finger against your panties.

He holds you in place, bent at the hips and ass against his crotch. You can feel the dampness of your panties against your heat. The wetness seeps into the fabric, making it stick to the lips of your pussy. 

“Fuck me, you are soaked!” with no qualms about modesty, Negan swipes the tacky panties to the side and gets a feel of your folds himself. 

You stop a moan from escaping, not wanting to be too eager. "Goddamn, you're a sticky little mess, ain't ya? All wet and sloppy, just fucking dripping” he teases your hole, momentarily pressing a finger to it but never dipping inside.

Hoping to gain some control, you go to stand up straight. The thoughts of looking into his eyes as he fingers you is more appealing than your view being the wall of a bathroom stall.

But Negan isn’t as fond of the idea. The arm looped around you quickly makes its way to your back, forcing you to stay bent. You let out a scoff as the side of your face smushes against the wall. 

“Negan, what the fuck?” You whine, blindly throwing one of your arms back at him “If you’re gonna finger me, at least let me enjoy it!”.

“Nuh-uh,” he grabs your arm and presses it against your back, restraining you before he continues his exploration of your pussy “I get to decide how the fuck we do this”.

You quieten down when you feel a finger trace your folds, spreading your wetness around. “You this much of a slut for every guy or am I just lucky?” He asks, chuckling at his own thoughts “Your friends were cheering like this is a usual thing for you”.

Before you can reply, Negan plunges two fingers deep inside your dripping cunt, his thumb grinding against your clit. “I— ah!” You mewl, trying to give a coherent response “N-no, never!”.

Negan picks up his pace, loving how you give in, basically slumping against the wall. “See, doll, I want to believe you. I mean, I don’t know that many sluts that get this fucking wet from just a little grinding… it’s shameful, really” he curls his fingers to hit the perfect spot, making your squirm.

“But in saying that,” Negan continues, his breath hitting against your neck as he leans closer “I don’t know that many modest gals that wear something like this”. 

Deciding you know better than to repeat your mistake and move again, Negan takes his hand off your back and paws at your chest instead. But in true Negan fashion, he needs to up his antics.

Tugging down the low cut neckline of your dress, you hear a ripping noise as he pulls at the fabric and forces it down past your bra.

“Huh… surprised your modest enough to wear a bra” he comments, quickly rectifying the situation. Without warning, Negan roughly shoves the bra cups up, freeing your tits completely. "Fuck, look at these," he growls, appreciating the sight of your breasts spilling out. 

The fingers he has working your hole pause and retreat, much to your disappointment. You take the opportunity to turn around to face him, starting to feeling a crick in your neck from being smushed up by the wall.

“Asshole, you tore my dress“ your voice is laced with frustration, although that may be from how much you want him to stop teasing and fuck you already. 

With an amused scoff, Negan goes to hold up his hands in surrender. His fingers glisten with your juices. “I’m trying to be a gentlemen here, doll” he chuckles as he defends himself.

You fight the urge to cover yourself, knowing that’s what he’s waiting for. He wants to see that shy side, to see you blush and get flustered. 

You glare at him instead “How is this being a gentleman?”.

“Well, I coulda just ripped it clean off, but I left ya some dignity,” Negan smirks, crowding you again. You’re left no choice but to back into the wall, holding your glare as you look up at him.

“And I've fingered ya before fucking ya which is pretty damn noble” he adds, seeing you battle between staying annoyed and wanting to blush. You open your mouth to complain but a loud moan comes out instead as Negan pinches one of your nipples.

He thumbs your hard nipples, chuckling as they perk up even more under his touch. “Damn, always knew you’d have a good pair on ya," he muses “fuckin’ perfect”.

Negan doesn't hesitate, leaning down to engulf one nipple in his mouth. He sucks hard, letting his teeth graze the sensitive bud as he kneads the other breast roughly. Groaning around your nipple, he switches to the other, assaulting it with the same fervent enthusiasm. 

With a grunt, Negan grabs your thighs and hoists you up, pinning you against the wall with his muscular body. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, arms going around his shoulders.

Negan grinds his still clothed cock against your bare pussy, applying just enough pressure to make you whimper. 

The rough denim of his pants provides no comfort, each thrust of his hips pressing his erection directly against your sensitive clit. "You feel that?" He asks against your tit “Want you to beg for it, gotta hear ya saying it”.

You have no hesitation. There is no reluctance to beg for him, not when you’re this close to getting what you thought would always be a wet dream. 

"Please, Negan, I need it!" you beg, your hips bucking against his pants in desperate attempts to get friction. “I’ve wanted you for so long, to fuck me in my bedroom o-or on the dinner table! Fuck, anywhere! I don’t care!”.

That seems to convince him. Reaching down and fumbling with his jeans, Negan has his cock out in record time. He grips the base, stroking it a few times as he lines it up with your soaked pussy. 

The head of his cock presses against your entrance, the tip barely peeking out from between your folds. Negan slowly eases in, allowing you to adjust to his massive size. 

You writhe and moan against him, trying to keep your body relaxed as he enters you. Trying your best to keep eye contact, you let out a string of whimpers as he fills you completely. 

"Damn, I actually fit," he says, stretching you out in a way you’ve never felt before. Negan pulls out carefully, as if testing the waters before plunging back into your needy pussy with vigor.

"Holy fuck, even tighter than I imagined. Built for my dick, aren't you?" he grunts, starting to fuck you hard.

Each brutal thrust of his hips drives his thick cock deeper into your pussy, stretching you wide open. "Fuck, you're so tight it feels like my dick is splitting you in half. Love it. Fucking love it" Negan rambles on and grabs your thighs, spreading them as wide as he can.

"Fuck, Negan... you're so..." you try to speak "ah!”. It’s all too much in the best way possible. That delicious ache of being so thoroughly penetrated, the feeling of absolute fullness with each deep thrust.

"More... fuck me more..." your hips arch up to meet his thrusts, trying to keep up.

Negan angles his hips upwards, hitting that spot inside you over and over as he pounds into you. "Look at me," He growls, "Look at me while I break you in half with my dick. You like that? You like feeling so stuffed?"

“I-I've never been this full before…” you say with teary eyes.

Negan notices your body tensing and shuddering beneath him, your pussy walls starting to flutter wildly around his thick cock. "Holy shit, there it is... Your cunt's squeezin' me like a fuckin' vice. You gonna cum on my dick?".

The pressure is building to an unbearable point, your entire body trembling as your orgasm approaches. Your mind goes blank, unable to answer his question as he hits that perfect spot.

Just as your orgasm hits, Negan feels your pussy clamp down around him like a silken fist. "Holy fuck..." you gasp, back arching as pure pleasure courses through your veins. 

Your entire body quakes, inner muscles milking his cock as you ride out your intense orgasm. You dig your nails into his shoulders, legs trembling uncontrollably.

Negan grunts, fucking you through your intense orgasm with deep, deliberate strokes. He can feel your pussy spasming wildly around his shaft, coating him in your slick arousal. As the last waves shudder through you, he finally pulls out, his cock glistening with in the light.

He lets you stand for a moment but you legs are so wobbly, it’s difficult to support your weight after that intense orgasm.

Before you can even catch your breath, Negan grabs your shoulder roughly and forces you onto your knees. Your body complies in an instant, unable to fight against such force.

Your knees ache as they hit the bathroom floor but that’s the least of your concerns. You look up at him in wide-eyed shock, lips parted as you anticipate him coming all over your face.

"Fuckin' hell, such a pretty face..." He strokes his throbbing cock with his fist, ready to explode.

But instead of aiming for your face, Negan aims his cock at your chest, unleashing a thick, hot load of cum all over your tits. He groans loudly as he paints your breasts with his seed, the warm liquid dripping down between your cleavage and seeping into the fabric of your dress.  

“Next time you’re either swallowing it or you’re getting a facial courtesy of yours truly” he informs you, although the only piece of information you truly savor from that is ‘next time’.

Doing the gentlemanly thing, he grabs some tissue from the toilet paper dispenser and hands it to you. You dab at your chest, knowing the dress is a lost cause and will probably have to be thrown out later. 

“Help me up?” You ask, somewhat shyly once you’re done.

Taking your arm in a much more gentle grip than before, Negan helps you up, subtly looking over your chest to make sure you’ve wiped off all of him. “You feeling alright?” he asks lowly, as if remembering the public place you’re both in. 

You blink, giving yourself a moment to calm, your body still humming with the aftermath. “That was…” you pause, collecting your thoughts, “...wow.”

A soft chuckle rumbles from his chest, and he slips his leather jacket off the stall door. “Well, that’s a better response than I expected,” he says with a smirk, draping the jacket around your shoulders and gently guiding your arms into the sleeves. Without a word about how the jacket nearly swallows you whole, he zips it up, pulling it snug to cover your chest. 

This is a completely different side to the Negan you’ve seen tonight. This is the Negan that gives you a small, reassuring smile after your parents throw some off handed insult your way. 

The two of you stand close, your breaths mingling. Slowly, the space between your faces narrows, as if drawn by some unspoken pull. You gently tilt your head, just enough to bring your lips into alignment with his. 

The kiss is a tender brush. Featherlight and hesitant. It’s the kind of kiss you’d expect before going at it like a bunch of animals… not afterwards.

The kiss lingers, still tasting of warmth and something unspoken. Pulling back just enough to rest your forehead against his, you can feel the soft touch of his lips still tingling on yours. You mutter against his lips, almost sheepishly “Can you drop me home?”.

His lips curl into a quiet smile, a slight glint in his eyes as he nods. “Considering I didn’t get to finish my first glass of whiskey, yeah I should be good,” Negan gives you a playful look.

Unable to help yourself, you give him a small smile. It’s not as seductive or teasing as the ones you have given him previously. In all honestly, it feels like Negan has fucked the seductiveness out of you– if that’s even possible.  

“... So this wasn’t some drunken mistake?” you ask coyly. 

Negan wraps an arm around your shoulders as he unlocks the stall door and carefully guides you out. ”Wear a dress like that the next time I’m at your parents for dinner and you’ll find out” he replies with a smirk. 

Besides his tousled hair, Negan still looks fine. He’s not dishevelled or out of breath or having trouble walking… all things you attribute to yourself.

Negan notices your state too, keeping his arm around you as you subtly leave the bathrooms and head for the exit. If it’s even possible, Negan pulls you closer, guiding you out like a drunk that’s had one too many. His presence is possessive in the gentlest of ways.

You give your friends a knowing look as you both leave, one that says you’ll explain everything later.

The sound of drunken chattering and laughter fades as you step out into the night, the streetlights casting a soft glow on the parking lot. 

When you reach the car, he opens the door for you with a small smirk, his eyes never leaving yours as you slide into the seat.  A few moments later, Negan slides into the driver's seat and the engine rumbles to life. 

The car doesn’t even get out of the parking lot before Negan’s hand finds yours. The ride home is quiet. He doesn’t say much, and neither do you, but the silence between you feels relaxed.

Every now and then, his thumb gently brushes across the back of your hand like a quiet reassurance. He doesn’t mention the contact, simply letting it linger. 

 The soft, rhythmic motion of the car becomes like a lullaby and with every mile, the weight of the night lifts just a little more. Every so often, you glance over at him, his face relaxed. When your eyes meet, he offers a smile and you sleepily return it.

Negan doesn’t pull up directly outside your house. Strategically stopping his car a little down the street, he sighs.

“Hate to say it but I’ll need that jacket back,” he gives you a once over, as if to memorize what his leather jacket looks like on you.

Fiddling with the zipper, you mumble “So I’m supposed to walk in there with a ripped up dress?”.

He laughs at that, shaking his head before reaching into the backseat. “Here, I know it’s dirty but it’s the best I can offer,” Negan hands you a sweatshirt. 

The sweatshirt is faded, its fabric softened from years of use. The sleeves are slightly frayed at the cuffs and a few small holes hint at its age. On the front, several dark oil stains mark where hands have wiped off grease, probably from Negan when working on his motorbike. 

But most importantly, it smells like him.

As you take off his jacket and put on the sweatshirt instead, Negan gives you some privacy and looks away. “Are you coming in too?” You ask, gently placing his jacket on his lap once you’ve changed.

Taking that as his signal to look, Negan gives you a sympathetic smile. “Not tonight, darlin,” he replies “think Lucille would chop my nuts off with your mom’s fancy silver if I showed my face”.

“You two are fighting that bad?”.

Negan shrugs “Same old, same old”.

You try not to fidget with the frayed sleeves of his sweatshirt, not wanting to pick at it right in front of him. 

“And… this?” You focus your attention at simply inspecting the sleeves instead of picking at them “I mean, I know you said it wasn’t a drunken mistake but still… I get it if you wanna pretend like it never happened”.

As much as you wanted quick reassurance, you’re met with silence. 

Negan leans back in his seat, taking his eyes away from yours and looking at the street. Up ahead, he can see the porch light on to your parents house. Although, he doubts Lucille will be leaving anytime soon. She’ll probably stay late, try to wait it out until Negan has drank himself silly and fallen asleep.

“Tonight shouldn’t have happened,” he says with little emotion “It ain’t right. I know it. You know it. Hell, anyone in a ten mile radius would call me all sorts of names if they knew about it…  fucking your friend’s daughter is a whole mess”.

You stay quiet, unsure whether you should just get out now.

“But shit, if you wanted to suck my dick right now, I wouldn’t say no,” he chuckles “it’s a fucked up thing to say but I wouldn’t mind something like this happening again”.

That puts a smile back on your face. Getting ready to leave, you say “Maybe if you come to dinner next time, I will suck your dick”.

Negan watches you with narrowed eyes. Of course you’d be able to make his dick twitch again, making him feel like a teenager that could get it up over and over again. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” he warns as you get out.

“Good,” you hop out of the car, giving him one last flirtatious smirk before going “I hope you do”.

Closing the door, you strut along the pavement, your heels clicking as you go to your house. Walking has never seemed so hard, not only because of your shoe choice but from the aching in your gut and your legs wobbling more than you’d like to admit. 

Still, you try to do your best to walk straight, knowing Negan is watching. 

When you get to the front door, you give Negan one last glance before disappearing inside. He wait a few moments before starting up his car and leaving. 

The first thing you hear is a chorus of polite laughter from the dining room. Great, looks like they’re still in the midst of dinner. Before you have a chance to debate if you could get upstairs without them hearing, you hear your father call out your name.

“Is that you?” He calls out.

Reluctantly, you walk in, lingering by the doorway. Your parents to turn in their dining chairs to face you. Whereas Lucille has you right in her line of view. She offers you a gracious smile as you enter.

“I thought you were staying at Lydia’s tonight,” you mom says, eyeing your sweatshirt and what appears to be a skirt. Thankfully she doesn’t comment on how short it is.

“Eh, Lydia talked things out with her boyfriend so they’re back together again,” you lie casually “you know how they are; fight, break up and make up”.

Lucille casts her gaze down slightly, as if your words hit a little too close to home for her. You shift uncomfortably. 

“There’s some leftovers in the kitchen if you’re hungry” your mom says, blissfully unaware.

“I’m ok,” you give her a smile “I think I might just shower and head to bed early”.

“Alright,” she already waves you off, turning back in her seat “if you’re sure”.

You don’t linger, giving them a polite nod before leaving. It’s only when you turn to leave does Lucille look at you again. 

She’s never believed in coincidences. And she’s never believed you to be into repairing cars. She knows the faint stains on your sweatshirt, mainly because she’s the one who spent hours trying to scrub them out… only for Negan to reward her with new stains on the damn thing. 

Nodding along with whatever it is your father is saying, Lucille’s mind strays further and further from the dinner and to Negan instead. 

Something’s happened. What exactly, she’s not sure. But you’re involved and so is her damned husband.

—————

A/N: thought I’d put in a quick note just to say thanks for reading and apologies for disappearing all month! My family almost got scammed out of 11k (it was insane) but!! More importantly!! I got seriously bad writers block so apologies if this fic is a little choppy, I’m still getting back into my stride!!

[giuliettagaltieri]

Trouble in Paradise

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Chapter Synopsis: It's not always perfect with him.

Warning: Talks about fertility awareness and pregnancy, lifestyle differences.

Word Count: 4075

Chapter: 4

“For someone who lost the love of his life and his career in one day, you sure have a sunny disposition.” 

Charles watches you pull a grocery cart, clearly not aware that your words weighed a little heavier than you meant.

“She’s not the love of my life.  The worst has already happened and I don’t want to dwell in it anymore.”  He mutters quietly but his dimples deepen at the playful quirk of his lips, making you purse your lips.  “Charles Leclerc the F1 driver is gone now and as for the moment I just want to live without the burden of my name.”

