#these were done over the course of a few months- my first one being the purple starlight desert one
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god i love sky cotl scenery so much
in order they appear: - Realm Gates in Aviary Village - Hidden Forest Entrance - Golden Wasteland Vortex - Starlight Desert (Vault - Little Prince Area) - Campfire Spot in Starlight Desert side area, toward Eden (next to memorial spot)
#leons.art#sky children of the light#sky cotl#sky game#that sky game#sky cotl scenery#digital painting#these were done over the course of a few months- my first one being the purple starlight desert one#wanted to do all the realms but school has started so i wont get to that anytime soon lol#really proud of that last one#also eli if/when you see this- thank you so much for the brush pack#i would not have gotten back into digital painting withough them /gen#ily /p
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AITA for telling my boyfriend’s coworkers that he’s lying about his body count?
I (35f) have been dating my boyfriend (32m) for four years. It’s honestly been the best relationship until last Friday when it all went down. I feel like I’m in the right, but now I’m wondering if I overstepped.
For context, my boyfriend has been a professional Slasher for about eight months now. He’s always really admired Cryptids, Monsters, and Nightmares so when his application was finally accepted, he was over the moon even if he was starting in a lower position than he initially applied for.
At his company, being a Slasher requires a lot of travel which we knew when he accepted the position. The end goal is for him to get a promotion to at least regional Nightmare (he wants Cryptid, but that position doesn’t have a lot of turnover) but to get that he needs to be in role for at least 12 months OR meet his goals for three months in a row. Once he promotes, we plan to relocate to his new region and “start talking about our future.”
(Side note: no this isn’t about him not popping the question yet. We are both in agreement that marriage comes after financial stability. I run a small business doing scare consults and, while it’s been growing, I wouldn’t call it stable yet. So neither of us are ready.)
I told him it’s completely normal for it to take a whole year before he’s ready to promote and he really should focus on adjusting to the company before thinking about next steps. I used to work for a competitor (I’ve been retired for five years now) and I know it can be hard to go from only taking the occasional human life to having to take over half a dozen a week. It’s not a light workload, no matter how easy it looks in the movies. One of my best friends Slashes part-time and she still only averages about five lives a week despite having done it for years. Especially these days, it can be really hard to meet quota. Humans are getting smarter, no matter what the Council wants us to think.
Anyway, boyfriend didn’t do as well as he thought he would in his first couple months. Totally understandable, of course, which I told him. I suggested he ask his boss if he could be put on a couple team assignments or even a duo until he got the hang of it. That was our first real fight. He thought I was doubting his ability to kill. He brought up how I told him it would take over a year to promote and how I said that this job wasn’t for everyone (His first assignment ended with a 0% kill rate, but that’s a different story). He said it felt like I didn’t believe in him and he said that if that was the case then maybe we shouldn’t be thinking about marriage so soon.
It got pretty messy after that. I felt like he was forgetting that I’d worked in the same field and, arguably, had a lot more experience (not to brag, but I averaged a 98% kill rate). Also, four years is NOT too soon to talk about marriage. He said I didn’t understand how he needed to focus on his career right now. I told him I thought he was taking Slasher too lightly just because it wasn’t Cryptid. He accused me of not respecting him and then things spiraled from there.
We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean and I’m embarrassed that it turned into a bit of a fang measuring contest. I ended up sleeping under the bed for a few nights until he coaxed me out to apologize.
It was a rough patch, but we talked it out. We agreed that, going forward, I wouldn’t offer advice unless he asked and he would try not to take so much of his frustration home with him. He took a weekend off and we went on a recreational haunting trip in the Montana woods.
Things did get better after that. I tried not to give him consults every time he came back from a work trip. He started bringing me souvenirs like roses and cursed puzzle boxes his work said he could have. It became easier just to hang out with each other and it felt like we were back to normal.
But then, four months ago, he came home super pissed because his boss put him on a PIP. (A performance improvement plan.) Apparently, boyfriend had not been doing better at work, he had just stopped telling me when he had a bad assignment. I saw the paperwork he got (he left it in the dungeon under the house, I didn’t go through his stuff) and he’s been missing quota by a LOT. As a junior Slasher, he was supposed to be executing at least 6 people a week, but he’d been lucky to be maiming half that.
Obviously, I had to talk to him about that. We rent our house and, even though I could have afforded the rent on my own, I didn’t want to jeopardize the investments I was making in my business (I was in the process of hiring an assistant to handle my scheduling). Plus, we agreed from day one that we would be 50/50 on rent and I would take care of the rest of the bills because I earned more. I felt that if his financial situation was in jeopardy, he needed to talk to me about it.
I tried to approach him a bit differently than last time. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help. I told him about my slasher friend and how maybe she could give him advice if he didn’t want any from me. But he said he needed to figure stuff out on his own and that if he couldn’t get himself off the PIP then he would go back to work for his dad’s janitorial company.
I let it go. I was worried but I didn’t want to fight again just after patching the holes from the last blow out. It really bugged me that he thought I didn’t believe in him so I committed to giving him the benefit of the doubt. I said okay and asked him if he needed me to meal prep for both of us that week. He offered me grocery money, but I said it was fine since I’d had to deal with a lot of humans breaking in lately and I still had some leftover in the dungeon.
Fast forward a month. Boyfriend got off the PIP super fast. He worked his way off of it over Spring Break and started taking on a lot of extra assignments. In just four weeks he went to Miami Beach twice, New York City twice, and to three separate summer camps. I missed him and it was hard not having him around but I remembered how he said he needed to focus on his career and I tried not to nag.
It was hard not to nag though. With him gone, all the housework fell on me. We rent a 19th century manor, and its upkeep really does need two people. Doing all the chores plus running my business started to really drain me. Even when he was home, he forgot to banish the ghosts (my chore is to kill all invading humans, and his chore is to banish their ghosts) and he never took out the trash. I think he cleaned blood off the dungeon walls once, but then I had to basically redo it because he missed a lot of spots.
But still, I didn’t say anything because he was doing really well at work and I didn’t want to ruin that for him. Even when Humans started breaking in every week, I didn’t complain even though it interrupted my work day.
Last month though, I did ask him if we could move somewhere that needed less maintenance. There were just way too many Humans breaking in and I didn’t have the time to deal with them anymore. Even if I don’t do all the theatrics I used to as a Cryptid, killing humans through fear still takes a lot of time. He asked me if I didn’t appreciate the free meat, and I said I would appreciate it more if I wasn’t the only butchering it.
He said he didn’t want to move because he was really close to getting promoted to regional Nightmare and he didn’t want to take time off work to move. I was so surprised that I couldn’t hide how surprised I was. He saw and got offended. He asked if I still didn’t believe in him. I said that I did, but it was a huge jump to go from an 8% kill rate to getting promoted.
He got even more mad at me for bringing up his stats and he said that he had nearly 80% kill rate since being put on the PIP. I asked how many humans a week he was slashing and he told me I was being too nosy and that was proof that I didn’t believe in him.
I asked him if we could at least hire a ghoul then to keep the humans out of my office and he said he didn’t want to waste the money that we should be saving for our new house. I asked him what he wanted me to do then? I had to take phone calls for my consulting business and it was really hard to stalk humans all around the house while trying to sound like a professional to my clients.
He asked me to be patient for one more month. He said if he met quota for one more month, his boss said he’d get promoted. So I said fine and let it go.
Fast forward to now, almost a full month later.
Last Friday, I attended the Eldritch Conference. For those not in the scare field, the Eldritch Conference is the most prestigious event in our industry. It’s invitation only and is a chance to network with all the big players in the field. Mothman, the Jersey Devil, Bloody Mary and Bigfoot all spoke this year and both my former company, Grudge Industries, and my boyfriend’s current company, Forgotten Summer Solutions, were invited.
I was surprised to get an invite as a solo contributor to the field. However, my consulting firm has really been doing well and I did land a seasonal contract with the Yeti Co-op which I guess is how they heard about me. Plus, I’ve been a speaker before so I think the organizers knew I would behave myself.
I was planning on telling my boyfriend that I was going, but he was out of town on a co-ed sleepover assignment. He usually doesn’t have his phone on during his assignments, so I didn’t bother calling him. I just figured it’d be nice if we ran into each other at the conference if he made it back in time.
Which brings me to what actually happened (apologies for the long post).
So everything went great for my part of the day. I got to network with a lot of individual businesses and even got to reconnect with Blood Mary who I knew back in my Cryptid days. I told her I was dating a Slasher from Forgotten Summer Solutions and invited her to come with me to check out their booth. I thought it would be fun to grab dinner with her after since I assumed if my boyfriend was there, he’d be going out with coworkers which he often does. Plus, I admit, I was showing off a little. I don’t often get the chance to brag about my Cryptid days.
She agreed and we went over to see if my boyfriend was there.
I introduced myself to the people manning the booth. My boyfriend wasn’t there, but a few Slashers recognized my name and greeted me. They were definitely in awe of Bloody Mary (she came in full uniform) and invited us to look at their displays. They had portfolios for each Slasher on the desk as a sort of preview of what their services looked like.
While Bloody Mary looked through the portfolios, I chatted with my boyfriend’s coworkers. They said they were thrilled to work with him and that, even though he had a really rough start, it was impressive how quickly he started meeting his goals. Something about how they talked about his work kind of didn’t make sense. They were talking like he was killing a dozen humans a week, but he’d told me that he was at 80% on his assignments which typically only offer about ten humans each.
I asked them about it and they said that he’d been Slashing during After Hours which is a new goal supplement program his company launched a few months ago. Basically, anyone can sign up for After Hours and the company counts human kills done in uniform as part of their quota. I asked them if this was available to them while they were on assignment and they said no, it had to be done when they had down time. I asked them how my boyfriend was part of that when he was traveling all the time and they looked confused. One of them said that my boyfriend is still getting one assignment per week and is then supplementing his kill rate with After Hours.
At that point, I was even more confused. It sounded like my boyfriend had been lying to me then, because he told me that he was getting at least two assignments a week. If he was only getting one, then where was he going when he said he was traveling?
Bloody Mary interrupted before I could say anything and asked how their Slashers did their kills. They said that every Slasher at their company is required to use a standard issue weapon (like a machete or axe) for their kills to count. They said their company doesn’t count accidents as part of their quota (like falling or heart attacks).
Bloody Mary pulled me aside and showed me the portfolio she was holding. She said that she was going to give me a chance to explain without them overhearing and showed me the book. She said that a bunch of kills in it looked Cryptid kills. And she said, specifically, it looked like the kills I made when I was a Cryptid. I took the book from her and flipped through it and she was right, they really did look like Cryptid kills. Worse, I recognized a few of the Humans from the past few weeks. They were actually my kills!
Kill stealing is a major taboo in our industry.
I told her I didn’t know anything about this. She looked really relieved at that and said that even though I wasn’t a Cryptid anymore, it would look really bad for me if I was caught helping a Slasher cheat at their job. It could affect my business which she’d only heard good things about.
I’m embarrassed to say that I tried to defend him. He’s new to our industry so I thought it might be a mistake. He might not be trying to cheat, this could be a misunderstanding.
She said she didn’t think so because a mistake would be one or two of my kills mixed in with his, not the entire book.
I counted up how many photos were in the book and, all told, of the 146 kills, at least 100 were mine. I couldn’t really say it was a mistake at that point and I was just staring at his portfolio like an idiot. Bloody Mary asked me what I was going to do because, mistake or not, this looked really bad and could damage my reputation if it got out.
At that moment, another man walked up to booth and asked us if there was a problem. I knew that if I said anything, I would be jeopardizing my boyfriend’s job, but if I didn’t say something, I was jeopardizing my business.
I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count. I said I didn’t think that they knew he was doing it, but over half of the kills in his portfolio weren’t his and I suggested they remove it from their display before another Cryptid came by and realized it.
The other man thanked me for bringing this to his attention and asked how we knew. Bloody Mary said that she knew another Cryptid’s kills and I had to tell them that I was that Cryptid, though I was retired now. He asked me if I knew my boyfriend was doing this, and I told him no.
I told him I really didn’t want to get my boyfriend in trouble and suggested that maybe he didn’t know those kills didn’t belong to him because they happened in our house. I was grasping at straws and Blood Mary even looked sad for me. His coworkers looked skeptical but tentatively agreed. The man – who turned out to my boyfriend’s boss – said that they would investigate this thoroughly and apologized personally for his employee’s misconduct.
I was spiraling at that point so I thanked him and said I wasn’t mad, I was just looking out for both of our reputations. He promised to keep it between us and I agreed.
Then I apologized to Bloody Mary because I didn’t feel like eating dinner anymore. She said she understood and wished me well.
I went home and did a quick perimeter search of the property. Sure enough, there were human summoning stones ALL OVER the yard. Which means my boyfriend was intentionally luring humans to our house to get me to kill them so he could take credit. It wasn’t a mistake at all.
My boyfriend came home later that night in his work clothes. As soon he got inside he started yelling. He said he was suspended without pay and that all his hard work was for nothing.
I said I knew he’d been stealing my kills and he almost ruined my reputation. He said they still counted as his kills because he did all the work of luring the humans to our house.
I told him that wasn’t how it worked and he knew it. He said it was the same as setting a trap and I was taking this too seriously. I told him that, as a Slasher, he has to use a weapon to get his kills, not me. He said I was basically the same thing since I had such a high kill rate. I asked him if he was calling me an object.
(My parents exploited me by selling me as a haunted doll through a lot of my childhood and he knows I’m sensitive to being called an object.)
He backpedaled at that point and asked if I didn’t want to buy a house together. He said he was doing it for us and I should’ve understood and not said anything. I told him that when I was a Cryptid I had my pride and would’ve never done this.
He said I needed to tell his boss that he was the one who made all those kills. I said it wasn’t me who recognized them as Cryptid kills and now his boss knew too. He accused me of thinking I’m better than him because I have telekinetic powers and can move through shadows and can possess people, while he’s basically a human himself. I told him of course not and that I worked hard for those powers unlike him.
He got really mad at that and actually charged at me with his machete raised. I don’t think he was going to actually hit me, but I reacted like he was. It was all instinct. I disarmed him and I swear I heard a crack when I grabbed his wrist. I shoved him into the wall.
He crumpled to the floor and started crying. He said sorry and sort of curled up around his wrist. He said he didn’t ever feel like he was enough for me and he didn’t even know why I was still with him. He called himself a bunch of names and said I would be better off without him.
I sort of awkwardly stood there for a minute. On one hand I wanted to assure him that he was enough and that I loved him, but, on the other, I wasn’t sure I could forgive him. He nearly ruined my reputation, and he embarrassed me in front of Bloody Mary. Plus, I still didn't know where he’d been going all those times he said he was on a business trip and apparently wasn’t.
So I ended up not saying anything. I went to our room and started packing a bag. He followed me. He was still crying as he begged me not to go. He said he would own up to his kill steals at work and he would make it right. He pleaded for me not to leave him and that he would give up slashing.
I told him I needed space to think. He tried to grab me, but I shadow walked out of the house. I heard him screaming from outside and I hurriedly drove away.
Now I’m at my friend’s house and I told her everything. She agreed I did the right thing walking away from him, but when I asked her what I should do she hesitated. She said that my boyfriend wasn’t right to kill steal but, as a fellow Slasher, she understood what he was going through. She said I wouldn’t understand the pressure to meet quota because I was always surpassing mine when I was in the field. She said that a Cryptid could never understand a Slasher.
She also said that nobody would have found out about his kills if I hadn’t brought them to his boss’ attention. She said the only time kills are on display like that is at the Eldritch Conference and by the next one, he’d have had kills of his own. She thinks that if I’d just confronted him at home, he wouldn’t be on suspension.
So now I’m worried that I overreacted when I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count.
AITA?
----
Thanks for reading! Several amazing supernatural citizens (aka my Patrons) gave great advice to our poor OP over on my Patreon! Please go check them out here (X)
(I will definitely be posting some of them here in the near future!)
My next supernatural AITA is already up to my patrons!
It's called "AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied about his human job?"
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Stacy’s Mom Has Got It Goin’ On ˚̣̣ ᵕ̣̣̣̣̣̣
Pairing: Husband!Rafe Cameron x Soccer-mom!Wife!Reader
It’s not easy being a soccer-mom, especially when dads hit on you at every game as if you’re not married to Rafe.
Wc: 1,596
Fluff, Protective Rafe making an appearance, kinda pushy guy (idk what to say)
An: I’ve really wanted to write a fic based on this song, and this idea randomly popped into my head so! Am I using the names I wanna name my kids? Yes, yes I am.
Not proofread tbh
Feedback always appreciated lovelies!! xx
“I’ll be back, ‘mkay doll?”
You hum in acknowledgement, eyes peering back at the field after looking up.
Your husband, Rafe leant down and places a firm kiss on your forehead.
“Yeahhh, Daddy’s gonna be back, baby.” Rafe coos at your two year old, who was sitting on your lap, babbling freely while peering at him with her big doe eyes.
Rafe walks off the bleachers; in search of the concession stand to buy food for the three of you.
You brush your hand over your young daughter’s head, making sure her somewhat oversized hat is still covering her head entirely. Her hand wraps around your index finger.
It was oddly humid today, if you continued moving, you’d break a slight sweat. You can't even imagine what your daughter -Stacy must be feeling, running around on the large grassy field under the beaming bright sun.
You were proud of your baby girl though, nonetheless. And so was Rafe, of course.
You shout loudly when you notice the game is about to start, bellowing out a “Go Stacy!”
Stacy’s eyes easily found yours, for you and Rafe would always sit in the same spot on the bleachers.
Her eyes were slightly wide due to your shout, despite you and Rafe always cheering for her during her games.
She’s motioning for you to ‘shh’, putting her fingers to her lips before getting into her position.
“Which one’s yours?” You hear to the left of you, the unknown voice makes you tear your eyes away from the field.
You smile shortly at the unfamiliar man next to you, “Number 22.”
You can’t help but notice how he’s rather scruffy looking, an odd contrast to your upkept husband with his neatly buzzed hair.
“Mine’s number 13.” He says, flashing his teeth at you.
You gasp and shoot up a little, making you look down at your daughter on your lap. “Valerie’s yours? Oh she’s just the sweetest!”
The man chuckles, looking deeply in your eyes. This makes your eyebrows raise, slightly in confusion, but mostly in discomfort.
He hadn’t done anything out of the norm, you’d randomly talk to the other moms around too, but something about him made you uncomfortable.
“My name's Brandon, and yours?”
You introduce yourself briefly, before turning back towards the game.
His eyes dart to your left hand, looking for a ring, for any indication that you belong to someone else. He smiles sharply when he finds your fingers bare. This goes unnoticed by you.
Little does he know, you do have your ring on, just around your neck.
Your biggest fear was your youngest accidentally pulling off your ring, resulting in you losing it. Or, even worse: it pokes her eye or something of that nature.
You suppose you could be considered a ‘Helicopter-mom’ at times, simply going to the extremes to make sure your kids are happy and healthy at every point in time.
Rafe is the exact same way, maybe even a little worse. But you knew he was just protective, he loves this life that he has with you, since he had no idea the two of you would’ve been together for so long.
You had started dating Rafe when you were 18 and he was 19. It was good for the first few months, disregarding the few arguments that you had. But then, you had caught Rafe doing cocaine.
You don’t think you’ll ever be able to shake the look on his face from your memory.
You weren’t supposed to be at the party, you said you were busy filling out college applications.
So when he was mid-line, and he saw you standing there all dolled up, watching him with glossy eyes, he felt his heart shatter into pieces.
You weren’t supposed to find out, he wanted to keep this away from you, to keep you close to him.
He promised that he would try and stay sober for you, but eventually he’d give in every time the opportunity was in front of him. This resulted in several arguments, and surprisingly, a break up.
But things are different now. You both are in your 30’s, you got married, and of course, had two beautiful babies together.
Rafe knew he’d be crazy to fuck things up now, when he has the perfect life right in front of him.
Speaking of which; you’re really starting to wonder what the hell is taking him so long just to get some goddamn hotdogs and drinks.
You’re bouncing your knee anxiously, which makes your daughter giggle. You wish she wasn’t finding this amusing, but you know she can’t help it.
“Well who’s this cute girl, huh?” The man coos, tickling your daughter’s side.
“Her name is Noelle.” You huff, your mood quickly shifting due to this stranger touching your daughter.
He lets out another chuckle, you wish you never had to hear it again. “Sounds like you’re quoting Teenage Dirtbag to me.”
You give him a pointed look, you’re really getting sick of his pestering. “That’s where I got it from.”
Abruptly, the crowd starts cheering madly. You look around and see Stacy's team celebrating briefly; they had just scored a goal.
You cheer and clap, grabbing Noelle’s chubby hands and making her raise her arms wildly while giggling with her.
“Y’know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we could-” Before Brandon could finish his sentence, none other than Rafe Cameron comes stomping up the bleachers, huffing and puffing angrily.
He sits down and sighs, “God, I’m sorry babe. The line was so long! I swear I’m going grey right now.”
“And I missed the goddamn play!” Rafe exclaims. He looks over at you and immediately goes quiet once he sees those wide baby eyes that look at him curiously.
“Da?” Noelle mutters, reaching her tiny hands towards Rafe’s larger ones.
“Yeah. Da’s here babygirl, do you want your food? Huh sweet girl?”
Rafe hands you your food, setting his food aside so he can put Noelle in his lap. He begins to split half his hotdog in pieces for her.
You glance to the left, you notice Brandon looking like a fish out of water.
Rafe is the CEO of one of, if not the biggest business company around. And Brandon had just borderline harassed his wife, who was holding his child.
Brandon sneers at the two of you in silence while the game continues, nearly boiling at the fact that he couldn’t have you.
Your head is laying on Rafe’s shoulders, you’re rubbing circles on Noelle’s shoulder as she settles down.
“Everything alright babe?” Rafe asks, trying to peer down at your face.
You untuck your necklace with your wedding ring from your shirt, fiddling with it. “Yeah, now that you’re here Ray.”
There’s silence between the two of you for a few seconds.
“…What does that mean?”
You hesitate to answer, but you do regardless, “Nothing! It’s just uh..That guy next to me, was kinda like hassling me I guess.”
This makes Rafe straighten his back.
“He do somethin’ to you doll?” Rafe questions in a whisper. You know you have about 30 seconds to try and calm him down before he’s banned from every soccer game left in the season.
“No, okay? I’m fine, it’s cool. I need you to calm down Ray.”
Rafe’s nose is flaring, “What about Ellie? Did he touch her?”
You feel your throat closing up, your heart is damn near pounding out of your chest.
You don’t say anything to Rafe, but that look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know.
You grab his bicep, trying to keep him grounded. Even though he’s changed, some parts of him haven’t.
Rafe speaks lowly in your ear, but not too much to frighten you in any way. “I’ll take care of it, okay? Don’t worry y’pretty little head about it.”
Rafe presses a firm kiss against your cheek, then presses a softer one to your lips.
After 30 more minutes, and 2 more goals, Stacy’s team wins.
You and Rafe cheer loudly, letting out “That’s our baby girl!”
You meet Stacy at the bottom of the bleachers, holding Noelle in your hand as the littlest claps her hands between Stacy’s face.
You’re too busy congratulating your daughter to notice Rafe pulling Brandon aside while his daughter, Valerie is off talking to her friends.
Rafe puts a firm hand on his shoulder, “Hey man.”
Brandon lets out a nervous laugh, “Hey there, Rafe Cameron, right?”
“Yeah, let’s keep this short. I better not see or hear you talking to my wife again, do you hear me? I don’t give a shit what happened.”
Rafe continues shortly, “And keep your fucking hands to yourself, if I find out you touched my either of my daughters again, I swear to God himself I’ll put you under.”
The two men are holding eye contact, one looks with confidence and borderline rage, while the other looks with fear.
Rafe walks down the bleachers, meeting you and your girls.
“You were amazing out there sweetheart!” Rafe smiles while pulling Stacy into a bear hug.
“Jesus dad, you’re crushing me!” Stacy laughs with a slight wheeze.
Rafe ruffles her hair and puts his arm around your neck.
“All good to go?”
You nod your head, and with that, the four of you begin to walk to Rafe’s parked car.
Rafe realizes that this isn’t the first time you’ve been hit on at a soccer game, or anywhere in fact. And this definitely won’t be the last.
Cause everybody’s in love with Stacy’s mom.
#lee’s writing! ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron imagine#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#outer banks#obx x reader#obx x you#outer banks imagine#Spotify
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𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄’𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌.
logan howlett x fem!reader
summary: the scent of you is driving logan crazy.
contains: mild 18+ content. MINORS DNI. mentions of masturbation (m&f), a steamy little make out, and implications of future smut
word count: 1.8k
a/n: not me trying to capitalize off the hugh jackman renaissance and revive my dead blog…anyways, this is my first time writing for logan! hope you all enjoy <3
i feel like we don’t talk enough about logan’s enhanced sense of smell.
the man can catch a whiff of someone the second they walk into the room, even the building sometimes if their scent is strong enough. it’s especially heightened when he realizes he’s attracted to you. at first he thought maybe it was because you were always wearing perfume, the aroma lingering around the mansion wherever you traveled. but then it became such an intense, all encompassing sensation that he knew it was something deeper.
his suspicions are confirmed one night as he walks past your room. if the faint whimpers he heard weren't enough confirmation of your activities, then the scent that fills his nostrils seals the deal.
you’re touching yourself. and he can smell your arousal.
it makes something stir in his stomach. the animal-like urges he always tries so hard to keep at bay threaten to make their way to the surface the longer he stands frozen in the hallway. logan attempts to shake the heat that spreads across his skin as he makes his way back to his own room, but it only ends with him cumming hard into his hand an hour later.
the next day, when he catches you on your way out of charles’ office, you offer him the same kind, beaming smile you always did. then that damned smell fills his nostrils again and his fists curl at his sides once you’re out of eyesight.
there’s only one explanation for it.
you’re ovulating.
which means there’s no escaping his desires unless you stay out of reach.
so for his sake and yours, he decides to just avoid you completely until the week is over. he can’t risk caving to those urges and doing something stupid and irrational.
of course you’re completely oblivious to it. you think that he’s just being weird, going through another rut of being a standoffish loner like he was when he first arrived at the mansion. because after about a week, he’s back to being a bit friendlier, to being the logan you had grown to call a close friend.
then the cycle seems to repeat itself and you notice it’s just you he’s avoiding.
you try and wrack your brain to think of anything you could’ve done to warrant this kind of isolation. you hoped if something upset logan he would just talk to you about it instead of playing this childish game of hot and cold.
after a couple months, you decide you’ve had enough.
cornering him was a difficult task. but you were observant enough to know certain parts of his routine, including exactly when he would be lingering in the common areas after all the kids had gone to sleep. after two failed attempts of trying to catch him in the kitchen, you finally managed to find him alone and unsuspecting.
“why have you been avoiding me?” you blurt, wanting to cut right to the chase. you’re expecting him to flinch a little bit, perhaps even be stunned.
but he knew you were coming. logan knew it was only a matter of time before you noticed his schtick.
still, he decides to look for an excuse, any excuse, to cover up the real reason.
“m’not avoiding you” he grumbles halfheartedly around the rim of a beer bottle. taking an extra long swig, he finally turns to look at you; leaning against the doorway with your arms folded and a look akin to annoyance plastered across your pretty face.
you cock your head to the side, clearly unimpressed with his answer.
“a few days ago, i watched you back out of a room the minute you realized i was in it,” you start to list off, counting with your fingers. “last month you avoided the wing where the gym was altogether while i was going through a new training regimen.”
logan winces at the memory. the scent of your pheromones was intoxicating. so much so that he couldn’t step foot anywhere near the gym without feeling like he needed to rub one out.
“and the month before that,” you huff out a sad laugh, voice suddenly soft and quiet. “you didn’t even say goodbye before you went off on that mission with scott and jean.”
guilt overtakes him quickly at the pain in your tone.
you’ve never looked smaller as you pick at a loose thread on your sweatpants. “did i do something wrong?”
“no,” logan reassures, jumping out of his seat at record speed, though still trying to maintain some distance. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“then what is it? you sigh exasperatedly, desperate to put an end to this nagging feeling that’s been eating away at you. “logan, you know if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”
and he wants to. he so badly wants to, maybe even see if you’ll offer to help him out. but you’re you. the sweetest, kindest thing he’s ever known and he’ll be damned if he lets his curse of a mutation ruin whatever relationship the two of you have.
but then you’re inching closer and his skin starts buzzing again. his senses are consumed by you. by the way you look up at him with big, wide eyes, the softness of your skin as you reach to place a comforting hand on his forearm. it's all too much, and he finds himself pulling away from you with a grunt.
it hurts to see him retreat from you so aggressively. his jaw is clenched tight, his fists at his sides even tighter as the veins in his arms bulge bigger than you’ve ever seen before. he looks pained. like he’s fighting something internally.
