#this is one of those areas where he WOULD have an awareness of how this might affect Peter emotionally and would put that first

[sinlilith]

★ 彡 STRESS RELIEVER. ✧ MIGUEL O'HARA

oneshot ❥ you're struggling to keep your focus with the stress and miguel offers to ease that worry off you.

❥ tropes: modern + college au. afab reader + playboy miguel. ❥ content warning: explicit content (18+), finger f*cking, dirty talk. minors do not interact. ❥ extras: divider creds: cafekitsune. ❥ wc: 3,573

a/n. this is long overdue for someone who requested miguel to finger fuck reader as a stress relief. i aged reader and miguel to between 22-23 in this oneshot since they're college students. this fic is longer than intended but hey, we like to take it slow burn here.

Sometimes you contemplate why you put yourself in this kind of situation. 

You were aware that you have exams coming up in the next few weeks. But you were focused on making sure that you got your assignments done before the deadline. So it was natural for you to prioritise those. You wish you had paid more attention to the dates because just when you thought that you would have more time to revise, you didn’t. Leaving you with only three weeks until your exam. And now you’re struggling to get information into your head. 

“Fuck,” you mumble. The machine makes a soft drilling noise as it pours coffee into your mug. You rub your forehead with your hand as you wait for your drink to finish. Thinking about what topics you need to revise for the exam. Mentally planning how you would organise and plan yourself for another long session of studying. It’s going to be another long night.

When your drink is ready, you stride your way to the dining table where all your notes and books are set. With not enough desk space you have in your room, the dining table has turned into your second desk to accommodate all the reading materials and your laptop to work on. You strap yourself in your seat, ready for another torturous session of studying for the finals. 

All the caffeine from the coffee, tea and sugary energy drinks didn’t last long in your system. At first, you feel the buzz of the caffeine that helps you go through two hours of reading and answering mock questions without a proper break. You feel yourself pushing through, feeling motivated that you can do this. But then, the effects wear off, and now you’re struggling through short video clips on your laptop after two hours into your study session. 

Your mind battles. Reminding you about the consequences of you losing more time. But you can’t be bothered at the moment. You are convincing yourself that you deserve a break from studying for fifteen minutes which turned into a two-hour rest and procrastination. 

At this rate, you know that you won't get any studying done. You’re going to have to face the consequences of that but you can’t be bothered about it for now. Staring mindlessly at your laptop with headphones on as you watch a reality television adaption to pass the time. 

“Dios, you’re still here this late?” 

Your eyes look up from your laptop to find your roommate in the dining area. Miguel stands at the entrance in his black leather jacket, red shirt underneath and dark-coloured jeans. His black helmet rests on his left lip and it looks like he’s returned from wherever he went or did. You didn’t realise that he wasn’t in the house you both shared all this time. “When was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror? You look shit.” 

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” You say. Your relationship with Miguel O’Hara is rather tricky, to say the least. Sometimes, the two of you get along and have a decent conversation with each other about careers, and personal experiences and share similar interests. Though other times, it’s not necessary. It’s mostly when he would bring people over to the house and then take one girl up to his room. Having to hear moans from the girls he fucked and Miguel’s growls and dirty talks. 

It annoys you to no end, especially the one incident when you walked into the bathroom with him getting a blow job in the shower. It’s still his fault for not locking the bathroom or even putting a sign on the door to say that he’s busy getting pleased.  

Even after that, your subtle attraction for Miguel still resonates with you. 

You realise your mug is empty, another drink that is supposed to keep you going has gone to waste in your system. You can’t be bothered but you know that you’ve wasted time not studying when you’re supposed to. So, you get up from your seat, walk into the kitchen and do the same routine that you’ve done the past few weeks when you’re cramming for finals. Either make your coffee, or tea or grab an energy drink. The caffeine from the coffee is too much for you to handle at the moment and tea isn’t strong enough for you. So you settle for an energy drink where it’s in between enough caffeine to maybe help you go through for another three hours for now. 

“Are you thinking of studying again?” Miguel sounds a bit disbelieving, but not surprised. He’s now in the kitchen with you as you take your energy drink of choice for the night—or early morning. You don’t want to look at the time “There’s no point. You’re not going to remember anything at this rate.”

“Can we just… not do this?” You warn, holding your hand up as a sign for him to stop talking. Stop creating conversations that would lead to an argument because you know it would happen. Especially with your emotions all over the place.  

Miguel stares at you, his eyes roaming up and down. Not long after, his lips curl into a smirk. Leaning his side against the frame of the long, rectangular entrance arch. “You’re stressed out. Miss Perfect finally breaks down for finals.”  

A tired sigh escapes out of your mouth. You focus to proceed on opening up the can, hearing its fizziness before pouring it into your mug. “You could say that.” 

The kitchen falls into silence. What he says is certainly true and you feel that you brought this on yourself. You were off-tracked with your assignments and didn’t check the right exam dates. It’s an error on your part but you are trying to do your best to make it through another year of college without failing. At this point, you’re willing to accept a passing grade just to make it to another year.  

“I’ll study and keep you company,” Miguel declares. “Only to make sure you stay focused and get on track. No more messing around. Got that?” 

You blink, unprepared for his words. You’re not sure why he’s doing this to you but what he said made a rush of warmth fill your chest. Despite his words, you guess that he thinks it’s better to have someone to study with rather than doing it alone. But you don’t ask Miguel if that’s his intention, in case he decides to rethink his offer.

“Thank you.” 

Miguel unfolds his arms and lets it drop to his sides. His hands are in his pockets as he’s about to leave, but then he looks over his shoulder to you. “And also; nadie bebe su bebida energética de una taza.” He says before disappearing elsewhere. 

You blink and look down at the mug in your hand, guessing that Miguel is talking about how energy drinks are meant to drink from their can, and not from a mug. 

* * * * * 

You did manage to push yourself for another two hours before you came crashing again. 

“I can’t focus on anything else right now. My mind has gone blank.” You sigh, slumping on your seat. That’s another study session that failed.

“Hm,” Miguel responds. Focusing on his study materials. “I think you’ve studied too much. That’s why you’re burned out.” 

There is some truth to his words. You have been pushing yourself to the bone for this exam and now your mind is haywired. Everything feels numbing in your head. The feelings of exhaustion, guilt and unbotheredness are jumbled in you. 

“I’m just really stressed out. I want to do well on this exam but my brain just… can’t grasp anything that I’ve studied.” You say, sounding a little disheartened. “I can’t focus, I can’t concentrate.” 

Miguel couldn’t help but glance at you. Taking in the way you’re slumped in your seat and how hollow your eyes are, filled with fatigue and emptiness. You look stressed out. He wonders when was the last time you had rest – a proper break. Not the stupid Pomodoro breaks where you take five to ten minutes of break time before getting back to studying. 

He wonders when was the last time you had taken care of yourself? 

Miguel turns his attention to you when he hears you close one of your heavy books. You let out a sigh, “I can’t even relax without being so much on edge. Fuck.” 

He thinks you’re right as he sees the way your body tenses in stress and anxiety. Miguel’s expression stays unfazed though he does feel sympathy seeing you in such a state. “Hey, you should get some rest. Go to bed early or something.” 

“I will after I attempt to get this lesson done. Then, I’ll go to bed.” 

Miguel gives you a solemn look. Your determination is one of the things he admires about you. Your willingness to do whatever it takes to get your points across. It made you endearing in his eyes. But at the moment, it’s making you look stubborn and somewhat prideful. The last thing you need is a bad experience of burnout before your exam, and he knows that you know this as well deep down.

“Let me help you to relax,” 

“Huh?” You shoot him a confused look. As if he’s said something unusual to you. “Help me… relax? How do you plan on doing that?” 

Miguel nods, “You are tensed up and you’re not getting anything remembered in your head. Your mind can’t focus.”  

You raise a brow at him, unsure where your roommate is coming from. Miguel is right, you do need to take a proper break since your productivity is rather counterproductive. But his words still puzzle you about how he can help you relax. “And how do you plan on doing that, exactly?” You ask curiously. “What do you do to relax when you’re stressed out?” 

“You know, go to the gym. Take a walk, drive around.” Miguel says it casually. “Sometimes masturbating helps to wire your brain to relax.”

You stare at your roommate before burying your face in your hands with a groan. Not only is the suggestion embarrassing but you have to imagine Miguel playing with himself. How his hands would stroke his cock, hot and pulsing in the palm of his hands. Envisioning the grunted breaths and deep groans he makes. It isn’t as if you haven’t done that to yourself either, pleasuring yourself. You’ve done that on the nights where you could hear the headboard of his bed from his room moving as the girl Miguel brought for the night kept moaning. 

You shake your head, dismissing the thoughts immediately. Or try to. “I’m not in the right mindset to do that.” 

Miguel raises an eyebrow. “I’m not saying you should do it. I’m offering to do it. It’s on the table for you.” 

“What?” You stare at him in shock and confusion. You think you heard him wrong but from the unfazed look on his face, you know that he is serious about this. Serious about giving you an orgasm, or maybe multiple orgasms. Because you know from the women and girls he brings over to fuck, Miguel has them moaning more than three times. 

When you open up your mouth, you can hear yourself stammering your words. The thought of it is disgusting but at the same time, arouses you. “Miguel, I–” 

“Do you trust me?” He asks, his red eyes piercing into yours. Captivating you to stop talking. To stop denying the offer of pleasure. You give Miguel a look of uncertainty, unsure how to respond to his offer.

“What’s it gonna be?” Miguel asks. The corner of his mouth curves up to a tiny smirk. “No pressure, chica. I want you to think about it and let me know if you’re up for it or not.” 

Miguel goes back to reading his study notes with a neutral expression as if the conversation didn’t happen. He doesn’t look at you and the silence in the room speaks volumes. Leaving you to think about the offer. You’re not sure why he is even offering himself to give you pleasure. Miguel is your friend, for goodness sake. The guy is out of your league and he has been with other people, you know this. Is he doing this out of pity or could there be more to it? 

The two of you have lived together for three years of schooling, and have known each other for that long. He doesn’t give you attention in a lustful way or lustful like he does with other girls; the kind of interest in starting a sexual relationship with you. It’s a blessing in disguise yet at the same time, you want a connection more than just being his friend. 

You have a crush on Miguel but he doesn’t seem the type of guy who isn’t ready to commit to one person just yet. Especially when you’re both still young and exploring life ahead.  

“Okay,” you closed your book with a thud. You catch his eyes when you fully turn to talk to him. This idea is already as insane as it is, but you’re desperate to stop feeling like a lost cause about your exam. You just want to forget about your test for a few minutes. Maybe a couple of hours at most. “I’ll take up on your offer. What I’ve been doing is not working, and I need some sort of break before I go insane.” 

Miguel grins and then puts his reading materials away. You always think that he looks so handsome when he smiles. “Well then. Move your books and laptop aside and sit on the table for me.” Miguel looks at you when you stare at him. “It will be a lot nicer like that, trust me.” He adds. 

“Okay, I’ll get my stuff out of the way.” You say and begin picking up your books and laptop. Miguel does the same, putting his things away, then turns his attention to look at you. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the table, waiting for his next words. The beating of your heart thumping is the only thing you can hear as you watch Miguel. He stands in front of you in between your thighs. Tall, built and handsome. His red eyes look down on you as they shine under the lights in the dining area. 

You feel his hands on the sides of your waistband shorts, his fingers brushing against your clothed skin and hips. “May I?” Miguel asks as he looks at you. 

“Sure,” you say. You’re not one to be nervous around easily but your roommate seems to have that effect on you. When you lift your hips slightly, Miguel curls his fingers on the waistband and pulls down your shorts. Discarding your clothed item you notice that he’s taken off your panties too. “Miguel–” 

His stare made you pause, his red piercing eyes keep you quiet. You’ve always known what Miguel’s eyes are like but in this moment of what you’re letting him do to you, it stirs feelings in you. The gaze in his eyes is fiery in desire; so focused and enraptured. He looks at you in silence – keeping his eyes on you – as he slowly pulls down everything and discards it somewhere in the room. 

“Open your legs a little for me, pretty,” Miguel tells you. “Yes, that’s it.” 

The heat on your cheeks burns you as your heart thumps in your chest at how intimate and vulnerable the situation looks. Never in your dreams you would be in this situation, much less doing it with Miguel O’Hara.