You bite your lip this time, watching him as he places the basket on the bottom tray of the cart.

“I’m sorry.”  You bite your lip, your hands immediately fumbling with your bag and Charles notices it.  “I shouldn’t comment so carelessly about your persona-”

“Sweetheart.”  He cuts you off.  “If anything it’s me who should apologize.  I dragged you into my mess and I’m making myself your burden.”

Your eyes widen and you raise your hands as if asking for a double highfive, he glances at your palm when you shake them side to side erratically, trying to dismiss his statement.  “Charles, don’t think for a moment that you’re a burden.” 

He’s about to protest but you cut him off this time.

“I was willing to let you in that night.  And today, I made the decision to let you stay.”  You sigh when he still looks unconvinced.  “Just think of me as a friend.  Friends do stuff for each other, right?”

“I think we’re a bit over friends by now but sure.”  He nudges you gently with his body so he can push the cart instead, his smile widening a fraction and it just infects you for some reason.

“Charles, I’m trying to be serious.  Don’t laugh at me.”  You say as small laughs escape you.

“Alright then.  I’ll consider this as a favor from a friend.”

“Yes!”  You point a finger at him as if he hit the jackpot.  “Not a burden.  Just a favor.  PLUS!  You’re keeping me company, and I quite enjoy it.”  You mumble the last part, avoiding his eyes as your cheeks flush.

He quirks up an eyebrow, his easy smile becoming teasing.  “Of course you enjoy it.  I’m pretty good company.”

Rolling your eyes, you start picking out the groceries and he watches your selection and knows immediately you’re not exactly trying to save money.

“You can pick out a few ingredients or snacks if you want.”  You tell him and his eyes immediately flit to the line of refrigerators in the corner.  You don’t miss when his gaze linger on the ice cream section.  He tells you that he’ll do it later.

Charles stands there as you try to reach for a bottle of olive oil on the top shelf and he enjoys watching your struggle before he gives in and reaches it for you.  “Could've asked for help.”

“Excuse me, I’m perfectly capable of getting that myself.”  You say sassily, with your hands finding your hips but your act wavers when he leans close to you, a hairbreadth of distance keeping your noses from brushing.

“Of course, whatever you say, sweetheart.”

Your eye twitches and he leans back, standing on his full height, forcing you to crane your neck to look at him.  And Charles proves his point.

“My height is average!  You’re just slightly tall.”  You argue, feeling the need to justify your height.

He yawns as he pretends to clean his ear with his pinky.  “What’s with the squeaking?  Maybe the mall should call an exterminator.”

Charles laughs when your cheeks puff.  Reminding him of those sticky rounded sweets he had in Tokyo.  He calls you the exact same thing in French and you don’t know if you should get mad, because you feel like you definitely recognized a word in his sentence but you couldn’t be sure as you don’t speak the language.

You huff this time, marching off to the next aisle.  “You just wait, Charles Leclerc.  I’ll kick your butt with Duolingo.”

He observes that you systematically choose the items, even constantly checking on your phone, looking quite oblivious to the world around you...and the casual stares you get here and there.  Charles looks at you.  Really looks at you.  You’re not the conventional pretty that he usually sees in his world but you have this charm that really drew him in, even last night too, and he was drunk out of his mind.

“Do you prefer wine or beer?”  You ask and he rubs his chin.

“Mh….both.”

You like his style.  

You put a small box of beer cans and a few bottles of wine in the cart.  “We’re not allowed to get drunk together though.”

Charles nods slowly, looking at you thoughtfully.  Ah…so you don’t have any interest in having that kind of relationship with him.  You said it yourself earlier too.  Friends.

“I also need detergent liquid and fabric conditioner.”  You mutter to yourself.  “Oh and your snack.”

“I’ve decided on ice cream.”  He informs you.

“Sure thing.”

Charles watches as you scan each item as he arranges them in the grocery bag.  He grins when you give him the ice cream tub last so he can eat it as you leave.  You also get a small treat of your own, happily munching on it as you walk side by side.  He looks like a child, pushing the cart filled with grocery bags as he eats on the vanilla ice cream he eagerly chose.

“I can push the cart while you eat.”  You tried to offer but he swerved the cart away from your hand, his reflexes nearly startling you.  “Calm…down, man.”  You gape at him and he only scoops more ice cream to his mouth.

“Ayh ghot et.”

You let him be as you enjoy your own snack.  You also watch him load everything in your trunk since he insisted.

“The meat?”  He asks and you pull out a retractable basin and he seems impressed.

“I take care of my baby.”  You pat your car with a lazy smirk.

He hums, the thick accent coating his words after.  “Yeah, pretty good condition.  How long have you been driving her?”

“A little over a year.  So I think she should be in good condition or I would have been a pretty shit owner.”  You chuckle.  Shit owner.  Charles nods wordlessly, reflecting on how he can destroy a car in a single race.

“Right.”

He finishes loading the groceries along with his stuff and almost heads to the driver’s seat before backtracking and going the other way.

The ride home was not as eventful.  You play as a tour guide and point at historic buildings, telling him briefly what you learned from the time you also got a tour of the town.  Charles finds out that the road around town isn’t that complicated and he can easily commit it to memory. 

The area is not bustling but it also isn’t deserted, unlike that night when he first arrived.  The place looked like a ghost town then, with its eerie fog and flickering old fashioned lamp posts.

“How come your apartment doesn’t have cobblestone streets?”  He asks out of curiosity.

“Some of the apartments at the edge of the town were built a little later than the town center.”  You grin quickly at him before turning back to the road again.

He peers out the window and onto the road.  “It’s like we’re in some sort of Victorian drama.”

You laugh.  “It’s one of the reasons why I moved here.  Plus the beach.”

Charles listens in, liking how you’re openly sharing about yourself without being asked.

“It sucks sometimes though, when a stone is dislodged or when it rains or snows.”  You add.

“Gets slippery.”  He finishes for you and you agree, chuckling.

“It’s slowly sinking in that you are what you said you are.”

His eyes widened, immediately looking defensive.  “I am what I said I am!  You searched me.  It’s on Google.”

“I know but you’re just Charles to me.  Not some Monégasque F1 superstar.”  You say gently and he looks at you, surprised at your ability to make him feel things he never had before.  “And just someone playing the passenger princess.”

Oh no, you didn’t.

He looks at you in disbelief but his lips are quirked up.  “No, no.  Get out of there, we’re switching seats.”

“No!”  You immediately laugh when he starts spewing, what you can only interpret as French curses.  “This is my car, don’t take off your fucking seatbelt, dumbass!”  You yell as you clumsily grip his wrist, laughing at the chaos ensuing inside your car.  “Stop it!  We’re gonna crash!” 

He keeps trying to explain how he is NOT a passenger princess and that he has no problem driving if you just let him.  When he almost sounds begging, his hands make those huge gestures again as you tear up in laughter. 

“Sorry, I didn't know it was sensitive.”  You chuckle as he calms down a bit but he still keeps talking, his English breaking when his native language slips in on his sentences.  “Is it like an alpha male thing?”

This makes him look at you weirdly.  “What?”

“Alpha male?  Or what do they say now?  Sigma boy?”  You raise both brows at him briefly, grinning from ear to ear.  “Are you one of those guys, Charles Leclerc?”

He visibly cringes not knowing what to make of the stuff you’re saying.  “That’s fucking stupid.  I don’t even know what that means.  You are very weird.”  He says while side eyeing you.

“Yeah this is the catch when you live with me.”  You say, attempting to sound cool and obviously failing.  “You get to deal with my weirdness.”

He shakes his head, his hand covering the smile on his lips under the guise of smoothening his growing stubble.  “Is this going to be what everyday looks like with you?”

You suddenly glance at him in your normal calculating eyes.  “Not really.  That was just a sudden burst of energy and I will proceed to ignore you for the next three hours now.”

Charles narrows his eyes at you dramatically.  “You’re like a cat.”

“Thanks.”  Nobody told you that before and you don’t know if it’s a compliment or if it was supposed to insult you.  “Seriously though, I need my social battery constantly recharged so you should cherish it when I’m being playful.”

“Minette.”

“What was that?”  You turn to him briefly before slowing down when you arrive at your driveway.

He shakes his head and steps out of the car when you finally park it. 

Charles was quick to head to your trunk and he insisted on taking the grocery bags.  He actually manages to carry every single bag and you’re impressed.  It usually takes you at least two trips to carry two weeks’ worth of groceries, and that was just for one person too.

“I can help.”  You jog after him, watching how his tendons pop out of his arms, making your throat go dry for a moment.

“Just open the door, babe.”  He tells you and you falter in your steps before doing as he says with your tummy fluttering lightly.  “Where’s the kitchen again?”

“Huh?”  You ask dumbly.  “Uhm, over there.  You can place them on the counter, thank you.”  You say a little meekly, still disarmed by his sudden endearment.  You watch his back as he disappears in the kitchen.

“He’s a French guy…it must be natural for them to be endearing.”  You try to reason out before following him to the kitchen to place in the freezer the variety of meat you bought.  “I’ll wash your clothes for you so you can shower.”  You offer and he tongues his cheek.

“No, just teach me how to do it.”

You beam.  “Alright.”  You lead him to your laundry room, tell him which buttons to use and how the cycle goes.  He impresses you when he does it flawlessly when you tell him to try on his own.  “Good job.”  You hum, clearly impressed.

“Oh please, I am not that helpless.”  He rolls his eyes.  And he glances at your feet and does a double take before he jolts in surprise.  “Fuck!”

You glance at your feet, already have felt Lily’s fur.  You bend down to pick her up and you let her face Charles.  “This is my baby, Lily.”  You gently take her paw to wave at Charles who still looks at your cat like it was a spawn of evil.

“Why is it so huge!”  He asks and you immediately take offense.

“I…excuse me, she is the perfect size!  Lily is just fluffy a-and has…big bones!”  You are ready to throw hands if he insults your baby again.

Charles exhales softly and meets the bored feline eyes.  “She looks angry.”

“She always looks angry.”  You coo.  “Don’t you, honey?”  You hug her a little tighter and the cat just stares off into space, letting you do your antics.

“I don’t know.”  Charles laughs nervously.  “Does she scratch and bite?”

You bubble your cheeks before an idea pops into your head.  “I know!  Let her sniff your… scent for now.”

He reluctantly touches his hat.

“I think it’s good if you let her get accustomed to your scent and presence before you start trying to befriend her.”  You mumble, sounding unreliable but it does sound like an okay strategy so he tries it.

Charles takes off his hat and lets Lily sniff it and for a moment she sniffed eagerly at the foreign scent before she turns her nose away, already losing interest.  She hops off your arms and trots to the doorway and you both watch her silently and disappointedly before Lily meows angrily at you.

“Oh!  Her breakfast!”  You hurry to your kitchen to open a can of wet food for her.  “I’m so sorry.”  Your cat meows sharply before eating and ignoring your pets.

“She’s sassy.”  Charles comments as he crosses his arms, looking at your cat.  Kinda like you.

You pull off your scarf and head to the bathroom to clear a space for him.  You give him a towel and tell him to use the small closet in the laundry room for his clothes.  Charles quickly settles in your apartment thanks to your warmth, even going as far as giving him something that he can call his.  He bounces a bit on your fortunately large couch and hums his approval, yeah he can sleep in this thing.  He hears you in the kitchen, organizing the grocery in the pantry and fridge.  He offered to help but you told him to relax on the couch.

The doctor did say to let him rest and to keep him in close monitoring.

Charles does his laundry while you busy yourself with other chores.  Because it’s your house and he feels like you earned it after moving around, Charles tells you to shower first, refusing to budge and insisting on it when you try to argue.  You can be quite stubborn so he guides you to the bathroom, himself.  The brief glance he makes on your pelvis confirms that he does remember what mess he left in there.

When you step out, looking refreshed, he is waiting right outside your bathroom door like he did this morning but he had fresh clothes draped on his arm this time.

“Were you standing there the whole time?”  You chuckle but his face is etched with a different kind of seriousness that you throw any other jokes that come to mind out the window.

“Y/N.”  Your name rolls in his tongue with the thick French accent you’re starting to get used to.

“Yeah?”  You whisper as you meet his eyes.

He sucks his teeth and sighs loudly, looking unsure how to start the conversation.  “I just need to ask you something.”  He clears his throat and rubs his neck, your eyes following all his nervous habits.  “I mean, we slept together, and we did it without protection.”

Oh…it’s that kind of conversation.

You smile sweetly at him.  “Come with me.”  You lead him inside the bathroom where the scent of your body wash fills his lungs as it hangs heavy in the air, he can almost taste your skin on his tongue.  You show him a tiny table calendar resting on the countertop, it sits next to your bathroom products.  He snaps out from his thoughts and watches as you flip it to the previous month where red exes mark some of the dates.  “These are the days when I got my last period.”  You flip it back to the month now.  “My next cycle should be around here.”  You point vaguely to a few dates and your finger traces the calendar backwards, stopping to point to the date today and yesterday.  “It’s a safe window.”

He looks at you to confirm.  “So you won’t get pregnant?”

“No.”  You smile understandingly as he slowly grasps it.  “Sorry, we probably should have talked about it sooner but you know.”

Charles nods before straightening up, feeling relieved to get it out his chest.

“I mean, you’re a great person.”  He tells you quickly, looking almost afraid that he might have insulted you at some point.  “I just…not yet.”  He smiles softly, bringing out his attractive features, and his dimples make your heart skip a beat.  For a split second you wondered what it would be like to have a kid that has his eyes but you manage to not make a fool of yourself in front of him and instead, you nod, feeling the same as him.

“Well, me too.”  You smile tightly, feeling a little flustered and awkward to be talking about these stuff with him suddenly.  “So uhm…”

“Yeah.”  He says, quickly understanding and he steps back to let you through.  You close the bathroom door for him and he glances at your calendar again.  He reaches for it and hesitates as it was personal but he lets the voices in his head win and he flips through them.  Your cycle isn’t as consistent as he thought but considering you did point to multiple dates earlier, he guesses that it might not be an exact date all the time.  “Come on, Charles.  She said it’s a window.”  He reminds himself.

You on the other hand are still pacing in your room, throwing on the first set of clothes you saw, still trying to shake off the effect he had on you.  Charles is a very goofy guy but he no doubt is able to make you swoon without even trying.  You fan yourself with your hand despite the blasting ac.

Charles Leclerc.

Just who exactly is that guy?  You hop on your bed and reach for your laptop, cursing when you drop your airpods, you refuse to get up from your bed and blindly sweep your carpet floor with your hand, constantly glancing at your closed bedroom door as if Charles would burst in at any moment.  You finally manage to grab your airpods, quickly opening Youtube.  “Cha..rl..es…Le..c..le..rc...oh! And F1.”  You jab your finger at enter.

For you don’t know how long, you just watch the shorts with Charles on the F1 channel.

“He’s funny.”  You giggle.  “And an idiot.”  A hot idiot at that.

A knock on your door pulls you out from whatever is running through your head and you slam your laptop close to open the door for him.  He looks at you suspiciously as your chest heaves, looking absolutely guilty.  Charles glances inside your bedroom before looking at you again.

“Can I have one of your granola bars?”

Lunch!  “Oh my, I lost track of time.”  You push your way through and you quickly hand him a granola bar once you get to the kitchen.  “I’ll make us lunch.”

Charles sits on the barstool and watches you make a quick mac n’ cheese.  It’s entertaining how focused you can be.  He thanks you when you place the bowl in front of him but to his disappointment, you leave for your bedroom.

You come back shortly with your ipad this time.  He watches you work on something he has absolutely no idea about.  You feel his heavy gaze and you slowly look at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I’m being rude.”

“Well, kind of, yes.”  He smiles kindly and you immediately set your ipad aside. 

“Sorry, I just needed to contact my suppliers.  Usually, I’d be working in the office by now.”

He understands that you probably haven’t had someone over since forever to disrupt your schedule and nods understandingly.  “Oh yeah, you mentioned it earlier.”  He tries to start a conversation.

“Yeah and it's Sunday so I don’t have much time as I need to meal prep for Monday to Wednesday.”  You explain.

“Meal prep?”  He shifts weirdly and you don’t understand it until he asks.  “You mean you eat the same refrigerated meal that you make days before?”

“Well, I always heat them up real well though.”  You argue but he looks resigned from the conversation.  “Don’t judge me.”  You playfully punch his shoulders and he looks at you again.  “It’s still a normal meal but it saves me so much time.”

“I don’t know.”  He tells you honestly and turns back to his food.  It sounds so practical especially with your schedule but it just doesn’t appeal to him.