“logan,” you approach him cautiously, unsure of what exactly to do. “what’s going on?”
his eyes squeeze shut at the sound of your voice. “just, please go back to your room.”
“i’m not leaving you like this.”
“m’not asking you,” he grits out, almost like a growl. “i’m telling you. go back to your room.”
now he was starting to piss you off. you narrow your eyes, leaning your hip against the counter.
“or what?”
suddenly he’s crowding your space, chest heaving up and down as he stares at you with pupils so wide his eyes are nearly black. logan’s voice is scarily level when he utters his final warning.
“or i’m gonna do something i regret.”
when you shift closer to him, his nose twitches with a sniff. the raise of your brow doesn’t go unnoticed, and he knows that you’re not leaving this room until you get to the bottom of what he’s been hiding.
that’s when something inside logan decides to throw caution to the wind, just for a minute.
“i can smell you.”
curiosity morphs into confusion at his admission. you shake your head.
“i don’t understand.”
then, the man’s gaze travels to the waistband of your pajama pants, the tension in his jaw growing more taught by the second. his hands flex at his sides, trying to keep him grounded and calm as he finally admits what’s been driving him mad.
“i can smell you.”
the emphasis on the last word takes a minute to register. logan watches as the gears turn behind your eyes, catches the exact moment of realization as your gaze softens and your lips part.
oh.
oh.
slowly things start to piece together. how logan’s behavior seemed to fall around the same time these past couple months. a few weeks before your cycle.
he wasn’t avoiding you because he was angry, or upset. he was avoiding you because you were fucking ovulating.
logan expects you to flee, to be completely weirded out and steer clear of him for the foreseeable future. what he’s not expecting, is the words that come out of your mouth.
“i can help you with that if you want.”
you say it with such nonchalance, such casualness that he wonders if you’re even really grasping what you’ve said.
the wolverine shakes his head. “trust me, you don’t want this.”
he doesn’t quite believe his own words as he watches you close the distance between your bodies. something you’ve been desperate to do for as long as you can remember.
the thin fabric of his tank top and the soft cotton of your t-shirt is the only thing standing between you both. your chests are mere centimeters from touching and logan can feel the heat radiating from your bodies as his confession hangs heavy in the air. then that fucking smell comes back tenfold and he groans.
“you don’t get to make that choice for me,” your voice is sickly sweet, dripping with desire as your fingers ghost over the waistband of his jeans. he feels like a horny teenager as he preens at the barely there contact.
logan breathes your name, a last stitch effort to get you to run, though he knows it’s futile. if there’s one thing he knows about you, it’s that you're stubborn. unmoving in your ways.
and that when you want something, you don’t stop until you get it.
your hand comes up to cradle the side of his face, a rather gentle touch he wasn’t anticipating. his eyes flutter shut as you swipe your thumb over the expanse of his cheekbone.
your words are barely above a whisper. “i trust you, logan. completely.”
that’s all he needs to hear before he throws any sense of self control out the window.
he surges forward and captures your lips in what is possibly the most heated kiss you’ve ever experienced. you nearly stumble over at the sheer force of it. logan’s large hands fly to your waist, yours to the back of his neck as his tongue prods for entrance into your mouth. it’s messy, almost primal as you let him ravish you like he’s been thinking about for weeks.
you moan and he swallows the sound greedily, desperate to hear it again, and again, and again. when his lips move to press against the column of your throat, you know this is going to escalate into exactly what you hoped it would.
“logan,” you breathe out as he focuses on your pulse point, his hands wandering further south to knead at the globes of your ass. “not here.”
“why not?” he mutters, all smirky and smug as he continues to press wet hot kisses against your neck.
“because i would prefer if you didn’t fuck me where our friends eat.”
he laughs, a deep vibration felt against your chest as you absentmindedly grind your core against his. it makes him bring his mouth back up to yours, stealing one final kiss before he pulls away.
looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. and by god you might just let him.
pressing a playful smack against your backside, he gently nudges you in the direction of the corridor.
“lead the way sugar.”
thanks for reading! <3
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#wolverine x reader#logan howlett#wolverine smut#wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#hugh jackman#x men#the wolverine
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Colonel's Girl
You’re the young army nurse on base and König decides to keep a protective eye on you. You don’t mind at all, the Colonel is sweet and safe - until he isn’t.
masterlist 🩷 ao3
tags: military inaccuracies, blood and injury, angst, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex
This was your first time on a real military base. You’d done field medic training of course, but this was the first time in your career as an army nurse that you’d been shipped out to base, far from home, calling a tiny bunk room your own in a building full of rowdy young recruits.
Their daily training brought them to you constantly with scrapes and bruises and concussions. They were feisty, adrenaline-fuelled young men, and you were one of the few women on base. The catcalling and the leering didn’t surprise you, even if it was unwelcome.
“What time do you get off, darlin’?” Private Turner drawled in a cockney accent as you applied butterfly stitches to a bleeding split across his eyebrow. “Maybe I can come to your room and we can keep each other company-”
“Turner!” It was barked, a stern command from an accented voice. The private paled as Colonel König stomped into your clinic, and you blushed. König was a very imposing man. He was at least 6”9 by your reckoning, and just as broad, in his late 30s or early 40s with a thick Austrian accent. His years of military training had given him a thick, muscular frame, with his broad thighs barely contained in cargo trousers and steel-capped boots on his feet, a black tee stretched over his chest and biceps the size of your torso. You knew what he looked like under that hood, square jawed and piercing blue eyes, but today he’d kept it on, his eyes framed and dark. It was no surprise you blushed whenever you saw him.
“Colonel?” He stood and turned. His voice held none of its previous bravado. Next to König, he looked like a mere boy.
“Two weeks of toilet cleaning duty.” König said gruffly, “and if I catch you using that kind of language again, it will be a month. Understood?”
Turner slumped. “Yes, sir.”
“Get out of my sight.”
Turner, chastised, scampered out of your clinic without looking at you.
König turned his hulking form towards you and actually had to look down to greet you.
“Pardon, ma’am. He won’t step out of line again.”
Ma’am . Your blush deepened. You gave him a small, nervous smile.
“Thank you, Colonel, that’s very kind of you.”
“These boys don’t know yet how to respect a lady, but they will.”
“Once you’re done with them?” You smiled playfully.
“If I have done my job correctly.” He said kindly, before turning on his heel and leaving swiftly. You giggled.
You didn’t see much of König at the start of training, his rank and his experience meant that he didn’t end up in your clinic as much as his recruits did, but when you did pass each other in the hall or by exchanging paperwork, he was nothing less than a courteous and charming gentleman. It seemed bizarre, considering you’d heard tell that he was a brawling killing machine out on the field, but he could switch from barking stiff orders to giving you a gentle smile that made you blush in the blink of an eye. You had to routinely remind yourself that this didn’t make you special, he was just being respectful, and you weren’t used to that. It didn’t matter that he was a soldier, or nearly twice your age, it didn’t take you long to develop a crush on the handsome and mysterious Austrian.
A few days later and you were stood in line to the mess hall. It was breakfast, and you’d seen the black pudding in the warming trays as soon as you’d stepped in. You were practically salivating as you waited, it wasn’t often you got a creature comfort like this - something that reminded you of home - on base.
“Not often we get this kind of luxury, eh, miss?” You recognised the coarse accent before you turned. Lieutenant Riley had joined you in the line, a balaclava covering his face. You knew him a little, the infamous Ghost. You’d crossed paths with the 141 on occasion, and you knew Riley, sometimes even Captain Price, dropped into the base to provide training or engage your services. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to make polite conversation with you. In fact, it seemed the norm here. The high rankers felt a bit sorry for you, while the recruits made you feel like a piece of meat or an object of ridicule.
You didn’t mind much, you were here to do a job, and you kept to yourself mostly anyway, but the offer of friendship was much appreciated.
You smiled a little shyly in return. “I know, right? I hope the black pudding doesn’t go too quickly. I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”
“A girl after my own heart.” The lieutenant chuckled. In front of you, two privates who had been turning around to eavesdrop on the conversation - more to get a look at Ghost, than you, you understood - burst into laughing at your admission. Your ears turned red and you wished you’d never opened your mouth.
Riley didn’t seem to notice, he was holding his gloved hand out to König, who had somehow appeared next to him in the line since you’d looked away. You actually had to do a double take. For a near seven foot slab of muscle, he was stealthy when he wanted to be.
The two of them talked among themselves in low voices and you left them to it, knowing you didn’t particularly want to hear the contents of whatever they needed to discuss.
You reached the front of the line and the private in front of you - the one who had laughed - piled his tray high with black pudding until the warming tray was empty. He turned and smirked mockingly at you.
“You can have my sausage, darlin’, if you ask nicely.” At least three recruits laughed. You wanted to shrink down so small you stopped existing altogether.
König’s brick hand clamped around the private’s tray and wrenched it easily from his grip.
“Sir-my breakfast…”
“Get out of the line, or I will feed you my fist.” König didn’t even raise his voice, the cold delivery had the private skulking off empty handed. König placed the tray back onto the counter and then he turned to you.
“Help yourself, ma’am.”
“Oh.” Your cheeks were crimson. He cocked his head, his eyes, the only part of his face visible through his black hood, looked amused. It wasn’t unkind. “T-thank you.”
König tipped his hood towards you before turning his attention back to Riley, and the pair of them moved off to a separate table. You sat by yourself, chewing your black pudding, and smiling like an idiot.
You glanced over to König a few times more than you would like to admit. He put you at ease, that’s what it came down to, it gave you a confidence you didn’t usually have around military men.
It was that very ease that left you wholly unprepared for the following week.
It was ballistics training out on the grounds, and you caught wind of an accident halfway through your sandwich.
“Come quick!’ An officer skidded into your office, “there’s been an accident - potential fatality.”
You cursed, and gathered your supplies, before following him out of your clinic and out onto the training ground. Recruits stood nervously holding rifles, their half-shot targets abandoned. A young recruit was wailing on the ground, another kneeling beside him and pressing against his belly with a jacket, there was blood on the sand.
König was towering over a young private - the same young man who had laughed at you in the mess hall, you briefly noted - and barking bloody murder in his terrified face. It took you more than a moment to realise that König wasn’t actually speaking German, you could just barely make a word out in his fury.
It was easy to tune out, you’d been out in the field before, and turn your attention to your patient. You knelt beside the terrified looking private stemming the bleeding, and carefully lifted his jacket to look at his wound while the young man screamed.
“You’re going to be okay.” You said confidently, calmly. “It’s nothing we can’t stitch up. Private, keep putting pressure on the wound, just like this, you’re doing a good job.” Just this once, you were obeyed without question.
“I will have you court-martialed, dummkopf, you could have killed him. You come onto my base, you do not listen to a word I say, and now you attack my men? You sorry piece of -”
“König,” you cut through the accented remonstration, pulling bandages from your bag, “I need your men to carry him to my clinic immediately, then you have to-”
König turned swiftly to you, those bright blue eyes visibly narrowed in the slits of his hood. “Do not fucking give me orders, nurse.” He seethed, voice ice cold with rage, fists clenched and towering over you. “You address me as Colonel, you little girl.” The white hot fury in his eyes matched the venom in his voice. You baulked, in fear, in surprise, horrified to realise tears were gathering in your eyes. You looked back down on the man in your arms and forced yourself to regain your composure.
“I need to get him to my clinic, I can’t lift him myself.” Your voice was steady, if muted, throwing your gaze over your shoulder at König and the recruits staring at you. “Please, colonel .”
König turned from you and began barking your orders at his men and within moments, your patient was being carried between three recruits back to your clinic. You turned and rushed after them. You extracted the bullet from his ribs and sewed up the damage as numbly as you treated any one of your patients. You left your makeshift surgery room with bloody hands and sweat on your forehead, surprised to find König leaning against the wall in your waiting room. He’d stripped out of his uniform to a simple pair of combat trousers and a black shirt that looked like it was losing a fight with his bicep muscles. His hood was held lax in his hand, giving you a rare glimpse at his face. It was no surprise to you that he looked exhausted. He pushed himself from the wall when you entered. Like a gentleman , you thought bitterly.
“Will he live?” He asked you, his voice soft. It was just like every other interaction you’d had on base.
“It was a flesh wound. He’ll be fine, Colonel.” Your words were stiff, and you walked straight past him without even a glance, feeling like a complete idiot that you’d ever thought he might treat you with the slightest bit of respect. You were angry until the adrenaline wore off, then you cried in your bed.
The recruit, Jenkins, pulled through the night, and the next day he was airlifted to the nearest hospital. The accidental shooter was gone, and you didn’t care to ask what had happened. Training was halted for a few days as a result and you had a quiet week, but you weren’t complaining, as you now had a mountainous amount of paperwork to complete. You were grateful when you were able to file the heft of paper into your pigeon hole to be sent off, and rewarded yourself with a sit down in the breakroom to the main office.
You looked up on instinct more than anything when the door opened. König walked in, in combat boots and a military vest, his hood over his eyes and helmet strapped to his head, like he’d just come straight from deployment. He glanced at you with tired blue eyes, but all you could see was the fury in them when he’d scared you the week before. You felt stupid for thinking someone like König would ever be nice to you. You were just the idiot girl on base.
“Morning, ma’am.” He said pleasantly when he saw you, slipping one hand into his trouser pocket as he poured himself coffee from the pot on the table.
“Hey.” You replied, voice flat, suddenly finding your nails remarkably interesting.
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine.” Another one word answer. You still weren’t looking at him.
König shifted uneasily. The atmosphere in the room changed. Of course it did, he was used to you being a blushy, smiling, pathetic mess for him.
Concerned, König crossed the small space to you. He didn’t sit. From what you could see from your lowered head, his hand was no longer in his pocket.
“If this is about what happened…you did well, Jenkins will recover.”
“I know I did fine.” You genuinely didn’t mean to snap. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”
The conversation went dead, the atmosphere was palpable. You didn’t know whether it was his culture, or his military status, but König went right to the point.
“Have I offended you?”
Was he being willfully obstinate? You felt your humiliated aggravation grow. Well, you were in it now.
“Just leave me alone.”
There was a pause. And then another. Neither of you moved.
“As you wish.”
He left swiftly after that, and you finally looked up at the empty room. You felt relieved, but also hollow. It was almost like you’d done something wrong. But you hadn’t, had you? König’s coffee was abandoned on the table.
König left you alone, and that pissed you off even more. He walked past you in the mess hall, he didn’t glance down to smile at you anymore, he didn’t come into the clinic, even though you secretly hoped he would. Your self-esteem was pretty much on the floor after that, and the base got just that little bit lonelier.
Two recruits barrelled into your office a few days later, one had a busted lip and they both had black eyes. They'd clearly been in a fight, but whether that was with each other, or someone else, you didn’t care to ask. You stayed quiet as you applied butterfly stitches to their cuts, and they were happy enough to complain between themselves.
“You’re a dickhead, Williams, the Colonel’s gonna fucking kill us.”
“Relax, he’s not going to know.”
“He’s been such a dick lately. He put Taylor on shit detail for a fortnight for having his shoelace untied.”
“Probably because he has to look at your fucking ugly mug every day.”
“You’re done.” You cut across. “You can go.”
They thanked you and left, and you were grateful to get the foul mouthed privates out of your office.
It was getting dark outside and you were tired. You left your clinic and crossed the training ground to the mess hall. There were still soldiers out here, practising hand to hand combat under the floodlights. You gave them a wide berth.
You didn’t see the abandoned dummy grenade wedged in the sand until your foot hooked around it and you vaulted over with an unladylike grunt.
A large hand curled around your wrist and stilled you before you ate dirt. You cursed under your breath and turned inward. König was towering above you, your wrist positively dwarfed by his gloved hand. His hood obscured his face, shrouding him in the darkness behind him, all except those bright eyes looking down on you.
“You should be more careful.” He grunted, releasing your wrist.
Your eyes hit the ground and you mumbled a hasty ‘sorry’ before you scampered away to the mess hall. König watched your retreating back as you left.
The next few days passed uneventfully. You worked, you ate, you slept, you called home. The clinic was surprisingly empty. You wondered if the recruits were finally becoming competent enough that they didn’t need you every five seconds. You signed off your discharge sheets for the day and headed to the main office to dump them in the output box. You were surprised to find König in there, sans hood, rifling through a box of papers on the desk. He glanced up when he saw you and his expression wilted. He looked back into the box.
“I’ll be out of your hair in a second.” He said. “I just need to find the instruction manual for the - s cheiße .” The papers in his hand fluttered to the ground. He bent down to retrieve them and winced, arm circling his broad torso.
You frowned and took a step closer to him.
“What’s wrong?” You asked.
“Nothing.” He replied instantly as he straightened. His movements were slower than usual.
“It doesn’t look like nothing, König, it looks like cracked ribs.”
“It’s fine, really.”
You put your discharge forms on the desk and walked up to him. “Lift your shirt.”
König sighed but complied after a moment. He lifted his dark tee to his pectorals. His deep abdominal muscles rose and fell under his breathing and you found your cheeks reddening under the sight. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around his torso, and you reached out and lifted it. His skin was like lava against your fingers. He didn’t say a word as you lifted the bandage but he may have winced when your eyes widened. The right hand side of his ribcage was purple with deep bruising and lacerated with deep and shallow cuts alike, some were healing, and some were leaving blood stains on the inside of the bandage.
“Oh my god, what happened?”
“Nothing.” König grunted. “Machine gun training. One of the recruits lost control of the barrel and clocked me in the ribs. It is just a scratch.”
“This cut needs stitches.” You said automatically, tracing the underside of the welt with your fingertip. König jolted and you took your hand away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”
“You didn’t.” He replied.
“I have cream that’ll reduce this bruising too-” König huffed and you looked up at him. You couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. He might as well have been wearing his hood.
“It is fine.” He said. “The bruising has disappeared a lot in the last few days…”
“ Days ?” You blinked. “Days, König? You can’t have been walking around like this for days. Why didn’t you come to me?”
There was a pause. He was trying to avoid your gaze.
“You told me to leave you alone.”
“König,” it was reprimanding, reproachful, your eyes slackened. “You always need to come to me when you’re hurt, even when I’m mad. I’m sorry.”
König’s eyes snapping to you made you regret the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. Your gaze dropped to the grazes on his ribs but your cheeks were already on fire.
“Are you ever going to tell me why you are mad at me?”
You didn’t meet his gaze. It seemed pathetic now. “You yelled at me.”
König didn’t respond straight away. When he did - “I yelled at you?”
You fought off the sudden urge to say sorry.
“When Jenkins was shot.” You explained. “I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t like being screamed at, especially when I’m doing my job.” Your voice dropped a little. “And I’m not a little girl, I’m a nurse. You should respect that, just like the way you tell your troops to.”
You glanced up at König, he looked crestfallen. “I…” He frowned a little, as if giving up on any explanation he planned to give. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You shook your head, embarrassed, and lowered his shirt.
“It’s not important now-”
“It is important. I don’t think you are a little girl. Sometimes in battle, things like this become heated. I do not even remember saying this to you, but I am sorry. I do not think that, I truly do not, I was…one of my men was dying, I was not myself. Please forgive me.”
Your eyes met. It felt like the first time you’d looked at each other in a long time. König’s blue eyes were soft and sad.
“Um, come to the clinic, this afternoon,” you rose, flustered, “I, uh, that cut needs looking at.”
You turned swiftly and left but not before you heard König utter a single ‘yes ma’am’ before you did.
You thought about what he said as you sterilised your clinic for his arrival. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, but you managed to keep your cool? Why didn’t he? Because he’s a soldier, you reminded yourself. He kills easily and without thought, he’s not the sweet gentleman you want him to be. You shook your head to yourself, that wasn’t the issue and you knew it. You didn’t care that he was a killer, or that sometimes he scared you. You knew what his easy dismissal of you meant - and it hurt.
König reported promptly to your clinic at 1pm that afternoon. He stripped out of his shirt and sat patiently down on the end of your bed and you had to pretend like having a 7ft goliath of a man stripped down in front of you wasn’t making your heart race. He truly was extraordinary.
You stitched the large cut on his ribs that was worrying you the most and he didn’t make a sound. it didn’t much surprise you, you assumed he was accustomed to pain. It made your stomach flutter with something .
He was even more impressive undressed, his body heavy with swollen, toned muscle, faded scars criss-crossing over his flesh. You had to remind yourself that you were a trained nurse just to stop yourself from drooling.
König watched you work rather intently. “You have very small hands.” He remarked suddenly. You didn’t respond, unsure if it was a compliment or not. You both lapsed into silence for another long while. It was like a form of torture. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. You felt like a foolish little girl, trying to play with a grizzly bear. It must have shown on your face.
You didn’t expect König to talk again. He must have thought that you were insane - pathetic, at the very least.
“May I ask you a question?”
Oh. “Of course.”
“Why did you join the military if you hate being yelled at?”
You sighed and finished off your final stitch. “You don’t have to mock me, you know, I already got the message.”
“I am not mocking you. I’m curious.”
Forthright . You forgot.
You took a moment to respond, busying yourself with packing away your equipment. “I didn’t join as a recruit, I joined as a nurse.” You didn’t tell him the real reason, that it was because it was him.
“Right.”
“It’s not your problem.”
König stood, and pulled his shirt back on. “It won't happen again.” He said. “You have my word.”
Your gaze flicked to his handsome face involuntarily. “Um, here’s the cream. Make sure to apply it twice a day, and try to take it easy for a few days.”
König grunted, a ghost of a smile on his face. You could tell he hadn’t taken it easy a day in his life.
“What message?” König asked suddenly.
“Sorry?” You froze, trying to backtrack to that particular exchange.
“You said you ‘got the message’.” He repeated. “What message?”
Oh.
“Um, did I say that?” Your voice was uncharacteristically high. König tilted his head.
“Schatz, my English isn’t that bad. We both heard what you said.”
You blushed and your head dipped. You didn’t know much German, but you knew what ‘schatz’ meant.
“Well, you know-” fuck, shit, fuck . “P-put in your place by the guy you have a crush on. I get it. I got it. I won’t go there again.”
“Crush?” König responded like a lightning strike, before he fell silent. His brain was calculating, before his expression turned to…well, there was no other way to put it, absolutely fucking floored. “You like me?”
Oh, this was very fucking bad.
“Well…yeah? I thought it was obvious-”
“Obvious? Schatz, I thought you hated me.”
You blinked.
“Wha- why would you think that?”
“You told me to leave you alone.”
“You called me a little girl! In front of everyone.”
When exactly had you both gotten so close to each other? It was close enough that König could look down on you, and your heart was skipping a beat.
“You can’t like me.” He said quietly.
You frowned. “Why not? Have you looked at yourself? Plus you’re…you know, nice, and the only person in this dump that doesn’t leer at me or treat me like a stupid little girl. When people aren’t dying, I mean.”
“I…” Was König hesitating? The man who had nothing to fear?
“It’s okay,” you murmured, embarrassed. “Like I said, I get the message. Why would you want a pathetic sap like me who can’t even hear a raised voice without crying?”
“Do not say that.” König looked uncertain, his eyebrows knitting together. “You are like a...a flower. Not meant for men like me.”
“A…” Your brain couldn’t quite compute what you’d just heard. “Men like you? What does that even mean?”
“You need someone younger, for a start.” He sighed. “Someone who has seen less death, verdammt, someone who has caused less death.”
“Men like your idiot recruits, then?”
König didn’t respond.
“I have to go.” He said instead. “Thank you for the…cream.”
“Anytime, Colonel.” It was softly spoken, you watched him freeze, then you watched him go. You smuggled a bottle of wine back to your room and drank until you fell asleep. This really was a new low.
…
The days passed slowly and without incident. On the face of it, there was no difference in you, except for a notably lacklustre delivery of your care.
You were making notes at your desk when Private Jackson and his buddy, Williams, appeared at your desk, complaining of a groin injury.
You rolled your eyes and returned to your paperwork. “I’m sure it’ll feel better tomorrow, private.”
“I’m sure it’ll feel better right now if you kiss it-”
“Shut up,” Williams chuckled, shoving him, “you wanna get a disciplinary? You know she’s the colonel’s girl.”
Your gaze snapped up. “What did you just say?”
Neither of them answered you, they just sniggered and slunk off. You watched the empty doorway with wide eyes. You tried not to ponder on it. You pondered on it for the rest of the day.
…
You signed the bottom of Williams’ sick leave and ticked off the various appropriate boxes, flipping the page and hoping that was all that was required until you froze. It needed the signature of the patient's C.O. König. Shit.
You hadn’t even seen König since he’d rejected you and every time you thought about that particular exchange, your ears went hot and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.
You were too much of a pussy to talk to him, so instead you went to his office when you knew he was scheduled to be out at training, and scribbled ‘ sign me please :) ’ on a post it note, stuck it on the front page and left the form on his desk.
You turned for the door with a relieved sigh and accidently walked into König’s solid chest. He was standing in the open doorway, he was the size of the open doorway, wearing his combat gear although he was unarmed, his hood draped covering his face, even so, you could see he was looking down on you. It wasn’t until you glanced up that you realised he was ducking to fit in the doorway. That sent heat right to your cunt.
“Oh, hello.” You said stupidly, eyes hitting the carpeted floor.
“Hello.” He greeted you, accent gentle. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, right, I’m in your office.” You stumbled over your words. “Um, W-Williams needs sick leave approved, he needs gallbladder surgery off base, I need you to sign the form. I - I left it on your desk.”
König walked past you, he smelt of sweat and sand and some sort of hastily applied deodorant. He seemed unfazed that you were in his office, he certainly didn’t seem to be trying to avoid you as ardently as you were avoiding him. You cursed yourself for being so childish.
He removed his hood and draped it over the back of his chair as he picked up the form. His eyes were darkened with war paint, fresh stubble on his jaw.
“A smiling face.” He remarked as he read your post it note, voice muted. “The way yours used to be.”
You blinked. “Is that meant to be some kind of joke?” You asked hotly.
“Not at all.” He replied, not looking up from the form. “It used to brighten my days.” He signed the form and held it out to you before you could really process what he’d said. “Let us hope Williams makes a swift recovery, he is one of my best.”
You tentatively took the form, mind drawn back to the last encounter you’d had with the young private.
“He called me…” You bit back your sentence before you had a chance to finish it. But the damage was done.
König’s back straightened, his fists clenched. “Something inappropriate?”
“No.” Your shoulders hunched. Why did you even bring it up? “He said I was…they’re calling me…you know…the colonel’s girl.”
You glanced up at König shyly, to see if there was any truth in it. His back had relaxed, but his stance was still guarded.
“What?” You asked.
“I told the recruits to leave you alone.” He admitted. “Or there would be consequences.”
“Oh.” You blushed. “But, that’s not a bad thing, is it?”
“No, it’s not…some of the men have interpreted the order to mean I am keeping you for myself.”
You took a bold step forward.
“And are you?”
König looked at the floor. You sighed and turned for the door.
König’s large hand curled around the front of your throat before you could turn and drew you back, right to his mouth. You whimpered into the kiss. You were forced onto your tiptoes to meet him, feeling his fingers against your oesophagus with every exhale. His lips eased wetly and insistently against yours until you were dizzy, gripping his arms and pressing yourself closer.
As soon as it started, it was over. König released your throat and took a step back. You had to blink a few times to regain just a few of your senses. You were still on your tiptoes, and you could still taste him on your mouth. Gunpower, and mint.
“I’m sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was ragged, his accent even thicker than usual. Fuck, it was hot.
He turned and left before you could even articulate a response, but you were sure you saw his back muscles twitching as he went.
…
The deployment for the first active mission came about quicker than anyone had been expecting. It was practically a dummy mission, you’d been told, leading a team of recruits on a sweep near cartel lands for stray activity or potential landmines. Still, the atmosphere was palpable in the base, the recruits were scared, you could tell.
You watched from the doorway of your clinic as the men stood by the jeeps, ready to roll out. Riley had returned, and he stood next to König as the latter zipped up his kevlar and clipped on his helmet over his hood. You wanted to wish him luck, even though you knew everything was going to be fine. It was a routine sweep, and he was König, he wasn’t in any danger. Still, your stomach pulled. Fate was cruel. What if this was the last time you ever saw him?
You scrunched your eyes shut, called yourself an idiot, and jogged across the sand of the training field.
Riley saw you first, he knocked König on the chest to alert him - you tried not to read into that - König turned, face obscured, body heavy with kevlar and weaponry. He had to lower his head to look at you.