 “It’s not too late to change your mind and tell me no.” He says. Standing between your legs, his calloused fingers on your inner right thigh. “I won’t hate you for it.” 

Your breathing is soft and steady. “Shouldn’t you have asked me that before you took my panties off?” You chuckled with a small smile. You feel a little more relaxed about what you and he are starting. 

Miguel grins, “I probably should have.” His expression becomes serious. “I’ll start slow.” 

You watch as he puts two fingers in his mouth with a gentle suck. When he pulls them out, his digits are glistened wet under the lights. Lubricated and wet against his tan skin. Miguel catches you dazing at him, his intense expression stays on you, as he brings his fingers between your thighs. They find themselves between your flaps, tracing your inner folds with his fingertips. 

“You’re already wet before I touch you.” Miguel hums in approval. “That’s good.” 

His fingers move slowly like he promised. You feel him gather your sleek arousal with a gentle swipe of his thumb and move up to the hood of your cunt. You moan softly when you feel Miguel play with your clit, circling and putting just the right pressure that has you tingling in sensation. Your hands grip on the edge of the table as you brace yourself. 

“Gosh, that feels nice.” You sigh. Your eyes are closed, indulging in the pleasure, finding your body relaxed and mind in tranquillity. Focusing on feeling his fingers touch and tease your folds and clit. Maybe this is what you truly need for a break from intense studying. 

“I like the look on your face,” Miguel tells you. You can picture the smirk from the tone of his voice. “This is just the beginning of your stress relief.” 

You didn’t get to open your eyes and ask him what he meant when you felt something push inside your cunt. Your walls are wet and warm, feeling one of Miguel’s digits sliding into your pussy with ease. It has you gasping and moaning softly, your back arches and hands gripping tightly onto the table edge. Miguel has his index finger in you and he slips in his middle finger, stretching your pussy open. His thumb is still circling your clit as his fingers thrust in and out of you. 

“Stay still, bonita.” His voice deeps, almost growling. “And don’t think. Just focus on the feeling of my fingers. Relax for me.” 

You can’t help but tighten around his fingers from the command. Hoping that he didn’t feel the way your clit throbs from his command. You never heard him speak like that before – maybe not to you – but it sounds hot. All you could focus on is the way his fingers rub and massage your pussy. 

You can tell that Miguel is certainly experienced with the way he can tease your vulva and play with your clit, letting your breathless sighs and moans guide him. It’s completely easy to forget about anything else but being finger fuck by the guy you liked. 

“Oh, oh.” You softly moan, putting the heels of your feet on the edge of the table. Your hands clutch onto his forearms as Miguel fingers you. It has your head spinning with the way he alternates between fingering and rubbing your slick folds. The pace is not fast or slow-- just perfect, as it eases you off and you forget about what you're stressed about in the first place. 

And when he pushes his fingers into your pussy, it has you tilting your head back in ecstasy, moaning his name, as you feel him going deeper.

"So tight around my fingers. You definitely need this." Miguel smirks, his breath warms your neck. “Need a good stretch, don’t you, bonita?” 

You groan as you feel him continuously plunge his digits in and out of you. Miguel doesn’t stick to one way to pleasure you; he would rub your wet folds, flicker your clit up and down and sideways with his thumb, and circle your little pearl. At the corner of your eye, you see the corner of his mouth curve up in a smirk when clutching onto his forearms for dear life. 

“Miguel,” you mewl. The knot in your lower belly tightens when he plunges his whole fingers into your slick pussy, thrusting them in and out. Your body moves in a sudden, forward thrust when Miguel continues to come hither inside your pussy, having his fingers rubbing your G-spot. He doesn’t stop to flicker and circle your throbbing clit and a sultry gasp catches in your throat as your thighs begin to quiver. “Oh, fuck!” 

“That’s it, beautiful. Oh, you really do need this, don’t you?” Miguel asks almost mockingly. You arch your back in his embrace and let out another moan, feeling his two fingers flicking inside your pussy walls. He knows exactly what he’s doing, drawing out more noises from you as your lower body still trembles, and your cum spilling out of your folds and onto his fingers. 

It feels as if Miguel is toying with you and pussy for a long time, even after being overstimulated and sensitive. He slows down his ministrant but still has his fingers gently rubbing circles on your clit and wet folds. You relax in his arm, head on his shoulder as you regain your senses from orgasm. All thoughts cleared up in your head and you couldn’t even remember what you were thinking or doing earlier before being finger-fucked. 

Miguel’s voice sounds a little raspy and distinct, still toying with your cunt, as he whispers:  “Wanna continue this elsewhere?” 

[ask-ursa-tonypeter]

Multiverse question- lmao kind of a crack!question, but with db extremis Tony’s love for all of the Peters, if he could gather them all to his universe, would he? Would he see himself as their protector? Would he be interested in all of them romantically? Would it be like a giant Tony/Peters poly relationship? Omg would he be into Peter on Peter action? My mind is going wild with the possibilities ngl, I’m just picturing a harem of Peters at this point and wondering if extremis!tony would also be imagining this 😂

This is clearly a very serious and important question 😅

Extremis!Tony: As appealing as the idea is… I wouldn't want to do anything to make Peter doubt that he's the most important part of my life. Sure, I would take the opportunity to pick their brain if another Peter fell into my lap, but Petey is the only son that I need.

[stunie]

i just WOKE UP !!?????!!!!!!

2024.07.15 — dinner date with Ume. ♡

(hands up if you know where the reference photo’s froooommmmm!!!! >:3 aju nice.)

[hiraethwrote]

THE HEART GROWS FONDER

pairing : kento nanami x f!reader summary : (requested) — kento nanami loved you before he even knew you, and his feelings were the one thing he never questioned. like pieces of a puzzle, you fit together. whatever happens, your feelings never waver. cw : childhood friends to lovers, reader is v emotional, canon events/jjk0 spoilers, mentions of character death, mutual and intense pining, miscommunication lack of communication, mild one-bed-trope?, platonic!satoru (bc apparently i am unable to write anything without mentioning him), light profanity, pet names, talk of wedding, sweet fluff, a good chunk of angst, slight jealousy, no use of y/n word count : 10.1 k

Kento was a knowledgeable man.

He knew how long it took to get from one place in Tokyo to another, no matter what time of day it was. Well aware of all the best routes for traveling the city most efficiently, even during rush hours.

He knew all the ways to make the most money. Not what he was proudest of, but working hard had garnered him a set of useful skills that made him a good employee, a real asset to the company.

He knew how to read a map, a skill long forgotten by most in this day and age. Should he ever find himself in a situation where there was no reception, he would be able to get his hands on a sheet displaying the nearby areas and figure out how to return to civilisation.

He knew how to best take care of his body. He had done extensive research to make sure he moved his body correctly during workouts to not harm himself. He wasn’t interested in aching joints when he was old and gray.

And he knew he loved you — since the very first moment his eyes landed on you all those years ago.

He remembered the exact moment in excruciating detail as well, like how he had turned a little scared at the unfamiliar sensation of a racing heartbeat. When pressing his hand to his chest, he felt the rapid thumping. He quickly realised it was caused by the sight of you when it happened every time he spotted you.

His dad would tease him whenever he caught Kento sitting in the windowsill, chubby cheeks resting on his forearms as he gazed lovingly towards the little girl playing in her front yard a few houses down. “I’m sure she would love to play with you.” His face would turn bright crimson, a colour that had become all too common in the Nanami household whenever you were brought up, before an embarrassed Kento would stomp up to his room.

He didn’t learn your name until the first day of school — your parents had arranged for the two of you to walk to school together. He had been over the moon when he heard the news, pure excitement filling his body to the point where he could not sit still. But the moment he was stood in front of you, your voice sweet as honey when introducing yourself, his throat dried out and he turned tongue tied. His mom placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing his feet back on the ground, “Kento,” he croaked weakly before disappearing into his jacket.

With small feet carrying you to and from school, you tried to force a conversation out of him but to no prevail. He remained shy and quiet, eventually resulting in a statement that had saddened him more than he could have anticipated; “you don’t talk much, do you?”

There had been no ill intent in your words, but it had Kento distance himself from you. What was supposed to blossom into a friendship (and maybe even more with time), only simmered down to him consistently trialing five steps behind you on the path to school that became all too bleak when it hadn’t turned out how he had imagined it.

His infatuation didn’t seem to disappear anytime soon either. If anything, now having the opportunity to observe you in closer proximity only deepened his feelings. He now got to witness the outgoing and bubbly personality that was wrapped in your cute exterior, exceeding all his expectations of what he had imagined you would be like — fascinated by how you seemed to excel in aspects where he lacked.

And the more time that passed, it seemed the day he would find the courage to catch up and walk along side you traveled further out of his reach.

He continued to admire from afar, watching as you earned yourselves new friendships as easily as putting your shoes on in the morning. Kento wasn’t the only one drawn to your outgoing personality and charming smile, his heart breaking a little when you formed a tight knit friend group and he didn’t get to be a part of it.

That’s how it went. Kento sort of just blended into the background, never making a number of himself. He was nearly certain no one really knew he even existed at all (except the teachers, who absolutely adored him). Day after day, he sat by himself with a book in his hands, only ever looking up to admire you for a few seconds as you would play with your friends.

However, he preferred the quiet life in school more than what it evolved into as second grade rolled around.

During recess, he would sit with his book, same as always, counting the minutes until school was over so he would walk those five familiar steps behind you — that’s when two third graders had approached him, their intention clear as day.

Their antics continued for two weeks — until what he thought was the voice of an angel interrupted.

“Hi there.”

Kento would recognise that voice anywhere, turning towards the source to see you, huge grin plastered on your face, both hands behind your back as you stared down the two third graders.

“What’s going on here?” You asked in such a sweet and innocent tone, but all three of the boys could see there was something borderline unfriendly in your eyes that was not present in your words.

“Doesn’t concern you,” one of the mean kids bit back.

“Hmm,” you hummed, pressing your lips together before shifting to a serious tone. “I think it does, because from over there-“ you pointed in the direction of where you had stood moments earlier, “it looked like you were picking on my friend.”

Friend? Had he heard you right?

Before they could retaliate, you had already opened your mouth again, “I’ll scream! The adults will come and you’ll be in biiiig trouble!” Your tone had been so cheerful, but that same threatening intent lingered in your gaze — a look one did not want to receive from a stubborn, little seven year old.

It seemed like your scare tactic worked, because after grumbling to themselves for a few seconds, they shuffled away with their tails between their legs. And once they were far enough away not to be a bother anymore, you squatted down on the gravel beside Kento, wrapping your arms around your legs.

“You okay, Kento?” Completely transformed, not a hint of your malice present any longer, just soft and genuine concern when speaking his name.

He blinked a few times, using the back of his hand to dry the few tears that had watered up in the corner of his eyes before he answered you. “‘M fine,” he sniffled, then daring to look you in the eyes to mutter a shy “thank you.”

“Anytime.”

You couldn’t explain why you had decided to interfere — because labelling Kento a friend wasn’t entirely true. The boy had barely said a word to you for the year you had known him, but you had just been filled with anger when you witnessed the older kids choose to pick on him. He did not have a mean bone in his body. And maybe somewhere along the line, you had gained a soft spot for the reserved kid, having not been able to stop glancing over your shoulder from time to time when you walked to and from school, just to make sure he was still there.

Never had Kento imagined that the taunting from his upperclassman would be his biggest blessing to date. He no longer sat alone during lunch, but instead accepted your invite to eat with you and your little clique.

And finally your friendship with Kento had the opportunity to grow.

Thanks to you, school had become a lot more enjoyable for him after that. The walks to and from school was no longer spent with an awkward distance, now matching your pace as you both indulged in small talk from the moment you left school until he left you at your door.

He knew he should have been satisfied, and in one way he was. He was finally allowed to call you his friend after all, but during school hours, you usually hung out the entire group. And on your spare time, you had a tendency to reserve your time just for the girls. So while he wished for more, he continued to shoot longing, and not so subtle, gazes across the table.

It abruptly changed when you were thirteen, walking home from school like any other day, when your blunt question had cut through the conversation.

“Hey, you want to go to the movies with me?”

“What?” Kento’s thirteen year old brain had not been able to comprehend the question, stopping dead in his tracks to stare at you with big eyes, swallowing the massive lump in his throat. Had you just asked him on a date?