“Unless I wanna eat take outs for three days, I have to meal prep.”  You say, feeling slightly offended now.

“It just sounds boring having to eat the same meal.”  Charles swallows the food in his mouth.  “Kind of like having leftovers.”

“I don’t just make a single dish and have it for three days straight!”  You tell him defensively.

He nods hastily upon hearing your tone, not wanting to start a full argument.  “…you know, you’re right.”  He smoothes your hair but you’re frowning really deeply.  “But I tried it once before and it didn’t work for me.  I just think that the texture of food would be better if it was made fresh.”

You shove the spoon in your mouth, chewing angrily what’s left of the mac n’ cheese before getting up to leave him for the sink, his hand that was on your hair still suspended in the air as he stares at you nervously.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of having chefs serve us with meals three times a day.”  You snap and he feels bad immediately.  He doesn’t even have chefs serving him meals…most of the time.  But you get the point.

“I’m sorry.”  He shoves the mac n’ cheese left in his bowl to his mouth and rushes to your side as you frown at the bowl you’re washing.  “I am being so ungrateful.  Y/N, I am really sorry.”

You place the bowl on the drying rack and turn to him angrily but your eyes are glassy and he wants to strangle himself for doing this to you when you have done nothing but be kind and understanding to him.

“Sweetheart.”  He breathes, not knowing what else to say.

“I am doing what I can, okay?”  You say and he watches you blink away tears.  “This isn’t Monaco anymore, Charles.”

He tries to wrap his arms around you but you pull away just as quick.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to insult you.”  He tells you in a hushed tone, leaning down to try and meet your eyes but you’re glaring at the sink instead.

“If you don’t like refrigerated meals then you are free to cook for yourself.”  You say before deciding to give him the cold shoulder.

For the rest of the day, you stay yourself in your office, he hears the printer working and paper being crumpled, along with cellophane.  You’re packing the orders from your business and he knows better than to mess with you again.

You didn’t even get to meal prep.  

Charles doesn’t understand why it bothered him so much before when now as he lies on your couch, meal prepping sounds very practical and smart. 

People can have different lifestyles, he understood that night.  And just because yours is different, doesn’t mean it’s bad.

He’ll have to make it up to you soon.

Overdrive

[gumims]

extra sweet | choso x reader

for the @phantasmaebg event

wc: 1190

the doorbell chimes. it’s soft, a little uneven, but enough to pull your attention toward the entrance. the late afternoon light spills in as a familiar figure steps through, shaking off the last drops of rain clinging to his jacket.

choso.

you don’t need to look up to know it’s him. he’s been coming in every day for the past three weeks, always around this time, always wearing that same slightly-too-big jacket and an air of quiet exhaustion.

“iced black coffee, two pumps of vanilla?” you ask before he even makes it to the counter.

he pauses mid-step, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “you remember.”

“you make it kind of hard to forget.” you grab a cup and start writing his name.

that’s another thing—his name. you learned it on his fourth visit, and not because he told you. he’s not the type to offer extra details about himself. no, you spotted it scrawled across his credit card when he handed it over to pay. choso kamo.

he watches you as you scribble on the cup, your marker squeaking faintly against the plastic.

“you ever think about switching it up?” you ask, glancing at him.

he raises an eyebrow. “switching it up?”

“you know, trying something new? caramel macchiato, maybe? or how about a vanilla latte? same flavor profile, just… better.” you gesture toward the menu board with a grin.

choso tilts his head slightly, like he’s actually considering it, before he shakes his head. “i like my routine.”

you knew he was going to say that. still, you chuckle as you pass the cup down the line.

“anything else today?”

he hesitates. it’s subtle—a slight shift of his weight, the way his gaze drops to the counter before flickering back to you. usually, this is the part where he says no, pays, and waits by the pickup counter.

but today’s different.

“actually…” his voice trails off, quieter than usual. he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a napkin. it’s crumpled, like he’s been holding onto it for a while, and when he slides it across the counter toward you, his fingers linger on the edge.

“for you,” he says softly, his eyes darting anywhere but your face.

your brows knit together as you pick it up, your heart skipping a beat at the slightly messy handwriting scrawled across the surface:

thanks for the coffee. what’s your number?

your first reaction is to glance up at him. he’s standing there, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, looking anywhere but at you. the tips of his ears are red, his expression unreadable despite the tension in his posture.

you can’t help the smile spreading across your face. folding the napkin neatly, you reach for a clean one and grab a pen from your apron pocket. your fingers tremble just a little as you write down your number, making sure it’s legible despite the rush of adrenaline.

“here you go.” you tuck the napkin under the sleeve of his cup before handing it over.

his fingers brush against yours as he takes it, the touch fleeting but enough to send a spark racing up your arm. his eyes meet yours for a split second, and there’s something there—something soft, almost shy.

“thanks,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the hum of the espresso machine.

you nod, trying to keep your expression neutral even as your heart pounds in your chest. “have a good day.”

choso nods back, lifting his coffee. as he turns to leave, he hesitates, glancing over his shoulder.

“i’ll text you later,” he says, his voice carrying just enough weight to make you believe it.

and then he’s gone, the doorbell chiming softly in his wake.

the text comes that evening.

hey, it’s choso. hope this is the right number.

you stare at your phone for a moment, grinning like an idiot. your fingers hover over the keyboard before you finally type out a reply.

you got it right. does this mean i finally convinced you to try something other than black coffee?

his response is almost immediate.

don’t push your luck.

you laugh, the sound echoing through your empty apartment. leaning back against your couch, you type out another message.

you’re missing out, kamo.

he sends back a simple: maybe.

the next day, choso shows up at the café like clockwork. but this time, when he steps up to the counter, there’s something different about him.

“iced black coffee, two pumps vanilla,” he says, but there’s a hesitation in his voice, like he’s waiting for something.

you raise an eyebrow, grabbing a cup. “not gonna try the caramel macchiato?”

“not today,” he replies, but there’s a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

as you’re scribbling his name on the cup, you decide to push your luck. “so, did you regret texting me?”

he blinks, caught off guard, but he recovers quickly. “no. did you regret giving me your number?”

“not yet.” you hand him his coffee, sliding it across the counter.

this time, when your fingers brush, he doesn’t pull away as quickly.

“good,” he says softly, and for the first time, his smile reaches his eyes.

over the next week, the texts become a daily thing.

it starts small—simple exchanges about his coffee order or the weather. but soon, the conversations grow.

do you always work the afternoon shift?

mostly. why? you wanna come in earlier?

no. afternoons are fine.

or:

do you ever get tired of coffee?

never. it’s like asking if you get tired of your routine.

touché.

every day, he comes into the café. every day, he orders the same thing. and every day, you find yourself looking forward to those few minutes you get to spend with him, even if they’re fleeting.

one evening, just as you’re about to close up, your phone buzzes.

what time do you get off work?

you glance at the clock. just finished. why?

his reply is instant. come outside.

your heart skips a beat as you grab your jacket and head for the door. sure enough, there he is, leaning against the side of the building, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“choso?”

he straightens up when he sees you, his expression a mix of nerves and determination.

“i, uh…” he rubs the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the ground. “i was wondering if you wanted to get coffee. not here, obviously. somewhere else.”

it takes a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do, you can’t help but smile.

“are you asking me out, kamo?”

his ears turn red, and he looks away, mumbling, “maybe.”

stepping closer, you tilt your head to meet his gaze. “well, if you are, my answer’s yes.”

he blinks, clearly caught off guard. “really?”

“yeah. but on one condition.”

he frowns slightly. “what?”

“you have to let me pick your drink this time.”

for the first time, a real, full smile breaks across his face. it’s small, but it’s there, and it makes your chest feel warm.

“deal.”

[bettystonewell]

Must Love Dogs

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: The Colonel needs to take a leak. Rather than risk the stench of dog piss in their already rank motel room, Dean, begrudgingly, obliges. It’s lucky(?) he does.

Word Count: 900 words

Tags: language, terrible pick up lines, humour, bad puns, Dean picks up—————————————————————Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Dean rubbed the sleep further into his eyes. 

Where’d that damn dog go?

The least he could’ve done is thank him for letting him out of the room. Just because he took the potion and could communicate with him didn’t mean he needed to be woken up. Sammy was right there. And closest to the door. 

The Colonel hadn’t even given him the chance to put on pants, let alone his boots or socks, before he was scratching away their security deposit, and the hunter had no choice but to walk outside into the crisp morning air with bare feet after him. 

Luckily, he was wearing boxers.

Luckier still, he always wore them over briefs and this print left less to the imagination than his regular ones did. 

Dean shut room one-oh-two off from the world and stepped away from the safety of the pavement and onto the gravel flooring of the car park with a grimace. Those tiny ass pebbles hurt. 

He looked around to his right, then to his left, but the Colonel was nowhere in sight. 

Fuck. 

“Here boy!” He whistled. 

“Hey!” he hissed next. 

Yes, Dean was rocking the ‘just stumbled outta bed look,’ but that didn’t mean he wanted to draw anymore attention to himself. 

It was after five. 

The sun was up. 

He couldn’t tell you the last time he’d seen a sunrise that hadn’t involved him wrapping up a salt and burn first, and chances were, the louder he was, someone freakier than Sammy was bound to... 

“Is he yours?” A friendly voice called out.

Fuck. It had to be a chick.

His head turned in your direction to find you standing on the other side of the lot to him. Leaning, rather, because the Colonel’s doggy mitts pushed against your shoulders. 

Where’d you come from? Because it was nothing but bony bushes and an empty street behind them two seconds ago.

“She smells great,” the mutt said, between licks to your smiling cheeks. “You should try sniffin’ her butt.”

Dean’s eyes widened as you giggled, unaware of the perv molesting your face. 

While he couldn’t comment on your scent, you sure looked damn fine in the tight yoga pants that stressed your curves underneath them.  

Whatever was holding up the ladies was doing a marvellous job, too.

“Alright. Down, boy.” Dean scowled and trotted over to you on the balls of his feet. 

Ow. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Shit. Was it that wrong to punch a dog?

“Yeah, ah, he’s mine.” He grinned as he pulled up beside you with a touch of suave to his attempted swagger.

“No, I’m not,” came the expected retort.

Dean grabbed the Colonel’s scruff and yanked him off of you, thumping into the fur of the dog’s rump with a heavy hand. It was the next best thing to his fist. Better still, when the Colonel whined like a little bitch over it.

“That’s enough, buddy,” Dean said with a boyish chuckle. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“No, no. It’s fine.” You bent down to rub the mutt’s neck affectionately. “He’s adorable.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Was he game to ask you for your number and play the douche from one of them chick flicks? 

Hell yeah, he was. 

They would be in town for at least another two nights with the way this case was going, so if John Cusack could do it, he could do it too.

“You know who else is adorable?” He clicked his tongue and winked at you, forgetting all about his lack of ensemble just as you noticed it.

“Oh.” The sun picked up the amusement in your eyes as they travelled up his frame and landed in the general area of his junk. “You or Scooby?” 

You were neck a neck with that part of him height wise, and he looked down to see Ol’ Scoob staring back at you.

Now, there was nothing wrong with a grown man wearing boxer shorts bearing a cartoon dog. Especially ones of this calibre. They wouldn’t make them in his size if there was a problem, no matter what Sam or anyone else, including you, said, and Dean stood tall with pride. 

Think, man, think.

He could work with this, he could. You seemed open to his advances, and he went all out with a lick of his lips and a raise of both brows. “Not me. I’m awesome.” He held his hand out and helped you to your feet again. “But would ya do me for a Scooby Snack?”

That earned him a grin, your hand smoothing his shoulder, and what he swore was an eye roll from the Colonel. 

“You’re a bigger douchebag than I thought,” he said, but Dean’s focus remained on you.

“How about the snack first? Meet me at Rocky’s Bar tonight at eight.”

Oh, hell yes.

“Maybe you should wear something besides this so I can solve the mystery myself, though.” And with that, you walked away, leaving Dean stunned. Your hips, swaying from side to side, had to be on purpose. 

“I owe you one, buddy,” Dean muttered, patting the Great Dane covering his crotch and not the real life canine next to him.

“What about me?” The Colonel’s bark had you twisting around one last time to wave. “That mutt might’ve saved your ass, but I got you out here in the first place.” ”You’re lucky I love dogs,” Dean hissed through his goofy grin.

”And you’re lucky she does.”

Read on AO3 || Masterlist———————————————————Thank you so much for reading! I dunno about anyone else, but even if someone with a face like Dean/Jensen used that on me, I don’t think I’d be all that friendly.

Coming soon - Snickerdoodles & Special Sauce - 31/02

(Multiple POV - SMUT - 3 Parts - 18+)

‘Twas the night of fake Christmas and all through the halls, creatures were stirring, eventually on all fours… or …Mrs Butters isn’t just messing with Dean’s underwear drawer. She’s messing with your love lives, too. Dubious Consent by Eggnog.—————————————————————

DEAN TAGLIST: @globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

If you'd like to be added to the list, Imk.

[careyakane]

Jan 25-

I am trying my very best to see the changing of a hand as comforting, despite looking around me and realizing that most of the qualities and striving we put so much weight into are merely pocket change, just as easily lost in a shift of the wind or, hell, for no reason at all. What does a man really have if what he shows to the world and to himself fits so easily in the palm of his hand?

I was bound up legally to managers and record companies, and even if it’s for the best, those both fell in a day. Kii lost Isabel on a phone call—years of kindness forgotten—and he couldn’t do a thing but spew different-colored words across the receiver. Or all of us striving in the burning city of angels, pouring thousands of our precious hours into machines that can be taken overnight. A hundred thousand followers (active or not), gone.

One morning, you wake almost on your feet before your eyes have opened, the beautiful threads of plan and purpose pulling you swiftly toward their ends. Then, the next day, something has been taken. You wake searching for it on the ceiling and walls. Hours you look—nothing. The day is gone, and in the last slips of light, you comb the streets, eyes hung down, searching by your boots. You might spend a lifetime looking here, memorizing every crack and stain on the endless concrete shell. Still, you find nothing, and in fact, you’ve been looking so long, you’ve forgotten what it was you even lost in the first place.

You lift your head to a waiting world and remember yourself. You see a million things you used to see—the trees against a closing sky, the lines that circle the eyes of a face accustomed to smiling at the simplest of joys. You notice like you did when you were a boy. You notice yourself, your needs, the beauty all about, and not so rare as people tend to think.

You’ve grown so quiet in all this looking-down-at-boots-and-concrete business. You used to speak to the sky and to the sea. You used to pick up the first leaves of fall and keep them by the bed as your greatest treasures. Somewhere along the way, dreams got tangled up with comforts, hopes bound up in self-worth, and the world fell to a hush as you blindly pushed forward.

But today is a new day, and you may rejoice in the fact that you are noticing again. More life ahead than behind, and I promise some parts of you are as unmoving as the mountains. The great fires and floods may clear your hand—and much more—from time to time, but in their wake, the innate and complete will reveal itself, and I believe you will find a little comfort in that.

[tgmsunmontue]

A picture is worth 1000 words - 6/?

Hangster post-TGM events, Jake and Bradley becoming friends on Instagram through increasingly competitive thirst traps.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE

PART SIX

              “Fuck me…” Jake says under his breath.

              “Jake! Language!”

              “Sorry. Sorry. You know, that was a bad word…” Jake says to his niece and nephew, who both nod solemnly.

              “We know. Mom says it all the time.”

              Jake snorts, looks to Kara and she’s looking a combination of resigned and betrayed, and he holds back a laugh but she can obviously tell and she pokes her tongue out at him and he raises an eyebrow, looks at her kids tellingly.

              “What’s got you all worked up anyway?”

              “Uh. Nothing,” Jake says, quickly locking his phone and sliding it into his pocket. He’s changed the pin and added the fingerprint option, because he doesn’t trust her at all. But instead of grabbing for his phone she’s pulling her own out and when he cranes his neck he can see her looking at exactly the thing that had him swearing.

              “Gosh. He scrubs up well doesn’t he?”

              “Since when are you friends with Rooster on Instagram?” Jake asks, because he only became friends with him on Instagram and he saved his fucking life.

              “Since I sent him a friend request. I sent a few friend requests actually…”

              “Oh no…” Jake starts, remembering just in time to hold back all the curse words on the tip of his tongue. “Why?”