“Schatz?”
Your insides ached at the familiar term of endearment that you didn’t deserve. Your mouth was as dry as the sand you were stood on, and you suddenly didn’t know what to say. Don’t go? Come back? How could you say any of those things to the man who didn’t want you.
König solved your problem for you. His fingers closed around your tricep, and his thumb stroked just once.
“Look after yourself.” You said quietly.
He nodded before he dropped your arm. Then you watched as they got into the jeeps and drove away.
…
The recruits were returned to you on a daily basis. Apparently, the drop point of the sweep was particularly hot for cartel soldiers, ready and willing to engage in battle. The wounds you were treating now were not the cuts and scrapes of training, it was cracked skulls and broken bones and lacerated flesh. And the men, Turner, Williams, Jackson, they weren’t the scrappy, joking lads they’d once been, they were crying and they were scared.
You slept when you could but you were always exhausted. You were waiting for the first time one of them died on you.
You were awoken that night by a loud, insistent banging on your door. You jumped out of bed and tied your robe around yourself, already gathering your hair up to tie it back.
“What’s happened?” You called, opening the door, “who is it…oh.”
It took a moment for you to realise that you weren’t staring at the pitch black of night, but rather directly at König’s chest. He stood in a dark shirt, helmet removed, hood covering his face, head disappearing behind your doorway, but his blue eyes were bright and wild and looking down at you.
“König! You scared me half to death. Get in here.”
You stood aside and König ducked his head and walked, actually stomped, his way into your room. You prayed you didn’t have any stray underwear on the floor. His shirt sleeves were short and you could actually see his arm muscles thrumming.
“What’s happened?” You frowned. “What’s wrong, König? Talk to me, please.”
“There was an I.E.D.” He replied, accent thick. You couldn’t imagine what his expression looked like. “Ghost saw it before I did. He pulled me out of the pathway. The fucking thing exploded five feet in front of my face. I could have died. I am a fucking idiot.”
“Oh, König, you…you didn’t die, and you’re not an idiot, okay? Every soldier misses…”
“No, schatz.” He walked forward, backing you against the wall. You swallowed when his large hand came up, pressing your collarbone back against the wall. “I’m a fucking idiot because I could have died without doing this.”
One hand curled around your hip and lifted you effortlessly, and you gasped as you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist - it was a stretch, he was so broad. König wasted no time slamming you into the wall next to your bed with enough force to rattle your bones. You squeaked, but that was all you managed to do. He pushed his hood up to his nose and captured your lips with his.
Your eyes crossed and closed as you groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips slid against his. This was nothing like the first kiss - that was chaste, hurried, this was luxurious, long, wet and slow, the whole world went quiet as König pressed his tongue between your lips and lapped at yours with sure strokes that had you whimpering. Your fingers tangled in his hood as he kissed you like that, and you forgot everything else.
He hitched your legs around his waist and you whined, muffled, as you felt a solid lump pressing up against your clothed crotch. You didn’t care – you ground down on him as you met his tongue with yours. He growled into your mouth and it reverberated through you, before he was pulling back, kissing along your jaw and grinding his cock against your heat harder than before.
Then his eyes were on you, piercing and bright through the dark hood, the fabric sat askew on his top lip, his lips pink and swollen with your spit.
“I want you, schatz.” He said bluntly.
“I - I want you, too.”
Your consent was all he needed. Suddenly you were airborne again, and you clung onto him as he lowered you onto the belt and knelt between your legs. The bed actually dipped under his weight and you blushed.
“K-König,” you murmured quietly.
“No,” it was short, and stiff, as he yanked your night shirt down by your collar hard enough to rip. You yelped as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room and suddenly your tits were exposed. You whimpered in embarrassment but he’d already grabbed them in his rough, gloved hands, squeezing and rubbing, flicking and pinching your nipples between his fingers.
“Hhhh, fuck.” You blushed, biting your lip as your underwear moistened at the rough treatment.
“Fuck, do not tell me they are sensitive.” König’s voice sounded wrecked.
“Please,” it was a whisper, “please be gentle.”
“Wanted to get my hands on you for too long.” Was all his reply was as he squeezed your breast again and leant down, using his hand to guide your nipple into his exposed mouth. He sucked so hard that you thought he was trying to drink your soul out from you. Your head fell back and you gasped, grinding your wet, needy cunt as best you could on the side of his thigh. König took pity on you, lapping at your nipples until they were shining nubs screaming in oversensitivity, while his brick hand - when had he taken his glove off? - cupped your pussy through your underwear. His thumb was jammed right up against your clit. You didn’t know if he’d meant to do that, or if it was coincidental, but either way you ground up onto the solid digit until your eyes were unfocused.
“So wet for me, liebling,” he murmured breathlessly, between your nipples, “you are fucking soaked for me.” He stroked you with his thumb once and your eyes slackened and you came with a shudder, stiffening beneath him as stars danced above your head.
He let your nipple slide wetly from his mouth and suddenly those bright eyes were on you.
“Did you just have an orgasm?”
“Mmm.” You buried your head into his neck shyly, thighs shuddering as the waves of pleasure rolled through you. Your clit twitched against his hand.
“Oh, sweet liebling.” He murmured, rubbing wet circles over the sodden fabric of your underwear. You shuddered as your thighs tried to close away from the intense pleasure, until one strong hand was on your thigh and pushing it wide.
“König!” You gasped. He was watching you intently as he pushed your underwear to the side with his fingers and pressed the thick digits through your sopping folds.
“Such a pretty little cunt.” He murmured, stroking his fingertips over your slit. It opened with every heavy breath you took, dribbles of desire wetting his fingers.
“König, please,” you whined, “need you in me. Please -”
“Oh yes? Is that so?” The side of his mouth twitched up, then his finger was sinking inside you.
“Shit, fuck! K-König, you’re so big…” You felt your cunt stretching around his finger, clenching involuntarily down around it as your thighs tried to close but couldn’t, pinned open by his solid hand.
“I know, schatz.” He replied calmly. “You can take it.” He slid a second finger in without warning and grunted at how tight and wet you were, just imagining how your cunt would feel around his cock. You whined and threw your head back, the stretch aching after months of nothing, thighs shaking. You were so fucking wet that his fingers practically glided in, his knuckles against your soft pink entrance. “I want you to come for me, to loosen you up for my cock.”
“König, fuck, I…” Your cheeks were rosy. “My god, please...please move, I need-”
“Shhh, little one, I know.” He wasted no time shoving his fingers deeper in your aching cunt, and you yelped and lifted off of the bed entirely. König growled in disapproval and used the hand on your thigh to pin you down to the bed, keeping you still as he ploughed his fingers in and out of you. You moaned deliriously at the sudden intense, rough pressure to your sweet spot, watching the way König’s large hand was like a blur between your legs.
“I’m-” You couldn’t even say it before you were coming with a wet moan, your release splashing against his wrist and dripping all over the bed.
“Scheiße, liebling, making such a mess for me.” His fingers were still hard and circling your engorged sweet spot. Your body seized in panic as you gripped his wrist with all your might to try and still him. All you achieved was watching your own arms shake as he fingered you mercilessly. The noise was obscene, soaking wet come and slick filthy between your legs and soaking his hand as you squirted again, streaming down his arm with a mix of clear and white desire. You moaned and gasped and sobbed, the pleasure intense and spiralling, your pussy already felt worn out from the rough treatment.
“König, please,” you begged, “it’s too much-”
“Again.” He commanded, hand leaving your thigh and curling around your throat. “Want all of that squirt out of you.” he pinned you to the bed by your neck, using the change in position to drive his fingers roughly home deep in your aching, spent cunt. He didn’t stop when you came, and he didn’t stop when you came again - your eyes in the back of your head, body on fire with ceaseless pleasure, the bed beneath you soaked with your own humiliation. All you could do was take it, and shudder violently.
Finally, König pulled his fingers from your gaping hole and slapped your cheek lightly, it was a wet noise and you blinked.
“Come on, little girl, do not give up on me.”
“König,” you slurred, heaving. “I…fuck, so good, never…I can’t…”
“Oh sweet one,” he cooed, crowding between your legs, pulling your thighs over his hips. “Fucked you stupid and I haven’t even put my cock in you yet.”
You managed a tired smile as you traced your fingers down the front of his stab vest. You watched him drag the zip of his trousers down, rubbing just the once over the lump there before dipping in and pulling his cock free. It took him three tries - to extract the full, erect length of himself from the tight compression of his protective cup, before he was letting it hang heavy between his legs.
“Fuck, König- you’re so big.”
“I know, baby,” he stroked the length of his long, engorged cock from length to tip and your eyes widened, cunt throbbing between your legs in your desperation to feel it deep in you.
“König, please,” you begged, digging your heels into the small of his back, your wet cunt pressed up against his balls, inviting, begging him in, “my pussy - please -”
He chuckled before pressing the head of his foreboding cock against your clit and you trembled and cursed. He lent over you, hand squeezing your breast, the ends of his dark hood tickling your neck as you felt the hot, solid crown of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your eyes were wide, nervous, feeling the pressure, the give, then the hot length sliding home inside of you.
You gasped and arched, clenching around him and his biceps shook where he held you.
“Fuck, schatz, fuck, not so hard, you will make me come.”
“C-can’t help it.” It was a whine, rolling your hips and digging your heels in harder, trying to pull him deeper. “Feels so good.”
“Yeah?” He panted, regaining some of his composure and locking his hand around your neck once more. His hips began to piston and you weren’t prepared for it, the shift of his massive cock in your tight walls making you moan and clench and writhe. Your cunt was obscenely wet, and every noise was a squelch that made you blush, until he was pounding into your sweet spot and you forgot everything.
“Fuck, König, fuck-” it was breathless, eyelids fluttering as you clenched and groaned and sprayed his cock, his balls, with your release. “I can’t - can’t stop, fuck,”
“Guh, fuck.” He grunted, lips ghosting over yours. His cock not slowing, pounding you like he was trying to nail the mattress beneath you. “So tight, liebling, your pussy is drawing me in. I’ve waited so long for this.”
You couldn’t ask him to explain, you were too busy coming, your world zeroed down to the tip of König’s dick abusing your swollen sweet spot. He curled his fingers under your knee and held your thigh up by your collarbone, exposing more of your vulnerable cunt to him as he thrust hard into your aching walls.
Your moans were broken and never ending, blushing and squirming in delirious agony as you gushed and creamed on his cock, feeling your hot release on the backs of your thighs.
“Look at you,” König didn’t even have the decency to sound exerted as he took you apart. “You can’t stop coming, can you, schatz?”
“No.” There were tears in your eyes, your fingernails digging into his arms, holding on for dear life. “You need, please -” Your mouth fell open as you came again, the splash of your squirt explosive and filthy, “you need to come, please, I can’t, can’t come again, please, König, please.”
König framed your jaw with his hand, stroking along the bone as he slammed his hips into yours, forcing more of your come straight from you with a grunt.
“Nearly there, schatz.” He said into your mouth. “Just a little bit longer.”
“Fuck, please,” your walls clenched and contracted again, vaulted over the edge and nearly losing consciousness, clenching your fucked out cunt tight if only to help him get there. “Please, come, come in me, fuck.”
“Scheiße,” he groaned, cock jamming in your tight cunt as you came so hard you nearly pushed him out. He shoved his way back in and you wailed. “You want me to come inside? I’m not wearing…”
“König, please,” it was pathetic, and he couldn’t deny you, watching your sobbing eyes with his piercing blues as he slammed into your weeping cunt for a few more torturous minutes, then his forehead was pressed to yours and he groaned as he spilled inside you. He was so deep you couldn’t feel it, but you could feel his cock twitching, and you could feel yourself clenching and coming so hard you forced dribbles of his white come straight back out of your slit and dribbling down between your cheeks.
König was breathing heavily against you as he held himself, forehead against yours, body framing yours, and you watched him as you shuddered and tried in vain to relax. He was…there were no words for it.
You let your hands trail down his clothed back, feeling the solid and bunching muscles there, feeling his cock heavy in your squirting pussy and wondering how the hell this had happened.
“König,” you had a warm, dizzying smile on your face. “You came back.”
He nodded mutedly, face partially obscured by his hood, as he stroked along your jaw, then your lips, and let his hulking body fall and rest beside yours. “Thought you might not want me.”
You shook your head, curling into his chest the best you could. He was still inside you.
“Want you, always. Don’t-'' He'd already curled his bear arms around you, drawing you into his warm chest and cutting you off. You were suddenly so overhot you couldn’t remember what you were going to say.
“I’m sorry I upset you, liebling,” he stroked along your back, his blue eyes slack. “I have always wanted you to be mine. From the moment I saw you.”
This felt like a fever dream. It couldn’t possibly be real. You couldn’t possibly be this happy.
“I’ve always been yours, König, I still am. If you still want me.”
He tilted his head as he watched you, lips pulling up, and you blushed.
“What?” You asked.
“You,” he said simply, voice warm like honey, “are smiling again.”
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death wish love | tyler owens x fem!reader
Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: As members of rival storm chasing groups, you and Tyler Owens have hated each other since the start – well, you were supposed to. Little do you know, Tyler has been head over heels for you for months, and it's only when he nearly loses you that he realises he's done with pretending to hate you. Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, tornadoes (of course), Tyler is actually painfully obvious with his crush but thinks he's not at all. Word Count: 6.7k (I don't know how that happened) A/N: I had this idea for a fic a few days ago and when I was listening to the Twisters soundtrack as I wrote, I realised that the song Death Wish Love fits it perfectly. I did not intend for this to be so long, but it somehow just happened. It's probably one of the longest things I've written on this blog, so I hope anyone that reads it really enjoys it. I had so much fun writing it and playing around in the Twisters universe! I will definitely be writing more for Tyler.
One of these days, Tyler Owens was going to get his shit together and ask you out. There were, however, several things in the way. The most pressing being the fact that your storm chasing groups were rivals and had been for years.
The fact that you hated his guts would be the second.
He was unaware that you didn’t hate him quite as much as you made out to, though. It was just that you had a reputation to uphold. Being the unofficial leader of The Thunder Team, your friends and fellow storm chasers all expected you to dislike the Tornado Wranglers just as much as they did.
And you had – in the start.
You were just beginning your PhD, fairly fresh in the world of storm chasing and the rivalry between your teams had been there from the very beginning. To your team, the Tornado Wranglers were nothing more than a bunch of stupid kids who didn’t even have the correct knowledge to be chasing these tornadoes.
To you, they had slowly become something of a wonder. You didn’t think it was necessary to have a PhD or education under your belt in order to storm chase. As long as you loved it, that was enough. And you never doubted the love that the Tornado Wranglers had for it.
But still, the rivalry continued. It was always a competition. Who could get to the tornado first? Who could get closer? Who had better instincts when it came to choosing which one to chase? Who could get more attention on social media with their photos and videos?
The Tornado Wranglers had an advantage on that one.
That never stopped your team trying, though. Which is exactly what they’re doing as you walk towards them from where you’ve just parked your car. They’re all crowded around the van in the motel parking lot. Robbie, one of your closest friends, is filming Ally talking about something, probably regarding the EF1 tornado you’d chased today.
You stop far enough away that you aren’t going to end up in the background of the video, and that’s when Tyler Owens sidles up beside you, arms crossed over his chest.
“Not interested in going viral?”
You glance up at him and notice he’s already looking at you with a cocky grin on his irritatingly handsome face. “No, figured I’d leave that to you and your team. Shoot any fireworks up a tornado today? I didn’t see you out there.”
“I didn’t realise you were looking.”
There’s something strange in his tone of voice, but when you look at him again, there’s nothing in his face to give away the reason.
“I wasn’t,” you huff. “It’s just that I see your giant red truck everywhere when I’m trying to get good photos of the tornadoes and it’s quite obvious when you’re not there.”
Tyler smiles to himself. “Why don’t you come chasing with us one day, then? My truck won’t end up in your photos if you’re taking photos from inside it.”
You laugh. “That is the last thing I would want to do.” A lie. You’ve thought about it several times in the past.
“Sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it.”
You narrow your eyes at him but make no move to walk away from him. Your team are still filming and you’d rather stay away until they’re finished, even if it means standing with Tyler Owens until they are.
“You guys gonna stop by the rodeo tomorrow night?” Tyler breaks the silence.
You shrug your shoulders. “Depends on how tomorrow goes. You?”
He nods. “Yeah, we probably will, even if tomorrow doesn’t go to plan. You know my team. We love a night out.”
The weather tomorrow was predicted to be a good one for storm chasers – thunderstorms with heavy rain and likely a tornado as well, if the conditions were good enough. You were all hoping that they were.
“My guys are less likely to go if they know your team is going, you know?” You look at Tyler, noticing the way that he’s watching your team, who are now laughing at something that Ally had said for the video. “We are still rivals.”
“Did you think I needed a reminder?” He chuckles.
“Why? Am I being too nice to you?”
Tyler grins, one of those ones that makes you feel a little funny in your stomach. Like butterflies – but you don’t get butterflies from people you dislike.
“Oh, darlin', you’re always a delight.”
You roll your eyes. “Want me to get you a shovel so you can start digging yourself a hole?”
He holds up his hands in mock surrender and laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he grins. “You wanna grab one for yourself so you can help me? I’d love the company.”
You open your mouth to reply about how much you’d love to help just as you catch Robbie’s eye. He’s quick to call out your name, beckoning you over, and you have no choice but to listen to him and leave Tyler. You’ve already stood here talking to him long enough and the last thing you want is your team thinking that you’re colluding with the Tornado Wranglers.
“Gotta go,” you nod your head towards your group. “Good luck tomorrow.”
Tyler bids you good luck as well and watches as you head over towards your group, all of them eyeing him as you reach them. He tips his hat at Robbie, who is watching him with judging eyes, and turns on his heel, heading back to his own team to get a well needed beer.
—
When Tyler gets back to his team, he realises that they were all watching him. They all give him questioning looks as he grabs a beer out of the cooler.
“What? I got something on my face?”
“Yeah, it sure is written all over your face,” Boone says.
Tyler frowns. “What is?”
“Oh, don’t try and lie to us, Ty,” Dani adds.
He shakes his head and takes a seat on one of the fold up chairs beside his truck. He’s smart enough to see what they’re getting at – the way he’d been there talking with you for so long. His friends are smart too. But hopefully not smart enough to see through the facade Tyler puts up to try and convince them that he still dislikes you.
“Her, Ty? Really? She’s from the Thunder Team.” Boone stares Tyler down.
Tyler has no choice. “Okay, no,” he sighs and takes a long swig of his beer. “We were just talking, and I was just messing around with her.” He was also trying to get the courage to ask you to the rodeo, just the two of you, but he’d chickened out at the last second. “She definitely still hates us, judging by her reaction.”
Truth is, Tyler Owens has been harbouring a secret crush on you for the better part of a year now. It had snuck up on him. He’d hated you at first, thought you were just another stuck up storm chasing student, especially when he found out you were studying for your PhD. But after spending so much time around you, something had changed and all of a sudden, you had a hold over him that you didn’t even realise you had.
It drives Tyler insane.
The way he feels when he looks at you is definitely not the way he should be feeling about anyone, letalone the leader of a rival storm chasing team. But here he is.
The passion he’d seen in your eyes when you’d been chasing storms. The way you talked about them in your captions on social media when you posted photos you’d taken. Even the way you made time to learn more about them through school while being on the road so often.
He was well aware that he was supposed to hate you. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it anymore.
“You sure that’s all it was?”
“A hundred percent, Boone.”
He’s thankful when the conversation moves away from you and the Thunder Team. It lets him sit in his own thoughts for a few minutes until he’ll undoubtedly be brought back into the conversation for one reason or another.
He’s unable to stop his eyes from drifting over to you and your team. You’ve taken a seat on the back of a truck, watching safely from behind the camera as Robbie films Ally again. He tries hard not to smile at the look on your face as you watch your friends, laughing along with the others. The last thing he needs right now is for one of his team to catch him grinning at you like an idiot, especially after convincing them that there’s nothing going on.
He realises, then, that he’s already in way too deep.
—
The last thing you expect when you wake up the next morning is to find out that your team made a bet with the Tornado Wranglers when you had gone to bed.
It’d been raining for most of the night, the ground covered in mud and puddles. The sky was dark and you could just feel that the conditions were perfect for a tornado. You had a good feeling that today would be the day.
Until you learnt about the bet.
“I knew I shouldn’t have left you guys alone.”
Robbie laughs, nearly choking on the piece of bacon he’d been eating. You’ve all come to a nearby diner to fuel up on both food and gas for your cars before what was supposed to be a long day of storm chasing. You have a feeling that it won’t be now that the bet exists.
“Okay, technically it was their fault,” Ally offers.
“Explain.”
“So, we’d had a few drinks, and they had clearly also been drinking, and Harry and I were heading over to the bathrooms to clean up before going to bed – because dental hygiene is important!” Ally begins, forgetting all about her half eaten plate of food. “We were almost there when they called out to us – I forget their names. The blond guy and the one with the mustache, the cute one. Anyway, they suggested a bet. Whoever could hold their liquor the best gets to choose which direction the other team chases in today.”
You stare at Ally. “And you said yes.”
She winces, and then shovels a fork full of eggs into her mouth, nodding so she doesn’t have to give you a proper answer.
Your team is usually quite well behaved. But even the best of people could get taken advantage of, and you’ve seen it many times first hand with the Tornado Wranglers. They can hold their liquor very well and wake up the next day with very little consequences from doing so. You’re honestly surprised Ally is even functioning. Harry, on the other hand, you haven’t seen all morning. Unsurprisingly, your team had obviously lost.
“Which direction are we going, then?”
“That’s the catch,” Robbie interjects. “They choose for us before we go. They get to look at the radar first and decide which way is going to be best. And naturally, they’re going to send us in the direction far away from the best chance.”
You groan and let your head fall into your hands, beginning to ponder your options. You can either deal with the bet and get sent in the entirely wrong direction, or…
Without a second thought, you’re pushing yourself up from the table and heading towards the door of the diner.
“Where are you going!?” Robbie calls after you.
“I’m going to fix this mess!”
—
Tyler greets you with a smile that is way too cheerful for both the time of the morning that it is and the situation.
“To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine morning, darlin'?” He asks, leaning up against his truck. He’s holding a coffee in one hand. Good to know he’s human. You’re not surprised that he doesn’t look hungover at all. The man practically resembles a God.
“Wouldn’t call it a pleasure, honey,” you sigh, deciding to use a nickname just like he always uses for you. You cross your arms over your chest as you stop in front of him. “This bet you made with my team last night. I want it called off.”
Tyler’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of the word honey coming out of your mouth, directed at him. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way it feels to hear you calling him that. “No can do, I’m afraid. We Tornado Wranglers don’t back down on bets.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m asking nicely.”
“I think you can ask a little nicer. Maybe throw a please in there,” he says. “You know it wouldn’t look good for your team, though, right? Half the other teams know about the bet.”
For a few moments, you simply just stare at him, hoping he’ll budge. He doesn’t. He stands there staring at you, too, leaning against his truck in an effortlessly attractive way, smiling at you in that same way he always does. It’s like he reserves this specific smile just for you.
You take a step towards him, testing the waters, and notice the way his breath hitches this time at your close proximity. Did he dislike you that much that you getting this close to him set him on edge? Or was it something else?
“Nothing can change your mind?”
Tyler shakes his head. “I already told you. We don’t back down on our bets.”
“Tyler.” It’s a rare occasion where you call him by his first name, but you figure it can’t hurt to try it. You can see his eyes soften a little at the sound of it. “If you do this, you’re going to send us right off the trail and ruin our chase.”
“Who said I’d send you in the wrong direction?”
“I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”
“I don’t know, darlin'. I give you a fair bit of credit for being a genius,” he took a sip of his coffee. “You’re the one with the PhD. I didn’t study that much.”
Something about hearing those words sets off that feeling inside your stomach again. You push it down. “I don’t have my PhD yet.”
“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “But you’re close, aren’t you? That’s more than most people around here can say regarding their education on these things.” He points a finger towards the sky, which is rapidly darkening.
You sigh. He’s right about that. You are close to finishing your PhD, and not many of the other storm chasers around you could say the same.
“Just tell me which direction we’re going in, Owens.”
He looks at you for a moment. “I’ll give you a choice,” he says, and for a moment hope sparks in your chest that you’ll get to choose your direction – until he continues speaking. “I’ll let this bet go if you make another one with me.”
“What sort of bet?” You cross your arms over your chest.
“Not regarding our teams. Just you and me.”
You’re about to respond when you hear the sound of the van, playing music rather loudly – Harry’s choice – pulling into the motel parking lot behind you. You sigh and turn around to look at them, irritated that this is the second time in less than 24 hours that they’ve interrupted you and Tyler.
“No luck?” Ally calls out from the passenger seat.
Behind them, Robbie pulls up in his truck.
You shake your head and turn back around to face Tyler. There’s no time to make another bet with him now that your team is here and they’re all ready to go.
“East or west, Owens?”
Tyler turns around and looks at the sky around you. You figure he’s already done his research on the conditions in every direction and that he’s just messing with you, pretending to decide on the spot. Any good storm chaser would have been watching the radars all morning – which you had been, before you found out about the bet.
“East.” He says, turning back around to face you. “There are two possible formations, so let’s see which one develops. Or, you can ditch your team and come join us for the day. My passenger seat practically has your name on it, darlin’.”
A small part of you finds yourself wanting to say yes to him. To tell him that you’d love nothing more than to get in his truck and see what a day with the Tornado Wranglers is like. But the reasonable part of you wins out.
“You’re going to regret making this bet with my team, Owens,” you take a step back from him, giving him his space again.
“I gave you the choice of another option, but you didn’t take it.”
You ignore him and turn around, heading towards the passenger side of Robbie’s truck – your usual spot when storm chasing. Tyler laughs at your reaction and then gets into his own truck before pressing his hand to the horn, making you jump at the sound, obviously using it to call his team from inside. You shoot him a look over your shoulder and in return, he sends a wink your way.
“May the best team win,” Tyler flashes a grin.
“Oh, we will!”
—
As much as Tyler hates to admit it, he had sent you in the wrong direction. There were two possible formations, that was true. But it looked very clear that the one to the east wasn’t actually going to develop into anything, and he was sure you would’ve figured that out once you got on the road and actually checked the conditions yourself.
He hates disappointing you. He saw the look on your face as you tried to convince him to call off the bet, the way you wanted to make sure today was a good one for your team. But it isn’t entirely out of competition that he sent you in the wrong direction.
Subconsciously, he did it to try and keep you safe.
If you’re out of the way of the tornado, then it’s a weight off of Tyler’s chest. He wouldn’t admit that to his team, but it felt good to think about himself. That you’d be safe. Besides, he had tried to get you out of it by making another bet with you, but he knew that you wouldn’t humour him the second he saw your team arrive.
He presses his foot down on the accelerator, watching the clouds ahead of them. Something is going to form. He knows it. He just hopes it’s a good one, something worth chasing.
In the passenger seat, Boone is keeping a good eye on the clouds to the east. He’s filming as well, live streaming as usual.
“You were right, Ty,” Boone says, pointing the camera out the window towards the east. “That one’s gonna give us nothing. It’s already disappearing.”
Tyler lets out a breath of relief. You’re out of harms way and even though he knows you’d be annoyed at him if you ever found out, he can’t seem to find it in himself to feel bad about the fact. He had felt bad about the bet when you’d been talking to him, but now he realises that keeping the bet was a good idea.
“This one’s gonna be a good one, I can feel it,” he says, eyeing the clouds above them.
Then, it happens – the tornado forms right in front of them. It’s already huge, bigger than any tornado Tyler has seen in the past few months.
Boone whoops in the seat beside him, moving the camera to film the tornado through the windshield.
“Just look at that beauty!” He exclaims.
Tyler can’t keep the smile off of his face as they drive closer to it. He stops the car once they get close enough, anchoring it to the ground as usual, watching as it gets closer and closer to the truck.
“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Tyler yells, straight to the camera that Boone is holding in his face. “Let’s do this!”
It’s only a split second later that his heart drops to his stomach. He watches as the tornado, once coming right towards them, veers off course. It’s heading east. And it’s growing in size.
He looks out of the passenger window and in the distance, he can see your truck. It’s white, so bright under the dark sky. You’re going to be right in its path.
He sent you in the wrong direction to try and get you out of harms way, and instead he’s sent you in the exact direction the tornado is heading. There’s no way you can get out of its path in time.
Tyler suddenly feels like he can barely breathe.