You stopped when you noticed he did, staring right back at him like this wasn’t a big deal. “None of the girls were interested, and you’re the only boy in our group I can tolerate without any of the girls,” you rolled your eyes. You had turned a little feisty when entering your teens.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, drawing his lips into an awkward line, hoping he could play it off as a smile.

Your deadpanned expression immediately twisted into one of pure joy. “Great!”

Kento had stood in front of his mirror all afternoon, using both his hands to smoothen the crinkles of his shirt, treating it very much like a date. He didn’t even realise how long he had been stressing in his room until his mom came knocking, telling him you were waiting outside.

He had been a little disappointed when he saw you, because it became very evident you did not consider it a date. Wearing the same outfit you had worn to school that day, resting on the handlebars of your bike. “C’mon, we need to get popcorn before the movie starts,” you nagged, just the tiniest bit annoyed.

When stood in the kiosk, he had offered to pay for the popcorn, like the good, little gentleman he had been raised to be. “Oh, no need. Mom gave me money to pay for it,” you said cheerfully with a shrug and a smile. “Thanks, though.”

The movie couldn’t hold Kento’s attention, even if he wanted to, because for the whole ninety minutes you had your knee rested against his. The sensation of the shy touch of your leg had his heart beat so loud against his ribcage, he was scared you might turn to him and tell it to shush so you could hear the movie.

It wasn’t much, but the pressing feeling was definitely prominent enough that you had to be aware of it too. And in his mind, it seemed only logical you kept your leg still against his because you wanted it to touch him. But whenever he flickered his eyes over to you, you seemed utterly unbothered, attention fixated on the screen as your hand continued to grab popcorn from the bucket.

He tried to keep his breath even, letting his tension spill out by clenching and unclenching his fists. He was so determined to sit completely still, scared the tiniest flinch would cause you to shift your leg away from him.

Trips to the movies, just in each other’s company, became a regular occurrence after that. And about half of the time, you let him pay… only because you paid the other half, but he let himself wallow in the idea that he was treating you for the evening.

He was in high school when one of your friends had asked about it. “What’s really going on there, Kento?”

He had immediately decided to play dumb. Not because he was embarrassed, but if there was even the slightest chance it would feed them material they could use to make you uncomfortable, he wanted to avoid it. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, man,” he laughed mockingly. “You and her,” nodding towards where you stood with your girlfriends in the cafeteria line. “The two of you hang out with each other more than us these days.”

“I don’t know, we’re friends?” Kento shrugged, almost certain he was able to play it off as casual.

“Friends? Right, friends who constantly go on movie dates together.”

“They’re not dates,” was all he had been able to say to defend himself, feeling his cheeks grow hot like they had done when he was younger.

They had all chucked at him then. “Yeah, whatever man. Congratulations bagging the prettiest girl in school,” was the last thing that was said before you and the rest of the girls joined their table. You sat down beside Kento, like always.

Carefully, you had nudged his arm to get his attention. “You okay?” You asked quietly so only he could hear.

He gave you a weak but genuine smile. “Yes, just lost in thought is all.” You smiled back at him, making his heart skip a beat.

You don’t remember when it changed for you. If it had been a gradual thing, or if you had just woken up one day with this feeling — but something was definitely different.

The realisation had hit you mid sentence. Rambling on about some meaningless topic, like you always did, and suddenly you noticed the way he was looking at you.

He was listening so intently, not missing a single word coming from your mouth, a faint smile stamped at the corner of his lips and a tenderness in his eyes you hadn’t really noticed before. You only managed to snap out of it when he spoke your name.

“Am I losing you by not talking?” He teased before taking a sip out of his coffee.

“Shit,” you muttered, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “I just remembered this group assignment I have due tomorrow.” A lie — and an obvious one at that. But Kento didn’t get a moment to ask any follow-up questions before you had gathered your stuff and rushed to say goodbye, leaving him alone in the cafe.

For the entire walk home, you thought about Kento, now suddenly in a new light, reflecting over the entirety of your friendship.

You became aware of how he always seemed to prioritise you in the group without hesitation. You had just brushed it off, assuming he felt indebted to you for coming to his rescue when you were seven. But you realised now how ridiculous that sounded.

You thought of all the times he had come running when you had asked for him. Whether it was after a fight with one of your girlfriends, or a date that had gone horribly wrong, he dropped everything to be by your side.

You realised now why you always caught yourself answering with a frown when girls came to ask you about him. As you had gotten older, he had definitely grown into his looks, a subtle kind of handsome that snuck up on you.

When you got home, you had pulled out your phone to send a text to apologise for bailing so abruptly. But you typed and deleted the message twenty times over, anxiety you had never felt about him before overwhelming you. In the end, you ended up not sending anything at all, feeling like no words sufficed.

And the next time you met, you acted as if nothing had happened, and he just went along with it.

You tried desperately to act as if nothing had changed, beyond terrified you would scare him off or make him uncomfortable if he picked up on your new and revolutionary feelings for him. If there was one thing you were absolute certain about, it was that you would never do anything to jeopardise the friendship you had with him. There was no competition of what person in your life you cherished the most; Kento Nanami. You’d be the earth's biggest fool to gamble that away for anything.

When you were 16, you nearly caved.

In your desperate attempt of keeping things normal, you had continued your meaningless escapades — which meant going on terrible dates with even more terrible guys — turns out teenage boys are just assholes by default.

“It’s their loss,” Kento cooed in a warm tone, sitting beside you on your bed with a comforting arm around your shoulders.

In all honesty, you didn’t even care all that much about the date. You couldn’t even remember the guy’s name. No, your mind was way more interested in how his strong hand cupped your arm so perfectly.

You turned to look at him, faces closer than ever before. He happily held your gaze — you were just hoping he was able to read the messages it conveyed.

Tell me to stop seeing these guys, and I’ll stop.

Tell me you want me the way I want you.

Tell me it’s you I’m meant to be with.

“You’ll find someone worthy of you eventually.”

Your heart sunk, having built up your own expectations based on how his eyes had roamed your face as if he truly desired you. Maybe this was all in your head.

It wasn’t.

But Kento, much like you, didn’t want to lose you over anything. Confessing risked the relationship he already had with you. He would rather have you as a friend, than not have you in his life at all.

Not long after that, you both joined Jujutsu tech. Slowly but surely, you slipped away from your childhood group — him more than you. You tried your very best to stay in touch, though your new schedule made that hard.

With these new threats looming around you, neither of you could help how your friendship — or whatever you would call what was going on between you — continued to grow deeper. More serious. It went unsaid by the both of you, but there was just a mutual understanding that it was the logical development when there was the slightest possibility of it ending all too soon.

Still neither of you confessed.

You fell into routines, so accustomed to seeing him every minute of every day, your first instinct when returning from a mission was to find him.

As expected, Kento heard the three soft knocks he knew all too well at this point, before you squeezed through his door. With a deep exhale, you fell back on his bed, while he sat in his desk chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m exhausted.”

“Did you just get back?” His muscles were a little tense, like they always where whenever you had to go on a mission without him, his eyes searching every inch of you to see if there were any visible injuries he had to worry about.

“Little over an hour ago. Had to escape Gojo talking my ear off about his own mission.”

Kento observed how the corner of your lips tugged upwards in a tired smile, your chest vibrating with a soft chuckle.

He was always happy to see you come back unharmed, but he hated the exhaustion that rested in your joints — and it filled him with an unexplainable urge to help you somehow.

He imagined guiding you to lay on your stomach, placing his legs on each side of you and slowly soothing your muscles, rubbing caring motions along the curves of your body to fill it with the relaxation you deserved — but he couldn’t. It would definitely cross a line, too intimate for just friends.

“Glad you’re back,” he said almost in a whisper.

“Me too.” He could barely hear you, the mission slowly catching up with your energy as well, sensing on your breathing that you weren’t too far from falling asleep.

The silence that surrounded you was comfortable. You had grown so accustomed to each other’s presence, any awkwardness had ceased to exist. Nevertheless, Kento didn’t quite know what to do with himself, just looking at you sprawled out on his bed, a scene he would like to see every night.

“Kento?” Your voice was so soft.

“Yes?”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

He heard the slight hesitation in your voice before you expressed your request. Raising up his neck and face was a burning heat, his breathing coming out shallow as he didn’t quite know what to say.

Being a cautious man, he thought of every possible outcome.

It was prohibited, so he should decline. But he would hate himself forever if he simply sent you away because of the school’s outdated rules — he also knew he would regret it until his heart stopped beating.

So having you stay here was the only reasonable outcome — but then what? He supposed he would end up sleeping on the floor, like the gentleman he was. He would at least never assume he could sleep next to you, and he would not be as vulgar to ask.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Of course. I’ll just-“

“Kento,” you said his name again, just as soft as always.

“Yeah?”

“There’s room for both of us on the bed.”

He had to swallow the massive lump that felt as if it was suffocating him. It at least stopped any further words to come out of his mouth. He slowly raised from the chair, floorboards creaking as he stepped over.

With his eyes locked on you, seemingly so calm with your eyes closed, he positioned himself beside you so he was facing you.

Goosebumps prickled up his arm when he felt your breath fan against his face, and he wondered how you managed to keep it in such an even rhythm. Didn’t this closeness send lightning through your body like it did for him, temptation threatening the act of finally crossing the line?

There was a crease between your eyebrows that seemed unintentional, like the events of the day had just planted themselves on your face and even your calm breathing couldn’t ease it. Against his better judgment, Kento’s urges steered his thumb towards your face, not reflecting over his action before he had ran his skin across the crinkle to smoothen the tension.

Shit, he thought to himself, certain you would open your mouth to tell him off — instead he saw how there had been a slight strain to your shoulders that was now released.

While he let his eyes roam your face, taking in every breathtaking aspect of your beauty, he felt a small spark of fear fill him at how right it all felt — lying next to you, so close he could feel the warmth radiate from your skin, his soft touch being able to bring rest to your body, the mere idea that he could envelop you in his arms if he wanted to.

“I’m happy you’re here with me,” your voice startled him a little, as he had assumed you had already fallen into the oblivion of sleep. “I’d never be able to navigate this world without you.”

“That’s not true.” Your eyes opened to meet his, catching his breath immediately, so stunningly deep he always felt himself fall into them. “You’ve always been the one looking out for me.”

You chuckled a little at that, endless memories of the two of you throughout childhood. “I guess in one way. But you’ve always kept me afloat.”

“You give yourself too little credit.” He had to stop himself from letting his fingers graze your cheek in the most tender caress. “You would have done just fine on your own.”

A small smile of flattery dared dance on your lips. “But I don’t want to.” It felt like a confession, unspoken feelings hidden within those words, begging for him to be able to deduce the true meaning. “Thinking of a life where you’re not at my side scares me.”

“Let’s never find out what that life is like.”

Kento would later eat those words.

Haibara’s death hit Kento the hardest. Numerous evenings were spent in the eerie silence of his cold dorm. When he cried, you held him. When he was trying to distract himself by reading, you sat and watched him, keeping him company. When he went the entire night without sparing you the slightest gaze, you knew you had overstayed your welcome, leaving him to be alone for a night.

“I don’t think I will continue to be a sorcerer.”

That was the first thing he said that hadn’t been a complete necessity, and it sent a spike of ice down your spine, not daring to understand his statement right away.

“Oh,” was the only thing you could think of to respond that did not entertain his idea.

His eyes met yours, the eye contact more intense than it had been for days, realising just how much you had missed having his kind eyes directed at you. Seemed like he felt it too, as the smallest gasp slipped out of him.

“I mean it.”

The tears instantly burned in your eyes, blinking them away before they had the chance to come running. “That's what scares me,” your voice betrayed you as the usual confidence came out cracked.

He didn’t push it any further, reading you as an open book — you knew he was telling the truth, but refused to acknowledge it. It was like if you ignored his statement, it would somehow end differently.

Luckily, after that night, Kento started to somewhat fall back to his old self. His smile started to return, it was easier to hold a conversation with him, which you obviously appreciated — however, he had planted a fear in you that had taken your body hostage.

You abandoned any sense of boundaries entirely, hanging onto his arm at all times. It was only when you were physically aware of his frame you were able to cling onto a string of peace. Feeling his body glued at your side only served as a confirmation that he was still here, and as long as you held on he couldn’t go anywhere. He couldn’t leave.