              “Entertainment mostly. And I have some questions which I know you won’t answer…” Kara says, and she’s tapping away at her phone and Jake wants to know what she’s doing and who she’s doing it with. His money is on Phoenix

              “Uh… okay. What… hmm,” Jake lets his thoughts trail off and picks his phone back up and opens up the photo again, takes in the cut of the suit and line of Bradshaw’s legs. He’s got nice legs. Then he forces himself to read the text, drag his eyes away from the picture. For a brief moment he thinks Rooster went and got married before he reads the best man duties hashtag, and then there’s a proof of life hashtag, a shoutout to Jake’s comment on the last post the Jake commented on.

              Then he gets to Kara’s comment, inviting Rooster to come and use their pool to cool down and he rolls his eyes. It's wasted because she doesn’t see him do it, still engrossed with whatever she’s doing, of which he’s now incredibly suspicious about. He wants to comment, but he’s not sure what to say. Bradshaw somehow looks better in a suit than shirtless. He wears the suit confidently and Jake wants to peel it off him. Won’t say that of course, even if he’s thinking it. But it does give him an idea, and he taps out his comment with a grin.

[sendpseuds]

Oh my god... Mall goth anakin x on-the-verge-of-a-midlife-crisis obiwan... Your Mind

[part one][part two]

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Obi-Wan knows he's already spent far more money than he'd planned. Store after store he's found himself nodding absently in response to every request Korkie makes. The huge wireless headphones he doesn't need. The limited edition sneakers that look identical to the ones already in his closet. The sunglasses all the cool kids are wearing.

Today, Obi-Wan can't seem to say No.

It would be easy to say he's doing it to make his son smile — it's not as if he's above buying a bit of the boy's affection from time to time — but the truth is, it would be far easier to stick to a budget were Obi-Wan's mind not so completely occupied by other things.

Things like leather harnesses and eyebrow scars.

Charcoal rimmed eyes and a teasing smile.

The unavoidable temptation of a shiny silver ring through a perfectly pouting lower lip.

Obi-Wan's cheek still burns where the young man kissed him, close enough to the line of his beard that he's certain the rough hairs must have tickled the soft corner of that painfully pretty mouth.

Had that actually happened?

Had it actually been want he’d seen in that sharp sapphire stare?

Had he actually said those things?

Meant those murmured words?

The questions are a near-constant loop in his head.

Being propositioned for sex is not an entirely foreign concept to Obi-Wan — it was certainly more common in his young and reckless years but he’s been single for a while now and it happens more often than people might think. Nowadays it’s usually, "Wanna get out of here?" from a tipsy patron in a dark dirty bar, or "Which one is yours?" from a single mother rooting for the rival team in the late innings of a high school baseball game.

The last time he was approached like this— with such brazen aggression, such wild open want — the last time a pretty young thing in leather and low-rise jeans cornered Obi-Wan in a dark neon-soaked room he had a fake ID and no clue he was about to become a dad.

"I think I'd rather call you Daddy."

Fucking hell.

"Hey, Dad?"

Obi-Wan needs to physically shake the thoughts from his head before he can look at his son.

His son who, as per usual, is buried in his phone.

"Yes?" Obi-Wan hums expectantly, as if he hasn't been walking around in a daze all day, cocking his head to one side when Korkie clicks off his phone but doesn't move to place it in his pocket.

"You've been really cool today," Korkie replies with a sincerity that hits Obi-Wan right in the chest, his heart squeezing tightly when he meets a pair of eyes that look like a mirror of his own, "and I know we planned to go to Dex's for lunch—"

Then Obi-Wan understands.

"But you have other plans?"

He looks appropriately apologetic.

He looks so much like his mom.

"Soniee just got her license," the teenager explains, holding up his phone as if it's evidence to his claim, his eyes darting away at the mention of his school friend's name, "She wants to celebrate."

"She wants to celebrate, hm?" Obi-Wan can't help but tease, barely resisting the urge to immediately apologize for the part his DNA had in the boy's complete inability to fight the blush creeping down his neck, remembering how endlessly Satine used to tease him, "With you?"

"Not just me," Korkie scoffs, somewhere between annoyed at his father and disappointed that it won't just be him and his crush driving around in the beat up sedan her father has been saving for her ever since he got that big truck he doesn't need, "She said she can pick me up here and drop me off at home later."

Obi-Wan know's that Home does not mean his apartment.

"I should call your mom—"

"I already texted her," Korkie quickly replies, holding up his phone to display the typical response of, "As long as it's alright with your father."

All Obi-Wan sees is the time.

And today, he just can't seem to say No.

"Alright," he agrees with a nod and a slanted smile, "As long as you promise to wear your seatbelt—" Korkie groans and rolls his eyes. Obi-Wan smiles. "And—" he continues loudly, holding up a finger as if to halt any oncoming complaints, "And if you consider spending an extra day or two with me before school starts so we can go up to Qui-Gon's camp."

"Fishing?" Korkie guesses, neither excited nor deterred by the prospect.

"I was actually thinking we could take his old Jeep out for some off-road driving lessons."

"Really!?"

"You can't—"

"I would never tell Mom."

Obi-Wan will tell Satine. He always does.

Sometimes, it's still fun to play the game.

"You're sure this is okay?" Korkie asks once the day's purchases are stuffed inside his new backpack, his tone almost uncomfortably earnest, "I feel bad about skipping lunch."

The kid probably thinks his dad is going to sit in their favorite diner by himself and frown into his french fries while Dex tries to cheer him up with wild stories of far faraway places.

Most times, he would probably be right.

Korkie also thinks no one has called Obi-Wan Daddy since he was seven.

"Get out of here," Obi-Wan insists with a smile, "I've got places to be."

That earns him a laugh.

There's an odd itch at the base of Obi-Wan's skull. One that crawls all the down his spine.

There's a secret in his throat he can't seem to swallow.

There's a low husky voice in the back of his mind counting down to a beautiful boy's thirty-minute lunch break.

"But that's more than enough time isn't it?"

He should leave.

Walk right out to the car and drive to Dex's alone exactly the way his son thinks he will.

"See you later, Dad!"

"Enough time for Daddy to fuck me—"

But, today, Obi-Wan just can't seem to say No.

[part one][part two]

[cementcornfield]

You should post your thoughts on Ja’Marr and Kyle!! I’m so interested in their dynamic if that makes sense 😅

lmao anon i love you thank you because i was literally just typing a post up by itself. but now i get the benefit of looking like i'm not the ONLY person to care about this. (there's at least two of us!!)

ok so! too much rambling about things that i could no way actually know anything about irl BUT 

kyle and ja’marr being together in paris is VERY interesting to me. their whole relationship is really because like. okay. i have joked that kyle and ja’marr are there to pick out joe’s wardrobe for next year together lmao but like!!! the clothes saga is SUCH a thing with ja’marr. the man has a Complex about joe and fashion and his part in it. we know this. i hardly need to go over the clothes saga with y’all again. but i will because it’s fun for me. ja’marr claims in GQ that he buys clothes for joe all the time and drops them off at 'the house’ for him. which is insane enough if that’s true. then a few days after that article drops (and also joe’s appendix explodes) he says nah never mind i was lying! (“kinda”). and that’s insane too. but whatever, we let it go, there’s football to play. then that offseason tee decides to cause some chaos i guess and confirms that actually ja’marr HAS bought joe clothes ‘multiple times’ so that’s. something!!! (along with TB in that one pivot podcast with all three of them teasing ja’marr about it!!) and then SOMEHOW none of this gets brought up again until a few months ago when ja’marr is just like “yeah actually i’ve been buying him clothes since last year” which is still a year later than he first said he bought him clothes 🤔

ALL OF WHICH TO SAY that ja’marr is fucking weird about this. he may or may not buy joe clothes (i’m still leaning yes on this), and he may or may not want people to know about it. i think he realizes just how intimate of a thing that is, to repeatedly buy someone you care about clothes that you think he would like, that you’d like to see him in. and i think if we go back to my Vision of insecure at times ja’marr, it’s one way to explain his back and forth on this.

but then!! insert kyle, who i believe only became joe’s stylist within the last year. before that i don’t think joe ever really had anyone Official to help him out with specific outfits/styles/branding etc (i’m sure the joe girlies will correct me if i'm wrong on this). and now i can only imagine that ja’marr might be feeling a little…possessive of joe here (what else is new lol ‘that’s my qb not their qb’ type shit). like if we believe he’s been buying him clothes since at least 2021, that’s like…that’s ja’marr’s Thing at this point?? even if it only started happening in 2023, that’s still a long time of "oh hey i saw this and thought of you and will you wear it and when you wear it will i feel a little thrill knowing that you took my advice knowing that you value my opinion knowing that the clothes touching your skin are only doing so because i bought them for you in the first place etc etc." and now here’s joe paying someone else to do it?? and who the fuck is kyle why him why does HE get to do it he didn’t even win a national championship with him in college???? (ja’marr obviously would be more rational than that. of course joe should pay someone to help him out with style as he does events and builds his brand more. but as a fellow Emotional Person myself, the rational response is never the first or strongest one.) 

so like! there’s that. that alone could make ja’marr not inclined to LOVE Kyle, ya know? and then if we want to get really Deep and dive into internalized homophobia of Male Athlete Culture. of my version (MY VERSION JUST MY VERSION THIS IS NOT ME SAYING ANYTHING IRL ABOUT HIM) of ja’marr and how he might cope with feelings and attractions that do not neatly fall in line with what is Expected of him and Has Been Expected of him since he was a kid. like fuck. do we remember how his dad said ja’marr used to like to read with his cousins (who were girls) but then his male friends came around and made fun of him for it, so he stopped reading altogether as a child?? thinking about that still makes my heart hurt! aughhh Gender!! and then even a few weeks ago on stream when ja’marr accidentally said that kyrie was sexy and IMMEDIATELY the chat and his friends jumped on him for it!! like yeah it was all lighthearted and all that but he got all embarrassed and even fucking apologized??? just the immediate policing of language/behavior followed by the immediate apology and moving on to no longer watching kyrie clips lol. crazy!!! Male Athlete Culture is SUCH a trip!! 

and kyle is gay! very much out and proud and not hiding or ashamed of any of it (fucking good for him tbh. i know he’s not Loved in this fandom but like that does genuinely take guts to be yourself like that in a culture like this. and make a career out of it! and he seems to be thriving!) and i just have to wonder like, how many queer people ja’marr really knows well?? the nfl has their corporate pride month bullshit where they celebrate the like 1 out gay assisant coach? 1 out gay FORMER player? if there are more queer people in the nfl, they are not very public about it. so again, how much daily interaction does a typical football player like ja’marr get with queer people?? i do imagine all the connections that are growing with the fashion world help of course! like kyle! who it’s clear he’s at least friendly with, if not the best of friends. and so like, i wonder about how that could stir complicated emotions in ja’marr if we go with my (AGAIN JUST MINE I’M NOT ACTUALLY SAYING ANYTHING IRL) version of him as a guy who has Feelings about male teammates sometimes and struggles with Dealing With That. 

and throw in the fact that ja’marr primarily knows him as this guy who’s always hanging around joe lol. taking over his role as joe’s personal stylist?? being free and open and ALLOWED to be attracted to all these guys, to joe himself!! (and if he thinks too hard about that he REALLY gets in his feelings). and it’s not jealousy really because he knows how important he himself is in joe’s life. kyle’s not replacing their history, he’s certainly not replacing his value to joe on the field, their close friendship, etc. but! he occupies a space in joe’s life that ja’marr can’t touch. he can publicly and proudly buy joe clothes. something that ja’marr WANTS but keeps shying away from. he can feel any feelings and any attraction he happens to have, he’s not hiding any part of who he is. if he thinks joe’s hot, if he thinks joe looks particularly attractive in an outfit he chose for him, he can! he will! he does! and i think that that just HAS to drive ja’marr a little fucking crazy.

so yeah. he likes the guy. they’re friendly. he’ll do a goofy lil dance when prompted by him for social media. but it’s Complicated. it’s Very Complicated. (to me.) 

[bedouinpoet]

leader, lover, sir, and broken dream part 3

Aaron Hotchner x female BAU Reader

warning: 18+ only please smuttt 🫣, unprotected sex, public play, mentions of murder, drug use, theft and loss. final part of this story line hopefully more to come! Always open to suggestions please feel free to comment or message me.

PART 3 AND FINALE: CHOICE

you woke up to the sound of a phone ringing, Hotch’s phone

“Aaron”

your mouth is dry, you tap his chest that your head is still laying on, “hmm?” His eyes stay closed with a glint of a smile on his lips, and for a moment you just look at him, his peaceful demeanour, his sexy bed hair “are you staring perv?” You scoff but damn his morning voice is already getting you wet, you laugh “I’m not the one already hard” you look down and slowly tease his cock already getting you wet how good it looked “mmmm fuck y/n yes”

his eyes roll back and you start to pump him harder. When his phone went off again “ughhhhhh someone’s calling you agent hotchner” you kiss his cock before he gets up…”hurry back” he kisses your forehead “just get that pretty mouth ready” you smirk up at him “yes sir” he goes to the sofa to get his phone from his pants. You lay in bed unable to control your smile, your happiness. That wall around your heart is starting to break but then you hear Hotch on the phone “hey sweetie sorry uh it was just a long night. Can I call you back in a minute?”

Beth

how could you forget about Beth. Your smile fades at the realization of what you both did. Your happiness turns to a painful guilt and the walls stay strong. You sit up and start to feel overwhelmingly vulnerable in your naked state, you quickly put your sweater on and a pair of sweats on. Your heart pounding in your ear as you hear Aaron come back in your room “y/n?” “that was Beth wasn’t it?” You keep your back to him, terrified to even look at him, fear the tears will start and not stop, but you try to stay strong, resolute “y/n sweetheart I -“

“it’s fine….i…I don’t expect anything from you, I pushed it last night, drunk and high…it’s fine I don’t….i just thought… I don’t know” before you react you’re in his arms and the dam breaks, you start hitting his chest, push him away, crying, but he keeps you firm in his arms, against his chest, kissing your head, his voice shaky “no no no honey, baby that’s not it high or not I meant it, I love you, I’ve always loved you it’s just-fuck-“ he shakes his head

“it’s just you love Beth too”

you finally push away and find yourself holding your arms, turning away from his tear filled eyes. “Y/n please I don’t want to stop being with you-I just got you back, maybe -I don’t know”

you roll your burning eyes “maybe what Hotch? I’m not the other woman, not the mistress and you’re not that kind of guy, it would eat you up inside, it would break you…I love you too but I can’t, I won’t let us become something we aren’t. You found something good with Beth, something simple and good and I’m -“

I’m too fuccked up, too much, not good enough

Is all you can think, almost ready to say it but your cries get in the way as you see Hotch’s tears stream down his face, that just makes you cry worse “I’m not gonna ruin what you have…you should go Hotch, go call Beth back, pick up jack just go please !” He tries to step towards you to bring you back into his arms but you step back “I want to be alone!” Your cries become stifling and he clearly wants to say something but your pleading worked. He takes a shaky breath “I’ll- I’ll text you later, we need to talk about it please y/n I’ll give you your space”

“don’t bother there’s nothing to talk about you’re with Beth and I’m not your slut now get out”

he doesn’t answer, or can’t, you hear him get dressed and close the front door. The moment the door clicks shut you drop to your knees and craw to the bed, crying, wondering how much more your heart can take. But you knew you made the right choice. You love Hotch more than words could say but being his side woman would eat you both up inside. So you cry. And try to forget last night and the pain and desires that are seeping through every ounce of your body and heart.

…

The first few months were torture for you. Everyday you worked by Aaron Hotchner his professionalism increased as did his coldness towards you. He rarely called you by name and he made sure to pair you off with anyone but him. His eyes rarely met yours. Maybe this was best. Easier for both of you. Or at least for him…for you this was painful, each cold shoulder, every time he refused to be in the same room with you. It chipped away at you.

You were doing your paperwork, in your home office. Hotch took a couple days off to take Jack to New York to see Beth. You genuinely hope they are having fun. They both need and deserved this…but apparently not as much of a break as you thought when Pen calls “hey what’s up?”

“Hi pretty lady, Hotch needs us ASAP in New York. We’ll talk deets on the jet” you feel your heart drop and you almost choke with worry. You rush with your go bag your pounding fear consuming you.

“Is he okay? What happened? Just tell me he and Jack are ok and safe Pen” your mind runs and sprints to worse case scenario “he’s fine y/n its his brother Sean”

Now your heart pounds for a different person, another Hotchner boy. You haven’t seen Sean since you and him went out for coffee….after he slept over at your place….welp….this is going to be interesting and you dread the awkwardness to come…

The moment you land, you head to the club Sean worked at, while Morgan and JJ go to the club aka the newest murder site. Blake goes with Reid to build some kind of preliminary profile and triangulate the clubs to see the unsubs comfort zone. You and Rossi both agreed that he should stay with Hotch. He is gonna need a lot of support in this. You meet the sleeze bag manager Thane and try to get answers as he tries to get in your pants “Did you know the victim well? Mister…”

“Thane just Thane please”

he winks at you and every part of you wants to punch this guy in the stomach as he clearly undresses you with his eyes obviously.