“Turn the camera off, Boone,” he commands, and then he’s removing the anchors from the ground and pressing his foot down onto the accelerator before he can even really think about it, even though there’s no way he can reach you in time with how quickly the tornado is moving towards you.
Boone, thankfully, listens, ending the stream, putting the camera down and picking up the radio to try and reach you. He’s realised what’s happening. Tyler tries to ignore the panic he feels when there’s no answer.
He can’t lose you like this. Not now. Not when he never really even had you. Not when you didn’t even know the way he felt about you. He’d been an asshole, a fool, making that bet. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened.
“Please be okay, please be okay.” He mutters it under his breath like it’s a mantra. He doesn’t care what Boone thinks. If he says it enough, maybe he can make it come true.
—
You’ve seen tornadoes before. You’ve been close to them before. But you’ve never had one quite this size coming straight at you. You hadn’t expected this.
When Tyler sent you east, Robbie had checked the radar and noticed that the cells out here were much less likely to form a tornado compared to the ones west. You’d gone anyway, figuring you’d try your chances, leaving Ally, Harry and the rest of your team a little further back, trying to get as close as you could before you realised your tornado was going to amount to nothing at all.
You and Robbie had been watching the tornado forming west of you, wishing you had been able to chase that one rather than do what the Tornado Wranglers told you.
And then, it changed course.
“Get out of the car! We need to run!” Robbie undoes his seatbelt as he speaks and it doesn’t take you long to follow suit, undoing your own and jumping out of the truck.
He takes off at a run ahead of you just as the rain begins.
Your heart is beating faster in your chest than you think it ever has before. Your legs burn at the pace you’re running, your feet sinking into and skidding through the muddy paddock thanks to the heavy rain last night and the rain growing even heavier now. It slows you down, but your adrenaline pushes you faster. You can’t stop, not now. Not when there’s a possible EF4 on your tail, getting closer to you with every breath you take.
You make a mistake, then, deciding to look back at it.
The sight of it only makes you run faster, but when you turn back, fear strikes through your system as you realise you can’t see Robbie anymore.
The wind isn’t strong enough to have pulled him back into it, not when he was running ahead of you, but you can’t help but think of the worst possible scenario as your gaze narrows in on a gully just ahead of you. Maybe he made it there before you and now he’s just waiting.
The wind from the tornado picks up trees and branches and other debris, sending things spinning through the air. You feel something slice across your leg and cry out at the sudden pain, but there’s no time to inspect the damage as you slide down the small hill into the gully, the mud going everywhere as you hit the bottom.
You don’t even have time to scan for Robbie as you press yourself down onto the ground of the gully, covering your head with your hands and pressing your face into the ground. You try to ignore the feeling of the mud and dirt on your skin, the throbbing pain in your leg, the rain pelting down on your back, soaking you to the bone, and try to keep breathing steadily despite being out of breath from the run and the adrenaline.
You can’t panic now. If you panic now, you’re dead.
The tornado gets closer and you can hear it. Hear the wind rushing through the air, hear the sound of trees being ripped out of the ground. Hear the crashing sound of the truck being picked up and thrown by it.
Everything is okay, you tell yourself, like a mantra. Everything is going to be okay. Because if you tell yourself enough, maybe it will come true.
—
By the time Tyler gets to the place where your truck had been, the tornado is gone and so is your truck. He barely even has time to put his own truck into park before he’s jumping out of it and calling your name.
Boone is quick to follow him.
Tyler’s eyes narrow in on something in the distance – the remnants of your truck. It’s sitting upside down, the cab crushed in and all the glass broken. Even some of the wheels are missing. His heart almost stops.
No, you would have been smart enough to get out. You wouldn’t have stayed in the truck. He knows that. He believes that. It was one of the first things any storm chaser learnt – never stay in your car, it’s better to take your chances outside of it.
He stops in the middle of the field and takes a long, deep breath to try and calm himself down when he hears the sound of someone yelling out.
“Hey, I need some help over here!”
It’s a male voice, not belonging to you, which is the first sign that makes Tyler realise something is wrong. He recognises Robbie immediately, even though he’s drenched in rain and covered in mud and blood.
Boone runs off towards him and Tyler follows.
“Where is she?” He cuts in as Boone begins asking Robbie where he’s been hurt. “Were you with her? Where is she?”
He knows he’s being a little irrational. He should be kinder, especially when he’s the reason Robbie was even in this tornado in the first place, but his mind is narrowed in on you, on making sure you’re okay. He’s never been more terrified that he’s lost you in his life.
“I don’t know,” Robbie shakes his head. “She was behind me, and then I jumped down into this little dam and she never came in after me.”
Tyler doesn’t let him say anything else before he takes off running. He knows Boone can handle Robbie. His only concern is finding you. He calls out your name again and again and again, willing you to respond to just one of them.
He only hears silence.
—
The second you wake up, you push yourself up, getting your face out of the mud and opening your eyes, trying to adjust them to the sudden brightness now that the tornado has disappeared.
You’re vaguely aware of the sound of someone calling out your name, but it sounds fuzzy, far away. Your head is spinning and you’re pretty sure you could be imagining it.
You put a hand up to the side of your face, feeling the sticky sensation of blood on your hands. Something must have hit your head and knocked you out during the tornado. You can only remember something hitting your leg as you’d slid down into the gully. How long have you been lying here? Minutes? Hours? Days, even?
Looking around, you can see the devastation caused by the tornado. There are trees and branches everywhere, and with the rain, it’s made it even muddier – and probably impossible to climb out of, especially with your injuries. You finally allow yourself to inspect your leg, noticing a deep cut across your shin, ripping your jeans. Your leg starts to throb as you finally allow yourself to recognise the pain.
With a deep breath, you try and push yourself to your feet. It’s slippery down here thanks to all the mud and rain, and you manage to stand for just a second before your leg buckles and sends you crashing back down. At least it’s a fairly soft landing.
You curse under your breath just as you hear movement above you. Your eyes flicker towards the direction of the sound, and when you see Tyler Owens appear at the edge of the gully just to the right of you, you nearly feel like you could cry.
“Tyler!” You manage to call out to him, though your voice is weak.
His head spins towards your voice, eyes widening as he sees you. You must look like a mess, covered in all the blood and dirt, but you knows he doesn’t care. Especially with the way he slides down into the gully and stumbles towards you, getting covered in mud himself in the process.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and move your head from side to side. He’s quick to check the wound on your head where the blood is coming from. “You’re okay, darlin’, it doesn’t look too deep.”
You can see the panic in his eyes as he scans you, scans your whole body looking for injuries. You can also tell from the look on his face when he looks at your shin that your injury there is worrisome.
“It’s my fault,” Tyler shakes his head, refusing to move his hands from your cheeks. It’s as if you’ll fade away if he lets go. “I shouldn’t have told you to go east. I was just trying to get you out of the way of the tornado cause I felt that yours wasn’t gonna develop, but then ours changed course and it was heading straight towards you and I couldn’t get here fast enough and god, the idea of losing you, of never seeing you again, of never asking–”
“Tyler!”
He stops talking, having not even realised that he had let the situation get the better of him and had been rambling on. When he meets your eyes, you’re shocked to see that there are tears in his.
“You never call me by my first name.”
“I didn’t think I’d be able to get your attention if I didn’t.”
Your reach up and take one of his hands off of your face and weave your fingers between his. You don’t really know what you’re doing, exactly, but all you know is you need to comfort him. That and you’re shaking like a leaf and the feeling of holding his hand is like an anchor to the world. A reminder that you’re alive.
“I’m still here, Tyler. I’m all right.”
“You’re not,” he shakes his head. “You’re hurt, and it’s because of me–”
You take him by surprise as you reach up and place your own hand on his cheek. It’s only when you touch his face that you remember your hand is covered in blood and mud, but when you try and take it away, Tyler places his hand over the top of it. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a long breath that feels to you that it’s something like relief.
The two of you stay there like that for what feels like an eternity but is really just a few minutes, soaking in the feeling of each others skin and coming to terms with the realisation that you’re alive.
“It’s not your fault, Tyler,” you mutter softly. “You couldn’t have known that tornado was going to change course and head straight for us. Just because that bet ended up landing us in the path of a probable EF4 doesn’t mean you’re the one to blame for it. I don’t blame you.”
He blinks his eyes open and stares at yours for a moment.
“Now, what were you saying about asking me something?” You try to change the subject.
There’s a look of something in Tyler’s eyes that you can’t quite place, but it drops off of his face instantly at your words and he lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t think now’s the right time, darlin’,” he says. “Some other time, when you’re not bleeding and injured. We need to get you out of here and to a hospital.”
You shake your head, ignoring the fact that the movement makes you a little dizzy. “I could have just died and I would have never known what it is you wanted to ask me. So I want to know what it is right now.” You’re surprised at how strong your voice sounds, even though you don’t feel strong at all right now.
Tyler sighs and you can see by the look on his face that he’s giving in to you. “I was trying to get the courage to ask you out, was trying last night actually but I chickened out. You can be quite intimidating sometimes, you know that?”
For a moment, you just stare at Tyler.
“I thought I was the one who hit my head. Did you hit yours too?”
He lets out a soft laugh. “Something like that.”
“You need another reminder that we’re supposed to hate each other?”
Tyler shakes his head. “I think I’ve had enough reminders to last me a lifetime. But I’m done with pretending to hate you. With trying to convince my team that I dislike you so much. I know they know the truth. It doesn’t matter, even though you can’t stand me.”
You meet Tyler’s eyes and in them, you can see that he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t hate you, nor dislike you, nor anything similar. With the way he’s looking at you, the way he was calling your name, the way he panicked so much when he thought you were seriously hurt… he really was trying to ask you out. Just the thought of it makes that feeling rise in your stomach again, and for the first time you recognise the feeling for what it truly is – butterflies. You don’t get butterflies from people you hate.
“I don’t hate you, Tyler.”
You can see the surprise flash across his eyes.
“You don’t hate me?”
“You annoy the hell out of me and you drive me insane sometimes. But no. You fascinate me, and you make me laugh, and even though every member of my team hates you and your stupid red truck, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be in the passenger seat with you, driving head first into a tornado, and I nearly said yes when you asked me earlier.”
Tyler chuckles. “My truck is not stupid.”
“Does your passenger seat really have my name on it?”
“Embroidered it myself.”
You laugh, then, a real, full laugh, and Tyler can’t help but laugh as well at the absurdity of the situation. You’ve just survived a devastating tornado, you’re injured in more ways than one, Tyler Owens has just told you he likes you and you’ve come to the realisation that you like the fact that he does. And maybe, you like him a little bit too.
“We’re not gonna make it to that rodeo tonight, are we?” You ask, once the laughs subside.
Tyler shakes his head. “Rain check for the next one?”
“That’s how you’re asking me out?”
He doesn’t get a chance to reply before you both hear your names being called and look up just as Boone and Robbie appear at the top of the gully. Tyler turns around to look at them. They look relieved to have found you both, and you feel just as relieved to see that Robbie is alive and well, only a little battered just like you are. Even if you’re a little disappointed that your moment with Tyler was interrupted. It seems that happens more often than not lately.
“Is she okay?” Boone asks Tyler.
He nods. “Yeah, but she’s injured. We’re gonna need a hand out of here.”
“We got you,” Boone says.
—
“So, when are you asking me out properly, Owens?” You ask.
It’s been a week since the tornado and a week since you found out that Tyler Owens had been wanting to ask you out for months. Boone had stayed true to his word that day, using a rope and Tyler’s truck to pull you both up out of the gully.
Tyler had barely left your side since – even in the truck ride to the hospital. He usually hated letting anyone drive his truck other than himself, but that day he’d thrown the keys to Boone so he didn’t have to take any of his attention off of you. He’d stayed with you in the hospital as well, even when the rest of your team turned up to check on you and Robbie.
You were surprised at how quickly your teams had dropped their rivalry after the tornado. They’d clearly seen the way you and Tyler acted around each other, how things had changed after the tornado, even though both of you refused to give them details on what had happened when Tyler had found you in the gully.
It was something both of you were glad for.
“You can’t just ask me that,” Tyler says, kicking his legs up on the desk in the small motel room. Luckily, he’d taken off his muddy boots when he’d come inside to check on you. He had insisted you go back home to recover from your leg injury, but you’d refused.
“I can’t?” You ask from your spot on the bed, resting your leg up on some pillows. It had luckily not been too bad of an injury, just a reasonably deep cut that needed stitching and wrapping. You still had to be careful not to rip the stitches, which meant no storm chasing and only resting for the time being.
Tyler nods. “You made me admit the truth to you while we were both covered in mud and blood in the bottom of a wet, muddy gully. I’m not going to ask you out while you’re sitting on a motel room bed with an injured leg and stitches in your forehead. I’m classier than that.”
You snort. “You, classy?”
“From time to time,” he shrugs a shoulder.
You jokingly roll your eyes at him. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You know, you never actually explained what the other bet you wanted to make with me that day was. Was that something to do with asking me out as well?”
Tyler’s face broke out into a grin. “Maybe.”
“Of course,” you can’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face. “Are you at least going to ask me before I get swept up in another tornado?”
“Darlin’,” Tyler stands up and crosses the room until he’s standing right beside you. One of his hands reaches down and picks up yours, weaving his fingers in-between yours. “If you get swept up in a tornado, I’m going to be right beside you. I’m gonna be beside you for as long as you let me. For as long as I get. As long as I get, okay?”
He repeats it like a mantra. Because if he says it enough, he’s certain it will come true.
#tyler owens#twisters#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens x you#twisters x reader#twisters x you#tyler owens imagine#twisters 2024#twisters fanfic#tyler owens fanfic
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This is my cat.
His name is Eddie Potato.
Eddie Potato came home with us from the animal shelter in January (so about 9 months ago, now). He was around five years old, and had been living on the street before he was picked up by the cops and brought to the state run shelter (my boy was arrested for loitering). When we met him, he was sick, mite-infested, and covered in matted fur, scratches, and bites: but he was also very sweet, and very friendly, and he was already fixed, so we knew he must have once had a home with some loving humans.
[Eddie at his first vet appointment, trying to hide behind a paper towel.]
We'll never know what Eddie's first family was like, of course: but within a couple of weeks of adopting him, we were able to make a few guesses. He was happy to be pet, and calm about being picked up: but the only way he had to let us know that he'd like us to stop petting him was to swat our hands away, claws out. He'd then watch us, very closely, a little tense; like he was either expecting to be scolded for scratching, or expecting us to try to touch him again.
This told us that he had an affectionate family, but maybe not one that respected his boundaries. Maybe it was a family with kids, or maybe just a loving but pushy owner.
He's a medium-to-long haired cat, so he needs a bit of grooming to stay hygienic around his, let's say, pants area. I bought some quality clippers and a pet grooming electric razor. The clippers he was completely calm about: he let me trim the mats out of his fur very calmly, even the ones behind his ears.
The razor terrified him. I mean, he knew what it was on sight. He was sitting next to me on the couch when I took it out of the box, and the moment he saw it, his ears went back; he crouched low and fearful; and then jumped down and ran out of the room.
Okay; so his first family groomed him, or took him to a groomer, that was obvious: and it was probably a 'hold him down and get it over with' kind of experience, given how frightened he was.
He was very sweet, and very gentle - except when he wanted you to stop petting him. This was a cat who expected kindness, who believed that the humans around him were his friends: but he'd learned that his friends wouldn't listen to him when he told them to stop unless he drew a little bit of blood.
We just thought: wow, this cat is a really good communicator. He is being, like, so clear.
Eddie Potato is a very stupid boy - uncommonly stupid, even for a cat - so we prepared ourselves for it to take a while for him to learn that things had changed. We paid very close attention to him while we were petting him for the signs leading up to that swat, and we got better and better at stopping before the swat ever came.
I let him get used to the razor very slowly: for the first week, I just set it next to his food bowl at dinner time, about a foot away, so he could see it while he was at his happiest. For the next week, I'd pick up the razor, and move it around while he ate. The week after that, I turned it on for a few seconds, so he could start to get used to the noise. The week after that, it went on for most of his meal time, and I moved it around his body while I pet him: so he could start to associate the razor sound with nice touching.
Then I groomed him. And he was - fine. A little bit antsy, but fine. Happily munching away at his dinner while I neatened up his pantaloons. I usually only had about a minute before he made it clear that he wanted it to stop, but that was okay: I just groomed him for a minute or so for two or three days in a row, until the job was done.
After four months, Eddie Potato wasn't scared of the razor at all anymore.
And it broke my heart a little bit, because his first family had clearly loved him. And Eddie is a cat who needs to be groomed! And it had obviously always been a scary and stressful experience for him. But it didn't have to be! He just needed patience! Surely, if the people he had lived with before had known that he could learn to not be afraid in just a few months, they would have tried.
Teaching him that he didn't need to swat didn't take much longer. It was so clear that this was not a cat who wanted to hurt us. Once we got the hang of stopping before he got tired or stressed out by petting, the swatting went away completely.
What was so sweet was what he learned to do instead: when he was done with being pet, he started placing his big paws on my hand, and gently but firmly pushing it away.
"Oh, okay!" I'd say. "We're done!" and take my hand away. And he'd watch me, for two or three seconds: and then he'd start to purr like crazy, and push under my hand again.
He wanted to be pet. He just wanted to know that he could make it stop if he wanted to!
It's been months now since the last time Eddie swiped at either of us. Sometimes, he likes to play his little push-away game for ten or twenty minutes at a time! He rolls onto his back for a belly rub, and I do for a few minutes; then he pushes my hand away, and watches to make sure I listened; then he rolls onto his back again for more belly rubs. The whole time purring, purring, purring. Eddie loves his belly rubs, and he loves being listened to just as much.
I'm just so proud of him! He's had such a hard and scary year: losing his family, living on the street, ending up in a kill shelter, going to a strange new home with strange new people. And he still extended his friendship and trust to us, and let us show him that he doesn't need to be scared anymore, of razors or hands or thunderstorms or the sound of traffic. He's so dumb and so small and he's had so much happen to him, and now he gets exactly as much petting as he likes, and he isn't afraid to get his pantaloons trimmed.
Like. That's my little guy. I get to make sure he'll be okay from now on.
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hi again i'm the Anon who asked if you take commisions only or requests as well. I love your writing style<3
Soo could you write about Batmom reader, where reader took care of bruce's children as her own. But then bruce gets a mistress, reader still stays becuz of the kids but when everyone started to become cold to her and insult her ' X (mistress) is better mom then you ever were' she leaves gonthem. Then everyone realises she (mistress) was just after their money. They go to batmom's room to apologize only to find it empty. They try to find her everywhere but couldn't. And finally when they do, reader rejects them since she was having the time of her life without responsibilty but gets kiddnapped by the batfam?
Honestly i wanted to commision but i'm flat broke and i'm too busy studying to work and on top of that i don't have my own phone (i use my dad's old laptop) soo yeah... I hope you consider this.
A/N: Loooove this request thank you for sending it in <3 fem reader yandere themes lmk if you want a part two
The (L/n)'s were a wealthy and prominent family in Gotham, right up there with the Wayne's when it came to power over the city, the two families were in business together which is why when Bruce Wayne personal attorney came to you with a marriage proposal, you weren't surprised.
A marriage of convenience. You thought you knew what this would entitle, you knew this wasn't out of love, that this was required of you, it had nothing to do with what you actually wanted, but you were dutiful and signed, inking your name on the paper felt like a deal with the devil.
Bruce hadn't bothered to officially meet you until the day of the wedding, it was beautiful and well done but lacking any form of love of affection, CEOs and other rich folk you didn't recognize filled the pews, the ring felt cold when he slipped it on, his vows perfectly rehearsed, and not an ounce of warmth in his eyes, you knew that night you should have annulled the marriage, but something made you hold on, something your mother had said to you as the makeup artist turned you into the visage of a bride.
"You'll learn to love each other, your father and I did after all." And she wasn't lying, your parents married for convenience as well but had grown to love one another, so maybe you could do the same?
A year after the nuptials Dick Grayson is thrust into your life. Haley's circus was famous in Gotham for its incredible death defying shows, but on this night death would walk the stage, taking with them Dick Grayson's parents in a horrible display, You and Bruce had consoled the boy for only a moment before Bruce was talking to the officers, he'd decided Dick was coming home with you, of course without asking your opinion, but it didn't matter, you felt such pity and grief for the boy, it made perfect sense to you, he was shut down for the first few months, he called you by your name and you had no problem with it, making it clear you never wanted to try and replace his mother, the ice between you two melted one day, one kind word at a time, he couldn't help but confide in you about school or his friends, because you were more emotionally there than Bruce was.
Like the night you caught him sneaking out, a packed bag in hand and the keys to one of Bruce's many cars in his hand. Instead of yelling for Bruce or Alfred you simply smiled at him, "you should take the audi, it's the safest car here."
"..You're not going to try and stop me?"
You shake your head no, still offering that kind smile.
"You know yourself best Dick, if you're unhappy here I won't stop you from finding your peace." He took a moment before tossing you the keys and reluctantly making his way back inside.
You find out about Batman because of Dick. He'd come home with some nasty bruises and it wouldn't take long to put two and two together. Them both being missing at the same time, Dick started to pull away from you, one night, after hours of trying to get to sleep in a bed much to big for one body, your legs decided a walk was necessary, the halls were dark and quiet, giving the manor an eerie air, quietly you walked the long hallways intending on stopping by the library, as you turned the corner you seen Dick in a hidden elevator, the doors just slamming shut as your eyes tried to register what was there. Seconds after the doors close a wall appears, as if nothing was ever there. It's not long after that you see a brief news clip of the caped crusader and his new sidekick, because the longer you stared at the screen, the more familiar they began to look, that dead tight lipped scowl on Batman's face, it was one you'd had the pleasure of looking at for the past few years.
That night you confronted Bruce, he seemed surprised you'd figured it out, but he didn't deny it. Simply saying, "It's late (Y/n), get some sleep."
You nearly divorced him then and there for endangering a child the way he was, but after a moment of thought, you realized Dick would need a real parent around so you stayed, making Bruce swear to be careful.
Jason comes next and he takes to you a lot faster than Dick. He craved the warmth you offered, you two had inside jokes and a closer relationship than him and Bruce, but that all changes the day he dies. You're broken, a ghost haunting the manor with your presence, and Bruce is no comfort throwing himself into the Batman role, you begin to hate him a little with this particular betrayal.
Tim was another hard egg to crack but you were desperate after Jason's death, so you took his verbal lashings with a smile, were always there to offer a helping hand with any of his projects despite the help never being accepted. Tims wound from losing his father is too raw, he takes a lot of his anger out on you. And you weathered the storm with a soft, warm smile.
Damian hated you, from the moment he arrives, which is bitter enough as is because it meant Bruce was unfaithful, he's spitting out insults and comparing you to his 'perfect' mother.
Things weren't great in your life, but one day they started getting noticably worse. Dick no longer responded to your check in texts, Jason (now reanimated which was a heart attack in and of itself) saw you as the enemy, you didn't leave Bruce after what happened to him, so in his eyes you betrayed him, Tim ignored your existence as best as he could, and Damian? He'd started staring at you with this smug look on his face, like he knew something you didn't.
Bruce had all but ran from you, he didn't sleep in your shared room anymore, he barely spoke to you at breakfast, if it wasn't for the cameras he wouldn't touch you.
And it's all because of a woman named Rachel.
Apparently Bruce had introduced this woman to the family, bringing her around when you weren't, slowly replacing you, it was no wonder they started to pull back.
Alfred is the only reason you find out, having enough of the blatant disrespect, he calls you to come home early one day saying it's a dire matter. Of course you comply, and walk in on a discomforting sight. The whole family was gathered at the dining room table, plus a woman you'd never seen before, she sat close to Bruce, toying with his hand intimately. Her green eyes lock with yours and the smile she gives you forms a pit in your stomach.
There's silence before Bruce stands up, he walks over calmly, "Can we take this in the other room." But it wasn't phrased as a question.
"No" you licked your lips, a nervous habit from your youth. Bruce seemed taken back by your sudden backbone. He nods silently.
"I want her gone Bruce. I am your wife. You will show me that semblance of respect."
"I- of course." You don't wait for the words to settle instead, you calmly walk to your room, face unreadable.
Locking the door behind you, your body slides against the frame, a silent sob wracks your frame, your hands covering your mouth, you wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing your cries.
The next morning you wake up to breakfast in bed, a generic yet elegant spread of food lay on a tray in the empty spot Bruce used to stay. The man himself sitting in the chair beside the bed, staring at you with that practiced smile he used to appease people.
"Good morning."
"What's this?" You sat up straight, sleep evaporating from your form as you took in the threat before you.
"An apology. I never meant for yesterday to happen."
"What a comfort that is." Your piercing (e/c) eyes stare at him blankly, unreadable. "How long."
"A year." You scoff pushing the breakfast away from you like it was poisonous. "But its not what you think, Rachel is a childhood friend, a year ago our relationship, evolved into what it is now, but I was never intending to go behind your back."
"Ah of course, your intentions were pure." The words dripped venom, grabbing your robe you quickly dress before standing and walking to the door, "Thank you for the wonderful talk Bruce, really your people skills are top notch." Your hands gesture to the door. He leaves without a word.
The rest of the day is as usual, Bruce avoids you like the plague, the rest of the family acted as if you weren't there. Which made leaving all too easy.
Your lawyers had the divorce papers ready and hour after you called them, signing them felt like the first act of self love you'd done in years. Slipping them into Bruce's study you took the time to analyze the room you never entered.
It matched Bruce that's for sure, pictures of every single person in the family. All except for you.
Walking out the door, wrapped in your ankle length black faux fur coat, the garment whipped in the wind, the designer sunglasses on your face hid your eyes from the world, hair in a slicked back bun, your heels echoed against the pavement, a sleek black car was waiting for you, you look back at the house that had caused you so much misery then got in the back of the car, never looking back.
Life goes on for about a week, your absence goes unnoticed, that is before Rachel is trying and failing to blackmail Bruce out of a billion dollars, she'd collected evidence he was cheating on you with her and presented it to Bruce with a grin, it was only as he went through the pictures of himself and Rachel, did he notice the yellow envelope with his name written on the front.
Hey puts the heartbreaking matter of Rachel's betrayal on the back burner, Bruce opened the envelope and felt his heart completely stop at the word divorce written in bold lettering across the top, your signature was already there, waiting for his to join it.
Ignoring Rachel completely now he turns in his chair, turning the paper over and over as if it would magically change. But it remained the same. Alfred knocking on the door of his study broke him from his trance. "Master Wayne, miss Rachel." He says the latter's name with no warmth. "Escort Rachel to her car Alfred."
"Bruce have you heard a word I've said? I'm serious I'll go to Gotham daily right now if you don't -"
"Now Alfred."
That was all it took for the screaming woman to be firmly escorted off the premises. Bruce all but ran to your room, he didn't bother knocking, and despite knowing in his heart you were already gone, he couldn't help but check anyway.
Your room was empty and cold, he couldn't believe the date he'd read on the divorce papers, it was dated a week ago, meaning you'd been gone for a week and he hadn't noticed. No one had.
That is until Bruce remembers there's someone in the house nothing gets by.
"How long have you known she was gone Alfred?" He asks leaning on his knuckles the divorce papers stared back at him taunting him. "Since the moment she left." The older man replied simply his hands behind his back. "Why didn't you tell me immediately?" Bruce felt himself tense, "Because you've hurt that woman enough Bruce. She deserves at least this." He gestures to the daunting divorce paperwork before turning to leave Bruce with his thoughts.
The news of Rachel's betrayal shook the manor each member feeling violated by their trust being broken. But it was nothing compared to their reaction once they finally realized you were gone.
"That was rough." Jason says after watching Rachel being dragged out of the manor, he blew air out of his cheeks arms crossed over his chest, he looked towards the hallway that lead to your room, you had to have heard that he thought to himself.
Dick sighs through his nose, "Someone should check on (y/n), Rachel was screaming so loud she definitely heard that." No one volunteers so Dick rolls his eyes and heads towards your room.
He lifts his hands to knock but noticed the door was open, pushing it further he's met with a baren room, his brow furrowed in confusion before he makes his way to Bruce's study. "Hey B, have you seen (y/n)? Her room is like weirdly empty."
Dick found his Father where Alfred left him, leaning over the divorce papers silently a storm in his eyes.
As he steps closer and reads the paperwork Bruce was staring so intently at, his heart stopped.
"Holy shit- are those real?"
"Yes." Bruce finally spoke his voice horse. There was a moment of silence before Dick left the room practically running down the stairs to alert the others.
"(Y/n) left Bruce." He said still processing the information, "No fuckin' way." Jason says pushing himself off the counter he leaned on. "Her room is empty and he has the papers, she's gone."