And whenever you had to pry yourself off of him to tend to your responsibilities where he wasn’t assigned, you were constantly living in a state of anxiety. Foot tapping against the floor, picking at your skin, petrified you would end up returning to see his room stripped of any signs of life — that he would have finally done the thing he said he would do, and part with the Jujutsu world.

Every time you returned, the sweetest sensation of relief washed over you, tears welling up immediately when he always stood ready to greet you. “Hey you,” he said softly, pulling you into his arms, holding you tight until he could physically feel your body let go of the stress that had tainted every muscle, every joint, for the entire time you had been separated.

But graduation day came and time was up.

You had held onto hope he would eventually change his mind, that it was only the initial grief that had weighed heavy on his conscience. But you were now standing in his bare room, everything packed into cardboard boxes. Of course it had only been a childish dream to think he would stay — there was no changing his mind.

“I really am sorry.” He was so earnest, like always, making it hard to be mad at him even though you so desperately wanted to. He genuinely had so much compassion, his hands stroking your arms in an attempt to calm the bouncing of your shoulders that followed the frantic rhythm of your sobs.

“I just don’t understand why?” You continued to sob, sentence coming out in sad intervals as you heaved for air.

“This isn’t right. It’s not right of them to expect us to be okay with watching our partners lay down their lives like this.”

You wanted so badly to scream at him, bang your fists against his chest before clasping onto his shirt so he wouldn’t even have the opportunity to leave. You knew it was unwarranted for you to feel that way, but the fact that he was following through with his stunt felt like a betrayal.

“You said we weren’t going to find out what this would be like.”

His heart shattered. Looking into your doe eyes, tainted red with sorrow as the sentence laced with innocence sent him back to every fragile evening throughout your journey together he had spent comforting you. How many tears he had dried, happily so? But this time it was his doing — him who brought you to a state of despair so grave you couldn’t breathe, and he knew this time he wouldn’t be able to comfort you.

Waiting for his next words were torture, time at a standstill watching his mouth open and close while he constructed the sentence in his mind. Though useless, the glimmer of hope refused to die out, begging for his surrender — you’re right, I’ll stay.

“I’m sorry.”

Another one of your earth shattering sobs came flying past your lips, stabbing him right in the heart that had only ever beaten for you.

Comforting you would always be second nature to him, which had his hands cup your face and pulling it closer to rest his forehead against yours. He wished, begged, for his touch to bring you comfort one last time before he left. But your body continued to shake. “It’ll be okay,” he tried to reassure you, spoken in a faint whisper. Repeating it over and over, waiting for his small affirmations to take affect — they never did.

Ask me to come with you.

Those six words played like a broken record in your mind, knowing you would pack your bags and abandon this god forsaken life at the drop of a hat if he just asked you to.

Come with me.

The request laid restless at the tip of his tongue, fighting every voice in him that was screaming at him to be selfish. But he couldn’t with you, never with you.

Unlike him, you had a purpose in this world — you were able to see the good in what you did, and he would never be able to forgive himself if he ripped you away from it no matter how much he wanted to.

There seemed like there was no limit to your tears. Shuddering against his touch, he sensed your body didn’t have much energy left to stand. He ended up leading the two of you to his bed, stripped bare to just the mattress, duvet folded at the end. Without any words spoken, you laid down in his arms, burying your face in his chest while the sobs continued to tumble out uncontrollably.

His strong arms locked around you, holding you as close to him as humanly possible, letting the illusion of him never disappearing from you live on for another night.

Eventually your sobs calmed down, only happening sporadically. The shaking stopped and he felt your breathing even out, telling him you had finally been able to let sleep consume you.

He couldn’t stop himself — placing a chaste kiss at the crown of your head, mumbling quiet and secret apologies before sleep caught him too.

According to Gojo, his departure had been quick. He hadn’t said much, just given them all a nod before grabbing his bags and disappearing.

You had decided against seeing him off. The two of you had said your goodbyes the night before in the solemn of his empty dorm. It had been wet, heartbreaking and nothing short of painful, but at least it had been private between the two of you. No one knew how your tears had soaked his shirt, or how your fists had created crinkles in the fabric while desperately holding onto him. No one knew how you had cried until the exhaustion knocked you out in his arms, so scared to wake up to face the new reality where Kento wasn’t at your immediate side like he had been since you were kids.

You couldn’t really remember what it was like to not have him there. Even before you had grown close, he had always lingered, the one thing in your life that had stayed consistent throughout it all was him.

The next weeks were absolutely torture, having to feed the people surrounding you endless lies of “I’m fine, really.” You were really just trying to prevent yourself from letting the reality set in properly. If that can of worms were to open again, you had no clue when or how you would be able to stop it. Last time you had still been able to seek some comfort against his warmth, only able to stop it because you practically passed out.

Not a single moment passed where he didn’t cross your mind, small things reminding you of him. All your little routines — for days you forgot to grab lunch because you were so used to him bringing it to you. For days you ended up with one towel too many, because you always brought an extra for him after training. Mundane things you had always taken for granted, gone in an instant.

Despite feeling a little betrayed, you couldn’t really blame him either. So you reached deep within yourself to try and stay positive. It wasn’t like he was gone gone, he had just retreated to a normal life.

You stayed in touch, sending regular updates about how you were getting by in the world of curses without him — lying of course. When he had left, he had taken some of the purpose you had in it all with him. But you didn’t want him to worry. You told him how you eventually started teaching at Jujutsu High alongside Gojo, and it felt nice to be responsible for the next generation of sorcerers.

And at first you received regular updates in return. He got himself a quaint little apartment that fitted his needs perfectly. You even got a few blurry photos of how he had tried to decorate it so it would feel more homely — you had cried when you received those.

You never called each other though. It seemed like there was a mutual understanding that it would be too unbearable to hear the voice of the other.

After a while, the updates slowly came to a halt. You kept on sending yours however, only for that little checkmark to appear and confirm he had read it. But no answer — you cried then too.

Had you said something or done something to make him cut the contact? You never managed to wrap your head around why he stopped showing you his new life.

Kento had never wanted to stop sending the messages — on the contrary. If anything, he had to stop himself from not telling you about every single minute of his day, even the most meaningless things, just as an excuse to talk to you.

But one day, thanks to a white haired little birdie, all consuming guilt had struck him. “She doesn’t say it, but she’s miserable.”

He held his breath, his fingers unintentionally clenching tighter around his phone. “She is?” His voice came out faint. He heard Gojo let out a deep sigh at the other end of the line.

“She tries. Very hard. I stopped asking a long time ago because she kept lying anyways.”

“Oh.” Kento had been a fool, believing your words when he had read them on his screen. When he hadn’t been able to hear the tone behind the statements, he had been able to convince himself they were genuine. But of course you were lying — he was, after all.

“But I think she really enjoys teaching,” Gojo said after a moment of sad silence, trying to fill the conversation with some optimism. “And the kids love her.”

“Yes, I can imagine as much,” a small smile appearing on his lips, picturing the scene of you with the young students.

“Look, I have to run, she’s waving me over. Should I-“

“No!” Kento rushed to cut him off. “No, don’t say anything. Please.”

He made up his mind then and there — he was not going to cause you any more pain. So he had to let you go entirely to allow you to move on. The way he was selfishly clinging onto the crumps you gave him seemed to do you no good, if the image Gojo painted was accurate.

So he stopped. Even though his fingers urged to reach out, he fought against it, for you.

You, however, could not hinder how your finger pressed the send button every now and then. The updates definitely became less frequent when he went radio silent, but you did not have the strength to stop. If you stopped… there was a fear he would never come back.

Kento was supposed to share his life with you.

He had believed so ever since he was a little kid, ogling you from afar before he even knew your name. The way you made his heart jump and pulse quicken had to be his body’s way of telling him you were meant to be with him, quickly growing addicted, dependent, on the reactions you created in him without trying.

But he had made the drastic choice of abandoning that feeling, convinced the alternative did you harm — and the mere concept of being the reason you even felt the faintest glimmer of discomfort was something he could not live with.

He welcomed the misery, a small price to pay for the belief that you were doing better now. He also thought he had good reason to believe that was the case.

The updates you sent him were few and far between these days, but it did paint a picture. You were rarely in the photos, but there was an energy present in the moments eternalised that seemed pleasant and positive. He imagined you had found your role, your place in life where you would get to fulfil your potential. And whether or not he was there was irrelevant.

He convinced himself his own insecurities were a reality to make it easier to bear.

Ever since childhood, you had been the headstrong one. The independent one. The brave one. It always lingered in the back of his mind whenever he just observed you in different scenarios — that it really didn’t matter if he was there or not, forever just an accessory to your life. He even feared he was holding you back somehow.

So it was only reasonable to think time away from him would have provided you with the playing field to develop into the best version of yourself… right?

Years went by and Kento’s pain didn’t ease. He missed you — every single day. And he kept living in that constant state of torture for you, until the fantasy shattered.

It was just another day, nothing out of the ordinary. Kento was going about his drowsy routines of stopping by the same bakery he did every morning before work. However today, he was nearly tackled by two kids, a boy and a girl about the age of six, once he entered the building.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” a grown woman rushed over to apologise as she brought the children back to their little table.

“It’s no problem,” he mumbled monotonously, eyes following them as they scattered back to their seats, where another woman sat.

A wave of nostalgia crashed over him, feeling like he had the privilege of looking back in time. The little boy resembled a young Kento Nanami, his blonde locks neatly styled, chubby, red cheeks and a baby-blue button up shirt — a rather mature attire for a six year old.

And the boy had his eyes glued on his friend, a girl the same age, very evidently the more outgoing out of the two. She was rambling enthusiastically, arms waving all over the place as he told her story down to the smallest detail, exhibiting the same spark you always had.

The boy kept a glare of pure awe as he followed her every word, seen so clearly in his eyes how much he admired her. And Kento knew how this story would continue — that night the boy would lay in his bed, the biggest smile on his face, unable to fall asleep as the day spent with his friend would play on repeat in his mind — much like Kento had spent countless nights when he was young.

It wasn’t until the girl behind the counter called for him he was able to pull his attention away from the all too familiar scene.

So polite, a sweet smile on her face as she served him the same thing he ordered every day. And then she asked how he was sleeping. It fascinated him, how this girl didn’t owe him anything, and had her own worries — like the little curse sat on her shoulder — and still showed concern for him.

He had noticed the curse before, but purposely never done anything about it. It wasn’t a proper threat, and it would be more of a hustle for him to deal with the reactions of ridding her of it than let it be. But now, having the innocent scene a few feet from him remind him of you, he quickly began to consider doing the girl a favour.

You would have exorcised it — without hesitation.

Not just that, you would probably give him crap for not exorcising it immediately. It wouldn't cost him anything to do it, so why wouldn’t he?

“Could you take a step forward, please?” Kento asked politely, the girl a little confused but doing as he said. He had your voice in the back of his mind while he easily exorcised the curse with one swift motion, the strain in her shoulder easing immediately.

“Huh? It’s lighter!” She exclaimed, rolling her arm around at the newfound relief.

“If anything still feels off, please go to the hospital,” he said with a small nod. He grabbed his food and headed for the exit, sparing one last glance at the table where the two kids sat, still deep in the conversation.

His lungs let out a deep, involuntary breath when the realisation dawned on him — he could no longer stay away, caving to his desires.

Maybe enough time had passed for it not to be considered selfish? If you had in fact found your place where you were content and comfortable, and meeting him again would be causal for you?

The questions kept circulating his mind as he pulled out his phone to dial the one person who would be able to set it all up at the blink of an eye.

His whole world stopped when he saw you, and he wondered how he had ever thought it a good idea to leave you — how could he possibly have survived all that time without you?

It was almost painful how his heart was clawing at the inside of his chest, desperate to be with you. It wasn’t until he felt the overwhelming pounding he realised his heart had not beat properly for the years he had spent away — meant to beat in unison with yours. His skin was turning cold as ice and the only way for it to regain its warmth was your touch, your soft embrace.

Kento hadn’t known what to expect when he saw you again, but he had certainly thought he would have more rational and coherent thoughts. Right now, it was all scrambling in his head and the only thing that appeared clearly in his mind was you, framed in the halo of your aura, taking his breath as way just as easily as when he was six.