”you know…when this whole terrible business is done…I’d be happy to give you a VIP spot in my club for the night….i’ll show you a great time”

he caresses your arm and you slap it away “how about instead….” You lean in to whisper to him and you spot how excited he gets “you show me the bathroom the victim bled from her eyes and ears from huh?” He shudders at the mention of the incident and you wonder if that’s guilt or disgust, when your disgust towards this guy turns into excitement when you hear-

“I’ll show her Thane don’t worry”

Sean….you could recognize that voice anywhere damn these Hotchner men and and their hot ass voices that get you going. You turn to see Sean smiling at you brightly despite alll the loss and horror he had seen the last few weeks, he smiled like he was genuinely excited to see you and it was nice to feel so wanted. You smile “thanks that would be great” the moment Thane leaves you and Sean walk together to the woman’s bathroom and you nudge his arm and smile “its good to see you Sean…” you see his breath hitch as you look up to him and he smiles a shy cutest smile as he looks at you with those heavenly blue eyes “you too y/n …I didn’t know if you’d be happy to see me or-“

”of course I’m glad to see you hun…I’m sorry its been so long just when you had a girlfriend I- “

you see the hurt in his eyes and you wanna beat yourself up so you try to change the subject “so…tell me what happened don’t hold anything back”

Sean tells you the whole thing but you can tell he’s holding back as you both stand by the last stall where apparently her and Thane were making out “we figured she needed some air so we took her outside and that’s when she … welll….you know” he’s lying, you can tell, and something tells you she probably died in the bathroom but that cocky manager didn’t want to be connected in any way. “Okay so be honest here….she was clearly drugged with acid and some other substance….is there a chance your manager could have slipped her the acid in her drink or something?” He scoffs unexpectedly with absolute hatred “yea…there’s a chance and likely, he’s done it before but never like this, I don’t think he did it this time, he was genuinely shook up” you can tell the dislike for this guy seeps through Sean but then you consider what he says “wait he’s done it before though? And you didn’t do anything about it?” Your attitude that you usually reserve for Hotch starts to come out as he rolls his eyes at you “and what was I supposed to do y/n? I need this job” his voice starts to raise to match your attitude “so you just let these girls get drugged as your boss takes advantage and gets his rocks off!?” You feel your cheeks heating with red hot anger and your dislike for Thane only solidifying “what!? You’re blaming me now? For fuck sakes I have done something! He swore he stopped pulling that shit! I need this job, everyone does here, we don’t have the luxury of a government job ya know? No one can say anything to Thane so I don’t need your judgement agent-“ his sarcasm and anger with “agent” reminds you of Hotch during your past arguments and it makes you want to throw up. Your blood boils and you step closer as he does the same. You’re about to say something when you see the pain in his eyes and remember what Hotch told you…Sean…he’s suffered enough and lost a woman he loves because of this.

“I’m …I’m sorry Sean. It’s just been long day…I’m not judging you I promise and-“ you take one of his hands in yours and once again you notice his breath hitch and those blue eyes darken “and I’m sorry Sean…Hotch told me that one of the girls killed was your girlfriend. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. I’m so sorry and if you need anything or want to talk I’m here for you okay?”

You don’t know what came over you as you feel the seconds in silence pass by heavily but as he smiles gratefully at you, he rubs his thumb on your knuckle, looking at your eyes and then your lips. Maybe it was the moment of vulnerability….maybe because he reminds you so much of his brother and how long it’s been since you’ve gotten any action but he suddenly grabs your waist with one hand with his other hand still holding yours and without a thought his lips are in yours and fuck is it good to kiss someone. you haven’t since that night with Aaron and at this point you need this. You kiss back roughly grabbing the collar of his shirt and deepening it. His tongue already playing with yours as you bite his bottom lip and he moans in your mouth as he starts to squeeze your breasts as he kisses your neck “fuck….yes” you moan as he lifts you onto the sink counter, fitting himself comfortably between your legs and you lower your hand from his hair down to his pants as you palm his hardness through his jeans, his breath quickens as he groans your name and he thrusts into your hand, desperate for more. He grabs your thigh harder trailing his hand up to unbuckle your pants. Without hesitation you wiggle out of your pants as you unbutton Sean’s shirt, kissing his neck and biting “fuck! Yes yes y/n fuck I missed you and your bites” you both laugh “then prove it-“

“What?” He groans

“fuck me like you missed me” you smirk up at him and his eyes are almost all black you could barely see a hint of blue as he groans “fuuuck” he growls and unzips his pants and your already wet for him as he teases your entrance with his tip “damn you’re so wet baby” before you could reply he thrusts in you so hard you feel him in your cervex like a jack hammer and you both moan in unison as he fills you so nicely “fuck yes harder Sean!” As he thrusts in you upwards hitting that spot that makes your legs shake damn these hotchner men and knowing your body so well. You already feel your stomach constrict and your pussy clenches his cock as your climax is at the edge of peaking

“fuck! Yes! Cum for me y/n baby cum for me” as he nibbles your ear to your neck, his pace non stop as he chases his high too and with that final order that sounds too familiar you lose yourself and cum you feel Sean not close behind as he slams his hand on the mirror behind you groaning “fuuuuuck”

you wrap your arms around his neck “its okay…you can cum in me” the shock in his eyes was momentary as it turns to lustful darkness as his pace goes even harder “you-are you sure?”

He asks breathlessly and all you can say is “please” and with that plea Sean loses all control and thrusts so deep inside you, you feel like you feel him in your stomach as he releases. You hug each other breathlessly as he kisses your neck “I definitely missed that” he whispers and you can’t help but laugh “me too” when you feel his phone vibrate and dread overtakes you when you see the name “Aaron” with a picture of him and Jack “shit. It’s Aaron he said he’s gonna want to see me at the station” you start to dress and fix yourself up

”I’ll come with you. I got everything I could from here. Plus we can get some coffee-“ you wink and stick your tongue out “on you of course….gotta show me that New York hospitality” and his laugh breaks through all the pain you’ve been feeling, only for a moment, but its better then nothing “sure thing I’ll drive…”

…

you step into the station, your iced coffee and his coffee with two milk and two sugar in hand. Laughing together until you notice Aaron glaring at you “uh oh problem with big bro. I better go see him…”

“yea I should go help with the profile” before you walk away you hug Sean and whisper “take it easy on your bro and remember everything he asks you is out of care and is needed” he nuzzles his face into your neck for a moment “ill try to keep that in mind….hey y/n?”

”hmm?”

“Could I see you later?” He whispers in your ear and you can’t help but blush at the proximity and as you release each other and look in Hotch’s direction you spot the darkness and heated anger in Hotch’s eyes. You smile smugly at him and wave “sure I’ll text you” and you go your separate ways smiling at Hotch as his eyes don’t stop following you. And you can’t help but feel smug at the obvious jealousy you’ve caused ‘good. After all the bullshit he’s put me through’ you think before Reid and Blake tell you about the geographical profile.

….

you all head to the hotel, Hotch deciding its best to leave Jack at Beth’s during the case. Sean insisted on helping and seeing what information he could get out of Thane via recording him and going undercover. You shoot Sean a text as you get your room key from Hotch and you all head to the elevator

y/n: hey just got my room, wanna come? Can help prep for tommorow ;)

less then a minute later

Sean: Sounds perfect I’ll bring you your iced coffee as a token of my appreciation ;)

”oh ho ho I know that smile….our y/n has some one special” you hear Morgan and you quickly put away the phone as you notice Hotch, Morgan, Reid and Blake looking at you in the elevator. You scoff “nope-just a friend”

“come on now pretty girl you can tell me…have some fun planned?”he winks and you playfully roll your eyes “oh honey you couldn’t handle the fun I’m into” with that the door opens and you all head to your respective rooms. You quickly take a shower, shave, and put your admittedly purposefully sexy lace black bra and panties, your shorts that leaves little to the imagination with your curves and your baggy sweater you’ve had for years since high school graduation.

Knock knock knock

You run to the door without hesitation excitedly opening the door “hey that was quick! I expect that iced coffee as perfect as a French cafe and-“ your heart stops in your throat when you see Hotch, tussled hair, loose tie “wha- Hotch?” You’re confused why he’s so speechless when you remember what your wearing and blush as his eyes roam over your body like you are his favourite meal

“Hotch….whats up?”

Your confusion turns to worry when he finally talks “I just. I just wanted to check in on you and thank you for coming to help me and Sean-“ you could tell there is obviously more he wants to say when

“shit” you whisper

”uhhh Aaron?” Sean steps up with two coffees in hand and the silence makes you want to crawl under your blanket and disappear “Sean? What are you doing here?” Sean looks at you for some signal of what you want him to say but at the moment you’re confused and speechless so Sean exhales deeply “uh y/n just wanted. To help prep me for tomorrow-“

“I told you I’d prep you tomorrow? If you were nervous why not tell me?” There is clear hurt in his tone and it breaks your heart you try and ease the tension “I invited him and offered to pre prep plus I wanted more coffee when have I ever denied free coffee? Plus wanted to catch up we became friends after he visited you in Quantico I wanted to know how you were as a big bro he wanted to know How you were as a boss….turns out not a huge difference” you wink at him and you feel the tensions ease slightly “come in Sean…I’ll see you tomorrow Boss…say hi to Beth and Jack o lantern” and you guiltily close the door on Aaron Hotchner, a piece of your heart breaks with it. Maybe it was seeing Aaron so vulnerable and messy like that, that made you flashback to that night or the reminder that he is probably with Beth right now made you want and need a distraction and here one was in the image of a hot, longing, Sean Hotchner. And you spent that night being distracted over and over and over again. By the end you were so sore you couldn’t get up. And you don’t want too, so you stay under the blankets curled up against Sean’s heat.

2:30 am in the warmth of Seans arms as he gently kisses your shoulder neck cheek lips. You smile back at him “I think you broke me. How am I supposed to work tomorrow?” He laughs in the nape of your neck mid kiss “I Take that as a compliment baby “ you love the sound of that Hotchner laugh its contagious, heart filling, and for you, breaking. But for the first night in a long time you fell asleep peacefully….You wake to banging at your door. Your immediate reaction was to reach for your gun when you hear Aaron’s voice

“y/n its me”

Hotch’s authoritative tone through the door demanding you to open the door but fuck your legs are so sore. Sean casually kisses your shoulder and with his morning voice he rasps “don’t worry I got it” he gives you one more kiss then puts his pants on, remaining shirtless. You quickly check your phone….its only 6:30 what the fuck is he doing here so early? You slowly sit up as Sean opens the door and for a moment Hotch stands in utter shock looking back and forth between his brother and you. Naked you. You lift the blanket to your chest trying to cover yourself, trying to hide your blushes. The shock turns into a mix of anger, and something else you can’t quite place other than dominant possessive-ness and it makes you quiver “just friends huh?” Before either of you could say anything Hotch continues “I was looking for you Sean you don’t believe in answering your phone? Go back to your place, change into your work clothes then meet me at the station so we can set you up…now Sean” before he could protest Sean notices the same thing you did in his older brothers eyes. The look that was best not to push right now

“right just have to get dressed” he quickly puts his shirt on and gives you a quick kiss “I’ll see you later-“ you smile at his kiss and nod. Noticing Hotch standing at the door, the whole time. He lets Sean pass through…barely. And you think he is going to follow him but instead he steps into your room and slams the door shut, the suddenness makes you start and as he stands at the foot of your bed. Eyes deadly on you. You notice just how naked you are and try and stay as under the blanket as possible as he notices your lace lingerie thrown on the floor. Hotch’s eyes turn damn near black as he repeats his prior question “just friends huh?” You swallow. You’ve never been scared of Aaron Hotchner but right now your legs shake from fear and and from how much those eyes turn you on

”well?”

“Hotch I-“

he rolls his eyes and his voice booms “for fuck sakes stop calling me hotch like we are talking about work right now”

”fine…Aaron- me and Sean, we are friends….just with some benefits and -“

”And what!? Friends with benefits with my brother? Out of anyone, my brother!?”

You admittedly see where the upset is coming from but at the same time, now you feel yourself getting pissed. What right does he have to decide who you sleep with? Especially when he is in a whole ass RELATIONSHIP with Beth.

“Would it matter if it was someone else? You act like you wouldn’t be pissed if another random dude answered, we both know you’d still be all pissy!”

Hotch’s face tells you all you need to know. You’re right. “That’s not the Point-“

“that’s exactly the point! Fuck Aaron what do you want from me!? You gett pissed off when I fuck someone else, when I hug someone else when I tease someone else when I flirt…you broke up with me Hotch! Remember? You broke my heart. So I can’t be with you…I can’t be with anyone else what the fuck do you want?” He scoffs even while his eyes start to fill with tears and pain “so it’s either co workers or my BROTHER!? Can’t be anyone else? Maybe the issue is your choice in-“

“Don’t you dare! You have lost the privilege to have any say in who I fuck. And I’m gonna keep fuckin whosoever I want until you man up and choose me or make your choice and stick to it. Cause right now you have no right Aaron Hotchner” you got up off the bed and stop close to him Butt naked but you don’t care even as your voice shakes, your nakedness clearly having an affect on Hotch as you see his growing bulge that just gives you the confidence you need to continue “make your choice Aaron Hotchner. Then talk to me, until then….you can leave so I can get dressed, meet you at the station hotch this conversation is over don’t worry about waiting for me Sean can pick me up” you turn to get your stuff from your bag and you hear Hotch stomp out of the room, slamming the door behind him. No tears this time. You said what you need to say. Now it’s his move, his choice.

….

3 months passed since that conversation in your hotel room. The case ended less then satisfactory. Sean arrested for stealing and selling a couple boxes of the tainted whine (without his knowledge that the wine was poisoned he just needed the money) but with the help of Hotch and yourself assisting and speaking for him in his trial, he got a few months prison sentence then community service. You visit him when you can. Despite everything you and Sean really were friends and decided it was best to stay that way. He reminded you too much of Hotch and it wasn’t fair for him to fuck him because of it. Since the case Hotch went from overly professional to just plain cold avoidng you at all costs ‘guess he made his choice’ you think. It’s 3 months passed with this coldness, right now you needed a distraction and you just want to go out with some friends. Pen and Reid and Morgan to the rescue. Morgan drove you all to some bar and on your second round you are all laughing and talking and dancing when you receive a text from the last person you’d expect

Hotch: where are you?

y/n: um out? Why? is there a case?

you check to see if anyone got a text as well? Heard of a case but everyone shakes their heads “sounds like someone’s in trouble? That’s what happens when you decide to stall on paper work” you flip Morgan off before he laughs off to the dance floor…you laugh and shake your head about to put your phone down when it dings

Hotch: your apartment. now.

at first you just laugh at the audacity and ignore him until he texts again

Hotch: please y/n….i need to talk to you face to face

you roll your eyes in frustration but he hasn’t spoken to you in months, now this? It must be important. You give everyone a hug goodbye and order an uber. When you get to your apartment you think your eyes must be deceiving you when the elevator opens and you see THE Aaron Hotchner sitting in front of your door. Wearing nothing but Sweats and t shirt…he’s never left his home so underdressed you start to worry somethings happened…”Hotch? What’s wrong?” The moment you talk his eyes dart up and he quickly stands, you smile as he fixes himself “yea-I just….we need to talk, can we please go inside?” You nod your head and make quick use of your keys to unlock your door. Hotch less than a step away. You enter and he closes the door behind you both

”want something to drink? Water? Coffee?” You notice the bags under his eyes. His grey sweats loose. His black shirt tight. Deadly combination “uh water please” you quickly get him a cup and yourself “so…what-“

“You”

“what?”