Each member of the family had different reactions to this information.
Dick tries calling you only to be met with a disconnected number, his heart hammering in his chest, he wasn't as close to you as when he was younger sure, but you were a constant in his life, always had been, a pillar of support, and suddenly you weren't. It felt like the floor had gotten pulled out from under him.
Jason curses under his breath, his mind working a mile a minute, he had barely spoken to you since his Resurrection, something he deeply regretted as the information of your leaving sinks in like a brick thrown into a river.
Tim, ever calculating is trying to figure out where you went, you were a figurehead in his life, someone that was literally never not there, sure he wasn't close to you in the slightest but that doesn't mean he wants anything to happen to you, someone as quiet and soft as you on your own in Gotham? It didn't sit well with him. Not one bit.
Damian didn't know what he was feeling at the news, he supposed he should feel nothing, after all you were nothing to him, but there was this nagging feeling in his chest that he couldn't quite place. And he hated it. How dare you leave and upset his fragile ecosystem?
Meanwhile in the Bahamas, far from Gotham and the neglectful family you'd left behind, you sat lounging on a private beach, a knitted hammock cradles your body, a designer baby pink bikini covers you, a matching sunhat protects your face from the hot sun, you can't wipe the smile from your face, humming a tune from your childhood you barely flinch when someone takes the seat besides your hammock.
"Do I want to know how you found me?" You ask, eyes still closed as you bask in the warmth. You knew only one person had the sources to find you on your own island, and despite how much you resent the man, even his presence can't ruin your shine in this moment.
"You're my wife (Y/n), I'll always know where you are." Bruce speaks softly as if trying not to startle you. "Former wife." You correct cracking an eye open, a small smirk curling on your lips.
"Not until I sign those papers- which I never will."
"huh, I thought you'd be thrilled." You muse to yourself before folding your tanning mirror and setting it aside, you take off your Louis Vuitton sunglasses, blinking your pretty (e/c) eyes up at him, "Figured you and your little Twinkie would have tied the knot by now." You laugh softly, the sound, unfamiliar to Bruce, sent warm shivers down his spine, it causes his lips to quirk up in a small grin.
"She's gone."
"Well, I don't care."
There's a beat of silence before he's offering you his hand. "Will you walk with me? I know I don't deserve it."
You sigh before getting up, ignoring his hand, you nod your head reluctantly, "Well? Hurry up I've got dinner at six."
His smile remains as he begins leading you along the shoreline. It's relatively quiet between you two as you walk side by side, a peace between you both you hadn't ever felt. "The manor isn't the same without you." He breaks the silence, "I sincerely doubt that." You laugh at the very notion. "It's true- it's colder, quieter, I want you to come home."
"That was never my home, you made that abundantly clear."
He winces as if your words cut him, "I know I haven't been a good man to you, I know I've failed you time and time again but I..I looked at those divorce papers and my heart stopped." He admits running a hand through his hair.
"You can't leave me."
"I can't?." You scoff, your movement halting, "I'm a grown woman- I'm taking responsibility for my own happiness, you can't stop me."
"I wasn't asking." He says softly, his hands in his pockets, he had this fond look on his face, like he was staring at you for the first time, in a whole new light. "You can't make me." You say, brows furrowed, "You belong back home, you're supposed to be with me, till death do us part, remember?" He steps forward making you step back, your eyes wide, hands shaking, you back into a wide chest, spinning to face Dick, who's grinning at you, he's in his Nightwing costume, he gives you a small wave of his hand, you scrunch your face in confusion, "What the hell-" your thought is cut off by a small pinch in your neck, the needle in Bruce's hand is empty in seconds, he's cradling your stumbling form, holding you tightly, "Don't worry - I'll fix this."
Your sleeping body is gently carried to the batplane, Bruce holding you close to his chest as Dick pilots the plane, he whispers promises into your hair, rocking you against him as he swears on his life to make things right, weather you liked it or not.
#yananswers#anon submission#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x y/n#yandere dc imagine#yandere dc x reader#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batfamily x reader#yandere batfamily#yandere bruce wayne x reader#yandere jason todd x reader#yandere dick grayson x reader#yandere tim drake x reader#yandere damian wayne x reader
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teach me - Chris Sturniolo
summary: you find out you’re bestfriend chris is a total virgin, and has never touched himself, you offer to teach him everything
contains: nsfw, sub!chris, virginity loss, inexperienced!chris, handjob, fluff.
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chris and i have been friends for years, i met him in middle school when we were placed in the same class.
we tell eachother most things, but a topic that never gets brought up often between us is our personal sex life, obviously he makes dirty jokes every hour of the day but that’s about it.
i sit on the couch with chris as we yap about useless topics,
suddenly he goes dead silent.
“chris?” i question, inspecting his blank face. he shakes his head before speaking,
“what.” he mutters, my eyebrows furrow from the very unexpected change in attitude.
“what happened with you?” i ask, scooting closer to him on the couch and tracing my fingers over his knuckles.
“i can tell you anything right?” he whispers, my heart rate starts to subtly pick up.
“yes- of course!” i state with a nervous laugh.
he hesitates for a moment, his hand reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck.
“i’m like, really frustrated.” he says with no other context,
“frustrated? did i say something-“ i fidget with his hand.
“no! like… sexually frustrated-“ he says barely above a whisper.
my cheeks flush, that’s the first time chris has mentioned anything sexually involving him.
“oh? when was the last time you fucked a girl.” i ask calmly, he buries his face into his palms with a small groan
“never.” he whines quietly.
“what?”
“never!” he repeats slightly louder.
“you’re a virgin?” i ask, he nods shyly.
“you’re the most- i mean i just didn’t expect that-“ i ramble, trying to make him feel better.
“i’m honestly coming up on 21 and i’ve never done anything it’s so annoying.” chris speaks up.
“i get it, just do stuff with yourself.” i sigh,
“i don’t know how to..” he groans,
“you don’t know how to do what?” i ask,
“touch myself? i don’t fucking know-“ he says.
a small laugh escapes my lips, “you are literally the most horny man i know, how have you gone a solid 20 years without touching yourself.”
“i’ve never had a need to, but these past few months have been.. different” he laughs,
“jesus chris, i understand why you’re frustrated now.” i scoff,
he nods with a grin, a silence filling the living room.
he avoids eye contact before opening his mouth, “you’re like.. the only person who knows about that.”
i nod, “thank you for telling me chris.”
“so- you genuinely don’t know how to touch yourself?” i repeat,
“i mean i know how to but i’ve never tried- i did try once but i don’t think i did it right cause it didn’t feel good.” he sighs.
“i can teach you.” i blurt out, almost cutting him off. i clasp a hand over my mouth before spinning around.
he goes quiet, almost contemplating his decision.
“would you?- teach me..?” he whispers,
“i- i mean i guess” i reply,
how the fuck is this happening.
chris’s chest rises and falls more dramatically now, he runs a hand through his long silky hair.
i stand up off the couch, grabbing his hand and tugging him up.
i pull him down the corridor into his bedroom, “god what are the chances of you, chris sturniolo, being a total virgin?” i say in disbelief, his cheeks go red with a small laugh.
i sit him down on the edge of his bed, “we’re really doing this?” he asks,
“it’ll just be- normal, just a one time thing. i mean it’s a positive thing and you’ll finally be able to do stuff with yourself!” i smile,
“o-okay you can just tell me everything i need to do.” he breathes,
“let’s start by getting these off you.” i say crouching down next to the edge of the bed and tugging his sweatpants down his legs.
“you might wanna take your shirt off, you’ll get hot.” i tell him,
he complies, discarding his shirt onto the pile of pillows at the other end of the bed.
he sits in just his boxers.
i take in a deep breath before harshly pulling my shirt off my body, exposing my completely bare chest.
i mean, i had to get him hard at some point?
a small “woah” escapes his raw lips as he shamelessly stares
“woah is crazy.” i mock him, earning a small giggle from him.
i push him further back onto the bed, his back resting against the headboard.
i sit down and straddle his thighs, looking down at him slightly.
“okay, can i take these off?” i ask, tugging at the hem of his black boxers, which have a large tent in them.
“yeah- go for it-“ he sighs with an excited grin.
i tug them down, his erection springing out and resting against his stomach.
“oh my god chris!” i state without thinking,
“is it bad?” he instantly replies with,
“no- no just big.” i whisper,
i take his length into my hand, just holding it up right.
he sighs deeply,
i almost forget i’m meant to be teaching him.
“right, so give me your hand.” i say, grabbing his hand
i spit into the palm of his hand, “oh-“ he breathes,
“sorry.” i giggle,
i grab his wrist and guide his hand to his cock.
“what i want you to do first is just rub that spit all over it f’me.” i say, looking into chris’s eyes.
he wraps his hand around his dick, before stroking it slowly up and down.
“there we go, just like that.” i nod, he watches his hand intently as it runs up and down his length.
i adjust my position on his thighs before holding the outside of his hand, and taking it off his dick.
i just hold the outside of his hand now, moving it wherever i want it.
“i only need your thumb right now.” i whisper, he nods, curling all his other fingers.
i hold his thumb and brush it over his raw tip, a small gasp escapes his mouth.
“just keep rubbing that for me.” i instruct him softly,
he nods frantically as he continues to do exactly that.
i guide his thumb into his slit, a pathetic gasp escapes his lips, “oh my god!” his voice raises a couple octaves.
“good boy, you’re doing really well.” i praise him, which he responds very well to,
i hear several loud whimpers fall from his lips, along with his hips lifting slightly off the bed.
“now give me your other hand.” i say, prying his hand away from the sheets.
i place it on the lower portion of his dick, and guide it up and down.
i squeeze his hand slightly around his dick, his mouth falling open.
“i- i need to stop its getting too much!” he protests with tears pooling in his eyes,
“no sweetheart, that just means you’re about to finish, which will feel really nice, okay?” i assure him,
“fuck-! yes-“ he squeezes out, bucking his hips up into his hands.
his eyes are squinted open slightly, still directly staring at my tits.
i take my hand off the outside of his, and reach it down to cup his balls.
that seems to tip him over the edge.
“pleasepleasepleaseplease”
he rambles, throwing his head back against the headboard before spurts of white land on his stomach and chest.
“good, so so good, keep running your hand up and down and ride it out.” i instruct him, which he does.
he slowly takes his hands away, letting them fall limp onto the sheets as he’s completely silent.
“that- that felt incredible y/n.” he pants in shock,
“how did i go 20 years without ever doing that? jesus.” he covers his flushed face with his hands.
“you did so well.” i assure him, he lets out a soft whine.
i laugh lightly, “you respond well to words like that” i say under my breath.
“mmhm.” he agrees, “that shit did something to me.”
i reach over and tug on my shirt, he lays still on the bed,
streaks of white still lay across his torso.
“oh- hold on.” i say, grabbing his shirt and starting to gently clean him up.
i tug up his boxers and sweatpants, he sighs deeply before flopping down on the bed.
“thank you- so much.” he sighs,
“do you want me to.. maybe teach you more tomorrow?” i ask boldly,
his eyes almost light up, “shit, please do.” he laughs.
—-
tags:
@downbad4reid @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s@ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonly @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos
#sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic
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✭ 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ✭
𝟏𝟖+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 | 𝐀𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 | 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭
𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: a long read btw, arguing, impact play, academic rivals, slow burn, rough sex, hate sex, language, p in v, make out sesh, unprotected sex, annoying Miguel, reader has some anger issues on the low, breath play, teasing, sexual tension, semi-mean dom, after care
・Part two! Part Three!
“WHAT?” You yelled, both your professor and Miguel looking at you in shock after your professor asked you for a one on one with the both of you.
You could scoff at the way Miguel’s lips curled up into a satisfied smile “Well you and Miguel are my best students, so it would only make sense for the both of you to do a presentation together. I can only imagine the things the both of you will come up with!” Your annoyingly sweet professor clapped.
“ wouldn’t it be better if both of us did our own? We coul-“ You tried to negotiate “Ah ah! I said group project! Now Miguel, do you have anything to say about this? Any complaints like this one over here?”
You sighed as Miguel spoke “Nope, I’d be happy to work with someone in the same range as me” he cockily spoke “Very funny, now since we’ve got this all sorted, go and talk” she smiled, shooing you and Miguel out of the classroom.
You scoffed as you pushed past Miguel “Aww come on sweetheart, you hate me that much?” He cooed following close behind you.
“Shut it” you huffed. Getting paired with Miguel was possibly the worst thing to happen since your high school prom. Miguel was the bane of your existence since the first year of college.
Of course, his good looks and brains were attractive but sooner or later you realized he was going to be a pain in your ass for the next few months of class. You met him in your first biology class, everything was going well until the first exam of the class.
Your professor said the class average was low B’s and high C’s but out of the whole class, two people got perfect scores. Could you guess who the two were?
You and Miguel.
Both of you looked at each other from across the class with the same look in your eyes saying ‘Someone beat me?’. Of course, you both got the same 100% grade but both of you were so used to being the only one on top of the class that this was more than just a score. But your egos.
You both were fully aware to not be in each other's way, only seeing each other when studying at the same place or in class. All was going well for the next 2 exams, but the 3rd one came and you couldn’t believe it.
You got a 98% and Miguel has a perfect 100%. You could see him smile at the results and you hated the professor right now. Why the hell would he show the class? It’s embarrassing, to say the least.
Miguel gave you a wink as you looked his way ever so slightly. Bursting out of the class, you could feel him behind you “2 points down” he chuckled. You wish you would’ve punched him.
And ever since then, he’s made it his life mission to ruin your day. You never got anything other than 100% again, you busted your ass studying just so he couldn’t rub it in.
“I’ll make sure you can’t get us two points down” Miguel hummed as he kept up at your pace. You could feel your blood boiling, god he’s such an asshole. “I’ll email you if I need help” you scoffed.
“Can I get your number? I won’t get the email since my inbox is always spamming” Miguel lied with a smile “fine” you muttered out your number and walked off before he could stop you.
‘Real classy, I wasn’t done talking’ popped up on your screen “Well I am” you messaged back. You were well aware it was Miguel and you didn’t need him to piss you off more than usual.
The second you stepped into your apartment you let out a relieved sigh. Oh, how you missed this place in these insufferable hours. You put on some comfy panties and an oversized hoodie.
You were laid in your living room, soft carpet under you as you finished up some of the slides for your presentation. The knock at your door was the last thing you needed, you groaned in agony as you hated the thought of getting up from your warm spot.
The knocking grew and so did your patience’s “IM COMING!” You yelled. You pulled the door open and lo and behold, Miguel. “For fuck sake man” you whined.
“Glad to see you too!” He smiled as he pushed past you with books in hand. Miguel was born with the talent of hiding his emotions, that talent was most useful here.
He took a deep breath as you opened the door. Your pretty thighs glowing under the baggy hoodie, hair a slight mess and the satisfying look of anger on your face could’ve made him harm.
“Excuse you” you hissed.
He plotted down next to your things and got straight to work. You stood in shock, did he just walk in like this was his house? “Well go ahead and get comfortable” you mocked as you slammed the door in annoyance.
“I am” he sighed as he stretched and leaned onto your couch.
The both of you bickered and sneered at each other the whole time you both worked but even then, the quality was always top-notch.
He didn’t like the way you formatted the information and you didn’t like how he took up a whole slide for a few sentences but both of you compromised. After a few hours, things were less tense, and both of you got used to each other.
“So what do you plan on doing with your major?” You asked, legs crossed and some candy in your mouth as you questioned him “Biochemist” he nodded “It’s always been a passion of mine”
“You sure do have the brains for it” you chuckled. “You don’t with the 98%” he teased. You rolled your eyes, your mood now soured as you remembered his shenanigans.
“Don’t start” you scoff as you get up to get some drinks “Hey hey I’m joking” he laughs, his hand stopping you from leaving as he holds your wrist “I know Sherlock, I’m going to get some drinks for us” you mutter with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah,” he laughed awkwardly, his eyes watching as you grabbed two glasses of water. “So what about you?” Miguel asked “What are you doing with a chemistry major”
“Probably chemical engineering, I’m not sure yet” You shrugged as you handed him the cup. He nodded and watched you sit next to him. Miguel scooted a little closer making you stiffen, sure he was a pain in the ass but he’s sadly one of the most gorgeous guys you’ve seen.
You tried to ignore your thoughts each time he’d stretch and groan, his moans making you think about how he’d sound if it were from pleasure. He’d be vocal you thought.
“Let’s watch something on the TV” you awkwardly smiled as you grabbed the remote and turned on your TV, you laid on your stomach, forgetting you only had panties and a hoodie.
Miguel’s eyes watched you kick your feet up, your glowy legs looking perfect as you looked through whatever you were putting on.
He noticed the pink panties you had on, his tongue instinctively licking his bottom lip as he thought about how good you’d look on top of him. He can imagine it, tits in his face and pussy sleeving his cock as he fucked you full.
He was going to give himself a boner if he kept it up. He focused his eyes on the screen and sighed in relief as you sat back up. You put on your favorite show and sat next to Miguel “We’re almost done with the assignment which is good, how about a few more minutes of break and we get back to work?” You smiled. “Sure”
You felt his hand move behind you, his arm resting above the couch as he let out yet again another ‘stretch’ while his eyes looked at you through his peripheral, you chuckled. How cliche.
You smiled as you decided to make your cliche move. It was obvious there was tension between you two, whether that be anger or sexual, it didn’t matter. “Let me get more gummies” you hummed as you turned to the table beside you and arched your back slightly, an audible moan coming from behind you as your ass was on perfect display.
You sat back beside him, gummies in hand and an innocent look on your face as you offered him some. He scoffed, shaking his head and looking back at the TV. Your eyes widened as you noticed the thick bulge straining against his pants.
“Eyes up” Miguel cockily cooed as he watched your eyes closely. “I- I wasn’t-“You made a pathetic attempt to save yourself but he cut you off “Uh huh uh huh, I know” he mocked.
He smiled down at you with accomplishment, he finally made you shut up for once. “Not going to give me a snarky comeback?” He cooed. “Shut up already God, stop it” you hissed, your eyes rolling as you moved away from him.
“No no” Miguel’s voice made you shiver as his hand held your thigh “I’m playing” he pouted as he glared down at you. You could punch him right but instead, you did something you thought you’d never do.
You pushed him on the couch and slammed your lips on his. Miguel’s hands immediately wrapped around your waist, a loud moan spilling into your mouth as he finally tasted you.
It seemed like Miguel was waiting for you to do this, his hands ran up your thighs hungrily before he flipped you onto your back. You gasped as he spread your legs around his waist.
His behemoth of a body spread your legs wide as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You tangled your fingers into his hair as both of you hungrily kissed each other.
The kisses were messy and rough, teeth nipping at skin and tongues lapping at each other like two animals in heat. None of you even said a word, just heavy breaths, moans, and pure lust.
Suddenly Miguel pulled back from your lips, his eyes glaring into yours as he hovered above you. You could feel yourself getting ready for some snarky comment as you watched his lips curve into a smile.
“You kissed me first”
You groaned as you pushed him off, his hands still on your hips as he flipped you back onto his lap “hey I’m not complaining, It’s just funny since I piss you of so much” he sighed. His palm moved up to your jaw, face brushing against his hand as you took in his warmth.
He watched you lean into his palm like a cat, his body heating up as he realized how small you look in his lap. Your thighs small compared to his but still plump and pretty.
“Can I kiss you again” you shyly asked slightly afraid that he’s reject. “You don’t have to ask me, just do it” Miguel hummed as he pulled you into a kiss.
The kisses were now more sensual and soft, both of you now grinding into each other. His hand curled onto the back of your neck; the other palm pinned behind your spine.
You were glued onto his chest as Miguel’s warmth filled your senses. You’ve never been so warm in your life, the feeling making you tingly as he held you as close as possible. It felt like nothing in the world could hurt you, you felt safe.
“Please” you whispered onto his lips. He tried to not make you mad but he loved seeing you angry “Please what?” He taunts, his lips hovering over your jaw and neck but never touching you.
“Mig don’t tease” you whined as you hit his chest lightly “I’m not, I just don’t know what you’re saying please for” his arms clinging around your waist as he takes in your sweet scent.
You decided to play your games “I want you inside me mig, want to show you how much I need you” you cooed, your hand running down his abdomen and stopping just above his bulge. His breath hitched at your words, he didn’t know if you were fucking with him or not.
“Oh yeah?” Miguel watched you with focused eyes, his hands running up the sides of your thighs and squeezing your ass “You want me to fuck some manners into you? That loud fucking mouth of yours is always pissing me off” he cooed.
Loud fucking mouth? Your hand went up to smack his face in anger but he caught your wrist before you could “Don’t even try it muñeca.” He sternly said “You won’t like what comes with that”
You angrily kissed him as he pressed you flush against his aching cock, his hands pull the baggy hoodie off your body leaving you in your matching panties and bra.
“Fuck” he whispered, hands on your waist as he took in the view he’s been dreaming of since the day he met you. The amount of times he’d imagine fucking your mouth until you shut up was concerning.
You pulled his shirt off in need, throwing it behind you as you ran your hands up his thick muscular chest. He hummed at your soft hands running up his skin.
“Sit up for me?” He mumbled against your skin as he kicked off his sweats. He smiled at how obediently you did as he said “You look prettier when you do as I say” Miguel mocked.
You could care less about his words as his calloused hands pulled your panties off in need “Just shut up and fuck me” you panted. Miguel smiled as he felt your lips pepper all over his jaw and onto his lips, he could see you were just as eager for him as he was for you.
“Beg” he blurted. You ignored him as you rubbed his cock between your folds, both of you letting out moans as you felt each other's warmth. Miguel seethed, arms pinning you up to his chest “Listen”
You hated that you got turned on by the fact that he now had you restricted with just one hand as the other held your jaw up “you want the guy you despise to fuck you? You tell me you hate me every time you see me but look so eager to fuck me”
You were tired of his teasing, you let out a desperate whine, you could see his cock spring up and his tip leaking precum. But like always, Miguel likes to rile you up.
“Beg” he repeated. “Please mig please, just stop teasing ok” you cried. “All you needed to listen to was this?” He purred, hands moving onto your hips as he thrusts into you.
Miguel let out a gruntled moan as he felt your warm wet walls hug him tight, his head falling back onto the couch as he finally felt your pussy squeeze him.
He watched your eyes squeeze shut while you let out the prettiest moans “f- fuck!” You cried, the stretch making you clench even tighter around him as he held you down to his lap.
His cock was fully buried inside you in one go, he’s the biggest you’ve had in every way. It was overwhelming feeling how full you were, you could feel his curves and the tip of his cock nudging at your cervix.
“Breath chula, r- relax” he sighed. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you nodded, you took a deep breath allowing you to make it easier for him to move. “That’s it” he hummed onto your shoulder.
It only took Miguel a few seconds for him to start fucking you onto his lap, your body shaping into his hands, allowing him to use your pussy like a flesh light.
“O- Mig mi-“ you whined out, you couldn’t explain what you were feeling. Your whole body was tingling in pleasure as he rammed into you with pure force. Maybe you did piss him off a lot.
“What? You c- can’t take it? Such a big fucking mouth but can’t take my dick?” He seethed. You let out a pathetic whine at his words, your mind completely fogged in pleasure as you took all of him.
Miguel’s eyes couldn’t leave your pussy, his eyebrows scrunched and his mouth agar as he watched your pussy struggling to take his size. He hissed as you pushed him onto the couch, using his shoulders for support as you bounced onto his lap.
Your pretty moans filled his ears as you took control. Miguel let you take control for a bit, he loved watching how eager you rode him. Your body bounces on his lap, wet sounds of skin slapping echoing into the room.
“Making such a fucking mess” he huffed with a smile on his face, although he was loving this, he wanted to see you completely vulnerable. He thought maybe he was a little sick for wanting to see someone who hated him so much completely ruined under him but he loved it.
You gasped as Miguel lifted you onto the ground, your back hit the soft carpet under you as he stayed buried inside you. “Gotta fuck that stupid little attitude out honey, always disrespecting me. You’re the only one who tries to push my buttons. I love it” he cooed.
Miguel’s calloused hands bend your legs to the side, giving him full access to your tight cunt. “Go- god shi- fuck!” Miguel panted, he was a complete fucking mess.
Sure Miguel’s fucked a few people in his life, but he had no idea if it was just the thought of fucking the life out of you or how perfect your body was for him. He convinced himself it was both.
You clawed and scratched at his chest, your eyes full of tears as he brutally pounded into your “m- Mig I-“You were even more fucked out than him. How couldn’t you?
You had no clue where he got his stamina from, it felt like he’d been fucking you for hours. “Can’t believe you tried to slap me, should I return the favor?” Miguel hissed.
You nodded to his surprise “Please” you whined. “You want me to hit you?” He was surprised by your plead. He knew you’d be a freak in the sheets but you were always so aggressive with him that he expected you to hit him for even suggesting it.
“You’re always a pain in my ass but you just want to be taken care of huh?… What? You need me to pound your pretty pussy out for you to treat me with some respect?”
You nodded eagerly, if you were being honest you couldn’t even take in his words. Your pussy clenched and throbbed around his fat cock in agony but you were taken by surprise when a slap landed on your face “Use your words” he hissed.
Almost immediately you cried “Yes yes! Miguel please I nee- need it, f- fuck ah!”
Miguel chuckled, his hips angled a bit higher which allowed him to hit the perfect stop. His hand flew around your throat, his hips pounding you onto the floor as he let out animalistic moans.
“M- Mig- ah fff- fuckk!” You cried. The restriction of your breathing mixed with his rough pounds caused orgasm hit you hard as your pussy throbbed around him, the tip of his cock nudging at your sweet spot continuously.
Miguel’s eyes rolled back as he felt your nails claw at his arms, your small hand wrapped around his wrist as he fucked you balls deep. His cock plunged into your messy cunt as his balls slapped onto you. “That’s I- that’s-“ he hissed.
He thought about pulling out for both of your sakes but he’d rather just buy you a plan B. “C- can I- inside?” He seethed his eyes burning into yours as you bounced to his thrusts.
You couldn’t get a word out but your legs wrapping around his waist and your nails digging into his back to pull him closer gave him the answer. His lips crashed onto yours as he spilled inside you, his moans spilling into your mouth as his fingers dug into your hips.
He’s never had an orgasm that hard, he was sweating and out of breath as he stilled inside you. The both of you cling onto each other in fear of either of you leaving but that was on the last of your minds.
Miguel lay beside you, his arms pulling you into his as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead. “Was I too rough?” He questioned with concern as he now fully took in how fucked out you looked. “No, it was perfect” you weakly muttered as you nuzzled into his chest.
Miguel sighed in relief as your sweaty body was pinned into his. “Where’s your bedroom?” He hummed as he began to lift you into his arms “left” you sighed as he carried you into your bedroom.
“Let me clean us up and then we can rest yeah? Unless you want me to leav-“
You cut him off before he couldn’t finish “Don’t leave. Please?.” You hummed a bit worried you sounded a little pathetic.
“Wasn’t planning on it love”
#smut#marvel smut#kinktober#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara imagines#miguel ohara#miguel o hara x reader#miguel x reader#moon knight smut#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel x you#miguel smut#miguel o hara#academic rivals
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Sundays at the Library
Part Two
Pairing] Spencer Reader x glasses wearing! shy! librarian! fem!Reader
Synopsis] Spencer talks to the sweet librarian at his new library and slowly Sundays become his favorite day of the week.
Warnings] Cursing, creepy guy, misunderstandings (but its cute I promise), written from Spencer's POV
Word Count] 8.9k
Author's Note] This is my first fic here! I'm planning on doing a few more parts to this, so this is only the beginning 🙃
The first time Spencer saw you, the encounter wasn’t anything special.
If he wasn’t working, he was reading, and because he can read 20,000 thousand words per minute, he needed new books often. Not even his FBI salary could afford the amount of books he consumed in a month and his cozy apartment certainly couldn’t contain them all. Already his bookcases were spilling out onto nearby surfaces. So to quench his constant need for new books, Spencer borrowed books from the library. However, since the one near his apartment closed just a week ago, he had to find a new one. That led him to drive to the library ten minutes away.
It was larger than the one down the street from his apartment—it had a full three floors. Beyond the double doors, he followed two velvet rope barriers onto the main floor of the library, wandering past a grand front desk to his left to where the room divided into two sections and the barriers ended. In the left section, beside the desk, there were a couple computers set up, as well as two printers and a side wall dedicated to DVDs. In the other section there were tables and chairs set up for quiet studying, as well as more comfortable lounges for reading. Behind those two sections started the book shelves, nearly ceiling high and organized via genre and then further alphabetized. When he ascended the staircase at the back of the main floor, he found the upper levels were fully dedicated to rows of shelving containing books, interspersed with a few tables and lounges for reading.