With his body going numb, he observed you interact with Gojo and two kids he assumed were your students. You looked calm, a small smile decorating the plump line of your lips — it wasn’t as radiant as it used to be. In fact, your entire energy just seemed a little off. Maybe you had just gotten home from a mission, or it has been a hectic day in general.

Truth was not so mundane. You wished it was as simple as a long and tiring day. That would mean you could just jump in bed and sleep it off, ready to face a new day tomorrow.

But the day Kento left the jujutsu society behind, he unintentionally stole your spark with him.

You could never hate him for it though, he didn’t know. He only did what he felt like he needed to do, and you would be a terrible friend to stand in the way of that. But you had no control over how your mind decided to react.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder was something you had always heard growing up, and you had never really understood it — until faced with the situation yourself.

Not a day went by where you didn’t think of Kento. You thought of how his grin always grew slowly when watching you, eventually revealing the shy smile lines across his cheeks. The ghost of his touch, which was always dancing the line of appropriate or not, never leaving your mind. Sometimes you still felt the imprint of his arms around you.

“Don’t you guys listen to him for a second,” you chuckled, the tiniest hint of frustration in your voice. “Gojo doesn’t qualify as a responsible adult.”

His jaw fell to the ground in fake offence, eyebrows narrowing at the innocent laughs spilling from the students. “You were never this mean when we were younger,” he whined, folding his arms across his chest, looking like a stubborn child.

“That’s what you think,” you teased, nudging an elbow into his side. “You should have heard the things we said about you behind closed doors.”

His big hand came piercing through the air, pressing it against your face, gently shoving you away from the conversation. A lighthearted, but genuine, little laugh escaped you. “We don’t want to hear what you and your little boyfriend did in private,” Gojo rolled his eyes, pretending to gag at the made up memories.

Annoying as he was, Gojo had a way to actually make you forget the pain of it all for a few seconds. You would never tell him, obviously, that he managed to put the storm inside your head on hold for a second — he would rub it in your face every chance he got.

“Wait, senpai had a boyfriend when she attended here?” One of the students interjected and suddenly the mood of the conversation shifted. Gojo’s hand fell from your face before he shot you an apologetic smile.

For the most part, it was never a problem whenever Kento was brought up in the company of Gojo and Shoko. Everything was out in the open between the three of you, shared history taking away some of the pain. But whenever it slipped outside your little trio, it quickly became a sore topic.

Mouth opening and closing, trying to find the words to answer without having to give an explanation. Luckily, a painfully familiar voice called your name behind you, instantly sending a shiver down your spine.

All of you turned towards the voice, and you couldn’t help but let out an audible gasp at the beautiful image of your other half standing in front of you after all these years.

Your heart’s instinct steered your body, quickly stepping away from the group and latching your arms around Kento’s neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He didn’t hesitate to close his strong arms around your frame, fitting right into the slots they used to fill. His familiar scent filled your senses, memories flooding back in an instant.

“Huh, speak of the devil,” Gojo mumbled.

“Him? That was her boyfriend?”

Gojo quickly snapped out of it. “Let’s give them some privacy, shall we,” and started rushing away the nosy teens.

Kento’s grip loosened and you pulled away, but neither of you dared let your hands leave each other. Your own hands ended up cupping his face, forcing him to keep his eyes on you until it hit you he was actually with you again — he let his rest on your waist, feeling the restlessness in him by how strongly his palms were pressing against you.

He was here. He was actually here.

There was a deafening silence filling the space of your office. You could feel it in the tension that both of you wanted to say something, but there was an unspoken pressure of saying the right thing.

So you let your eyes roam him, taking in the differences in his appearance.

He was gorgeous, same subtle handsomeness as he had always possessed, but a new confidence displaying it. Everything about him was more defined, sharp features drawing attention to his face, his muscles filling his shirt in a way they never did before.

“So, you and Gojo seem to work well together,” he swallowed, causing embarrassment to flush your face when he pulled you from your blatant admiring.

“We’ve found a rhythm that works for us, I suppose,” you shrugged.

He shifted awkwardly in his seat, arms flexing as he crossed them in front of him. “That’s good. I’m glad.” His tone of his short statements seemed to imply otherwise.

“He’s surprisingly good at his job,” you laughed, “the kids like him.”

“Who would have thought,” there was a pull of his lips, like he tried to smile but it didn’t succeed entirely.

“Not me, that’s for sure. I don’t know, he just meets them were their at.” You really wanted to stop rambling about Gojo. It was so clearly just a desperate way for you to replace the quiet that plagued you without touching the elephant in the room. “Don’t get me wrong, they find him insufferable, but I think they secretly really like him. Much like the rest of us.”

“Sounds about right.”

You squinted at him, slowly growing somewhat antsy. “You’re not jealous of Gojo, are you?”

Of course you still saw right through him. He, who usually managed to hide his true feelings, would never be able to conceal them from you. And he was jealous, petrified that he had made the biggest mistake of his life and Gojo had ended up taking the place that was supposed to be for him only.

“Is there something to be jealous of?”

“You tell me.”

The tension was thick, nearly suffocating, years of yearning and pining fuelling the energy. The reunion only served as a dangerous spark that threatened to set the fuse ablaze at any second.

Why couldn’t he take the first step? He was the one who had showed up all of a sudden, and he still hadn’t given you any explanation. He owed you that much, right? But he kept letting his restlessness control him, one leg bouncing quietly against the floor, hearing how the cogs in his mind were turning.

“Why are you here?”

Your words were soft, but Kento knew you well enough to know the true feelings that lingered in the question.

“I’m coming back.”

“You’re coming back?” You weren’t able to withhold the bite that was slowly making its way into your tone.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

“Don’t do that,” your voice threatened to crack. “I don’t want that responsibility.”

He sighed deeply, unfolding his arms to rest his elbows on his spread knees. “That wasn’t my intention. I’m sorry.”

Always so polite. Always acknowledging his faults before they had the opportunity to grow. Always so damn righteous.

“What I meant to say is it looks like you’ve really managed to establish yourself here, and I wouldn’t want to come in and cause any discomfort by intruding what is essentially your space.”

The sound that escaped you next was a mixture between a flat laugh and a scoff, not entirely appreciating the way he was behaving. “Have we been apart so long you can’t talk to me like I’m your best friend?”

That had him look up at you, meeting your eyes instantly. You were sad, visible on your entire demeanour — maybe not to the average person looking, but he saw, still able to read you like an open book.

“Hope not,” he tried to smile, lips formed into a tight line that exposed how nervous he really was. His attention shifted to look at his fists folded together, words resting on his tongue, he just wanted to be sure it came out right. “I’ve missed you.” Silence. “There hasn’t been a day where you haven’t crossed my mind.”

“Sounds familiar.” There was no hiding the flush crawling up his neck and colouring the tips of his ears red at the sound of your confession.

“It was the thought of you that finally convinced me.”

“Why now?”

“Because enough time should have passed for you to thrive without me.”

“If that’s the case, you’ll have to keep waiting.”

You had him gagged, no clue how to respond. For some reason, he had refused to believe you were still hung up on him the way he was. There weren’t any reason for you to hold onto the idea of him — yet you had, for dear life.

Abruptly you stood up from your chair, hands running through your hair in frustration, trying to make sense of his sudden visit.

You stopped in your pacing, back faced him and hands on your hips — then he saw your shoulders begin to shake, followed by stifled sobs. These were the situations he always used to know what to do, moving on autopilot to bring you the comfort you needed.

Did his hands remember how to soothe you? Did his voice still know how to form the right words to say? Did his presence still know how to envelope you until you felt happy again? There was only one way to find out.

Quickly stepping over to you, his hands hovered over your shoulders for a second in fear. He swallowed his selfishness and let them land to settle the bouncing, leaning his head forward to rest it against the back of yours, the smell of your shampoo surrounding him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and it only seemed like his apology opened the valve, no longer able to choke your sobs. Your hands left your hips to cover your face, muffling the sadness tumbling out in one stream.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he continued to mutter, head moving to press it to the side of your face. One hand traveled across your collarbone, the other around your waist to pull you as close to him as possible, determined to hold you there until he was absolutely certain you were okay.

He would stand there the whole night if he needed to.

Slowly but surely, your sobs came to a stop, your trembling eventually easing against his body. But he didn’t loosen his grip, not until he felt you shift in his arms to face him.

Cry painted cheeks, delicate red rim around your eyes, glossy irises that stared right into the deepest parts of him that only you had access to.

Everything started to fall back into place, his big hand cupping your cheek as he stroked your hair out of your face. He let his eyes dart delicately across your face, taking in every single detail.

Then he let his longing get the best of him, thumb graciously tracing your bottom lip turned swollen from when you tried to swallow your sobs.

There was slight hesitation while he leaned forward, never having experienced time moving as slow as you waited for his lips to connect with yours. First, he let his nose brush against yours, testing the waters.

Please.

You felt his breath.

Don’t make me wait any longer.

Sparks.

Soft lips pressed against yours, moving tenderly in unison that sent intense sparks through your body from head to toe. The moment easily surpassed any of the fantasies you’d had of kissing him.

Needy fingers traveled up his broad chest before hooking your arms around his neck, pulling him closer — it still didn’t feel close enough.

Kento poured everything he had always wanted to say into the kiss — and he knew you understood. If he had learned anything from everything you had been through together, it was he could always trust you were able to understand him completely, even without anything being said.

When you pulled away you found yourself breathless. Meeting his eyes again, unexpected shyness you weren’t used to experience with Kento had you hide your face in his chest.

The roles had reversed, his warm chuckle serving as a comforting blanket. Oh, how you had missed that melody.

“Took you long enough,” you mumbled, hoping the teasing would have your normal confidence return.

His finger found your chin to tilt your head up, capturing your gaze. “Yeah, I should have done it ages ago.”

The previous sadness still lingered, and it was evident you still had a lot to talk about. But right now it was nice to just wallow in his presence again. It was way overdue, feeling like it should have been like this since forever.

“I really am sorry.”

“I think I can find it in myself to forgive you.” Your innocent jab was received with a dashing smile, tingles spreading throughout your limbs at the sight.

“Hope so, sweetheart,” he breathed quietly before he leaned in again.

They sat staring at each other, Kento with a raised eyebrow while a grumpy Gojo was positioned on the couch opposite him, legs and arms crossed in annoyance.

“You used to be nice.”

Kento scoffed at his colleague’s childish behaviour. “I still am, you’re just upset you’re not getting it your way.”

“But why?” Gojo cried dramatically.

“Why? What do you mean why? Because it’s not your wedding.”

“Were you always this boring?”

“Most definitely.”

“Will you guys please shut up?” You interrupted, unable to ignore them anymore. You had desperately tried to block them out as you were doing some paperwork you should have done ages ago.

“He started it!” Gojo pointed at Kento, which only had him roll his eyes.

“You know what,” you sighed as you gathered your stuff and raised from behind the desk. “It’s with a heavy heart I leave you, but I need to get this done by the end of the day.” You stopped behind Kento, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry, honey,” he said genuinely as he gazed up at you lovingly.

“I am not asking for much-“ Gojo continued to argue before you interrupted him.

“Will you pay for it?”

“Is that all it’ll take?” He beamed, and you nodded. “Of course! Done! How much do you need?”

“You’re too lenient when it comes to him,” Kento sighed.

“It’s not the craziest thing he could request. He’ll get his endless supply of sweets, and you won’t have to listen to his obnoxious nagging anymore.”

“I’m sitting right here.” Both you and Kento ignored him.

“I really have to get this work done though,” you sighed, hand squeezing his shoulder.

“See you at home?” His loving smile had you lean down to press your lips tenderly against his.

“See you at home.”

“I’ll have dinner ready.”

“God, I love you.”

Then he flashed you that smile — the smile which was reserved solely as a response whenever you said those three words he used to dream of hearing from you.

It was funny really, how after everything things would turn out exactly how he as always wanted them to. Despite the hopelessness he had felt and all the pain you had endured — both together and apart — would eventually lead up to the happy ending he had dreamed of since the young age of five.

He knew he would do it all over again, in every universe, if it ensured this outcome.