”you told me to make my choice and I did…you, y/n its always been you”

”but Beth-“

“we broke up. She got a job in Hong Kong and I told her she should take it, it was mutual” time feels like it stopped. Like the earth stopped moving. He takes your silence anxiously so he nervously continues “I haven’t done right by you. I’ve regretted the day I ended it since I said those words and I wont make excuses but I’m so tired of us going back and forth y/n I want you I-i-i love you, I need you. I want to be with you. I want you to be with me, no one else, I can’t sleep, the very idea of someone else with you eats me up. Everyday I couldn’t hug you, kiss you, be there for you broke me. No more back and forth…if-that is-if you’ll have me still- I’m all in baby all yours I miss you and so does Jack and-“ you feel every scar on your heart heal, the walls crash down and all you can do is laugh

“Aaron Hotcher stop talking and kiss me already-“

you can see the stress, the nervousness, the pain evaporate from his face and he smiles at you with such love and longing you feel you could fly, a smile you haven’t seen in too long and damn have you missed it. With two steps his body is flush with yours and he kisses you like he’s craved you all theses years, like he needs you, he kisses you like a man starved of your lips, you’re the only cup of water in a desert, and you do the same. You wrap your arms around his neck and gasp as he grabs your ass he takes your gasp as his opening and his tongue is in your mouth intertwining with your own, messy, sloppy, and so fucking hot. His tongue grazes your teeth before he bites your bottom lip hard and you moan in his mouth before releasing you, his gaze makes you melt as he caresses your cheek “i missed you so much” you smirk up at him “prove it…sir” his eyes darken and you feel his hand graze down to your neck gently wrapping around your neck and tightening his grip as you feel your panties soak “oh I intend to sweetheart and this time I’m never letting go, i want to own you and you own me baby”

his hold on your neck tightens and you feel the wetness stick to your panties “good….own me sir and once you do…no more pushing me away Aaron-“ you grasp his shirt collar and his hands lower to your waist “promise me Aaron” he looks at you desperately and you realize the power you hold. Tonight you want to take control. You move his hands and step back. Confusion and half whimper fills his face…you strip slowly before he could talk and his eyes turn black as he licks his lips he reaches for you but you smile and back away “nope. You don’t get to touch me until you promise me Aaron Hotchner. No more pushing me away” his eyes turn loving, he smiles at you like you’re the only person in the world for him “I promise y/n” he slowly stalks towards you like a predator after its prey as he grabs your waist his hands slowly exploring your body, every touch like fire, such a good fire

”I’m all yours baby no more pushing you away….please just forgive me”

his desperation evident and you kiss his neck, you take off his shirt and your hands gently touch every scar on Hotch, his breath hitches and he groans as you start to kiss his scars you look up at Aaron “there is nothing to forgive, you’re here now. We’re together, that’s all that matters” your kisses and touches deepen as you kiss right above the band of his sweats, his hard on evident as you’re on your knees Aarons eyes darken as he moans at your every touch “p-please y/n” his pleading is the hottest sound and you slowly push his sweats down kissing on top of his boxers “I want to be in control tonight Aaron, at least for a bit” he gently touches your cheek and nods “of course babe I’m all yours take me and what ever control you need” with that you quickly stand up

“what are you-“

”I want you in my bedroom” he laughs and takes your hand as you lead him to your room the door closes and you push him to your bed, he sits at the edge and growls as he grabs you close to him, you stand up and put your hands through his hair, his head following your hands like a dance as his eyes roll back and moans as you pull his hair “you’re killing me baby”

you giggle “it’ll be worth it” you lightly pull his hair again as he kisses your breast when you pull his hair he bites at your nipple, “Aaron yes!’ You moan grasping tighter at his hair making him grown as he kisses down your body, biting and leaving bruises…he’s marking you…he’s owning you. Without a thought before you could react Aaron grabs you and lays you down on the bed like you’re a rag doll and he’s on his knees in front of the bed, he pulls you closer, your legs on his shoulder looking up at you for permission feeling his hot breath on your heat already drives you crazy all you could do was nod repeatedly, desperately and with that he smiles and his tongue drags from your entrance to your clit over and over, he teases your entrance with one of his thick fingers, as his tongue makes work with your clit, sucking then using his tongue on your clit you already start seeing stars as his finger enter and then the second, his pace relentless as he curves his fingers up hitting the sponge that makes you see stars as your about to cum your legs shake “that’s right sweetheart cum for me-“ he sucks and lightly nips your clit licking your pussy over and over, your legs shake as you pull his hair for some kind of support as the coil snaps and you clench his fingers, cumming all over them. Hotch fingers you through your orgasm and licks you clean removing his fingers and quickly sucking the rest of your wetness from his fingers. Fuck you need him.

“Aaron fuck me now” he laughs darkly like he was just waiting for you to say that. He quickly goes on top of you and your legs open for him, his body the perfect fit for you. You find the anticipation of feeling him stretch you too much and you move your hips higher just to feel him. He smirks at you pushing you’re waist down “tsk tsk tsk so needy” you start to pout “heyyyy I was supposed to take control today remember”

you whine, both of you knowing dam well he’s in control but right now you need to get fucked you need Aaron “of course sweetheart you’re in control” he winks at you and kisses you as he adjusts himself to your entrance. You stop him “I wanna ride you” his eyes emulate the growl he lets out as he swiftly switches both of you like its nothing, his hand grabbing your waist bruisingly harsh as you grind his cock, loving the friction “fuck y/n how are you so fucking hot” you giggle and blush “you want me sir?” He groans as you continue to grind and tease him your hands on his chest supporting yourself, it feels so good as he nods “yes yes yes y/n fuck I need you”

”mmm beg me sir”

you lick your lips as his grip on your waist tightens causing a hot pain you can’t get enough of “p-please y/n I need to feel your pussy baby fuck-“ you can’t take it you need this just as badly you adjust Aaron to your entrance and without warning he pulls your waist down and you feel every inch slam into your pussy filling you and stretching he hisses as you moan and both of you groan as you ride him “fuck y/n” his eyes roll back as you ride him like your life depends on it. Raising yourself till just the tip is in you and he grabs your waist again slamming you down over and over as you scream and your vision almost fades as his hand begins to move to rub your clit his callused thumb relentless and you feel you might black out with how sensitive your clit feels “that’s it baby cum on me like a good girl” his thumb doesn’t stop even as you grab his hand and that coil snaps as you cum on him “fuuuuck” he growls guttural as you moan his name over and over like a mantra, your head feels dizzy when he grabs you down hugging you to him as he bites your neck and thrusts up to you harder and harder relentlessly you moan and scream his name “that’s it baby, scream my name scream who owns you”

“y-y-you do sir…AARON!” He growls as his pace feels like he is skewering you as he chases his own high and you feel him unravell as he thrusts his seed as deep in you as possible “y/n!” He yells your name and for a moment you both just stay like that in each others arms, breathing, panting, you still feel dizzy. Aaron gently kisses your neck and shoulder all the places he left bruises. He gently moves you laying you down and he goes to the bathroom. Hotch comes back with a warm wash cloth, he gently cleans you up and you can barely move as you raise your arm, pouting, begging for cuddles, he throws the cloth to the side and covers both of you as he puts you in his arms. You face each other as he caresses your arms and face

”I love you”

his gaze never wavering, making you blush, you thought you’d never see that look again, hear those words again. You trail your hand on his chest, then his cheek “I love you so much Aaron” you lightly punch his arm

”ow what’s that for?” He laughs pretending that it hurt

“That! Was for pushing me away!” You smile as you kiss him deeply and he moans in gladness in your mouth “mmm and what was that for??”

“That’s for coming to your senses” he laughs and hugs you “always baby” and with that, you sleep in his arms. Falling asleep with the man of your heart. Realizing that all those problems was worth it because now you’re here, together, against the world.

The End

[narrans]

A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Fifteen | Candle Lit Christmas

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Chapter Fifteen | Candle Lit Christmas

First thing the next morning, one thing was absolutely certain – it was freezing. Ashlynn huddled under her blankets in every clothing layer she possessed and still she was insufferably cold.

Were her thoughts occupied with the dangers of her interaction with the three brothers last night?

No.

Was she thinking about how to keep herself safe and to avoid any unnecessary confrontations with the three humans she had decided to trust?

No.

Was she considering the possibility of returning?

No.

All she could think about was how cold it was.

What on earth is going on? It’s absolutely frigid! Did Soren turn off the heat? Is there something wrong with the heater? Is this some kind of human ploy to get me out of the walls? What time is it even?

Ashlynn dared to poke her head out from under her layered blankets, brow and eyes instantly stiff with an unforgivable chill, as she looked around her home. It was here that something caught her eye – her lights weren’t on. The little lights she’d tapped into and borrowed from the neighboring apartments were completely out.

That’s weird. The chances of this being a simple fix dwindled fast. What made it weird was that the power for the lights came from lots of different places. If there was a short or something along those lines, just one strand would be affected. Did this mean something happened to the power in all of these places?

It was with regret and reluctance that Ashlynn bundled up and hauled herself out of her bed, the imprint of warmth left behind in a perfect silhouette of her body. She shuffled over to the plugs and places she’d wired together just in case, but found nothing in the light of her hip lamp that indicated that the wires were bad or that something had burned out. Bulbs tested. Wires checked.

Ashlynn watched her breath form a steaming fog with every breath out, and every breath in felt like she little icicles were jabbing her lungs from the inside. She quickly retreated back to the warmth and safety of her bed, relieved her warm spot was waiting for her, and extinguished her lamp.

Just a few minutes longer, and then if nothing happens I’ll go check and see if the boys are here. Maybe Soren is doing something with the electricity. Then again, I haven’t heard them all morning. Hope everything’s okay…

~~~^*^*^~~~

And, for the boys, everything was more than okay. It was great!

First thing, early in the morning, Soren woke up his brothers and showed them the fresh layer of snow spread across the yards. Layers and layers of gray snow already scraped from the road was once again concealed by a duvet of white, frozen flakes. He usually let his brothers sleep, but sledding on Christmas Eve day was too good to pass up.

So, he picked out the warmest clothes they had and bundled them up into the car to go to his favorite secret sledding spot. It was a treasured place. Sometimes hard to get to, and rarely visited since everything happened, but it didn’t diminish the special meaning it had for Soren.

The trio set out into the snow, unaware that moments after they left that the power would go out for them and the rest of their neighborhood.

“Soren? Where are we going?” asked Dorian, interrupted momentarily by a yawn, as he peered out the window.

“Sledding. I told you that,” reminded Soren as he glanced back at his brother.

“I know, but… you turn left to go to the part; or we walk. You… see? You took a right,” pointed out Dorian. Rey’s eyes gleamed as he attempted to bounce and squirm. His efforts were severely thwarted from his layers of puffy winter coats and the seatbelt protecting him.

“Oh! OH! I know! I know! We’re going to The Hill, right?” grinned the youngest brother. Soren couldn’t hide his smile.

“Maybe.”

“Oh! I knew it!” cheered Rey.

“Wait. The Hill? Really?” Dorian chimed in eagerly.

The Hill, as Soren called it, was a place that he and his parents used to go to whenever it snowed because it had the best hills, hence the name. There was a park he and his parents used to enjoy when he was younger right next to a thick, wooded area. The park was an old-fashioned one, with rusted spring bound horses and metal slides. The swing set rocked back and forth due to years of abuse and the earth leveling beneath it.

It also had the best places to sled down. Old trails took you to several quiet, steep hills. It was here that Soren and his father, Aaron, had the all-time record for hills to jump. If you started at the top of one, you could crest over some of the smaller ones beside it, and Soren and his dad had managed to make it all the way to the end during one particularly icy snowfall.

That was before he got sick…

As if the brothers behind him could read his mind, Dorian asked, “Isn’t this the place your dad brought you to?”

Soren had to clear the tension in his throat before responding, “Yes, it is.” His eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror to see Rey and Dorian exchanging elated glances.

“Just like you’re dad took you!” Rey smiled. Soren swallowed hard and continued to nod rather than respond.

“But you’re not our dad,” stated Dorian in a matter-of-fact tone. It made Soren chuckle.

“No, I’m not. I’m something better – your pesky older brother,” he said as he glanced over his shoulder at his brothers. Rey started giggling before going off into his own side tangent.

“Soren? Soren? Do… wasn’t that so funny yesterday? When Ashlynn was like, ‘Isn’t Soren your dad?’ And! And…”

“That definitely was interesting,” admitted Soren. In a way, Ashlynn wasn’t wrong to guess Soren’s roll here in the family. He had taken on quite the heavy mantle after the accident with the boys’ father and their mother. It still made his blood boil, the way it all had to happen.

Brady should’ve never been behind the wheel. Soren’s grip tightened on the wheel. Serves him right. Drunken scumbag.

He was so focused on his loathing that Soren almost missed the turn. Quick jerk to the left with a little skidding that made the boys giggle and squeal and, all of a sudden, Soren felt like he was back in a memory. He followed the unplowed road through the arcing trees up one road and down the next before, just like before, he saw the all-too-familiar sight of the place he’d adored as a child.

“We’re here!” the boys cheered in tandem.

Yes… yes we are.

“Alright you two, unbuckle and let’s get going. We have some sledding to do.”

Soren hoisted the sleds onto his back and led the way around the park, over the creek, and then began the trudge up the series of small hills. He and his brothers paused frequently, mostly because of Rey wanting to eat icicles and draw smiley faces in the undisturbed winter around them, until they saw it.

The Hill.

It towered over them, a mass of white that made both boys pause and look up with their entire bodies since their bundled bodies couldn’t simply move their neck. The motion reminded Soren of the original Batman costume, but the reference would be lost on his brothers.

Maybe we’ll watch that if they don’t want to watch something else more Christmas themed tonight. Soren thought.

“Alright. Final push, and then we slide down,” huffed Soren.

“Soren? I’m tired. Could you carry me?” asked Rey. Soren looked over his shoulder to see his brother standing pitifully in snow almost to his knees with his lower lip puckered out. Whether Rey knew it or not, Soren could never say no when his brother made that face.

“Alright. Get on,” he relented as he knelt in the snow.

“Hey! Can I go too?” Dorian asked.

Figures. I knew this would happen. I did the same thing at their ages.

“Pile on!”

It took some finagling, but Soren managed to get both his brothers onto his back while dragging the sled behind. With both boys secure and Soren realizing this was going to be quite the challenge, the eldest forced his quaking knees to push him upright as he began the climb. The boys knew better than to flail and bounce. They knew Soren would make them walk if they weren’t going to behave themselves, so they remained motionless and fastened tight, clutching onto Soren’s shoulders for dear life.

Step after step, Soren ascended The Hill.

Each step made Soren feel stationary. No matter how much he pumped his legs, the top was nowhere to be found. He didn’t relent. Everything worth having was worth working for, and his brothers deserved this. Finally, out of breath and a bit achy, Soren crested over the top and partially as a joke and partially because his legs were screaming in protest, fell face first in the snow.

“Soren! Are you okay?” Rey squeaked.

“Did you get hurt?” asked Dorian immediately after. Soren rolled over and, in the blink of an eye, had grabbed his brothers and rolled them into the snow. The chorus of laughter erupted as the three were now covered in snow.

“Ugh, just crushed by you two. When did you decide to get so big?” groaned Soren as their laughter died down. The boys opened their mouths to protest, but paused as they saw the look in their brother’s eyes. It was unidentifiable for the youngsters, but it was unlike any way he’d looked at them before. Pride? Nostalgia? Realization?

Their mom had that look a few times…

As fast as the moment came, it went and soon Soren was on his feet and setting up their three person sled.

“Okay, Rey first, Dorian, and then me. Let’s go!” Soren’s commanding voice set the boys to action immediately. If only I could get them to do chores that easily, thought Soren sarcastically. Snow crunched under their feet as they assumed the correct order. The oldest remembered how his father did it, and now he was going to do the same. “Alright. Hang on tight and don’t lean, bounce, or let your feet drag. Ready? Set!” On “Go,” Soren pulled the sled back and ran with it, only jumping on at the last moment as it careened off of the edge.

The boys’ squeals were caught in the top of their throat as the frigid wind whipped past their faces. They held on tight, death gripping the edge of the sled by the improvised handles Soren made for them last Christmas. The weightlessness carried them down the hill and over the first two bumps before sliding to a stop on the third.

Almost! Thought Soren. Gotta get the record though. Not worth the trip without it.

He turned around and, using the handle, began dragging his brothers back up the series of hills. Thankfully, the boys didn’t make the next few climbs difficult, stomping through the snow beside Soren instead of getting a free ride off of his back. It wasn’t until the fifth try that, finally, the snow was flat enough for them to make a proper run of it.

“Ready? Set! GO!” Soren sprinted as he pushed the sled, his muscles aching in the cold, as he leapt on at the last moment. They soared over the first hill and the second, caught air on the third, and coasted through the last one all the way to the tree line before coming to a skidding stop right before the creek.

“We did it! We did it!” cheered Rey, bounding like a puppy in the snow with Dorian cheering right beside him.

Yeah… we did. See that mom? Dad? Keeping the tradition alive.

“Ready for another round?”

“Yeah!”