He spent approximately 45 minutes getting the layout of the library, as large as it was, and finding the books he wanted to read. Of course, he got a range of books. Two books on psychology, a mathematical textbook, and another two books based in the sciences. A bit of light reading, really, just to occupy his time at home during a busy caseload week.
He balanced the heavy books awkwardly in his arms as he made his way to the front desk, practically dropping them onto the counter. His lips twisted up in embarrassment, glancing around to see if anyone was disturbed by the loud clatter. When his eyes turned back to the desk, they met the bespeckled ones of you, the librarian, seated behind the counter. They were wide behind the frames, doe-like and startled by the noise. He winced and stuttered out an apology.
Too often he embarrassed himself due to his clumsiness. Over the years, Spencer got a lot better at the shooting range, but he still couldn’t run a mile without tripping a few times, or be able to participate in sports, and he didn’t even want to think about his driving. JJ often compared the experience of being in his passenger seat to riding shotgun with her senile grandmother. No matter what he did, the awkwardness crept in and all he could do was apologize. He didn’t mean to startle the nice librarian who he would seeing every week for the foreseeable future.
“It’s fine,” your voice was a gentle whisper, perfect for the quiet of the library. You closed the book on your lap and placed it out of sight under the counter, standing up to help him. That’s when he could take you in completely, with your long flowy skirt and oversized sweater. Perhaps a shy attempt to battle the chill running through the library, or maybe a purposeful effort to hide yourself away from prying eyes. He could tell—despite your attire—that you were his age or maybe a little younger. You lacked the wrinkles, grays, and even the weathered dullness associated with age. Your hair was done up messily, effortlessly, and his eyes tracked your chewed up fingernails as you tucked a few strands behind your ears, out of the way of your eyesight.
He thought you were plain and shy. The soft pastels and neutrals that colored your clothes and the fact the garments covered you so entirely, made you blend into the background. Had he not needed to speak to you directly, he might not have noticed you tucked behind the desk, folded up in your chair with your nose deep in a book.
“Can I check these out for you?” You asked him, and he almost missed it due to both his staring and your airy cadence.
“Oh, uh, yes,” he said, then quickly added. “And a library card, please. I’m new to this library.”
“I’ll just need an ID then,” you held out your hand while he rummaged through his wallet for his state ID, and when he placed it into your palm he was careful not to touch your hand. It was less about you as a person as it was his disdain for germs.
You went about clicking and typing at the computer to the side of the desk, face plain as if whatever you were doing you had done a thousand times. Your nimble fingers only stuttered when you glanced back at him, catching his eyes as he watched you before he darted them away from your face, caught. Quickly, you grabbed the mouse, clicking only three more times before handing back his ID. He was careful not to touch your hand or meet your eyes as he took it back.
He didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with his staring, he had a habit of it, always trying to profile. But you were just a meek librarian, and there was no reason to take note of your behavior. You went about printing out a physical copy of his new library card, and he opened one of his books to occupy himself as you did so.
When you turned back to him, you scanned a plastic card before offering it to him with a small smile. “Thank you,” he mumbled as you went about scanning the books on the counter with the same barcode reader. You were on the fourth book when your brows creased and you looked back up at him.
“Are you studying?” You asked, the words sudden as if you couldn’t hold the thought off your lips.
“No, this is just some light reading,” he answered politely, because it was. Though he forgot that was maybe not normal, because you giggled at his reply.
The sound brought his eyes to your lips, the way they parted to let the breathy noise out. It was a unique giggle, though he supposed everyone’s is, but something about it suited you so completely. It was soft, and when he glanced around the library to see that no one else had heard it, he thought it was also just for him. There was no taunting, just joy that you emitted in the most delicate of sounds. If only he could understand what he did to extract it from you.
“Right,” You said jokingly, and then he thought maybe you didn’t believe him, but he didn’t get a chance to assure you he was being truthful before you finished checking out the books. “Here you go, have a nice day, Spencer.”
He hesitated, thrown off by your use of his name, but cleared his throat and collected his books nonetheless. He thanked you and mumbled a brief goodbye as he did so, not looking back as he rushed out of the library. When he got to his car, he used a pack of disinfectant wipes on the books and set them up in his passenger seat, thoughts of the little librarian withering away to the casework waiting for him at work tomorrow.
—
He finished the books quickly, in only two days actually, but thankfully most of his time was taken up by his work. In his remaining free hours, he resorted to rereading a few books on his shelves. On Sunday, he collected his library books and drove the ten minutes back to his new library, exactly one week since his last visit.
The inside was chilly and smelled like old paper and leather. There weren't many people he could see on the main floor, a few of what looked like college students spread out studying and some preteens huddled on the computers, whispering snarks and giggles. He walked up to the front desk, following the rug and the velvet rope barriers that led right to it from the entrance. This time he didn’t pass by the desk, but stopped at it to place down his books—quietly.
Your familiar framed eyes looked up at him, just as doe-like as surprise crossed them right before a smile took hold. Again, you closed the book in your lap, though this time Spencer caught a glimpse of its orange and yellow cover before you hid it from sight. He couldn’t make out the title. “Back so soon?”
It had been exactly a week since he’d seen you, and though he had not thought of you much since then, Spencer was incapable of forgetting a face. You looked just as you did last week—messy updo, baggy clothes, bare face. It seemed that was your natural state, or at least what you wore to work, but what Spencer wore to work was pretty much his normal wardrobe and he worked in the FBI, not a library.
“Yes, I need to return these books,” he told you, returning your smile with a quirk of his lips and placing his library card on top of the stack of books.
When your eyes roamed back down from his to the five books, your brows furrowed. “Give up on studying then?” You asked, scanning the books back into the system.
For a moment, Spencer was confused, then he recalled every word of your last interaction, and realized you still thought he checked the books out to study them, likely for some graduate classes, given his age. “No, I wasn’t studying them. I just needed a few books for casual reading after work.”
You paused once you turned to the computer, looking at him down your glasses. “Casual reading?” Your eyes went back between the thick books and his face, a smirk of disbelief growing. “You read all these books in a week?”
“Yes.” He shrugged.
“For fun?” You had a skeptical eyebrow quirked.
“That’s what casual reading normally implies.” Spencer furrowed his brows at your line of questioning. Maybe most people wouldn’t read such topics simply for fun, but why would he lie about that?
At that, you giggled again, a bird’s song, and resumed clicking at your computer. Your gentle laugh tickled something deep in his chest. Again, there was no malice or ill intent to it, not any that he could see behind your genuine eyes and smile. You simply thought he was a funny guy, and no one ever thought that of Spencer. He was too awkward, or too serious, or even too annoying to be fun.
You took the stack of books in your arms, the pile reaching right up to your chin, and walked them to a cart behind you. When you turned back, you were still smiling sweetly at him. “Your light reading has been checked back in.” You slid his library card across the counter.
He plucked the card back off it with a thanks, tucking it into the pocket of his sweater vest. For a moment, he debated telling you about his PhDs, his eidetic memory, and maybe even his genius IQ because Spencer always felt the need to prove himself—to state facts—because he wasn’t the funny guy. He was very serious and all the things he was telling you weren’t just silly jokes. Then he worried he might wipe the smile right off your face, and he couldn’t let himself do that. So instead he gave you a stiff nod and continued into the library.
. . . Only to spin right back around, fist awkwardly pressed against his lips. “Oh, also, what is the maximum amount of books I could have checked out at once?”
You had just cracked the spine of your book again when you looked back up at him, a swirling look of confusion on your face. “Ten books, but you don’t have any out so I wouldn’t worry about it.”
Spencer gave another nod, spinning back around on his heels and taking himself right up to the second floor of the library. He spent approximately 37 minutes collecting books from around the library, setting them aside at tables as he weaved through the rows of bookcases for the different genres. A wealth of knowledge in all areas was useful for his job, and also just for him personally. He found great pride in knowing many things, as annoying as others might find his incessant info-dumping.
When he finished, he took a stack of books from the table and carried them down from the second floor, slowly stepping down the stairs and craning his neck around the stack to watch his steps. He could be uncoordinated at his best, so there was no need to tempt fate into sending him tumbling down the staircase by not paying attention.
After successfully making it down, he took long strides to the main desk and set the stack down on the counter. Of course, you looked up at him again, however skipped surprise and jumped into an inviting smile. You closed your book and stood up, taking in the books he set in front of you. “Another five to check out then?”
“No, actually, I’ll be right back.” He turned away so fast he almost missed the way your smile faded and you leaned over the counter to watch him ascending the stairs again, spindly legs taking them two at a time.
He grabbed hold of the second tower of books, nearly dropping the top one in his haste to get back to you. After that he continued to take the stairs carefully even as he felt your eyes on him. Maybe especially because he felt your eyes on him, because if you watched him fall down the stairs he’d have to drive an additional ten minutes away to find another new library, because he certainly wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes anymore.
Beside the first stack on the counter, he set the second, then placed his library card between them. “This is it, I promise.”
Again, you glanced between him and the books, eyes bugging behind their glass shelter. After a moment or so, as if you were making sure he was serious (he was), you began scanning his card and the books. Despite the larger quantity of books, you were slower as you ran the barcodes on the back, taking the time to read the titles and authors.
“Are you a graduate student?” You asked, looking at a book on human genealogy.
Spencer twiddled his thumbs. “No, I’m finished with school for now, but I might go back for another PhD in the future when I have more time,” he answered honestly, the words flowing out quickly, even though he wasn’t sure why he was telling you that. Only about two percent of the U.S. population has a PhD, and an even slimmer percent had more than one. So it was an unusual thing to say.
He thought you might laugh again, or even question him, but you simply hummed and moved onto the next book, chewing your lip. “I’m in a graduate program for poetry,” your voice was quiet, as required by the library environment, but more so than usual, like you seemed embarrassed to share that information.
It made sense you were a graduate student working in a library while earning your MA in writing. He wondered if you had plans for your degree beyond getting a slight pay increase as a librarian. There was a career as an author, or maybe you wanted to be a teacher or a professor, he could see you doing that, standing in front of a class in your skirts and sweaters pointing at a chalkboard with a ruler, though that image was outdated. More likely you’d be in front of a white board or presenting from a projector.
“That’s interesting. I find myself reading a lot of nonfiction recently—it helps more with my job, though I also just enjoy facts and statistics—but I’ll always have a special appreciation for fiction. I’m fond of poetry in particular because it’s created for multifaceted analysis,” even in his own whisper, the words were breathy and fast. He had to catch his tongue between his teeth when he caught your eyes trailing back up to him. “What do you plan on doing with your degree?”
“Write poetry hopefully,” the words came out in a gust of wind and your eyebrows quirked up, as if you didn’t believe even your own dream. “Maybe you can analyze it one day.” You finished scanning out the books, putting them back into two neat piles as you did. You went about clicking at your computer, making sure the books were grayed out in the system, avoiding his eyes.
So you did want to be a writer then. He could easily see that as well. Though he got the sense you didn’t believe your aspiration was attainable, and it likely wasn’t due to lack of skill. He told himself he wouldn’t profile you, but he did it practically subconsciously. Your lowered gaze, modest clothes, shy smile, and even chewed nails all pointed to a lack of confidence in yourself. He wasn’t sure why. You were pretty in your own right, and were clearly intelligent and hard working if your pursuit of a masters degree said anything. If you needed a little encouragement, the least he could do was give it to you. “I look forward to it,” he said, and he was just as sincere as he always had been.
It only seemed to increase your embarrassment, causing your face to shy further away from his gaze. “Thank you, Spencer.” Even if you couldn’t look at him, your tone was of genuine appreciation, and if he tilted his head just right, he could see the wisp of a smile on your face.
He nodded with a tight lipped smile, staring at you while he waited for the conversation to continue, only to realize you’d finished with his books and it was over. His hands stuttered to gather up the first heap of books, muttering about how he’d be back. However he only got a few paces when he heard you say his name again, feet stopping dead.
“Would you like me to help you carry these out?” You were already trying to get a hold on the books.
Quickly, he shook his head. “No,” the words came out abrupt and firm, louder than he’d ever spoken before in the library, and you flinched.
“You shouldn’t be following anyone out of here to their cars. This library has a disturbing lack of cameras and an abduction, even in a public area, can happen in less than ten seconds. It’s safest for you to remain in the library and follow the good practice of having someone walk you to your car after your shifts.” Spencer felt obligated to warn you strictly, because your distinct quietness and sweetness made you the perfect prey for the killers he hunted daily.
Though he almost regretted it as he watched the way your hands retreated from the books, crossing around yourself, and the gentle smile became forced. “Oh. I–I guess I’ll keep that in mind.”
Spencer nodded and hesitated, but didn’t linger much longer before exiting the library and heading back to his car. He was quick to toss the books into his car, your tangled smile stuck in his mind. Was it an odd thing to say? He was only trying to warn you, to keep you safe. But the look on your face, you didn’t seem at all grateful for the advice. Spencer took brisk strides back to the library entrance. You were standing there behind the front desk, arms still crossed, a distant look on your face. When you heard him approaching the counter taking in breath just a little faster from boardline jogging back, you barely spared him a glance. He scared you a bit, he realized, and he didn’t want to leave you like that.
He paused beside his leftover books, wetting his lips. “I didn’t mean to scare you with what I said before.” He finally caught your eyes and you seemed to hear him out. “I work in law enforcement, for the FBI actually, and all too often I see cases of nice girls like you who go missing just because you want to help people. Unfortunately it’s a pretty common ruse. So, I—I didn’t tell you all that to make you worry, but because I want you to be safe,” he admitted, and your face softened again, your hands falling back to the counter. It brought a smile to his own face to see you relax your guard again. “It’d also be awful if my librarian went missing. Who will check out the heap of books I keep bringing you?”
You giggled, your lips pulling into a toothy smile. “It’d definitely suck, but I’d hope you’d put those FBI skills of yours into finding me.”
Spencer chuckled, ducking his head into his chest to quiet the sound as he pulled his books into his arms. “Of course I would, and I wouldn’t stop until I did.” He was good at his job, he never stopped until he found their victim, their unsub.
You bowed your own head, hand holding your glasses to keep them from slipping down your nose. “Goodbye, Spencer.” You gave him a small wave with the other hand, ending the conversation with averted eyes, but he still noticed the growing color in your cheeks.
He fumbled with his own wave under the stack of books, really just an outward flash of the fingers he could manage to peel away for a second, and he was glad you weren’t looking at him with how awkward it was. He turned on his heel, pink growing in his own cheeks, and exited the library again for the final time today. The gears in his head grinded the whole way to the car and continued as he grappled to get into it and wiped the books with disinfectant.
You lingered in his mind longer than a librarian should have. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to warn you, to explain himself to you, or even comfort you. There was something about you, as meek and bashful as you were, that he found charming. Perhaps he saw himself in you, the insecurity. Or maybe it was how different you were from his job, where he was met with the most wicked minds and evil acts. You in comparison were the very image of innocence and life, in your pastel purples and yellows, lively eyes magnified behind glass, and your—your laugh. He liked your giggle. Even though he suspected at times it meant you didn’t fully believe him, he let you find him unserious, just so he could continue to hear that sweet sound tickle his ears in a way that scratched an itch inside him.
He was sitting in the parking lot staring out the windshield lost in his thoughts of you. When someone walked by, he found himself clearing his throat and finally putting his car in drive. You dissipated from his mind as he pulled out of the parking space because his Sunday at the library was over.
—
It took five days for him to finish the ten books from the library. The team was in California from Tuesday through Thursday, but he took four books with him to read during his down time and while on the jet. He still ended up with spare time that he spent shopping with Penelope and babysitting Henry for JJ and Will’s date night. It was for this reason he was glad to be back in the library on Sunday.
Inside he was hit with the familiar crisp air and the vague smell of paper and coffee. The tables to the left had quite a few more students than usual, though there were not very many to start with previously. He wondered if a bout of exams were coming up. As Spencer neared the front desk, he could smell something else, a faint vanilla scent maybe.
You were there as always, standing this time, and almost leaning over the counter to see the door. You smiled when you saw him and he realized that you must be wearing perfume, because around you the vanilla air became thicker.
“Sunday at 11am. You're more reliable than my alarm clock,” you hummed cheekily.
Spencer set the books he held in his hands on the counter, his messenger bag following them up. “Having a routine is actually really good for you. It’s been proven to reduce anxiety and stress and also helps people to cope with certain mental illnesses,” he told you, pulling the rest of his books out of his bag.
If you were thrown off by his fact telling, you didn’t show it. “That makes sense. I like having a routine, but I’m pretty sure my friends think it makes me boring.”
Spencer dug around in his vest pocket for his library card, brows furrowing. “Why would you think that?”
You plucked it from his fingers, bringing it to the barcode reader without breaking your eye contact. “Because they say it to me all the time.”
“Oh,” Spencer snorted a little and clutched the strap of his bag closer. There’s something different about you today. You’re much more talkative and playful, but it’s also in your appearance too. Your glasses are still perched on your nose and your face is bare as it always is, but your updo is more put together, less stands fall away into your face. You wear another long skirt, but it's tighter, less flowy, and he can nearly make out the shape of your legs through it. You’re wrapped in a cardigan too, but where one side falls open he can see your tank top underneath and the sight of your skin has him clearing his throat and bringing his eyes back to your face.
“And how was your recreational reading?” You’ve started to scan the books back into the system. “You must have been pretty entertained with ten books in seven days.” You state it like a fact, but your tone has a whimsical disbelief to it.
“Actually I finished them in five days,” he corrected with an incline of his head.
You reply quickly, like the words were primed in your mind. “Then you should have come back sooner.” Under the teasing, you sound serious, looking up from the books at him, lashes fluttering against their glass encasement.
“I would, but I’ve been pretty busy at work.” He was too. He would spend hours in the library reading if working at the BAU didn’t take up so much of his time. He loved his job of course, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, but what is someone with his talents to do but hole himself up gorging every book he can get his hands on. Spencer had a thirst for knowledge, that’s why he wanted to be in the library so much.
“Well, that’s too bad then. What do you do for work?” Your head tilts with interest and he almost mirrors the movement, brows furrowed.
“I told you—I work for the FBI. Specifically, I’m an agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” He has an eidetic memory which means he can remember every word you’ve said to him and every word he’s ever said to you, so he knows he’s told you this before. Of course he knows people forget things, but they also normally remember when he tells them he’s in the FBI.
Your face falls a bit and you chew your bottom lip, brows creasing. “Oh. . . right.” You finish scanning the last book quickly, gathering a couple into a pile to carry to a cart behind you.
Spencer’s not exactly sure what he’s done to upset you, but his fingers twitch with the itch to fix it. Unfortunately, he’s got the idea his job is what makes you so uncomfortable. It wouldn’t be the first time someone was unsettled by the fact he carried a badge and gun, or that he had the authority to arrest people. But you had joked about it last week, possibly were soothed by the fact he was a cop after his blunt and maybe eerie warning. So why were you suddenly so upset with him?
The thought occurred to him then that maybe it was because you didn’t completely believe the things he was saying. Not only that, but you were no longer finding whatever game you think he’s playing by telling you those things to be funny. As you carry the rest of the books back to the cart, he fidgets with his fingers, wondering if it was time to show you proof of what he’s been saying. Or did you really even care? Maybe he was wrong and you would be even more frightened by him presenting you with his badge. Was it odd to flash his FBI credentials at his librarian? That was all you were after all. He didn’t even know your name.
You were back to clicking at the computer when you glanced at him. “They’re all checked in.”
Spencer froze as you pulled him out of his thoughts, his hands locking in the joints before dropping to his sides into fists. That was your cue for him to leave. “Right, thank you.” He went to walk away, but his feet were stuck. “. . .thank you, um, I just realized I don’t know your name.”
You didn’t have to tell him, you could have brushed it off. You were just the librarian and one didn’t need to know the librarian's name, but you looked back at him again, eyes studying his face. Then, you murmured your name so softly he almost leaned in to hear it louder. Soundlessly, he let your name ghost over his lips.
He used it as he thanked you one last time, certainly overkill but it seemed like the only correct way to exit. Although he only got a few feet before he heard you call his name.
“Spencer, wait!” You didn’t yell, he’s never heard you yell, but your voice was the loudest he’s ever heard it. You always spoke in a whisper or a hushed tone, but your voice was nearly normal when you called him back. The urgency of it had him back in front of you in just two strides.
You dipped beneath the counter and when you came back up you placed a basket on it. “When I used to go on picnics to read in the park, I used this basket. Well, I haven’t gone in a long time actually, but I thought maybe you could use it for all the books you check out,” you were bashful, tilting your head down and only sparingly meeting his eyes. Spencer was in shock, all he could think about was how this was one of the nicest things someone’s ever done for him. You gave him whiplash with how quickly you seemed to forgive whatever trespass he committed against you. He wondered even if he exaggerated the interaction in his head.
The basket was woven, made from wicker, and had two handles at the top. It was rectangular in shape, pretty deep, and large for a picnic basket, he thought, big enough for fruits, pastries, sandwiches, and maybe more. It was a very nice basket, and the thought that you were giving it to him made his heart ache the most. You’d considered him, truly sat down and thought about him and then decided you were going to gift him a solution to his awkward problem. Not often did people solve his problems, it was always the other way around.
“Wow,” his finger grazed the side, considering the cost such a nice piece must be. “Are you sure? I really couldn’t take your basket it’s—”
“I don’t use it anymore,” you interrupted him for the first time. He realized that you never cut him off, you had always listened to him. “You can have it. . .” Your face was kind, then suddenly dropped into a panic. “Only if you want it of course! You don’t have to take it. I guess it’s kind of silly, carrying a picnic basket in a library. . .” You started to pick your nails, not meeting his eyes.
“I don’t think it’s silly,” he assured you quickly, leaning just a bit closer so he could catch your eyes again. “Thank you so much. Now I don’t have to worry about falling down the stairs or taking two trips to my car.”
Your smile returned with a breathy chuckle. “Yeah, you kind of made me nervous going down the stairs like that with all those books. You don’t strike me as very. . . coordinated.”
“Ouch,” Spencer said, though he smiled back at you. You’d read him there, he was not very coordinated at all. Knowing physics was one thing, existing smoothly and with grace on the physical plane was another.
“Sorry,” you shrugged half heartedly.
“No, you’re right. Thank you for the basket and uh, I’ll be back,” he waved you goodbye as he walked toward the stairs and you fluttered your fingers back at him.
Spencer took exactly 52 minutes and 34 seconds adding books to his new basket. He got a few stares and side glances as he toted it around, mainly from a group of teenagers huddled at a miniature table and chair set in the children’s section. They snickered as they peeked up from their circle at him, but it wasn’t anything Spencer wasn’t used to. All his life people had laughed at him for a variety of reasons—he was too scrawny, too small, too bumbling, too nerdy—the list was miles long. All he could do was grow thicker skin, and he had. So he didn’t let it bother him as he wandered the library, adding books to his basket.
No, the reason Spencer took so long to pick books was because each time he slipped one into a wicker embrace, he thought of you. He blinked and saw your face like a phantom burned into his retinas. The way the corners of your mouth twisted in your smile when you were so excited to give him the basket flashed and faded in his vision. Sometimes he cursed his eidetic memory because he’d memorized your face in its entirety with all its most miniscule details and peculiarities—and he didn’t even mean to. He would find himself staring into the empty space in the basket and have to drag his brain clawing back into reality.
His watch had ticked past 12 when he made his way back down the stairs to the main floor, lugging his basket in his right hand. It was heavy, weighed by two textbooks and eight other decently thick books, but the woven willow held strong.
At the landing he could see across the library that you were already checking someone out. He meant to add himself to the queue, but pivoted to a lounge chair between two bookcases just as he got close enough to hear your voice. Immediately he felt wrong, a churning disgust with himself in the pit of his stomach. It was weird, wasn’t it? To watch you from afar just to gauge your behavior? But he had to know, it burdened his brain to wonder if you were just so saccharine it spilled out to everyone around you or if particularly you poured your sugar onto him.
You didn’t see him duck between the shelves to the lounge chair, not in any way that he could tell. With a tranquil neutral face you scanned the book that the college girl at the counter placed in front of you. The interaction was done in comfortable silence, even when you finished the transaction and she said her thank yous, you merely mumbled a “you’re welcome.”
It was different from how you interacted with him, he realized. You were much more playful and chatty with him, but he wasn’t sure what exactly inspired it in you. You were clearly shy, maybe anxious, but in some moments it faded when you talked to him. He didn’t think he said anything particularly special, but thinking you saw something in him that made you so comfortable, so cheerful, made his stomach flip in a way he couldn’t understand.
The next man in the queue placed his book on the counter. He was the only other person waiting. You asked him absent-mindedly for his library card. He was older than you and Spencer, mid to late 40s if Spencer had to guess, but it gave him an idea about how you interacted with men as well. Which was just as bland as your interaction with the college girl before you. Spencer had a fleeting thought that maybe—just maybe—you liked him. Why else would you be so inclined to laugh with him? To be so shy sometimes you couldn’t meet his eyes? He’d read books, watched movies, and he knew the signs. He was just not used to spotting them in women interacting with him.
He cleared his throat as if to shake off the idea. It was vain, and in all likelihood an arrogant over analysis of the little interaction he’s had with you. He was about to get up and put himself in line behind the man when he heard his lurid voice croak out.
“How about you give me a smile, pretty?”
Spencer froze in place, white knuckle grip engraving the grooves of the entwined handle into his palm. Something like anger flared in his chest. It grew hotter as he saw the way you bowed your head even further from the man's sight, pulling your cardigan closer around your body.
“Um, yeah, could I just get your library card?” You squirmed under his leering gaze, lips faintly curling into the most awkward half-smile you could muster.
Despite the way you clearly showed you were in duress, the man leaned closer over the counter. “My name’s Todd.” He slid his book across the counter to you like that tidbit of information helped any. “I’ll take this book and your number, baby.” Spencer’s jaw clenched.
His body tingled with the readiness to step in, to tell this Todd fucker to leave you be because obviously you weren’t interested. But his mind, the logical side of him, stopped him because Spencer also respected you and your autonomy. He was not an expert on women, but he knew quite a few strong women in the BAU who would be offended if he stepped in to defend them when they were capable of doing it themselves. He definitely didn’t want to offend you if you were able to brush off Todd on your own.
The uncomfortable smile dropped to a grimace. “If I could get your library card. . .” Your hand hesitantly reached for the book only for Todd to grasp your wrist in a tight hand.
“Stop asking for the damn card,” his voice dropped into a growl. “Baby, I’m just trying to talk to you.”
Your arm fought to pull your hand back behind the counter, but Todd’s grip tightened and pulled back to keep you close. “Sir!” Your voice pitched higher, eyes widening almost too big for their frames. “Sir, please let go—”
Todd huffed, face screwing up in frustration. “Why’re you being so difficult?”
“Sir, you’re hurting her and you need to let go now.” Spencer practically flew over to the front desk. It was his instincts as an FBI agent kicking in. The need to de-escalate and protect was driving him. This man was now hurting you and he was not going to allow it to go any further.
Todd’s scowl looked Spencer up and down, assessing whether or not he could take him. He must have come to the conclusion Spencer was not a threat because he puffed up his chest and continued gripping your wrist. However, he was so distracted by Spencer, you were able to yank your arm away, rubbing at your wrist with your free hand. Todd shot you a similar glare before leveling his even angrier gaze back on Spencer.
“We’re just having a conversation here, asshole. So why don’t you get back to your books,” Todd barked at him so loud they had now attracted all the eyes in the library. But Spencer was only looking over at yours—your creased brow and the watery worry the glass highlighted.
“Spencer, it’s—” You didn’t get to finish as Todd whirled his head between you and Spencer.
“Spencer? No fucking way this wimp is your boyfriend.” Behind the rage, Todd looked almost smug.
But Spencer wasn’t. He hit his own boiling point and was passed asking politely. He pulled his credentials from his pocket and flipped them open in Todd’s face. “No, I’m the FBI agent who is going to arrest you for harassment, assault, and public disturbance if you don’t get out of this library right now.”
Todd’s head reeled back at the badge in his face, eyes squinting between the lettering and Spencer’s face. Realization of how much shit he was in passed briefly over Todd’s face before reverting to his glower. He must not have wanted trouble with the FBI though, because he started taking steps backwards toward the exit. But he couldn’t leave with a completely bruised ego.