“I love you too.”

tags @sad-darksoul @toadtoru

an anon, i am so sorry if this ended up longer than you wanted it. idk what happened, bc it just kept on snowballing <3 however, i am very touched you wanted me to do this request. warms my heart. hope it turned out okay mwah also, if you've read my satoru childhood friends to lovers fic and see any similarities, no you don't comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[k9wa]

⟁ A BULLET A DAY, ft. BOOTHILL.

⠀ — where teasing, annoying, poking and prodding all fall under the same category; flirting.

⚠︎︎ more mechanic! reader, gn, boothill being an idiot, flirting, suggestive, he has fake teeth to me, something about tension + leaving him high and dry is soooo ….

from this request !

it’s a miracle, truly, how boothill manages to be so tempting and endearing yet so utterly irritating and infuriating at the same time. 

and it’s hot, sure, but that just makes it all the more annoying, leaves you frustrated and with an odd pool in your stomach.  

boothill managed his way into your supply of bullets, happily tossing back the brass casings like a simple snack. it was a genius idea at the time, really, giving him a stomach that can store ammunition. though had you expected him to chew on the damn things instead of swallowing them— you know, like he was intended to— you would’ve just given him a little side bag to save yourself the work.

you half hoped the lead stuffing the things would seep into his still intact brain, but chastised yourself for the thought soon after having it. you don’t hate him that much. your brain should check back and try the thought again in twenty minutes. 

“y’know what’d be real neat, buttercup?” boothill’s legs were kicked up lazily on your workbench as he sat next to you, waiting for you to finish a small modification on his revolver. “spikes in my boots.” he lifted a foot up, rolling his ankle a bit. “you know, them retractable ones. be able t’a have some real fun with those things.”

you snorted, his efforts to dodge his synesthesia beacon as entertaining as always.

“since when do i take requests?” you asked, eyes focused down on your work— far too used to his antics to lift your head anymore.

“since when d’you deny gettin’ to tinker with me?”

he brought his feet down to the floor and leaned forward on his thighs, the denim of his pants tightening around them. “what, gonna make me say please and thank ya now?” 

you truly wanted to reply, say it wasn’t a half bad idea and that you’d look into the upgrade. until he started shaking a few bullets around in his palm like they were fucking almonds.

now boothill noticed the clench of your jaw, and oh how he revelled in it. he’s fully aware how the crunching of brass and lead peeves you, ie. you telling him to knock it off an hour ago— (“it ain’t hurtin’ nobody, is it now?”—) but you’re just so darn cute when you’re ticked off. he’s gotta push your buttons just a lil bit. 

“somethin’ the matter?” the way his sharp teeth gleamed through that damn grin weren’t doing anything to help. 

he took a bullet between his thumb and forefinger, the shiny gunmetal digits pinching the ammunition as he held it up next to you. “d’ya care for one, sugar plum?”

fine, you thought. two can play that game.

you tore your attention away from the old steel revolver, finally turning to look at him. boothill prepared for an insult, one he’d tell you was ‘flatterin’ and all,’ but it didn’t come.

you leaned towards his hand, keeping your eyes locked with his that glowed a familiar and faint red. 

then you took the bullet between your tongue and top front teeth, gently pulling it out of his hands with your mouth.

his smirk actually dropped— you’d think someone stuck an infected usb into his ear with all the ideas that flooded the forefront of his brain, making his circuits just tingle with excitement. something about the hot single mechanic in his area.

you turned back to your desk, removing the bullet from your teeth and twirling it between your fingers idly as you gave a once over to his revolver, as if nothing had happened.

boothill blinked, chuckling gruffly with a shake of his head as he slumped back in his chair, flicking another bullet into the air with his thumb and catching it in his palm with a gentle clink! the cyborg gave a low whistle as he kicked his feet back up.

“ain’t you somethin’,” he drawled, earning a chuckle from you. “y’sure know how t’keep a man on his toes, don’t ya buttercup?” 

“i dunno what you mean, boothill.” you only offered a hum, willfully ignorant to boothill’s colourful imagination.

“oh i’m real sure y’don’t.” he shook his head, another chuckle rumbling his chest and sending a shiver down your neck.

“say,” he leaned towards you, his shoulder to yours, feeling a little lucky and dropping his voice to a knee-weakening purr, “if that pretty mouth a’yers likes metal, i’m more’en happy t’a—” 

“all done.”

all bets go down the drain. boothill deadpanned as you clicked the barrel of his gun into place and handed it back to him, standing up to stretch your arms.

“shops closed for today,” you fold them, leaning back against your bench. “you better get a move on before i have to kick you out.”

boothill’s eyes trailed up your figure, taking his sweet time finding your face. the cowboy raised an eyebrow into a cocky arch despite him swearing his body was on the verge of its cooling protocol. 

“you keep woundin’ me, sugar.” 

“i dunno what you mean, boothill.”

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[kayesfanfics]

Hi can I request a femreader/ nightcrawler story where the reader is shy and anxious, while Kurt misunderstands this as her thinking he’s a monster?

But in truth she’s been trying to confess her feelings to him but she always backs out last minute in fear?

Thank you!

A/N: The way I’ve probably imagined this scenario at 12 years old laying in bed at night. I also made the reader friends with Rogue, Jean and Ororo since she’s closer to their ages

“Sugah, yer lookin’ more nervous than a long-tailed pussy cat in a room full o’ rockin’ chairs!” Rogue tapped your shoulder as she walked into the lounging area, where you were having morning coffee with Jean and Ororo. “What’s gotcha all riled up, huh?”

“Kurt’s playing basketball with the others outside...in shorts.” Jean quipped before taking a sip of coffee, a playful grin on her face. Ororo chuckled at the embarrassed face you made, as if someone just walked in on you changing.

“Jean!” You whined, face turning redder when Rogue started laughing.

“Oh, Y/N! We’re just teasing!” Jean giggled as you pouted at all of them finding your embarrassment amusing.

“I just don’t see why you haven’t told him about her feelings yet!”

They all knew you’ve had the biggest crush on the fuzzy blue X-Man, Nightcrawler, ever since he joined the team a few months ago. He was always so nice to everyone, including you, and he seemed to always say the right thing at the right time. He even made your morning coffee sometimes when you got up late, knowing everyone’s coffee order by heart by now.

The boys were outside playing basketball with Jubilee and Roberto, showing the younger ones how it was done. You watched out the window at the court, seeing Gambit and Wolverine battling for the ball before Kurt teleported between them and snatched the ball from them, tossing it into the basket and laughing when they both started yelling about the “no powers” rule. You smiled before realizing you were staring, clearing your throat and turning to Rogue.

“You know I get too nervous around your brother, I can’t even ask him to pass the salt at dinner!”

“Yer always nervous, that’s fine! But y’know, he totally likes you too. I can tell.”

“No he doesn’t.” You shook your head in denial.

“Yes he does.” All three women said at the same time, side eyeing you or rolling their eyes.

“My dear, Kurt is a very charismatic man, but he goes out of his way to make you smile every chance he gets.” Ororo set her hand atop of yours. “I even see a flash of disappointment when you flee from his advances.”

“Really?” You asked, feeling a bit guilty about making him feel bad. You were a generally nervous person, but your anxiety sky rocketed around him, your heart always felt like it would explode out of your chest when he got close to you or touched you. It was difficult to hold eye contact with him, your nerves getting the best of you and looking down at the floor while you spoke to him. You’d give him a scared smile when he handed you things, your blood running cold when his hand brushed up against yours during those exchanges. You often found your eyes wandering to him when he wasn’t focused on you, it was easier to look at him when you knew he wasn’t aware of you checking him out. You loved the way his tail squashed playfully as he joked around with Morph, how his ear would twitch like a cats when he heard someone new enter the room, how his fangs gleamed when he smiled or how his bright yellow eyes sparked with mischief during a fight.

“Okay…you know what? Todays the day, today I need to confess to him! If I don’t today, I never will cause I’m a baby and will back out.” You stood up confidently.

“Yeah! Go get em, tiger!” Rogue cheered as you walked away, then lowered her voice. “She ain’t gonna.”

“I think Y/N can do things she sets her mind to.” Storm defended you.

“Wanna put ten bucks on it?” Rogue raised an eyebrow and cheekily grinned.

“…you’re on.” Storm nodded, shaking her hand as Jean spoke up, saying she’d bet alongside Storm that you could do it.

“You know I can still hear you all?” You crossed your arms from the window, getting a closer look and watching Kurt dodge Roberto’s lunge. Your friends all laughed as you shook your head, trying to get ahold of your nerves.

How were you supposed to tell the most handsome, heroic, sweetest, most amazing person ever you were in love with them? Kurt was genuinely the kindest person you’d ever met, giving you butterflies when you watched him comfort a mutant child during a fight, or how he helped his teammates so gently when they were injured. You couldn’t fathom how people were afraid or disgusted by him, he was the most gorgeous man in the world. How you could see a tinge of indigo under his blue fur when he blushed or bruised, how sculpted and chiseled he was yet also was so soft to look at. When he wore sweatpants and a tank top after training one day, you swore you would have a heart attack right then and there seeing how attractive he looked in the outfit. You adored sneaking peeks of him working out alone, his muscles bulging when he did push ups or pull ups on a bar, how flexible and agile he was and how effortless he made it look. You’d stand outside the door until you felt you would get caught staring, not wanting to seem like a creep.

You were suddenly pulled out of your thoughts when the door opened, Wolverine carrying Jubilee, pretending to be limp and passed out in his arms.

“What happened?” Jean asked as the girls all stood up from their little coffee and gossip session.

“She tripped and scraped her knee trying to get the ball from Logan!” Morph snickered as they all filed inside.

“I’ve been attacked! He pushed me and now I’m severely wounded!” Jubilee whined dramatically as Logan set her down on the counter. You waited for Kurt while you listened to Jubilee and Wolverine bicker about the seriousness of her cut knee, feeling your heart skip a beat when he finally walked in, chatting with Hank.

“Um…hey, Kurt?” You spoke quietly, but Kurt’s ear twitched and picked up your shy voice.

“Yes, Miss Y/N?” He asked, stopping and letting Hank go ahead of him.

“I…um…could you find a first aid kit, please?”

You blushed when you heard your friends laugh behind you and Storm and Jean handed Rogue money, knowing Kurt was looking past you at them, wondering what they were doing. You felt like a dork backing out of confessing and asking him to do something you could easily do, but you changed your mind at the last second that you weren’t ready yet.

“Sure.” He smiled, before bamfing off. You turned and glared at your friends, before walking walked over to Jubilee, seeing blood dripping down her shin and gravel from the court embedded inside of it.

“Ouch, let me clean that for you.” You said and wet a paper towel, ignoring Logan saying how she was fine and it was part of growing up and being a kid. You kneeled down and patted down Jubilee’s injury, soaking up the blood and wiping out any gravel from the wound.

“Here you are, Y/N.” You heard a familiar sweet, velvety voice beside you. You looked over and saw Nightcrawler holding out a first aid kit from the nearest bathroom, a charming grin on his face.

“Oh, um, thank you Kurt.” You smiled at him shyly, before quickly turning your attention to Jubilee. You didn’t see the look of rejection in his yellow eyes as the irritated twitch of his tail at that, before he sighed and bamfed off again.

*a couple hours later*

“Mein Gott!” The mutant shouted in surprise, also not paying attention to where he was going before tumbling backwards at the collision. You were on your way to training, focusing on wrapping up your hands to look where you were going. Now, you knocked down the last person you wanted to. You felt bad seeing the gorgeous man on the floor because of you.

“Kurt! I’m so sorry! Here, let me help!” You held a hand out to him, but he got up himself.

“It is fine.” He said simply before walking past you, then suddenly pausing and turning to you. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure.” You fidgeted with your hands nervously, anxious for the question.

“Do you…have I offended you in some way?” He asked, his eyes flashing with a bit of sadness.

“What? No? Why would you think that?” You asked, worried your timid behavior had finally kicked you in the ass.

“You tend to just brush me off, I’ve noticed. Lately you don’t really look at me, you respond with few words to me. I just thought…maybe I did something to scare you? Disgust you? Perhaps I…you think I’m a monster?”

You stared at him in the hallway, shock freezing your thoughts for a moment. How could he ever think your awkwardness around him could be because you thought he was disgusting? That he thought you found him frightening? You hadn’t realized how not making eye contact or responding curtly would come across to him, a man who’s been persecuted and attacked his whole life for how he looked. He was the most admirable, amazing person you’d ever met and you made him feel like a monster.