~~~^*^*^~~~

Hours passed in the freezing cold before, finally, the boys returned home. Everything felt numb, but neither boy could stop talking about what an awesome time they had. Now, a promise of hot chocolate and a warm bath lured them back to the car to make the drive home.

Soren had to admit that he could also use some time in a nice hot shower, but hot chocolate and getting the boys warm took precedent. They would pass out like played out puppies and nap the moment Soren left them alone for more than a minute, and it would be better if they were already PJ’d up and ready for a night in than trying to wake them later.

They rounded the final corner to their neighborhood and up to their place. Soren tapped the garage door and, to their surprise, nothing happened. Twice. Three times. Nothing. Soren put the car in park and stepped up to the keypad to press the frozen through buttons when he noticed the light failed to come on.

“Oh no,” he grumbled. This wasn’t good. He tried once more, just to be safe, and sadly received the same result.

The power was out.

How long has it been out? We’ve been gone for a while. Please tell me the pipes haven’t frozen. Looks like it’s improv time.

“Soren? Is everything okay?” Dorian had unbuckled himself and was leaning out of the car, concern etching its way into his thawing features.

“Maybe. I think the power’s out. Storm must’ve taken out the power lines and the generators,” replied Soren, who returned to the car and shut it off. “We’ll have to go in through the front. Come on.”

He guided the boys inside and, to keep them from tracking in snow, quickly undressed at the front door step so he was in nothing but his long pants and long sleeved shirt before picking up one boy and then the next, shoving them in the garage to rid themselves of their snow covered gear. The moment he stepped inside, Soren could’ve sworn he could see his breath. Evidently, the power had been out for a while, and that wasn’t good. The emergency flashlights flooded the room with small beacons of light, but that was all with the blinds closed and curtains drawn.

At least I remembered to keep the curtains sealed. It would be unbearable if I’d thrown open the blinds first thing.

He was prepared, as always, for emergencies, but it would add time and, sadly, the boys wouldn’t be getting a bath today unless the power came back on. Jammies on the boys and his own gear drying in the garage, Soren set to work.

“Soren? Why is it so cold in here?” asked Rey as he shivered and pulled his sleeves over his fingers.

“Well,” sighed Soren as he grabbed one of his own jackets and slid it onto his brother, instantly dwarfing the youngster, before pulling up the hood to cover his head. “When the power goes out, that means there’s no electricity. The heater runs off of electricity, so no power means no heat.” Soren pulled Dorian closer and slipped one of his jackets on him, zipping up the front all the way to Dorian’s chin.

“So… does that mean…” Soren knew where Rey was going with this.

“Yes. Operation Survival. You know where the flashlights are,” grinned Soren, biting back a shiver as he pulled a hoodie over his head.

“Yeah! Tent city! Campfire burner! Candles and fire! Let’s go!” Dorian cheered as he and Rey scampered off.

“Flashlights first!” Soren called. He rolled his eyes and stared at the kitchen sink, daring to reach forward and flicking the tap on.

Nothing.

Curses. Either the pipes are frozen or the backup generator is out too.

Soren crouched and opened the cabinet to see if he could find any signs of freezing pipes when he heard something on top of the counter directly behind him.

“S-s-soren?”

He glanced over his shoulder to see Ashlynn bundled in blankets to the point he could only make out part of her face.

“Ashlynn, hey,” he breathed.

“Wh-what’s g-going on?” Ashlynn’s teeth were chattering hard. “Is the p-power out?” A million things were going on in his mind to help get everything prepared for a potential power outage long haul, but pausing for a second to explain wouldn’t do any harm.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Soren grumbled. “Usually, there are generators and stuff to kick everything back on, but this snow storm must be hitting a lot of people all at once. So, we’re going into what myself and the boys affectionately call ‘Survival mode.’ We’ve also called it pioneer night, but operation survival motivates the boys.”

“Ah, I s-s-see,” muttered Ashlynn. “Explains the c-cold.”

“Oh… oh yeah, wow. So… gosh yeah, that would probably affect you more than any of us since you probably don’t have access to direct heat, huh.” Soren saw the small woman nod sheepishly. I couldn’t imagine not having access to electricity and modern tech. Basically every night is like pioneer night for someone like her. Soren shuddered to think of what it would be like to have to take care of him and his brothers if he were Ashlynn’s size with basically nothing to his name.

It made his heart ache, but then an idea hit him.

“Well, I don’t know what your plans are for the evening, but you’re welcome to join us. Dorian and Rey are going to be back here in a second and I’m going to set them on tent duty, which is basically a giant fort made of blankets so we can all be together and keep warm if the power doesn’t come back on. If you want to join them, I’m sure they’d love to have you,” suggested Soren. “Or not. Whatever you prefer. You might’ve just come down to figure out what was going on.”

“And… what are you doing?” asked Ashlynn.

“Me? Checking for leaks and breaks in the water pipes, but I don’t see any here and I can’t do much else except wait and see if there are any leaks,” replied Soren as he ducked back into the cabinet and, using his keen eyes, started seeking for any seam splits.

“Why can’t you do much else? Why wait?” asked Ashlynn, who knew the dangers of water leaking for more reasons than one. If there was a leak in the pipes, walls and floors were instantly torn up. She’d seen it happen to a friend’s family when they were growing up, and they had to move shortly after. The damage water could do was also dangerous. It could lead to mold and would ruin everything if not dealt with properly.

“Well, a lot of that stuff is either under the house where I can’t reach it right now or it’s in the walls,” explained Soren. It was like a bolt of lightning struck them both, giving the same idea at the same time. “Ashlynn…”

“Soren… er…” They accidentally started talking at the same time. They both chuckled as Soren gestured for Ashlynn to go first. “Well… if you need someone to check the walls, I could do that. It’s easy enough. I’ve already mapped out most of the pipes and stuff. It’s how I… well… er… let’s just say I know how to check for that kind of stuff.”

Soren’s smile was nearly from ear to ear.

“That would be great. Seriously, Ashlynn, thank you.” It felt like a boulder had been lifted off of Soren’s chest. With Ashlynn checking the walls, I can get everything else going. If she finds something, it’ll be a quick fix. If not, I’ll know it’s a generator. “Come back as soon as you’re done.”

“Sure,” Ashlynn replied. It was the first time she actually felt useful, like she was paying back a debt that wasn’t being asked for.

She’d almost made it to the walls when she heard Soren’s soft, “Oh.” She paused and looked back at him. “By the way, what kind of hot chocolate do you like? Have you… had it before?” Ashlynn had heard of this drink, but had never had a chance to borrow any. So, she shook her head. “Little of a few different ones then. Good to know. Thanks.”

Ashlynn clicked on her hip lamp and, like the shadow she was, slipped into the darkness in search of a leak.

Soren, in the meantime, gathered up a few pots and set them on the gas stove to start boiling snow for hand washing and other miscellaneous things. He had drinking water reserved in the closet and the garage. He retrieved the electric generators from the shelves and set to work making a big bowl of ramen for lunch and then soup for dinner.

When he told the boys Ashlynn would be joining them, they just about lost their minds.

“Twice? In two days!” They cheered as they set to work on the tent, saying, “Let’s make this one the best one ever so Ashlynn will be impressed. She’s probably never been in a fort before.”

Ashlynn determinedly began scouring the walls for every water pipe she could remember in the apartment. Up walls. Down corridors. She placed her hands on each frigid pipe and examined it up one side and down the other looking for bulges or poking out ice. She even made sure her area was secure before snagging a few things she would need if she was going to spend the evening with Soren and his brothers.

Brothers. Ridiculous. I should’ve seen it. They just… whatever. They look related, but not by much. Dorian and Rey must take after their actual father or Soren just really takes after his. Ashlynn crouched and flipped over some of the nearby pipes when she heard something.

*Hiss… Drip… Drip…. Drip…*

Everything stopped. She held her breath. Every little motion froze in place. Ashlynn listened as hard as she could, turning her head one way and then the other to tell where it was coming from. She picked up the pace, following the sound down one corridor and having to crawl on all fours under a support beam, but still finding nothing.

“Well, shoot,” she muttered, hands on her hips and reaching up to scratch the back of her neck. “Where are you? Sounds like it’s coming from… hm…”

She had an idea.

Ashlynn had a good sense of direction, and she knew this part of the house was near the outside of the house. If I’m right… Ashlynn slid down a line she’d secured when she first arrived in case of emergencies and, instantly, felt the bitter cold freezing her solid. It was the passage that led to the outside, and she was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea.

Just a peak. Just a pe-AK! Ashlynn was halfway down the line when, suddenly, her foot hit solid ice. The jolt made her lose her grip and, as she slid down the rest of the line, she saw the culprit.

The water hose on the outside had indeed burst, and the spray had coated her emergency line in a thin coating of ice. Ashlynn plummeted straight down into a frozen mud pit, water spraying over her and into her hair. The wind kicked up again, sending millions of tiny snowflakes rushing right past her. The frigid air nearly brought Ashlynn to her knees once she was upright again.

Shoot! This is bad. Curses! Of course this happens to me. Ashlynn thought as she wiped the mud on her pants. She thanked her lucky stars she had her spare line and didn’t have to spend any time knocking the ice off of her safety line. It was that one more second that she needed to get inside instead of sitting outside freezing to death.

Though it took a bit longer to get inside because of her mud slicked hands and pants, Ashlynn was finally back inside and certain the pipes were alright.