“Whatever man. If you want the uppity bitch so bad you can have her!” Todd slammed open and closed the door as he made his grand exit. The entire library watched it, listening to him as he got his last dig in and fleeing before Spencer could make him eat his words. He didn’t have his cuffs or gun on him, but he’d dealt with enough unsubs to know he didn’t need them to handle Todd.
When all the eyes slowly went back to their business, sure that Todd wasn’t coming back into the library, Spencer’s gaze returned to you. Your eyes were dinner plates, mouth agape, still clutching your wrist.
Spencer frowned, whispering your name. “Are you okay?”
“You’re an FBI agent. . .” The words slipped out of you in one shocked exhale. His brows furrowed. He just rescued you from an arrogant asshole and that was what you were stuck on, something he’d told you several times.
“Yes? But I told you—”
“You were serious?” Your head bobbed forward in disbelief. So you really hadn’t been believing what he was saying.
“Of course, why would I lie about that?” Spencer was confused and deep down a little hurt. It was such an odd thing to lie about to a stranger, he didn’t understand why you thought he wasn’t truthful.
“I–I don’t know,” your eyes bounced around in a panic. “I thought you were just trying to impress me. I mean—you don’t really look like an FBI agent you’re. . . young? I don’t know, I thought you were flirting with me so I—” Your hand clasped over your mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, sir—agent—”
“Spencer.”
“What?”
“Call me Spencer,” he gave you a tight lipped smile, a near look of pity on his face. Your complete panic reassured him you were just as embarrassed over the miscommunication as he was. “Technically it would be Doctor, since I have three PhDs—but you can just call me Spencer.”
“But—But I didn’t. . . you were being serious the whole time and I. . .” You stuttered, shaking your head in confusion. “I was so unprofessional. . .”
Spencer chuckled, unable to hold it back. “Unprofessional? Just because I’m an FBI doesn’t mean I can’t like to talk to people. And I like talking to you, you don’t have to be embarrassed about it.” His disappointment dissipated quickly. Your shyness and embarrassment was so genuine and charming he couldn’t find the space to be upset with you beside all his amusement.
You crossed your arms, somehow becoming even more bashful. “You’re sure it's okay?”
“Of course it's okay.” Spencer grinned.
A small sigh of relief breezed past your lips. “Okay. . . I should—I should definitely apologize for not believing you.” You meet his eyes then with such profound remorse. “Because I am really sorry. It’s just. . . your accomplishments seemed so amazing they were kind of hard to believe, especially for someone so young.”
It was Spencer’s turn to become bashful. His head ducked and he laughed quietly. “I guess they can be hard to believe. Especially when you aren’t meeting me at work. I just thought maybe all the books helped prove it.”
You let out a shaky laugh, eyes wandering back down to the countertop. “I kinda thought that was also to impress me. I didn’t really think you were reading all of them.”
“Well. . . I do.” He shrugged, figuring you had to believe him now. As you smiled at him, he realized he left his basket and books back at the chair. “Speaking of reading, I’ll be right back.”
You eyed him as he retrieved the basket and set it on the counter in front of you along with his library card. “Oh, were you sitting over there?” You looked curious. Certainly you hadn’t seen him sitting there today or anytime before.
Spencer coughed into his fist. “Um, just for a second.” He moved on quickly, removing the books from the basket. “Thank you for this again, by the way, it’s so much easier to carry all the books.”
You hummed, eyebrows jumping up. “Yeah. . . I’m having trouble believing I really gave an FBI agent a picnic basket to carry books in.” You started swiping the books over the barcode scanner, adding them back into the basket once they appeared on the computer screen next to you.
He cracked a half smile. “I think you watch too many movies. We’re not as serious as you think we are.” Hotch’s face flashed in his eyes and he thought maybe they were pretty serious, but not off duty. Hotch could also be serious enough for the whole team sometimes, so maybe he wasn’t a very good example. “And I like the basket. It was nice of you to think about me.”
Your eyes caught on his for a moment, glazed over in thought, so deep you bumped the basket as you went to set the book you held into it. It snapped you back into reality and you watched your hand as you tucked away the book, clearing your throat. “You’re sure it’s not weird?”
Spencer’s head tilted to the left, considering you. He didn’t know what he could do to pull you back from this rut of self-consciousness. He was starting to regret ever pulling out his badge because now you seem standoffish in a way you never were with him before. He wanted to go back to when you laughed and smiled at him and didn’t find him intimidating. “Of course it’s not,” he paused a moment, wetting his lips. “And this isn’t weird either, y’know? Me being in the FBI? I’m still Spencer.”
You looked back at him again, eyes searching his face. “I know that. I’m. . .” You stared at him a second longer, taking in a deep breath and releasing it with a smile. “I’m letting it sink in.” You continued scanning the books quietly, not meeting Spencer’s eyes as he absentmindedly picked at a loose string in his pocket.
His thumb brushed against his FBI credentials and the encounter just before this revelation came flooding back. He glanced over at the double doors as if to make sure Todd had not come back, though Spencer already knew he didn’t.
“Are you okay?” You met his eyes, brows pulled together. “About before—with that guy?”
“Oh.” You shrugged, rolling your wrist unconsciously. “Yeah, I’m fine. We get one of them every now and again. Normally they’re pretty harmless.” A glimmer of realization passed over your face. “Um, thank you! I should have said that before. Not everyone would have done that.”
Spencer shook his head, waving off your thanks. “Of course. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.” He was again reminded of the fact he was not a woman, and even though his job was to put away serial killers—monsters, creeps, pervs—he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be in your shoes. You shook it off well, but he didn’t doubt you were scared in the moment. Probably wondering how far he would take it, whether your reaction was appropriate, if your employer would be angry at you. He was just glad he was there to step in.
Slowly, you finished scanning all the books, tucking them neatly into the basket in an organized order he thoroughly appreciated. Heaviest books sat at the bottom and lighter books were stacked on top of them. You paused, flipping through the last book in your hand, a biography of Max Born, a German-British physicist.
“So. . . you really do read 20,000 words per minute?” You had a cheeky grin as you peeked up at him from beneath those frames, and suddenly you were back. Spencer smiled.
“Yup. I also have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.
You giggled, nodding along. “Right. Well then I guess this isn’t even enough books for you.” A finger waved over at the basket.
“It depends on work, actually. I’m usually busy, but I often have to travel too and then I become really busy so I don’t have time to read,” he explained. When he did sit down to read, he could get through one to three books, depending on their volume. “But yeah, ten books in a week is kind of light.”
You tapped the book in your hand with your thumbs, thinking. “Okay.” Suddenly you dropped the book into the basket, dipping below the desk to set another book in front of him. Examining it, he realized by its orange and yellow coloring it was the same book you had been reading the last time he was in the library. It was The Poetry of Pablo Neruda and from the look of its creased spine and faded orange cover, it was well loved. “You should read this too then.”
Spencer turned the book over in his hands, looking at you with a twisted face of confusion. “But the check out limit is ten books?”
You shook your head, gesturing for him to add it to the basket. “It’s not a library book,” when he still looked puzzled, you continued. “It’s my book. You can borrow it from me.”
Your kindness and generosity was both shocking and overwhelming. Spencer wasn’t sure how he was to thank you for being so gracious to him. He could only think of one thing. So he quickly fumbled his wallet up onto the countertop. “You have to let me give you something for this—”
“Spencer,” as you said his name, your hand covered his as he dug for bills to give you. “You don’t owe me anything.”
He shook his head, bewildered. Not only was your kindness startling, but so was the feeling of your hand on his. He had to stop his body from flinching at the contact. He was mostly uncomfortable at the thought of people touching him, but your palm was warm, soft, and offered the most comfort he’d felt in a while. “The basket and the book? It’s too much. I mean. . . you’re too nice.”
Your lips spread into a bright smile, flashing him your teeth. “Just bring me back your analysis. I’d love to hear what an IQ of 187 can cook up. Deal?”
Spencer laughed, ducking his head as he nodded in agreement. “Deal.”
When the laughter faded and his head came back up, he looked at you for a while longer, just feeling the paperback cover underneath his fingertips. You met his eyes just for a few moments, twiddling your own fingers. “So um, see you next Sunday?” You asked. He dared to see hope in your eyes.
“See you next Sunday,” Spencer agreed again. He hesitated putting the book in his new basket then finally left the front desk, waving you goodbye as he did. He watched over his shoulder you return his wave as he exited through the double doors.
Spencer walked back to his car practically swinging the basket, so in his head he didn’t even realize he still had a smile on his face. He set The Poetry of Pablo Neruda aside as he disinfected his books and wondered what he would do the rest of his day off. What he was sure of, deep in his chest, was that he was excited for next Sunday.
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Part Two
#spencer reid x reader#spencer Reid x y/n#spencer reid#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x shy!reader
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Hello!!
I was wondering if I could ask for a request? I love your work and I had an idea for a fic but don't have the skills to make it a reality, ANYWAYS lol.
Charles leclerc finding out his crush does onlyfans 😏
You were very well paid as an engineer in one of the top Formula 1 teams, but your secret side hustle provided much more of an... escape, than your day job did.
Warnings: onlyfans, sextapes, smut, masturbation, fluff, Charles’ brain literally malfunctionning, angst but it end well, also I know this isn't how being a brand ambassador works but for the sake of this fic pretend Charles owns part of APM.
You had an Onlyfans. You'd had the account since college, and it had helped pay for your engineering degree.
But you'd found the experience so liberating and exciting, that you never really stopped.
So you continued posting regularly, and streaming, completely anonymously of course.
It would be absolutely mortifying if any of your colleagues found out about your other source of income.
You were smart about it. You never showed your face, barely spoke, and didn't put anything on your account that would in any way hint at your identity.
Your username was inconspicuous, you didn't really have any defining features on your body like tattoos or scars, and you'd even bought a green screen to hide your surroundings.
Sometimes you recorded videos in risky places, but they were never recognisable enough for someone to know exactly where you were.
Being a mechanic for Charles Leclerc was a dream.
He was so nice to you, if a bit shy, and extremely helpful in his feedback to you and the team.
He had made moving to Italy a lot easier and the flat he rented for when he was there was in the same neighbourhood as yours.
Charles had a thing for you. He couldn't deny it, he'd been taken with you ever since your first day, when you walked in late, and wearing a Ferrari uniform that was obviously several sizes too big for you.
“They sent me the wrong ones!” you panted as you tried to explain your attire “the orders got mixed up and I got sent someone else's uniform, I've just been at the office trying to figure it all out”
He was barely listening, your eyes had captivated him and it was too late, he just stared at you.
“Charles?”
He snapped out of it and you could finally get to work, but not before Carlos had sniggered in the corner and given Charles a teasing look.
The teasing only got worse when it turned out that the uniform mix up was actually with Charles, because you had similar addresses.
The discovery that you'd actually been technically wearing his clothes had driven Charles to the edge of madness and back.
You'd tried to give them back to him once you’d received your own, but he insisted you keep them.
“I don't need them, you can have them”
“But they're yours! I don't need them either and they're way too big for me anyway”
“They look really good on you, you can wear them for bed or… or something…” he stuttered, the image of you in bed and in his clothes was too much for him, and he blushed his way out of the room as Carlos, who had unfortunately witnessed that interaction, howled with laughter at the idiocy of his friend.
Over the next few months Carlos was getting increasingly annoyed with Charles.
He'd teased him to bits for a few weeks, but now it was getting just plain pathetic.
You were all Charles could talk about, but he was too shy to do anything about it.
“Cabrón, you need to ask her out instead of talking my ears off about her”
“It's worse than that Carlos, I've done… something”
Carlos raised an eyebrow at his teammate, whatever Charles had done, it couldn't be good.
“Go on”
Charles blushed and looked around before getting his phone out to show Carlos something.
"There is this Onlyfans account…” he started and Carlos groaned in frustration, already knowing where this was going.
“She looks and sounds a bit like her and… Carlos I'm obsessed. I think I have a problem”
Carlos glanced at the screen. The girl didn't not look like you, but given that her face wasn't visible, and he had never seen you naked, he wasn't capable of making any sort of comparison.
“You need to do something about this mate, this is not healthy”
Charles sighed, putting his phone away. “I know”
They were at a race, waiting for qualifying to start while you were out working on the car that would hopefully get him pole position.
And it did.
The first thing he did when he got out of the car was run to you and lift you up as you laughed.
“Thank you, thank you for the car. It was perfect!” you blushed and hugged him back.
“Anything for you, Charles”
Eventually he was whisked off for his interviews and you were left red-faced and grinning as you watched him go.
The first week of summer break was spent in the factory doing some sim work and testing to see exactly what was so right about the setup, and whether you could replicate it for Carlos' car.
So the three of you (plus all the usual employees) were in Maranello for a few days.
Charles took you to one of his favourite restaurants to celebrate his latest race win.
You had a few drinks and laughed the night away, and when you separated at the end of the night, all Charles could manage was a peck on the cheek.
You went home to finally start your stream, late, and Charles went home to discover his favourite account would be starting their stream late.
Perfect timing, he thought as he unbuckled his pants and got to work.
Yeah, he had a problem.
“Ferrari69 has joined the stream”
It wasn't rare that formula 1 themed usernames popped up in your subscribers, but it always made you chuckle when your literal employer's name appeared while you masturbated on camera for the world to see.
Ferrari69’s name was a regular sight, and a regular donator, and quite generous too.
It was probably an old rich man who had nothing better to do with his money, you supposed.
You had planned to film one of your riskier videos that week.
You didn't want to livestream it in case something went wrong, or you got caught.
There was a beautiful park in Maranello, one that had plenty of hiding spots.
That, and you did it at night when no one was around, so it was all good.
It all went smoothly, and once you were done you packed up your equipment and started making your way home when you spotted a familiar frame walking down one of the footpaths in front of you.
“Charles?” you called out and you heard a gasp followed by a relieved chuckle.
“Oh my god you scared me!” he smiled at you as you got to his level.
“What are you doing outside at this time?” he asked, perplexed.
“I uuhh… I was just clearing my head I guess… it's been a long week, you know?” you tried, and he obviously wasn't convinced but he nodded anyway and silence fell over you.
“So um…” you could feel the awkwardness dripping from his tone “that's a nice bracelet”
He motioned to your wrist and you grinned at him.
“Thanks… it's your own collection” you giggled and he facepalmed.
Yes it was his collection, he was wearing the same one around his own wrist.
“Right, right… I think I should probably head home and get some sleep then” he chuckled.
“Yeah, me too. Need to be up bright and early tomorrow for my flight home”
“Yes! Me too actually…” he fiddled with his hands nervously and the awkward silence became too much for you.
“Right well, goodnight then. I'll see you in a few weeks, Charles” and before you could think too much about it you leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his cheek.
He reddened and smiled shyly.
“Yeah, see you around”
You rushed home and slammed your front door, leaning against it as you tried to slow your heart rate down.
That could have been a disaster. God knows what could've happened if Charles had wandered past a few minutes earlier.
You shuddered, the idea of Charles catching you in the act wasn't completely unpleasant.
But you couldn't risk it, you wouldn't be filming in that park ever again.
You looked through the footage, editing what needed to be edited, and uploaded it to your channel before going through your nightly routine.
Your phone buzzed with likes and notifications as your most avid followers reacted to your new post but you didn't look at them until you were firmly planted in your bed, ready to go to sleep.
By the time Charles got home, he was ready to do some serious unwinding.
‘that's a nice bracelet’ ??? What the fuck was wrong with him.
He took a quick shower and checked his phone for the notification he hoped would be there.
He clicked on the video and grabbed a bottle of lube before climbing into bed.
He didn't even get to open the bottle though, because his eyes zoned in on the little familiar blue diamond chain around the woman's wrist.
Then he took in the surrounding trees and bushes, which were even more familiar.
No...
It couldn't be you, surely it was some kind of twisted coincidence.
But objectively, the evidence was damning.
He decided to look through the comments as a distraction.
There were the usual comments about how hot she was and how people wished they were with her.
A flash of possessiveness surged through Charles at those.
That was new. He'd never felt possessive over her before, but now that he suspected it was you… that was a different story...
You liked a few comments, replied to a couple of others and were about to call it a night when you got a different notification.
A private message. From Ferrari69.
You opened it curiously, he'd never messaged you before, despite the numerous times he had sent you money.
“That's a nice bracelet”
A chill ran down your spine. That's exactly what Charles had said, in the park.
“Is it new?”
Bit of an odd introduction, but you supposed he deserved to know, it was his money that had paid for it after all.
“It is yes. I was in Monaco recently and I thought I'd spend some of the very generous tips you've been sending me ;) thank you so much by the way”
Charles' possessiveness flared again. Technically he had paid for that little trinket that he'd seen you wear only hours prior. He felt emboldened, and a bit turned on by that fact.
“That's a shame… I happen to know the owner of the collection, I could have made sure you got one for free. You could’ve spent the money on something else…”
Several red flags went off in your mind.
He seemed to be taking an interest in becoming your sugar daddy, which is not what you'd signed up for.
But more importantly, this man (you assumed it was a man) was potentially acquainted with Charles. Big no-no.
He could be lying for attention of course, but if the amount of money he'd sent you was any indication, he was proper rich, and therefore could very possibly know everyone in the goddamn paddock.
“If it makes you feel better, I've spent your money on other things as well, like a custom dress I'll be wearing to an event soon, and also that custom dildo I used in the park earlier :)”
Charles' dick throbbed as he thought back to the video.
“Really? Money well spent in that case. I enjoyed the video very much ;) Will you be doing any more risky ones like that?”
“I don't know… I was almost caught by a colleague of mine tonight”
Charles was in too deep. He needed to stop this madness before somebody got hurt.
He ended the conversation as quickly as he could without seeming off, and groaned when the thumbnail of the video flashed on his screen again, cock twitching at the sight of you riding a dildo that he'd paid for.
And then you’d met him in the woods, and acted as if you hadn't been getting yourself off minutes before.
Instead of doing the reasonable thing and having a cold shower, he put the video on again and fisted his cock desperately until he was spent.
Yeah, Charles was fucked.
A chill ran down your back as you turned your phone off.
You couldn't shake the feeling that your identity was in danger.
You shrugged it off, putting your paranoid thoughts down to the fact that it was late and you were tired as fuck.
You caught your flight the next day, barely, because you'd forgotten to set an alarm. So the night before was successfully put out of your mind for now as you snoozed away on the plane.
A couple of weeks later was the event.
You and Charles called it that in a derogatory way, because you knew it would be anything but an event.
It was possibly the most boring day of the calendar, basically the equivalent to a business meeting, but with everyone forced to be dressed to the nines because sponsors would be there.
It took place in a big mansion, belonging to some CEO or another, in the Swiss countryside.
So all the most important staff were invited, and put up in a fancy hotel.
Charles was waiting anxiously for you to arrive.
He had decided that today was the day he was going to tell you he knew about your uhh… side activities.
He didn't quite know how to broach the subject, but he was sure the inspiration would come to him at some point.
He'd spent the last two weeks avoiding any conversation with you, and he hadn't told Carlos a thing, confusing the Spaniard to no end as he watched Charles suddenly turn completely dismissive whenever you were mentioned.
When you arrived, he thought he was dreaming.
You were wearing a long red satin dress. It showed off your curves, having a very low neckline and no back.
The old rich pigs sponsors were going to love you.
He certainly did.
Wait what? Did he love you? He was certainly possessive over you. And completely obssessed with you, and your eyes, and your smile, and the way you were the only one who laughed when he made stupid puns…
“Charles?” you frowned at him, eyes full of concern as you snapped your fingers in his face, trying to get his attention.
You were standing right in front of him, sparkly makeup making you glow, and you smelled divine. He didn't know how long you'd been standing there.
His brain was short circuiting and he stared straight at your breasts that were barely covered by the rosso corsa fabric that was clinging to your body.
“Charles?” you knew he was staring, and you were getting slightly uncomfortable. “Are you okay, man?”
He paid for that dress. You looked fucking sexy incredible in a dress that he was responsible for buying, in his colour.
Something glinted in his vision as you lifted a hand to his forehead to check whether he was having some kind of fever.
You were wearing the bracelet. His collection. The bracelet you were wearing when you fucked yourself on camera with the dildo he also paid for.
“Charles people are staring. Do you need to lie down?”
Shit. He needed to say something.
But there was no way in hell that anything that came out of his mouth could possibly be appropriate right now.
He gave it a go anyway.
“You're all mine” he growled.
You jumped at his tone, retracting your hand in surprise.
“What?” you whispered, glancing around to see if anyone was listening in.
“Do you want to know a fun fact?” he said, mouth dry, brain barely working.
“Uhh… sure?”
“I paid for that dress”
You looked at him questioningly but he didn't elaborate.
“What?” you chuckled nervously. “No, I paid for this?” you were very confused by Charles' sudden change of personality. He looked like he was on drugs, pupils swallowing his irises as he scanned your body.
“I also paid for this” his voice was hoarse as his hand went to grab you wrist.
He internally begged you to understand what he was saying, even if his mouth couldn't say it out loud.
“I… I don't understand Charles… this is from your collection but you didn't buy it for me? What has gotten into you?” you ripped your arm away from his grasp.
“No, I paid for it, and I can prove it to you.”
You frowned as he took out his phone and tapped away on it for a minute, hiding it from your view.
You were even more confused when he put it back in his pocket and waited.
“Charles what-“ you were cut off by the sound of your phone buzzing in your bag.
What on earth was he playing at? You pulled it out to check it.
He opened his mouth just as you saw the notification on your screen, and you froze as your brain absorbed the information.
“I just sent you two hundred euros”
‘Ferrari69 has sent you 200€’
Your fingers tightened around your phone.
You physically couldn't look away from the screen.
You reread the notification over and over, while your brain replayed Charles' words.
This couldn't be happening.
You tried to heave in a breath but it got caught in your throat and you choked on a sob.
You walked away as quickly as you could, tears threatening to blur your vision as you almost ran down a hallway in search of somewhere you could block out the thoughts threatening to split your head open.
You've been found out. You're going to lose your job. Charles has lost all respect for you. You will lose your career, your friends, everyone you've ever known is going to be disgusted by you.
You didn't hear the footsteps behind you until it was too late.
Charles wrapped an arm around your middle and dragged you into the closest room he could find.
You didn't have the strength to fight.
Tears flowed freely down your cheeks as he sat you down in a chair and cradled your face in his hands, crouching down in front of you.
“Hey. Hey, it's okay. You're going to be okay. It's just me. I'm the only one who knows. Just breathe. Come on, deep breaths for me.”
Thankfully, Charles' brain had rebooted at the sight of your trembling frame running away from him.
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” He leaned his forehead against yours, thumbs wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I shouldn't have told you like that. I don't know what came over me. I’m sorry…”
At last you were breathing relatively normally again.
“Charles” your voice shook as you pushed him off and put your head in your hands.
“You have no idea. No idea how humiliating this is.”
“I won't tell anybody, I promise.” Charles took your hands in his and squeezed.
“That's not the point. It’s supposed to be secret. If anyone else finds out I'll lose my job, and… and you”
“Look at me” he whispered, and you slowly raised your head, eyes betraying nothing but vulnerability.
“You are not going to lose your job, or me. I have been in love with you for months. This is not going to change that. And I will not tell a soul about this, I promise…”
Your jaw dropped. Your head was pounding with all this information.
“And do you want to know a fun fact?” he cracked a smile and you couldn't help letting out a nervous laugh.
“I think I've had enough fun facts today thank you very much”
He chuckled dryly and nodded understandingly.
“This one is important though. Do you want to know why I followed your uhh… account, in the first place?”
You shook your head.
“It is because I was too much of a coward to tell you how I felt, and the woman in the videos reminded me of you. So it was like I was in my own little fucked up fantasy when I watched them.”
Your eyes were wide as you listened to him. He was thinking of you, while unknowingly jerking off to your actual nudes…
“And you have no idea how fucking hard I came when I figured out it was actually you”
Your breath caught in your throat.
“That is so fucked up, Charles”
He nodded.
“I know. So if anything, I'm the one who is humiliated, and if you never want to speak to me again, I will understand”
You laughed disbelievingly. It was almost sweet how he was trying to make you feel better.
“Charles… I don't think you understand. I am in love with you.”
His mouth opened and closed several times before any sound came out.
“Oh…”
You laughed “Yeah, oh…”
“You don't care that I am a pervert who has been sending you money?”
You froze and thought back to the conversation you'd had that night.
“Oh my god… is that how you figured it out?”
“No” he chuckled “I figured it out because you wore my fucking jewelry collection in a video filmed in a place I know very well, minutes before I saw you in it”
You sighed. “I knew it was a bad idea”
Charles’ hand came to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing at your lower lip.
“If it makes you feel better, not a day has passed where I haven't thought about fucking you in those bushes”
Your breath hitched and you saw his pupils grow in size.
“As long as we don't film it and post it on the internet, I don't see why we can't make that particular fantasy come true”
It was his turn to gasp.
“Next time we are in Maranello, I am going to fuck you under the moonlight.”
You scrunched your nose at his words.
“That's very sappy Charles”
He laughed, slowly leaning in closer to you as he responded.
“Well, so far the beginning of our relationship has been… complicated. I need to make up for it…” his lips brushed yours and your unsteady breath mingled with his “starting right. Now.”
He pressed his lips to yours and your eyes fluttered shut.
It was surreal, kissing the object of your long time affections.
His lips were so unnaturally soft, parting your own as his tongue came to deepen the kiss, and his hands came to rest on your waist.
Your own hands came up to curl in his hair and tug at the strands, making him groan.
“Fuck- don't do that unless you want to walk out of this room limping”
You smirked at him, very tempted by the offer. But you knew that at any moment someone was going to come looking for Charles for his speech.
“I'll take you up on that at some point, but right now you need to go. I'll get myself freshened up and join you in a minute”
He nodded, coming to his senses. He did need to go make a speech. Inaugurating his new relationship would have to wait.
His speech was the most entertaining thing of the event, considering how dull the rest of it was.
Every time he spotted you in the crowd he would stutter, blush, and need about a minute each time to get back on track.
And only you noticed, but he kept subtly readjusting himself every time he put a hand in his pocket, feigning nonchalance.
The two of you left straight after the speech, bumping into Carlos in the lobby.
“Where are you going, Cabrón? You need to do the thing at the end with the-“
He took one look at your guilty faces, and intertwined hands, and groaned.
“Jesus… okay, go. I will cover for you”
You both thanked him breathlessly and all but sprinted to Charles' car.
He drove you to the hotel you were both in, and dragged you up to you room as fast as was humanly possible.
Unlocking the door was a challenge, already climbing on each other by that point, and if someone else had been in the corridor at that moment they would have seen a shirtless Charles pulling your dress up around your waist while trying to get his keycard in your slot, as it were.
It wasn't long before you were inside, fully naked, pressed against the wall with your legs hooked over his arms as he pounded into you.
You panted and whimpered into each other's mouths, pulling each other closer as you struggled to kiss with the pleasure that was coursing through your bodies.
“I love you” he said, voice cracking with the effort of holding back.
“I love you, Charles” you whined, one hand scratching down his back, the other tangling in his hair to pull on it once again.
He growled and his hips slammed yours against the wall.
“Fuck, I'm going to fill you up if you keep doing that”
You moaned, extremely close to edge yourself.
“Do it. Fill me up, Charlie. Make me yours!”
You reached your highs at the same time, moans echoing in the room as you rode the waves of pleasure, clinging to each other desperately.
He carried you over to the bed, put you down gently and kissed you senseless.
You showered together and you put one of his shirts on (the ones mistakenly sent to you) to sleep in.
While you were in bed, cuddled up together, one of his hands slipped under the shirt and came to rest on one of your breasts.
“Baby?” you giggled as he gave it a quick squeeze.
“I can't believe I used to fantasize about these, not knowing they were next to me the whole time…”
He kissed your cheek and you groaned.
“God, you are such a perv, Charles”
He laughed softly. “I think you are not well placed to be saying that to me”
You gasped in mock offence.
“Why? Because I've been posting myself masturbating for the world to see?”
“Nooo…” he purred in your ear “Because, you are going to keep doing it” he bit your ear lightly as his other hand trailed down your body “and I am going to buy you all the things I want you to use on yourself, for the world to see”
#my thots#charles thots#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc#f1#formula 1#ask#request
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Cluster of Cores Part 4
Holiday request: cluster of cores x2 please! I love all your writing
Roy helps Danny into the living room, mindful of the two sleeping babes strapped to his chest in a nested sling. Once he's sure Danny has cleared the entrance, he sidesteps them, rushing toward the big swivel loveseat sofa they had just purchased.