“Kurt, no! Not at all! I just…I do like you, I do! You just…make me very nervous. More so than I usually am…”

“How? Do I intimidate you?” He tilted his head in confusion. “I do not mean to-“

“It’s not that, really. I uh…I just really admire you, I guess. You make me more nervous than the others because…because I really like you…a lot.” You looked down at the floor, shyly looking up into his eyes. His face relaxed when he finally understood what you meant.

“Oh…I apologize for thinking so little of your actions. You are understanding and non judge mental, I should never have assumed what I did about you. How about I take you out to apologize for my ignorance?” He flashed his fangs at you in a charming smile, slowly approaching you before he was close enough to hold out a hand to you.

“I-I…okay.” You took his hand and sheepishly smiled up at him, allowing him to guide you down the hall. “I’m really sorry I made you feel like I-“

“No apology necessary, Y/N, really. I’m just glad we’ve come to…an understanding.” He grinned, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a soft kiss on your knuckles. You blushed and giggled at the action

[emchante]

kinktober | marked by jealousy - l.h.

summary: when another man is all over you at the club, lewis’ jealousy quietly builds. once you come back to him, lewis doesn't let you leave until he’s marked his territory.

WARNINGS: 18+ content, dom!lewis, possessive lewis, rough sex, bathroom sex, public sex, biting, dirty talk, claiming

w.c. 2.7k+

a/n happy halloween and final day of kinktober! nice to have this event done with, but i loved every second of it. i feel like this is one of my weaker works for this event, but ill let you all be the decider of that. thank you so much for the support this month!! so many new followers and faces and i'm so grateful to have you all <3

the pulsing bass vibrated through your body as you made your way back to the vip section. the darkened club felt like it was swallowing you whole, the flashing neon lights cutting through the fog of cigarette smoke. you could feel eyes on you, some lingering longer than others, but you kept your gaze forward, zeroing in on the roped-off area where you knew lewis would be waiting.

you pushed through the velvet rope, the bouncer recognizing you instantly, and exhaled in relief. you didn’t have to look up to know exactly where lewis was; he was always in the same spot, a commanding presence that drew your attention effortlessly. the club, no matter how crowded or chaotic, always faded away when you saw him.

lewis was leaning against the plush back of the booth, one arm draped over the low backrest. his other hand gripped a crystal glass half-filled with an amber liquid that glistened under the low light. his fingers tapped rhythmically against the glass, his jaw clenched in a hard line, and his dark eyes were fixed solely on you.

as you approached, his gaze never wavered. a heavy heat curled low in your stomach, knowing the weight of those eyes and the power they held over you. the man you’d left talking to at the bar was long forgotten in your mind, just a few minutes of idle conversation while lewis was busy entertaining a conversation of his own with some sponsors.

but clearly, lewis hadn't forgotten—or forgiven.

“hey, babe,” you called casually as you slid into the booth beside him, your knee brushing against his leg in an innocent, almost subconscious effort to bridge the gap between you. but the instant you felt the press of his body heat, you were aware of the tension coiled within him. the rhythmic tapping of his fingers ceased, and the grip on his glass tightened.

lewis turned his head slowly, eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse skip. his expression remained neutral, a little too controlled, but the rigid set of his shoulders betrayed the storm brewing beneath the surface. he set his glass down on the table with a soft thud, never breaking eye contact.

“where’ve you been?” he asked, voice low and measured. his british accent, normally a smooth melody in your ears, felt like a rough edge against your skin tonight.

“just chatting,” you replied nonchalantly, trying to ignore the electric tension crackling between you. you leaned back, letting your arm rest along the booth’s backrest, attempting to play off the unease you felt with a carefree demeanor. but lewis wasn’t buying it.

“chatting?” he repeated, arching an eyebrow, and you could hear the thinly veiled displeasure in his voice. “seemed like a bit more than that.”

you tried to scoff, but it came out weak. “he was just being friendly. it’s not like—”

“i’m not in the mood for games,” he interrupted, voice still calm, but the roughness beneath it was unmistakable. “especially not with you.”

the sudden shift in his tone left no room for arguments. your heartbeat picked up, a rush of nervous energy flooding through your veins. this wasn’t unfamiliar territory, but it was rare for lewis to let his emotions bleed through like this in public. it was both thrilling and unnerving.

his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he abruptly stood, holding out his hand. “come with me.”

you hesitated for only a split second before you took his hand. it wasn’t just the firmness of his grip but the way his fingers seemed to lock around yours, as if asserting ownership with every breath you took.

he led you through the throngs of people, moving with a quiet authority that parted the crowd with ease. you followed closely, feeling the heat of his hand against yours, a silent promise of what was to come. when he steered you towards the back of the club, past the bustling dance floor and towards a dimly lit hallway, your heart began to pound with anticipation.

the hallway was narrow, lined with closed doors that offered varying levels of privacy. he didn’t stop until he reached the last door, pushing it open without a word. he led you inside, and as soon as the door clicked shut, you felt the tension snap like a taut wire.

before you could speak, lewis spun you around, pressing you firmly against the door. his body pressed flush against yours, a wall of heat that left no room to breathe. the hand that had been gripping yours now held your hip possessively, while his other hand braced against the door beside your head. you could feel his breath against your neck, warm and heavy, as if he was trying to restrain himself from something darker.

“lewis—” you started, but he cut you off with a low growl, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“do you think i didn’t see him all over you?” he murmured, voice rough and heavy with jealousy. his fingers dug into your hip, anchoring you in place. “didn’t see him touching you, laughing with you, fucking looking at you like that?”

your heart raced as his words sank in, the jealousy simmering in his voice sending a thrill through you. you opened your mouth to protest, to explain, but lewis wasn’t having any of it.

“no,” he muttered, his voice dropping even lower, barely above a whisper. “you’re mine.” before you could react, lewis’ hand moved from the door to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips crashed against yours. the kiss was rough, demanding, and you melted into it, unable to do anything but cling to him. his teeth scraped against your lower lip, and you gasped into his mouth, the sudden sting of pain sending a jolt of desire through your body.

lewis pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as he stared down at you. his pupils were blown wide, eyes dark with unspoken possessiveness.

“you wanna act like you don’t belong to me?” he murmured, voice a low rumble that vibrated through your chest. “fine. i’ll just have to remind you.”

before you could respond, lewis spun you around again, pressing you harder against the door. his hands were quick and decisive, lifting the hem of your dress and pushing it up over your hips. you could hear the low rasp of his breathing, the faint shuffle of fabric as he freed himself, and the anticipation made your head spin.

you felt his fingers hook under your panties, tugging them down roughly until they pooled around your ankles. then his hand was on your thigh, pulling your leg up and pinning it to the door, forcing you to open up for him.

the cool air against your exposed skin made you shiver, but the heat radiating from lewis’ body kept you grounded. you braced yourself against the door, fingers splayed out against the rough wood as you tried to steady your breathing.

“lewis,” you breathed, the plea slipping past your lips involuntarily. a “shh,” was murmured from him in return, and you could feel the sharp edge of his teeth against your shoulder, a warning bite. “not a word.”

there was no gentleness in the way he entered you, no patience or careful consideration. lewis wasn’t here to make love to you—he was here to reclaim you. his thrusts were hard and demanding, forcing the breath from your lungs with each movement. he pressed his chest against your back, pinning you between the door and the solid weight of his body, and you could do nothing but submit to him.

the rough rhythm of his hips, the low growl in his throat, the possessive way his fingers dug into your skin—it was all too much and not nearly enough. you moaned, the sound muffled against the door, but lewis wasn’t satisfied with that.

“louder,” he demanded, his voice rough and strained. “let them hear you.”

you bit your lip, trying to contain the sounds threatening to spill over, but lewis wasn’t having it. his hand snaked around to your front, fingers pressing firmly against the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. the sudden pressure made you cry out, your head falling back against his shoulder.

“good girl,” he murmured approvingly, his teeth grazing the side of your neck. “now stay still.”

before you could process his words, you felt the sharp sting of his teeth against your skin. you gasped, your body arching instinctively as the pain mingled with pleasure. lewis didn’t relent; he bit down harder, the possessive growl in his throat reverberating through your body.

when he finally pulled back, you felt the lingering heat of his bite on your skin, a reminder of his claim. but lewis wasn’t finished. he kissed the spot he’d bitten, his lips gentle against the throbbing ache, and then he did it again, sinking his teeth into your flesh with the same intensity.

the pain and pleasure blurred together, each bite sending a shiver down your spine and tightening the knot of desire in your stomach. your breaths came in short, ragged gasps, and you could feel lewis’ heartbeat racing against your back, the steady rhythm mirroring the pounding in your chest.

“mine,” he murmured between bites, each word punctuated by another mark. “you’re mine, and everyone knows that sweetheart, even if they try act oblivious.”

his words, his touch, the unrelenting possession in his voice—it was overwhelming. your legs began to tremble, the strain of holding yourself up under the force of his thrusts pushing you closer to the edge.

“lewis,” you gasped, voice breathless and pleading. “please—”

but lewis wasn’t going to let you finish so easily, not until he was done with you. “not yet,” he muttered, his voice rough with restraint. “not until i say.”

you whimpered, the ache between your legs growing unbearable, but you did as he said, holding on by sheer force of will. lewis’ grip on you tightened, and you could feel the desperation in his touch, the raw intensity with which he claimed you. every thrust felt like a statement, a silent promise that he wasn’t letting go, that he wouldn’t allow anyone else to have you.

his lips were back at your neck, his breath hot and uneven against your flushed skin. when he sank his teeth in again, just below your jaw, it wasn’t just a bite—it was a brand, a mark that told the world who you belonged to. the sharp sting made you cry out, your fingers curling against the rough wood of the door as the pain blended seamlessly with pleasure.

lewis growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back. “you think i don’t see it? the way they look at you? the way you smile at them?” his words were rough, almost choked, as if he was fighting to keep himself together. “but it doesn’t matter. because you’re mine.”

there was an edge of vulnerability beneath the possessiveness, a hint of fear that you’d slip away if he wasn’t careful. but that wasn’t going to happen—not now, not ever. not when he held you so tightly, every touch a silent plea for you to stay.

you couldn’t hold back any longer. the ache between your legs was almost painful, the need for release overwhelming every other thought in your mind. “lewis,” you gasped, the word barely audible over the pounding music outside and the rush of blood in your ears. “please.”

he exhaled sharply, the sound almost like a growl, and you felt the restraint in him snap. his thrusts became erratic, desperate, and you could feel his teeth graze your skin one last time before his hand slipped from your thigh to your hip, pulling you back against him as he drove into you with renewed urgency.

“now,” he murmured against your neck, the rough scrape of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “come for me.”

it was all you needed to hear. the pressure building inside you exploded, your body tensing and then shuddering violently as pleasure ripped through you. you cried out his name, the sound raw and desperate, and lewis didn’t hold back his own release any longer. his grip on you tightened almost painfully, his body pressing flush against yours as he followed you over the edge.

for a moment, the world disappeared—there was no club, no crowd, no lingering eyes. there was just you and lewis, two bodies pressed together, breaths mingling in the dark. the sensation of his lips on your skin, his fingers digging into your hip, his chest heaving against your back—it all felt like an unspoken promise, a silent confession of something deeper.

when you both finally came down from the high, lewis remained pressed against you, his breath hot and heavy in your ear. the weight of his body was a comforting reminder that he was still there, still holding onto you as if afraid you might vanish if he let go.

after a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands loosening their grip on you but not letting go completely. his fingers brushed the marks he’d left on your neck, and you could feel the lingering heat of each bite, the skin still tender and throbbing.

lewis’ voice was softer when he spoke again, the rough edge replaced by something almost vulnerable. “look at me.”

you turned your head, meeting his gaze. the intensity in his eyes had softened, replaced by a mixture of possessiveness and something else—something raw and genuine that made your chest tighten.