“Great. Now I just have to get back and be a muddy mess for the rest of the night,” mumbled Ashlynn as she made the long slog back to her bag and the electrical cover on the counter.

~~~^*^*^~~~

“What happened?!” Soren’s voice was saturated with concern as he watched Ashlynn march back onto the counter, mud and ice on her clothes and in her hair. “Are you okay? Did you find a leak? Gosh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s fine, Soren,” Ashlynn interrupted, feeling a bit flustered that Soren was fussing over her so much; not that she minded. In fact, she kind of liked it. She reached up and scratched the back of her neck, body still shivering from her exposure to the outside world. “Really. I just need to change and I’ll be good. On the positive side, at least we know it’s just a split hose outside and not something in the house.”

Soren sighed, right hand reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb, before glancing over at the lit stove where he had successfully melted several bowls of snow.

“Well, at the very least you can wash off that mud if you want. I’ve got some warm water here, and we’ll give you the bathroom to get changed and everything,” said Soren. The mention of warm water instantly made Ashlynn’s body tingle. She’d only ever had warm baths here, and she liked the experience. “Though technically, if you’re cold, it’s skin to skin that is recommended, but…”

Ashlynn didn’t hear the rest. Her ears instantly started ringing and her cheeks began burning hotter than her candle burning stove at the thought of skin to skin with Soren. Gosh! What’s wrong with me?!

“Ashlynn?”

The Borrower woman startled as she suddenly realized Soren’s hand was only a few inches from her. She looked down at his hand and then back up to his features, only now noticing the bowl of steaming water in his left hand.

“Is that… something you’d like?” he asked.

She swallowed hard and, realizing he was talking about the bath, nodded bashfully and stepped onto his fingers as she snagged her bag with her spare clothes in it. The heat radiating off of his palm was soothing, and she was tempted to see if she could just sit there and keep warm. The Borrower thought better of it and let Soren carry her to the bathroom, which was lit with candles.

“Um… there’s soap here and give a shout or come into the living room when you’re done. I’ll leave the door open a crack for you,” stated Soren as his hand glided down to the surface of the countertop to set her down.

“Th-thank you,” she mumbled as she disembarked and watched Soren go. Good grief! I can’t blank out and think about something as ridiculous as skin to skin with a human! What on earth is wrong with me?! Even if I took him up on that, he probably is treating me like he would a little sister. He treats his brothers with this same care. Good grief! What am I even thinking?

Ashlynn stripped and slid into the warm water, dunking herself in the hopes that warm water would cool her head.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Twenty or so minutes later, Ashlynn was squeaky clean with fresh clothes and clean ones drying on the edge of the sink. After getting clean, she scrubbed her clothes free of mud and set them out so she’d have something to get into later if she had another wardrobe malfunction.

Then, she wandered into the living room to see what exactly this “fort” was supposed to look like; and, in all actuality, it looked like a Borrower fort. The blankets were ramshackle and pinned in every which way between the two couches, which were now facing one another instead of being perpendicular. Other blankets and something that looked like foam were on the ground in between the two couches. There were also miscellaneous games and padded boxes that Ashlynn didn’t recognize, but one thing she did know for certain.

Heat was coming from somewhere. Based on the mild glow and the cord going from it to one of those padded boxes, Ashlynn guessed it was the reason there was any semblance of warmth anywhere here.

“Ashlynn!” Dorian’s face peered out from under one of the blankets on the couch as he gave a little wave. “Do you like it? It’s not done, but it will be. Want a grand tour?” Ashlynn spotted Soren not too far away unrolling some kind of plastic thing, so she elected to nod.

Dorian slipped out from the blankets and was at her side in a few simple steps, something Ashlynn would’ve had to short distance sprint to cross in the same amount of time.

“Okay, here you have the grand foyer. This is where we’ll have food and play some games and where the heater is pointed. That’s that thing over there,” Dorian explained.

“Heater? I thought…” Ashlynn’s confusion was evident and Rey, who was carrying in more blankets from Soren’s room, dropped everything to answer.

“Yeah! It needs electricity, but Soren has that covered. This thing here. It’s called a generator. It is like a big battery that Soren keeps charged in case we lose power. It also plays music and can make emergency Morse code signals if we’re in danger.” Rey was beaming with pride at his concise answer, and it earned him a scrutinized look from his brother.

“I was gonna explain that,” complained Dorian. “Any-who! That one there is my couch, so that’s where I’ll sleep. And that one there is Rey’s couch. That’s where he’ll sleep. He’ll probably also lose some of his toys in there because he always loses his toys in the couch.”

“I do not! Not always,” Rey claimed indignantly. “I can’t help it if I like working on my inventions before bed and… well… sometimes I fall asleep and sometimes things fall out of my hands, but that’s part of being an inventor, which… OH! It���s Christmas Eve! We can give you your thing!”

Rey scampered off while Dorian continued to talk about the entrance and how it’s important to have blankets in a particular order because, otherwise, you’ll still be cold even under a mountain of blankets. To Ashlynn’s surprise, she actually found this useful.

By the time Rey returned, Soren had lunch in bowls for all of them, even Ashlynn, as well as a cup of hot chocolate for each of them. It was the first time Ashlynn ever had anything like it. It was warm and sweet and made her insides toasty like warm soup. And then adding marshmallows? Something else she’d never tried?

A Borrower could die happy if this was their last meal.

They finished lunch and played a few games, which Dorian and Rey barely made it through because they were exhausted from sledding, and then decided to lay down while Soren cleaned up. It was admirable, seeing the way Soren diligently tended to his brothers, and Ashlynn couldn’t stop herself from staring as Soren came back and practically collapsed onto something they called an “air mattress.”

But it’s not made of air… just filled with it… whatever.

It was when they woke up that the real, as Rey called them, “reindeer games” actually started. They took turns having Ashlynn on their team as they played things like “Cadoo,” more Pictionary, Jenga which Ashlynn was especially good at since she could climb and maneuver the pieces so well, and a few others Ashlynn hadn’t heard of.

It was only after dinner, yet another meal Ashlynn found herself groaning over, that they celebrated Christmas Eve. Soren did something called praying, which Ashlynn had seen some other humans do, before he retrieved several boxes from under the tree, each wrapped in green or red wrapping paper. He handed three each to the boys and, to Ashlynn’s surprise, one to her.

“Sorry I don’t have the same to give like I do the boys,” apologized Soren. “It’s what I could come up with in time.” It was a beautifully wrapped blue package that was about as tall and as wide as herself. She worried it would be too big to bring back to her own home, but banished those thoughts as she poked a hole in the paper and tore away the sides.

It was a massive, fuzzy blanket with an elegant “A” stitched into the side which was about the size of her hand. One side was a blue checkered flannel and the other was a cloud like fluffy material that was softer than anything Ashlynn had ever touched before in her life.

“Y-you… made this? For me?” she asked, craning her neck to look up into Soren’s golden hazel eyes. The illumination of the flashlights and candles only accentuated the flecks of green in them.

“Yeah,” Soren muttered as he reached up and nervously scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry it’s not much. But…”

“I love it. I… I just…”

“Wait! What about ours!” Rey interrupted as he quickly snagged a flashlight and darted into the darkness of his bedroom.

“Mine too!” Dorian called as he raced after his brother.

Soren chuckled, completely unaware that they’d managed to pull something together, when he heard a little sniff by his knee. He honed in his attention onto Ashlynn, who was clutching the blanket to her chest and shivering slightly.

“Hey… Ashlynn. Are you okay? Did we… do something wrong?” asked Soren. Ashlynn shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and along her sleeve. Her voice barely carried through the air, and Soren had to leave over to hear Ashlynn’s mumblings.

“I just… I haven’t don’t anything to deserve this. You’re all just being… being so kind. It’s something I would never have thought a human would do for a B…” Ashlynn stopped herself short before continuing, not finishing the word she had in mind. “You know? You hear these stories about others getting captured or killed. It just makes you so afraid, and then someone like you comes along… all three of you… it’s just…”

“It’s a lot?” Soren ventured a guess after Ashlynn was silent for a minute. When she nodded, he continued. “Yeah, I can understand that. And, please, if this is too much all at once you can just tell us. It’s okay.”

“See? Stuff like that. You’re all just so understanding. I just… I wish there were more humans out there like you. I’d even take more like you for my kind if I’m being honest.” Soren felt a rush of flattery making the tips of his ears burn. It was nice to know his efforts were worth it and that she wasn’t feeling hostile or as secretive anymore.

“Well, as long as you’re comfortable, you’re always welcome. It’s quick, but it definitely feels like you’ve joined the crew, if that’s what you want,” offered Soren. Ashlynn, emotions running wild like a rampant tornado in a jar, found herself nodding. It had been so long since she’d been a part of something – part of a family – and having it happen so quickly only affirmed in her mind that it was meant to be.

“We’re back! Here, Ashlynn! Open mine first.”

“No, me!”

Dorian and Rey both presented their gifts, which were, at the very least, good efforts that showcased the boys’ charm. Dorian had made something that looked like a coat rack out of some pencils and rubber bands. He also claimed it could function as a makeshift tent as he draped a blanket over the edges.

Rey, on the other hand, had managed to create a type of “quick descending” device using a skillcraft lanyard zip and some extra fishing hooks. He was also working on a quick ascension device, but he was having trouble getting it to not lock up.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” It was true. Ashlynn felt at a loss for words to show her gratitude, but an idea came to mind that she knew she had to act on. She stood and, to each of the boys, she went over and hugged their fingers, seeing that was the only part of them she could actually get her hands around. Despite her body shaking with excitement and so many other emotions, she managed to hug and thank each of the brothers.

Soren’s gifts to the boys included one toy they’d both been asking for separately, which was a Lego set of their choosing, something that interested them independently, music box mixing for Dorian and an electronics kit for Rey, and something they could do together, which was two new card games. In exchange, Dorian gave Soren a tool kit with medical and practical supplies, which Soren knew he was getting since he purchased it, and Rey gifted him some homemade flashlight gloves and matching head mount for his flashlights.

So… this is Christmas. I like it, Ashlynn thought as she watched the brothers hug. They crawled into their prospective beds not too long after and, using her new “tent,” Ashlynn found herself turning in for bed too. Both Dorian and Rey were breathing softly in their makeshift beds under a warmed tent, obviously knocked out from the events of the day. Ashlynn wasn’t far behind. Her eyes were just beginning to unfocus when she heard Soren’s signature cough.

“Hey, Ashlynn? You awake?” asked Soren.

“Mm-hmm, yeah,” she replied, sleep saturating her voice. How much time had passed since the boys had fallen asleep? Was Ashlynn asleep? Or that odd twilight between awake and not?

“Thanks for spending Christmas with us, and thanks for checking out the house. You really saved a lot of time and eased my mind at least, and I know the boys would say they had a great time with you tonight. So, thanks.”

Soren’s voice was growing fainter with each passing word until he completely drifted off to sleep. Ashlynn wasn’t far behind. Sleep played at the edges of her vision, eyelids lulling like shades that wouldn’t pull down. Up. Down. Further down. Up again. Closed. Up.

Sleep beckoned her with open arms as she nestled deeper into the cocoon she’d made from the blanket Soren gifted to her. Weightless. Effortless.

It was everything she’d always wanted – to be part of a fam-…

*WHAM*

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Continue | Coming Soon

Previous

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A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

[witchofawoman]

LATE NIGHTS ⋆｡°✩

5. Storm ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

featuring : jj maybank x kook!reader

summary : After last night’s tension with JJ and Rafe, you just wanted to disappear, but Rafe demanded you to come to a party, which you couldn't afford to refuse even though that's all your heart wanted as you knew how bad it would be for you...

words count : 2.5k

warnings : drug and alcohol usage, angst, violence, addiction, cheating, etc.

a/n : This is the 5th part of the serie !! Enjoy <3

That morning, you felt sick to your stomach. Sarah had gone to take a shower, but you sat on your bed, staring at Rafe’s text. The sight of it alone was enough to make you nauseous. It made you feel miserable, but you couldn’t afford to refuse his invitation. So, with a shaky hand, you texted him back a simple “ok.”

You were stressed. For once, Rafe would actually be with you at the party. He wouldn’t be off in some room with another girl. No, this time, he’d be right next to you, watching your every move. The thought of it was unbearable. And as if things couldn’t get any worse, JJ was going to be there too.

You stayed on your bed, lost in thought, until Sarah emerged from the bathroom.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” she asked. Her hair was damp, her usual outfit thrown together with practiced ease. Her lips curved into a faint smile, but her eyes gave her away it was like she was in a rush.

Before you could answer, a loud honking interrupted you. Frowning, you walked to the window and peeked out. John B’s van was parked outside, and his friends were piled in, waiting.

You shot Sarah a confused look, but she quickly held up a hand to cut you off. “I’ll explain later, but I have to go now. Please grab my stuff and bring it tonight, okay? Love you!”

Before you could even process what was happening, she was gone.

“Uh… okay,” you muttered to yourself. Your head spun. What was going on?

The day was suffocating, the hours crawling by with cruel deliberation. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, not even to grab a drink or smoke by the window. Your body felt heavy, weighed down by dread, your mind spinning in loops you couldn’t break. All you could do was lay in bed, staring blankly at the screen, movies flickering without meaning.

By the time 5 p.m. rolled around, the walls felt like they were closing in. You had no choice—you had to get up, had to move.

Dragging yourself to the mirror, you barely recognized your own reflection. Your skin was dull, your eyes sunken with exhaustion. You couldn’t care enough to pick a real outfit, so you grabbed the first thing your hand landed on: denim shorts and a white bikini top. You smeared on some makeup, shaky hands smudging the eyeliner, but you didn’t bother fixing it.

The phone buzzed violently on your nightstand, dragging you out of your spiral. You stared at the screen for a moment, your heart sinking when you saw his name. You didn’t want to answer—but you knew he wouldn’t stop. With a deep breath, you pressed the green button.

“Rafe,” you said, your voice flat.

“Where the fuck are you?” His voice was already sharp, cutting through you like glass.

“At home,” you replied, trying to keep your tone even.

“You were supposed to be here already.”

“You were supposed to pick me up,” you said, the exhaustion creeping into your words.

There was a pause on the line, followed by the sound of him sniffing. It made your stomach churn.

“Do you think I have time to play chauffeur, Y/N?” His voice was low now, edged with something darker. “Jesus Christ, you can’t do anything for yourself, can you?”

“Are you seriously doing this right now? You’re the one who forgot—”

“Don’t fucking start with me,” he snapped, his voice rising. “You love this, don’t you? Acting like a victim all the time. Like I’m the bad guy. Guess what, love? You are the problem. You’re pathetic.”

You blinked, your breath hitching.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you whispered, anger and hurt mixing into something volatile.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” he snarled. “Do you think anyone else would put up with your shit? Your little tantrums, your moods? Nobody cares about you, Y/N. Not Sarah, not those Pogues, and sure as hell not me if you keep acting like this.”

“Then leave!” you shouted, your voice breaking. “If I’m so goddamn unbearable, leave!”

There was another sniff on the other end of the line, followed by a humorless laugh.

“Oh, I will, love. But not before you drag your sorry ass here. And don’t you dare try anything tonight, or we’re done. You hear me? Done.”

“I—” you started, but the line went dead.

You stared at your phone, your chest heaving, the words you couldn’t say burning in your throat. 

 It coursed through you, a fiery rush that burned away everything else. Grabbing your bottle of pills, a few joints, and your car keys, you stormed out.

By the time you got to the party, the music was thumping, and the house was packed. You didn’t care. You didn’t want to see Rafe, didn’t want to see anyone. Slipping through the chaos, you headed upstairs.

It was Lucy’s house. You knew it well, knew the quiet spots but most of all knew how to disappear. The upstairs bathroom was perfect. Locking the door behind you, you dumped the pills onto the counter, crushed them into neat lines, and inhaled. The burn hit hard, sharp and immediate, but the numbness came quicker. Your heart raced, your mind blurred.

The bathroom door burst open so hard it slammed against the wall, making you flinch.

“Hey.”

The voice was familiar, but you were too dazed to place it. Blinking, you turned—and the sight of JJ standing in the doorway hit you like a bucket of ice water.

“JJ,” you breathed, your voice shaky.

“What the fuck are you doing?” His eyes were sharp

You wiped at your nose, trying to compose yourself. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Yeah, sure. Nothing looks a lot like snorting shit alone in a bathroom at a party.”

You crossed your arms, meeting his glare with defiance. “What are you even doing here, JJ?”

“Looking for beer, not a breakdown,” he shot back. “But I guess you’d call this fate, huh?”

You scoffed, leaning against the sink. “Oh, spare me the lecture.”

“I’m not lecturing you,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “I’m just wondering how someone who acts so untouchable is actually this fucking reckless.”

You stiffened, the words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. “What do you care?”

“I don’t,” he snapped, but his eyes betrayed him. “I mean—fuck, Y/N. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to yourself? Or is this just another game to you?”

“Don’t act like you know me,” you said, stepping closer. “You don’t. You never did.”

“Oh, I know you,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “I know you push people away before they can hurt you. I know you can’t stand being vulnerable for even a second because you think it makes you weak. But you know what’s really weak, Y/N? This. Hiding in a bathroom, getting high like that’s gonna fix anything.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and stinging. But instead of retreating, you closed the gap between you, your faces now inches apart.

“Am I weak, JJ?” you whispered, your voice soft but laced with challenge. “Or are you just scared of me?”

His breath hitched, his eyes flicking to your lips for the briefest moment.

“Scared of you?” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “You wish.”

Your lips curved into a faint smirk, but before either of you could say anything else, the moment shattered.

“Little bitch, you are, Y/N.”

Rafe’s voice cut through the air like a whip, and JJ stepped back, his expression hardening as Rafe stormed in.

“What, Rafe? I’m the bitch here?” you said, your voice sharp, not even turning to look at him as you wiped at your nose again.

He didn’t answer, and didn't waste time. He grabbed your arm and spun you around, slamming you back against the wall. His hand gripped your waist hard enough to bruise, his face inches from yours.

“Look at me,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “What the fuck were you doing with that Pogue?”

“Do you need to know every move I make?” you snapped, meeting his glare head-on.

“Yes,” he spat, his grip tightening. “Because you’re mine. Do you hear me? You’re fucking mine.”

“I’m not yours, Rafe!” you screamed, shoving at his chest. “I’m not your property, and you don’t get to control me!”

His eyes darkened, his face twisting in fury. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”

“Fuck you,” you shot back, your voice trembling with rage. “This is the end, Rafe. Never talk to me again. Go back to your little flings and hope they’re stupid enough to put up with your bullshit.”

“You don’t get to leave me,” he snarled, but you were already shoving past him, slamming the door behind you as you disappeared into the chaos of the party.

a/n : I know it's been a while since I haven't posted but I'm trying my best I promise, love you !!

[like and follow !!]

Taglist : @immyowndefender @imsiriuslyreal @yvesoull1 @yesshewrites1

[buckysouvenir]

between the lines (chapter 3)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader.

warnings: none.

word count: 933 words.

author’s note: hey guys! officially started the tags so if anyone else wants to get tagged so they can be notified when there’s a new chapter, just ask me! also the chapter are almost 1k words and i keep feeling like they are so short 😔 i love long chapters so tell me if you like the way it’s going or want longer chapters!

reblogs, likes and comments are always encouraged and highly appreciated! thank you ♡

bucky barnes masterlist⠀ |⠀ series masterlist⠀ |⠀ last chapter⠀ |⠀ next chapter

It was another quiet evening at S.H.I.E.L.D., and Y/N was ready to kick back and relax. Her friends were already preparing for Movie Night in the lounge, something they did every week to unwind from the chaos of work. They’d pick a cheesy action flick or an old classic, and for a couple of hours, the world outside didn’t matter.

She grabbed a bag of snacks from the desk in her room, checked the time, and headed toward the lounge, trying not to be too distracted. But it was hard not to think about Bucky. It wasn’t intentional, it just happened. Every time she crossed paths with him, something in her chest fluttered. And it wasn’t just the awkwardness of their accidental collisions that left her rattled. No, it was the way his smile lingered longer than she expected, the way his eyes didn’t look away so quickly. It was the quiet moments between them that made her feel like there was more than just a casual acquaintance.

But tonight, she had to focus on movie night. It would be easy to forget about Bucky in a room full of her friends. Or at least, that was the plan.

She rounded a corner, lost in her thoughts about how her friends would make fun of her movie choice. But as always, life had other plans.

Y/N looked up to find Bucky Barnes standing right in front of her. 

“You sure you’re not following me?” she teased.

Bucky smirked, clearly amused. “You caught me!”

She playfully swatted him with the bag of snacks. He raised his hands in mock defense, laughing.

“So, what’s the deal? Out for a stroll, or are you just trying to bump into me again on purpose?” she asked with a teasing grin, her gaze lingering on him a second longer than she intended.

Bucky looked at her for a moment, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “Maybe I am trying to bump into you. What’s it to you?” he countered, his voice soft but laced with something playful.

Y/N felt a twinge of heat rise in her cheeks, but she kept her composure. “Well, if that’s the case, I should warn you—I’m heading to movie night with my friends. You know, the loud bunch who can’t sit still for five minutes.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Movie night, huh?”

Y/N grinned. “It’s just a way to unwind after a long week. We pick something mindless, order too much pizza, and complain about bad plot twists.”

Bucky chuckled, his smile growing. “Sounds like a good time.”

Without even thinking, Y/N found herself saying, “You should join us. We’re in the lounge. I’m sure they’d love to meet you.” She instantly regretted the invitation. It was too much, too soon, wasn’t it? He wasn’t part of the team, not really.

But Bucky didn’t look put off in the slightest. Instead, he took a step closer, his voice a little quieter. “You sure? You might regret it. I’m terrible at keeping up with the movie talk.”

Y/N bit her lip, trying to keep her cool. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky said, nodding, clearly amused. “I’ll come. Can’t say no to an invitation like that.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as he agreed. It wasn’t like he had to say yes. He could have politely declined, but he didn’t. There was something about the way he’d responded that made her feel like maybe he was just as interested in spending time with her as she was with him.

As they walked toward the lounge together, Y/N couldn’t help but steal glances at Bucky. There was something about the way he carried himself—confident, yet guarded. He was still adjusting to this new life, but there was a certain ease to him now. It wasn’t the same Bucky she’d seen when he first arrived months ago, tense and unsure. He was becoming a part of the team, piece by piece.

They entered the lounge, where her friends were already lounging around. Daisy, Leo, Jemma, Grant, and Antoine waved them over.

“Who’s this?” Daisy asked with a mischievous smile, clearly already in a teasing mood.

“This is Bucky,” Y/N said, giving Bucky a playful nudge as she introduced him.

Bucky grinned. “Hey.”

“You’re a bit weird. You’ll fit right in,” Leo said, handing him a bowl of popcorn as if it were a regular Friday night for him. 

Jemma and Antoine exchanged a knowing look as they started the movie, and soon, Bucky was settling in beside Y/N on the couch.

For the next couple of hours, they slipped into the rhythm of the group—sharing laughs over cheesy lines, throwing out ridiculous theories about the plot, and shoving popcorn into their mouths. Y/N noticed how comfortable Bucky seemed to get, more relaxed as the movie progressed. Every now and then, he’d throw out a sarcastic remark or laugh at something someone said, and Y/N found herself smiling at how effortlessly he was blending in.

As the movie wrapped up and everyone started to pick up their stuff, Y/N turned to him, her voice teasing again. “So, you survived movie night. What do you think?”

Bucky leaned back on the couch, stretching his arms behind his head. “It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever done,” he said with a wink.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “Guess you’ll be coming again next week, huh?”

“You know it,” Bucky replied, his grin wide and genuine.

#tags: @cjand10