It's large enough that the two could sit comfortably and pill up the pillows that were to Dani's demand of fluff. The thing spins, and has a nice little backrest that Danny can both sit and lay down. In the first few months, the twins will need a nest to grow in, and Dani has been cleared that the circular couch will be perfect.
Danny makes a tiny little noise of happiness when he settles in the middle of it. Roy is quick to pile the fluffiest throw blanket across his lap. Jason helps him lean back while Danny carefully holds the head of the newborns.
According to the humans ' medical knowledge, his children, Dan and Danika, have a clean bill of health. The trio had been released after a five-day stay- all expenses paid by Tim Drake- undergoing tests and observations.
Thankfully, for all intentions and purposes, the twins were fine.
They were sleeping in his arms, having just finished feeding off of Danny's ectoplasm. The young alien seemed confused when a nurse handed him a bottle, but when they explained the usage of it, the young Indigenous Daxamite opened the bottle and weakly poured a green liquid from the palm of his hand.
The babies enthusiastically launched onto the bottles, and Danny could not look away from them. The coma had turned him so weak that he needed one of those feeding pillows, unable to hold them in his trembling arms for too long.
But they were perfect. Roy thought it was adorable how his eyes shone as he stared at his children. During visiting hours, Dani spent most of her time leaning on her father's side, a feeding pillow on her lap, and being a miniature version of Danny.
The alien had even chosen a last name, claiming it was the closest thing in English. Surprisingly, what the Daxamite considered a lost language was what humans considered English.
The Fentons were now welcomed guests in the Todd-Wayne household. They will stay there alongside Roy and Lian until they reach their feet.
It was a shock to find out Danny was a teenager in Daxamite terms, just as much as a he was in human terms. Having three children, a five-year-old and twin newborns, will be difficult for the teenager to raise on his own.
Roy offered him complete support, deciding he would be his rock through every milestone the children needed. It was the least he could do for the person responsible for his daughter's safety.
"Are you comfortable?" Roy asks. Danny offers him a weak smile, nodding. His eyes, however, return to his children as though he is checking to see if they are real.
He can't help but smile warmly at the alien. "Is there anything you need?"
Danny thinks it over, hunching his shoulder slightly when he requests. "Fudge? My Dad would make me some when I was incubating the eggs."
Roy snaps his phone out of his pocket, pressing the speed dial to Oliver. The archer snaps into the speaker before the blond can greet him, "Fudge. Send me the most expensive and delicious fudge you have."
"Yes, of course." Oliver's answer is just as serious and as fast. "I'll have it there within thirty minutes."
Roy's voice softens when he turns back to Danny. "Is there anything else you like?"
The alien blinks his wide blue eyes at him, considering the question carefully before whispering. "Blankets? For Dan and Danika?"
Roy nods, face turning hard as stone when he returns to his phone. "Baby blankets. The softest ones you can find. Have the names Dan and Danika sewed into the blankets. One lilac, the other easter green.'
"It will be done," Oliver promises before hanging up the phone. Roy turns back to the bewildered Danny, then, as soft as spring rain, smiles at him.
"They should be here in about thirty minutes. If there is anything else you want, let Jason or me know."
"Um," Danny curls slightly inwards, holding the babies against his chest. Dan makes a bit of a fuss, wiggling around, but with one quick bottle grab, Danny has him resettle. Danika wiggles a bit, whimpering a little, but the Daxamite bounces his knee a little, moving the pillow under her.
This causes a soft rocking motion that quickly helps her calm down. Roy is mightily impressed that Danny already knows what to do as a new father. When Lian was born, he struggled to figure out all her different cries for weeks.
Dan slurps his bottle with his virgor, his soft tuff of hair shifting into a little flame. Danika makes a slight movement like newborns do when attempting to turn in the direction of their voices.
She seems comfortable facing her little head toward Danny before she settles into a nap. Apparently, as an ice core, she didn't need as much ectoplasm as Dan did. His son needed more help stabilizing in his environment through the help of his father before he was big enough to do it himself.
Roy was so happy Danny had woken. It would be a nightmare trying to figure everything out on their own. Roy's eyes fall to the bag resting on Danny's left side, nested comfortably among the pillows. Inside are the remaining eggs that are carefully waiting for the day they hatch.
He hopes it will take some time. Twins were already hard to manage, even with Roy's and Jason's help.
"Danny!" Dani yells, running into the room with a faint doll. "I brought Danika her first Earth toy!"
"Maybe when she's bigger." Danny laughs, one hand holding the bottle up for his son and the other carefully tracing the features of his new daughter. "She may like to make ice sculptures of it someday."
Dani beams, looking much brighter since the day Roy had met her. "I can teach her how!"
"Me too!" Lian shouts, jumping up and down, growing as excited as the Daxamites seem to gain a little glow around them. Roy's widens, turning away from the group to press the next speed dial on his phone.
"Yes?" Jason's modified voice sends a burst of excitement down his spine, but he squishes it. He needs to remind himself that for all the feelings he has for the other man, they aren't lovers. It likely won't ever be.
"Buy better blinds. Danny glows"
It is a testament to how long they know each other when all Jason responds with is a very serious "Of course. I'll bring some milk, too."
Distantly, he hears one of Jason's goons ask. "Is that the boss's boyfriend?"
"I thought they were married with kids?"
Roy hands up before he has a heart attack.
#dcxdpdabbles#Cluster of cores#Part 4#Holiday requests#Danny is home from the hospital.#He's a father#Roy is trying his best for his hero#They sound like a mafia to Danny#But he doesn't care cause he has his kids#Baby fic now
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I miss CEO Sevika :(
What about Reader and Sevika going to...idk a dinner party/charity event with multiple companies in attendance. Sevika is one of the speakers for the night and while she's nervous, she knocks it out of the park. Meanwhile Reader is like "wow my wife is such a fucking boss and so hot for doing that on stage, I can't NOT suck her off and get fucked in a random, out of the way bathroom right afterwards."
i was thinking about this ask the entire time she was up there by vander's statue giving her speech. my sweet baby.
men and minors dni
sometimes, you forget just how important sevika's work is. most days you're stuck in your office together, making phone calls and signing documents.
but it's nights like this, when sevika's company has its annual ball, that you're hit with how much sevika does for the community.
the company built on the idea of giving low income communities low interest loans to build businesses and homes. there're several neighborhoods and families that you know personally that have had their lives transformed by sevika's work. but it's not just that.
it's parks built on the company's dime, community centers and pools and basketball courts sponsored by sevika herself. it's the team of social workers and accountants sevika's carefully hired over the years, who make sure that your clients are trained in financial literacy so they don't fall through the cracks. it's underfunded public schools-- the schools you went to as a kid-- being sent busload after busload of books and computers and supplies from your wife. it's medical bills being paid off by a mysterious, 'anonymous' source--the chickenscratch on the checks all matching your wife's.
and nights like this, with each lead team member of all the departments giving presentations of the differences they've made in the community this year, where it really hits you how incredible your wife is.
your poor wife. sevika's currently on the brink of passing out from her nerves, a glass of whiskey shakily clutched in her palms as she waits behind the stage. "baby." you coo, reaching up to cup her face.
sevika winces and pouts in your hold. "i hate public speaking." she whines. you chuckle.
"i know, love." you sigh. you'd give this speech for her if you could-- but it's kinda a requirement that the ceo speak at these big events. "it's just five minutes, talk about the good you've done this year, get some claps, get some laughs, then we can bail." you promise her.
sevika pouts even more, slouching down against you. "you remember the first time we put one of these shitshows on?" she asks.
you giggle and nod.
your second year working for sevika, a few months into dating, and the company had the first of it's now notorious annual balls. of course, back then it wasn't quite as sophisticated as today's is, but it was pretty memorable. after her speech (which she nailed, because despite how much she hates it sevika is good at talking) sevika ran off the stage, high on the applause she'd received, and practically leapt into your arms where you stood backstage. "fuck i can't believe i did that." she whispered against your scalp. "and they liked it!" she laughs.
you giggled and kissed her cheek. "course they liked it, you're very easy to like."
and then sevika said the words you'd been dying to hear her say, the words you were trying desprately to keep inside your throat until she was ready. "i couldn't've done it without you, y'know." she whispered. your smile got softer, and sevika leaned impossibly closer to you. "you kinda scare the shit outta me and... i think i'm in love with you."
you had just grinned and kissed her, mumbling a teasing "you think or you know?" against her lips.
and here you are, nearly ten years later, on the same little patch of floor backstage of your favorite venue, smiling up at your wife.
"course i remember, baby. one of the best moments in my life. right up there with meeting you 'n marrying you. think it'll be in the little montage that flashes before my eyes once i die." you say, giggling.
sevika smiles sweetly and kisses you. "yeah, me too." she whispers.
you hold her for a moment, hoping the touch will help her relax a bit, both of you swaying gently in your dark little corner as you wait for seamus to finish his speech and introduce sevika. "you're gonna do amazing, y'know. you do every year."
"ugh. i know." sevika huffs against you. you giggle.
"so then why are you so worried?" you ask. sevika shrugs against you.
"just. 's a lotta people. and i like when you baby me." she says.
you burst into laughter just as the audience on the other side of the stage bursts into applause. sevika groans, and you give her one last good squeeze and a smooch to her cheek before pushing her toward the stage. "go ahead baby. you got this." you encourage her. sevika smiles shyly at you, and you curse. "shit, sev, wait! i left a kiss mark on your cheek!" you squeak, scrambling to grab her wrist and wipe off the lipstick that must've transferred from her lips to your own, then onto her cheek.
sevika ducks out of her hold, though, her smile only growing. "good. let 'em see it." she says, winking at you before ducking under a curtain and out onto the stage.
the crowd bursts into applause at her appearance, and your heart melts as her words sink in.
she's such a fucking sap. you love her so much you think you might explode.
she nails it, because of course she does. by the time she walks back off stage, there are literally people chanting her name, like she's a rockstar or something.
you intend to tease her about it, but then you see her and her sweet shy smile, your very obvious kiss mark on her cheek, and her hands nervously clutching her note cards, and something ravenous courses through your bloodstream.
you nearly tackle her to the floor as you launch forward to kiss her. sevika gasps, and her notecards go flying as her hands reach up to hold you tight. fuck you love her. she's the most incredible woman you've ever met.
"sev." you whisper between kisses you can't stop pressing to her skin. "sevika."
"y-yeah?" she asks, her voice squeaky and excited.
"can i blow you in the bathroom, please?" you ask. "want you so fuckin' bad."
sevika shivers full bodied and lets out a shudder before she grabs your wrist and starts sprinting toward the bathroom. you cackle the entire way.
your favorite thing about this venue is that they have plenty of single stall bathrooms. you and sevika have used this feature to your convenience many times over the years.
sevika's already rock hard in her trousers by the time you lock the door and pin her to the wall. she's clawing at you, whimpering as she tries to catch your lips in a kiss. you giggle, cupping her jaw and kissing her soundly, shoving your tongue in her mouth to calm her down a bit.
sevika sighs heavily, and you pull away, gasping a breath before dropping to your knees.
"fuck. i'm not gonna last, baby, fuck." sevika whines as you paw at her pants. you giggle.
"you better. want you to cum inside my cunt, love." you say.
sevika makes a pained noise, and her dick jumps in her boxers. you laugh. "you better touch yourself while you're suckin' me then." she says. "want you to cum with me."
it's your turn to shiver. you claw at her boxers, a little growl escaping you when her cock's finally revealed to you. "fuck." you grunt, before leaning forward and just pressing your face against her cock.
sevika sighs dreamily, reaching down to cup your face as you nuzzle her dick. "so pretty on your knees." she whispers. you smile up at her. "lemme see you touch yourself." sevika requests. you shove a hand down your waistband, rubbing your wet clit with your fingers as you rub your face against her length. "that's it, baby. fuck. now put your mouth on me, love."
you're needy for her, so needy that you take a little too much of her at once, gagging loudly on her cock.
sevika moans at the feeling then laughs at the embarrassment on your face when you pull back and catch your breath before trying again.
"don' laugh at me." you pout, spitting on her dick and jerking her while you blink back your tears.
"'s just cute baby. so fuckin' needy for me you choke yourself on it." she sighs.
you shiver a little. you can't really deny that. "you did amazing, by the way." you whisper. "you always do."
sevika's shoulders scrunch up to her ears, and her eyes dart away from yours. you giggle. "shush. you aren't supposed to be talking right now."
you laugh and kiss her wrist, then try again, taking her back in your mouth and slowly working down her cock.
sevika melts against the wall behind her, and her eyes fly back to yours. you hum around her and she groans. "shit, i'm not gonna last, baby, fuck." sevika whines as she starts thrusting into her mouth.
drool is trailing down your chin and into a puddle on the floor, and when sevika's thigh starts shaking you sink two fingers into your cunt, getting ready to take her.
"fuck, i love you." sevika whines. "i love you so much, baby, love your fuckin' mouth, love fuckin' your mouth--" she cuts herself off with a little giggle, and then she groans. "off-- off-- pull off baby, i'm gonnahh!" sevika shudders as you pull away right before her orgasm. she glares down at you, and you giggle, kissing her clothed thigh. "get up here." she growls, tugging you to your feet and roughly shoving you back against the sink.
you grin, shimmying out of your pants with sevika's help, kissing her anywhere you can reach as she hauls you up.
"you ready for me?" she asks, rubbing her cock against your soaked folds. you whine and nod.
"been ready for you since you put that suit on." you tease.
sevika just chuckles and pushes in, both of you groaning at the feeling.
"oh fuck, please tell me you're close." sevika whines, ducking down to bite at your neck as she starts hammering into you.
your hand flies to your clit, rubbing quick little circles against it in time with her thrusts. "s-so close." you whimper.
sevika shivers at your answer, then lifts up to kiss you on the lips. "i love you so much." she whispers.
"p-please cum inside me, sev, wanna make you feel good."
"y-you always do baby, fuck!" she shouts as she fills you up, cumming and shivering against you.
you grin, satisfaction and pleasure filling you equally until you're falling apart around her, laughing and moaning as you pull sevika to your chest.
"you really did do amazing, you know." you sigh after you catch your breath.
sevika smiles against you. "i know. practiced really hard last night, my wife finds it sexy when i give speeches."
"your wife finds it sexy when you do anything, love." you correct her. she grins.
"can we go home now?" she asks.
you giggle and nod. "kinda have to babe. my shirts covered in drool, and i'm sure we got cum somewhere on your pants or something." you say.
sevika cackles.
taglist!
@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner
@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther
@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart
@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette
@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp
@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner
@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke
@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone
#sevika#sevika arcane#sevika imagine#sevika x reader#sevika x you#soft sevika#sevika smut#this got long i just love ceo sevika#i really hope they make her the leader of zaun because she just. radiates leadership to me idk hahah
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call me or not, it's up to you.
☰ — synopsis : you come back home after a night out and see you accidentally posted your private stories public, and received a drunk lengthy voicemail from your ex, ran.
☰ — pairing : haitani ran x fem!reader ☰ — length : 2.4k words ☰ — contents : nsfw and 18+ contents, mentions of violence (sanzu being sanzu), slight phone sex; they don't directly communicate, ran being mildly toxic and messing with your emotions, teeny itsy bitsy drops of gaslighting ☰ — notes : i literally suck at writing toxic characters so im SORRY if this is literal ass, (im trying my hardestttt) i just had a dream about this and had to execute it as best as i could lol
It was a regular Thursday night when you stumbled into your date’s house, struggling to walk with half a heel working.
“Let’s get you out of these.” He knelt before you and helped you unbuckle your heels and you sighed in relief when he slipped them both off.
“Remind me to never wear heels again,” you giggled, clutching onto him. He leaned down and kissed you. You hummed, still feeling the buzz from the alcohol earlier and wrap your arms around his waist, kissing him back. “I had fun tonight.”
He cupped both your cheeks in his hands and peppering them with kisses, each of them making you giggle at the ticklish feeling. “Me too.” There was a final lingering kiss before he pulled away. “Let’s get you ready for bed, alright?” He traced your cheekbones with his finger, and you smiled up at him, nuzzling your cheek against his hand.
“Okay.” He helped you up the stairs and you collapsed onto his bed, your dress riding up your thighs as you laid there, clutching at his soft sheets.
“I’m gonna shower first, alright babe?” He said in the process of removing his shirt. “Wanna join me?”
You shook your head, eyes threatening to close shut as you nuzzled his pillow. “I’m alright. You go first.”
He bit his lip, admiring you splayed out on the sheets for a moment, his mind racing with all the things he could do you tonight if you’d join him in the shower. But of course his fantasies only stay in his head since you’ve been rejecting every single one of his advances for the last three months. It’s always the same excuses : you’re not in the mood, or you’re too tired.
He sighed. “You sure babe?”
You’re half asleep at this point, just barely conscious as you murmur, “‘m sure.” His tongue poked his cheek and he nodded, saying nothing else and heading inside the bathroom.
You vaguely hear the shower turn on and about to enter a deep sleep when your phone buzzes.
@/shibayuzuha : oh my god who is this man u’re with on ur story? He is CUTE!!
@/hina_tachibana : was this supposed to be posted on your main? 😢
“What story?” you muttered, rubbing your eyes and sitting up. You click through your instagram story and rewatch the story you posted a few hours earlier when you were at the club. They were all videos of you and Masato dancing together, kissing, taking shots. Honestly you were buzzed the entire night and you thought you posted them on your private account, much less your close friends. “Oh fuck.”
You went to delete all the stories but the damage was already done, over 300 people already saw it. Oh well. That’s tomorrow’s problem.
You lay back down, eyelids blinking slowly as you fight back sleep and check your missed phone calls you accidentally ignored. That’s when you see it. A voicemail from Haitani Ran. Any ounce of sleep in your body vanished the moment you sat up quickly, rubbing your eyes checking if you saw correctly.
It was over five minutes long and part of you wanted to delete it, but at this moment, you couldn’t help but be curious. You pressed play and put the phone up to your ear.
“Hey. It’s me. Hope I’m not blocked or whatever, I know how petty you can get.” He chuckled to himself and the deep rumble of it took you back to all those months ago when you’d be laying beside him, head on his chest and just listen to the sound of his heartbeat as he spoke on the phone.
There was a deep inhale and the familiar crackle of him smoking that always used to relax you. “Saw your story by the way. Is that your new boy toy? Two of you look good together.” He exhaled and his voice was kinda slurred. “Kinda glad you moved on though. Thought you’d never get over me to be honest.”
“Oh fuck off,” you mumbled. He was still as full of himself as he was when you both ended things almost a year ago. If this was a regular phone call you would’ve hung up or told him he’s not that special, but you looked down and still saw another six minutes left. What the fuck else could he possibly have to say to you?
He chuckled again, and it was so obvious he was drunk now, which surprised you as he was a heavy weight and in your three years of dating you saw him get drunk only twice.
“You looked so fucking sexy in that dress, baby.” His groan had you squeezing your thighs together. “I can tell by the way he was holding you in those fucking videos he can’t handle you the way I can. He hasn’t fucked you yet, has he? Bet he’s real gentle and sweet with you not knowing you like it deep, and rough. Fuck, man.” He exhaled, rubbing his palm on his face. “Wanna know what I’d do if I was there with you baby?”
“...yes,” you whispered weakly to yourself. It was pointless; he couldn’t hear you and yet you were responding like he could. Blame it on the alcohol but there was nothing you wanted more than Ran right now.
“Bet you do. I’ll humour you though. I’ll take you to the dance floor and run my hands all over that body of yours, force that pretty head of yours back so I can mark all over your neck. Get you so hot and bothered till you’re begging me to fuck you. That happened one time didn’t it? Remember that one night in the club? I had my hands all over you and you dared me to flip your skirt up and fuck you right there. Man, you were such a tease, and a fucking sadist too. Remember when you said you wanted to watch some schmuck clean up my cum from the floor?”
You giggled and bit your lip, teasing your hands down your stomach. You remembered that night perfectly. Ran changed you when you were dating. You don’t even recognise yourself right now because everything just felt right when you were with him. Those years with him were the best of your life, you were young and figuring shit out. You’re still young and figuring shit out, but without him you’re taking a little longer to come to the conclusion of certain things.
Ran had his ups and downs. He was far from the perfect boyfriend, and he knew that. That’s why he was so surprised when you stayed for all those years despite his flaws. He was emotionally unavailable and never spoke about anything concerning him. He was sometimes rude and blunt when pissed off, and the arguments you both would get into would end up in the two of you ignoring each other for weeks. At first you’d be the one to break the silence and show up to his house and just hug him. He’d always smell like cigarettes and it should’ve disgusted you yet you couldn’t help but feel comfort. The smell was strong and yet it never bothered you when you smelt it on him. You’d apologise, crying in his arms as he embraced you back, rubbing up and down your back as you vented it all out in his chest, wetting his shirt with your tears. If he had people over he’d tell them to get the fuck out, hiding your face in his chest until the door closed.
That was the usual routine until the arguments got worst and your pride grew stronger and you’d refuse to talk to him until he broke it first. He didn’t believe you at first but after a month of no contact he finally broke it first. Since then, he was always the one apologising first, showing up to your house in the middle of the night at random hours to tell you he’s sorry and didn’t mean what he’d said.
The ups were better than the downs in the relationship. He’d teach you things, he always made you feel good, and simply being next to him was enough to make your entire week, even if it's for a few hours. He made you feel like the only girl in the world, like the most special girl to exist, and he helped boost your confidence by buying you nice things like clothes, accessories, lingerie, and tell you to look at yourself in the mirror and watch as he worships your body, taking his time to kiss his way down your stomach and thighs, and once he got to your pussy he swore he could eat you out for hours, just until your thighs were shaking around him.
The memory of his tongue between your legs had your back arching off the bed clutching the phone tighter to your ear as you squeezed a hand between your legs, playing with yourself as he talked you through it over the phone.
“Bet you’re touching yourself right now,” he exhaled shakily. “If you’re not, you better start. Want you to remember how well I fucked you every time. Can you do that for me baby?”
“Mmhmm.” Thankfully Masato takes decades in the shower so you didn’t have to worry about him walking in or hearing. Not like you would’ve cared honestly. He’s not Ran, and he won’t ever be.
“Miss you being my good girl. Fuck. He doesn’t deserve to have his hands all over you. Should send Sanzu over and fuck, get him to cut all his fucking fingers off for touching you like that. Man, I bet that idiot doesn’t know that I fucked you in that same dress you know? That’s what got me so damn bothered right now. Wearing the shit I bought you to go fuck around?”
“‘M sorry,” you whimper, parting your folds and slipping as many fingers as you could fit inside without hurting yourself. No matter whatever you shove inside there, it never feels as good as Ran’s fingers, or tongue, or cock. “Need you so bad Ran.”
“Man, wanna hear how you sound right now. Bet you sound so sweet, like usual. Could you do something for me?” You nodded and stopped your fingers movements, listening to his next words.
“Call me again. I miss you so much it’s crazy. Got so much to talk to you about. It’s been how long? Couple months since I last heard from you. And I know you don’t hate me. You never could. That’s something I love about you. Always there for me when I need you. We both took each other for granted, you know? Deny it all you want but you did. And that’s okay. But I wanted to let you know if you ever come back into my life, I’m not letting you go. For real, not making that mistake again. I dunno why I called you tonight honestly, just drank a lot and now I fucking miss you. Call me or not, it’s up to you.”
Then he said the words that made your heart nearly stop and freeze over in your chest. “I love you.”
Before you could even say it back the voicemail ended, leaving you conflicted.
#—tr </3#ran x reader#haitani ran x reader#ran haitani x reader#tokyorev x reader#tokrev x reader#tokrev#haitani ran smut#ran smut#ran haitani smut
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Lucky Star
max verstappen x reader
warnings: PDA?? breaking up??? curse words,
summary: upgrades to his car were fine, but having his lucky star in the lone star was even better
Max had not won a race since June, many fans believed it was because of the breakup between him and his now ex Kelly, but no one really knew why his demeanour that was unfazed and really not up for fun changed over the summer break.
You did though, that’s because you were what changed. You had officially met Max at the Monaco Grand Prix a few months back. You were not new to the F1 world, having been to a few races in the past. You had a very strong love for the sport and went whenever it was possible. You had been invited by RedBull for your work in Tag Heuer- one of their biggest sponsors.
As a designer for one of the most expensive watch brands, you got paid very well, being able to live in the principality yourself, but not many people knew who you were, and you were more than okay with that. You lived yourself as you wanted, without the opinions you couldn’t care less about flooding your comment section.
“And this is Y/N from Tag Heuer. She’ll be in the garage this weekend.” Christian introduced you to Max. “Max, nice to meet you.” He shook your hand with a smile. You shook his hand with a greeting of your own. “Are you ready for this weekend?” You followed up, politely. “I hope so.” He laughed in his natural fashion. “It’s hard to overtake here, let’s hope you don’t have to.” You joked back and he looked almost happy you had an idea on what you were talking about. “You know in the chicane….”
That was the first time you met Max, you had small conversations throughout the weekend, but not enough to leave a lasting impression, or so you thought. Over the summer, Tag Heuer was creating a custom version of their Monaco watch for Max himself, and to the company, it only made sense that it was designed in Monaco, by the new head of design that lived in Monaco…you.
You walked into the back room of the store setting up for the appointment that was scheduled in a few moments. Nothing in you thought Max, who met people everyday would remember you, especially after his public breakup with Kelly and lack of a race winning car following Spain.
“Y/N?” You looked up from your iPad to see Max walking in. “It is indeed. How are you?” Max seemed to go through the formalities and the extent of designing the watch easily, but you could tell something else was on his mind. “Well, this isn’t too far off the original design, only a few colour changes. It should be ready in a few months time.” You said walking out of the office with him in tow. “I’m sure you know if you have any questions you can always call.” You ended your speech. Max nodded looking out the glass doors before looking back at you.
“I do have one question.” He started and you nodded at him to continue. “Would you want to have lunch with me?” He asked softly, a blush rising to his cheeks. You smiled at the question, of course you would love to, but until you handed these papers off and your process was done, that was a very strict…
“Max, I would love too,” you started softly, and Max was smart enough to know where your tone of voice was heading, “but until this,” she waved the small iPad, “is out of my hands, you know I can’t.” You finished telling him and he looked at the iPad like he would another car on track.
“How long?” The look on your face said enough about your confusion. “Until this,” he pointed, “is out of your hands?” you but your lip to keep your chuckle at bay. “Maybe two, even three weeks.” You admitted. “I’ll wait then.” He promised. “Max, not to say I’m not flattered, but we’ve had a handful of conversations in the past, months ago even, when you had a girlfriend, is this even a smart thing for you to do?”
Max seemed mildly taken aback. “You may have a point,” he nodded his head, “but I enjoyed our conversations a lot, I didn’t feel like Max Verstappen the world champion, I just felt like Max.” He reasoned and it was one you couldn’t argue. With a slight chuckle you agreed, “Three weeks it is.”
You had actually managed to get to Switzerland and set the watch into work within two weeks, but when you told Max, he had been in Ibiza with Lando and Martin Garrix. You two talked as much as you could over the time zone, and by the time you finally met up for your date, it felt natural, like you had done it plenty of times before.
Over the course of the next few months you and Max spent whatever free time he had in his apartment. You never minded just sitting on his couch while he streamed with Redline or just winded down, you simply enjoyed each others company. At first Max didn’t know how to attend to you, he was used to having to go out almost every day, buy things, order other stuff, or just constantly be running in his relationships. After you had told Max you didn’t need anything from him other than himself he relaxed and you two were better than ever.
You hadn’t been to any more races since becoming Max’s girlfriend. You were in the process of designing a new watch, and that took a lot of your time.
Austin was the first race of the triple header Max had made you promise you would attend. You were happy you did as well. You had watched Max win anything for the first time since Spain. You wiped the small tears that went down your cheek as you watched from the pit-lane but more filled at every wipe.
You watched as he got out of his car and ran to his crew that congratulated him. You hadn’t seen Max smile this much at a race in a long time. Despite having interviews- that Max didn’t care for- he came running to you and with no thought in his head and kissed you, shielding most of the kiss with his water bottle. “I love you.” He whispered and you knew the tears were no longer from his win. “I love you.” You recited back to him and he kissed you again smiling as he pulled away before running off to his interview.
After making your way from the pit lane and into the garage Christian patted your shoulder, “I think you should be around more often.”
maxverstappen1 posted!
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maxverstapppen1 Perfect timing @/tagheuer
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yourusername 💙💙💙
maxverstappen1 ❤️
forzamaxie33 oh he said fuck y'all for real
#max verstappen series#max verstappen x charles leclerc#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen smut#max verstappen#max verstappen x black!reader#max verstappen x reader smut
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