“i’m not letting anyone else have you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “do you understand?”

you nodded, unable to find the words to respond. there was no need for words anyway—not when the marks he’d left on your skin spoke louder than anything you could say.

lewis exhaled slowly, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment before he straightened, his hands sliding down to your waist. he adjusted your dress, his touch surprisingly gentle given the roughness of moments before, and you felt a strange sense of intimacy in the way he took care of you in the aftermath.

when he was satisfied, he stepped back, his gaze lingering on your neck for a moment longer before he finally met your eyes. “come on,” he said quietly, his voice rough but steady. “let’s get out of here.”

you didn’t argue. you simply nodded, taking his hand as he led you out of the bathroom and back into the pulsing heart of the club. the flashing lights and pounding music felt almost surreal now, a stark contrast to the dark intensity of what had just happened between you.

as you left the club, the cool night air hit your skin, making the marks on your neck tingle. you glanced up at lewis, who was walking beside you with a calm confidence that belied the storm you knew was still simmering beneath the surface.

he looked down at you, his hand squeezing yours, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. it wasn’t the smug, self-assured smile he often wore in public—it was something softer, almost relieved.

“ready to go home?” he asked, his voice holding a hint of vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

you nodded, squeezing his hand in return. “yeah. let’s go home.”

and as you walked together through the quiet streets, the city lights casting a soft glow around you, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of certainty settle in your chest. whatever doubts or fears lewis had about losing you, they were unfounded. he didn’t need to mark you with bites or bruises to prove his claim—you were already his, in every way that mattered.

[em-ontv]

Get a room.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: After a particularly bad hunt, you were patching Dean up in the motel room, but he said he needed to be healed up the right way.

Content: fluff(?), kisses, Sam kind of being the third-wheel, no use of y/n, mentions of injury

English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 698

You and Dean had just stumbled back to the bunker after a long, exhausting hunt. It was one of those hunts where everything that could go wrong, did. Dean had taken a hit from some nasty vamp, even after you told him to be careful, but Dean? Nah, that word wasn't in his vocabulary. And while he made no big deal of the gash, you knew it was serious enough to need a little patching up.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt off, grimacing slightly as you cleaned up the deep cut on his shoulder.

"Ow—! Careful," Dean grimaced, shooting you a mocking glare. "You trying to finish me off, sweetheart?"

"Quit being a baby," you shook your head. "You're lucky this didn't go deeper."

“I’m always lucky,” Dean responded, a smirk spreading across his face despite his slight wince when you dabbed the cloth on his wound again.

"Uh-huh. I should just leave you to bleed out next time, it would save me a whole lot of trouble." you muttered, beginning to bandage him up, nodding in approval of your work once you secured it.

Dean shifted, sighed, then flashed you a lopsided grin. "I think you missed a step, sweetheart."

"What step?" you raised an eyebrow, confused.

“For me to fully heal… there’s only one thing that’ll work.”

“What?" you almost rolled your eyes. "Lemme guess, whiskey and pie?”

He grinned wider. “Nope. Kisses. Specifically, from you. On my face. All over. Only way this wound’s gonna close up right.”

You snorted. “Right. Because that's definitely how medical science works.”

Dean winced dramatically. “You don’t believe me? It’s a foolproof healing method. I swear it.”

"C'mon, don't leave me hanging here—this is life or death." He added for good measure, tapping a finger to his cheek.

Despite yourself, you laughed. “You are so full of it, Winchester.”

“One kiss. Or like… fifty. But who's counting?” He shrugged.

You sighed, fully aware you were playing into his game but too tired to fight it. You leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, where his finger tapped relentlessly until you gave in.

“There you go,” Dean said, clearly pleased. “But you missed a spot—” He pointed to another area, so you kissed it too. “And there—” Another kiss. “And the forehead—” You kissed his forehead. “And—”

“Okay, Dean, that’s enough."

"Not enough. I can still feel the pain." He let out an over-the-top groan.

You sighed in exasperation, considering to either just punch him across the face or keep giving into him—you chose the latter.

Just as you were placing more kisses onto his face—the grin on his lips made him look like a love-drunk idiot—the door swung open.

Sam walked in with some takeout bags, he froze in the doorway, eyes widening as he took in the scene: you, practically sitting on Dean’s lap, showering his face with kisses, while Dean looked way too proud of himself.

“What did I just walk into?” Sam groaned, immediately making a beeline to the table to avoid getting another glance at the two of you.

"Hey, it's a part of the healing process, Sammy." Dean smirked, looking over to his brother.

Sam blinked, then made a face like he just swallowed something sour. “Gross. Seriously, guys, get a room.”

“We’re technically in a room, you know.” you said, getting off of Dean who seemed too reluctant to let you go.

"A room that you walked into." Dean added, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Sam set the food down, still shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, well, next time, maybe give me a warning first so I know not to come in while you guys are having a whole smooch-fest."

"You're just jealous."

"You two are impossible."

"Buzzkill."

Sam just groaned in annoyance again, starting to unpack the food.

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, feeling a bit guilty—though not that guilty. You glanced at Dean, who tugged on your hand with a happy expression.

"Next time, we're giving you painkillers." you said, lifting your hand up and running your finger through his hair.

"Not a chance." Dean smiled.

[itneverendshere]

I love pogue!reader and rafe sm. I’m so excited every time you post them ❤️ what if reader realizes she’s really falling for rafe and it’s getting serious so she’s tries to self sabotage and end it. She’s thinking he’s THE kook and she’s a pogue. It can’t last and she won’t survive that heartbreak. so rafe starts to panic but then realizes what’s she’s doing by ending it so he’s just like lol no nice try I’m not going anywhere

 i would follow you home - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) word count: 3.1k

hope you enjoy, i love them too 🩵

It was mid-afternoon, that quiet lull between lunch and dinner when the regulars started to trickle in. And like clockwork, you were wiping down the bar, mindlessly watching the condensation drip from a glass of iced tea when you saw Rafe strolling in.

He always had that cocky walk, shoulders rolled back like he owns the place, which, you guess, technically he kinda did, or at least his dad did. Cameron Development Group practically built the country club.

He spotted you and the corner of his mouth lifted in that way that made your stomach flip. God, you hated how it still got to you.

After months of this—him swinging by the bar at the end of his golf games, lounging against the counter like it was no big deal, driving you home, saving you from the storms, letting you kiss him—your heart should’ve calmed the hell down. But no, here you were, butterflies fluttering in your chest, fingers tightening around the rag you were using to clean.

You tossed it on the counter and busy yourself with stacking glasses.

“Hey, stranger.” His voice was all smooth like he knew exactly what effect it had on you. And he did. You were still a shitty liar and he learned that fast. 

You glanced up, trying to keep things cool, casual. “Hey yourself.”

He settled into one of the barstools, leaning forward, his blue eyes locking on yours. “You off soon?”

You shrugged. “Depends. Why?”

The truth was, you knew why. You knew exactly what he was asking.

He was wondering if you would have time after this—time to sneak off to that little spot by the docks where you'd been meeting up, where things between you had been getting more…a little complicated?

And that’s exactly why you needed to end this.

It’s not like you hadn’t seen it coming. You’d known for a while that whatever this thing was with Rafe, it was headed in a direction you couldn’t afford to follow. He was the poster child for Kook royalty. Born with a silver spoon and all that. Meanwhile, you were still just the bartender, a Pogue, barely scraping by. 

It started simple—quick conversations after work, long talks on the drive home, those random texts at 2 a.m. that turned into hours of you two confessing things you’d never say out loud to anyone else.

You din’t know when it shifted into this—this weird gray area where everything felt more intense. Maybe when you all but kissed him when he picked you up after the storm. That had to be it.

Because you knew how this story ended. You knew what happened when a girl like you fell for a guy like Rafe Cameron.

Heartbreak.

And you wouldn’t survive that.

“I’ve been thinking,” You blurted out, suddenly very aware of the way his eyes were still on you. Too aware. You reached for a clean glass, filling it with soda water to distract yourself. “Maybe we should… I dunno, cool it for a bit.”

His smirk faltered. “Cool it?”

“Yeah,” You shrugged again, trying to seem nonchalant, even though your heart was hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. “I mean, this was fun and all, but let’s be real—”

“Be real?”

You nodded, not daring to look up from the glass you were holding.

“We’re not exactly from the same world, Rafe. It was bound to end sooner or later. Might as well rip the band-aid off now.”

Silence. For a beat, he doesn’t say anything, and for a second you wonder if you had done it—if you’d actually convinced him that this wasn’t worth it, that he should’ve just walked away and left you with at least a sliver of your heart intact.

Then he laughed.

It wasn’t like a mocking laugh, but it was still a sound you weren’t expecting. Your eyes snapped up to his face, and you saw that damn smirk was back. Only this time, there was something softer in his eyes, something almost… amused?

“Oh, I see what this is.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, looking way too pleased with himself.

You frowned, instinctively grabbing a towel and wiping the counter again, trying to distract yourself from the way his eyes were making you feel seen. Too seen. 

“What?”

“You’re scared.”

Your stomach dropped. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupted, standing up and rounding the bar until he was way too close, until you could smell the cologne clinging to his skin and the fresh grass scent of the golf course. He caged you in with his body, one hand gripping the counter behind you, the other reaching up to tilt your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You’re trying to push me away because you’re scared. But newsflash, sweetheart—nice try. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight, because damn it, he was right. He was completely, 100% right, and you hated it. You hated that he could see right through you like that, see all your fears, all the things you’d been trying so hard to bury.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

You didn’t know what to say because, deep down, you didn’t want to believe that it mattered to him. You wanted to believe that he saw you for more than just the girl behind the bar. But every time you let yourself get close, that voice in the back of your head reminded you that this wasn’t some fairytale.

“Rafe, you’ll get bored,” you mumbled, barely able to get the words out. “You’ll realize this was just… a phase. I mean, we’re friends, right? We can just… go back to that.”

“Go back to that?” He repeated your words slowly like he was testing them out. And then he laughed—this short, disbelieving sound that made your stomach twist, “You’re trying to run.”

“Am not.”

“You are.

“There’s nothing to run from,” You snapped, though even you didn’t believe that.

He was close enough now that you had to tilt your head almost all the way back to meet his eyes, and there was something so raw, so real in the way he was looking at you that you couldn’t breathe.

“Nothing, huh?”

“Nothing,” you managed to repeat, but the word came out more like a question than a statement. The self-doubt you’d been trying to ignore bubbled up, and you hated yourself for it. 

He leaned in closer, and you could feel his breath against your skin. “If you think there’s nothing between us, then why does it hurt so much to even think about letting it go?”

His words hit a particular soft spot, and you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping. You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that you could walk away and be fine.

But the truth was, you weren’t fine. You weren’t even close to fine.

The whole time you’d been telling yourself this was just a fling, some wild phase that would burn out eventually—because that was what made sense. You weren’t supposed to fall for the guy who came from money and lived in a mansion on the hill, while you were still sharing a room with your sister in a run-down house, after yours got destroyed, on the wrong side of the island. 

This was never supposed to be real.

“You don’t get it. You’ve never had to worry about—about someone like me not fitting into your life. You don’t have people looking at you and thinking ‘what the hell is he doing with her?’”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and his thumb brushed a light circle against your waist, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Who cares what people think? I’m not with them. I’m with you.”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him, stepping back just enough to put some space between you.

"No. No, it’s not that simple. You don’t get it. You don’t get what it’s like to always be the one left behind. You’ll get bored, and then what? You just walk away and I’m the one left picking up the pieces."

He opened his mouth to argue, but you weren’t done.

"And don't say you won’t, because everyone does! I’ve seen this before. I’ve been through it. I don’t survive guys like you." Your voice cracked, and damn it, you hated how vulnerable you sounded, but it was too late. It was all spilling out now, all the fear you’d kept bottled up.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and instead of the cocky smirk you expected, there was something different in his eyes. Anger? No, frustration maybe. But not at you.

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to keep his cool. “You think I’m just some guy playing games, huh? That I’m gonna wake up one day and decide you’re not worth it?”

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself as if that would protect you from the way his words were hitting you too hard. “Isn’t that what happens?”

“No. Not with me.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do know that!” His voice rose, and you flinched a little, caught off guard by the intensity.

He noticed and apologized immediately, stepping closer, his hand reaching for yours but stopping just short. "I’m here, with you. Because I want to be. Don’t you get that?"

You hated the way he was looking at you, the way his words hit with brutal honesty you weren’t used to—it made you pause. Your eyes fleeted away, focusing on the floor because looking at him was too much.

"Just let me go," you whispered, "It’ll hurt less now."

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and before you could pull back, he stepped forward, closing the gap between you in one swift move.

His hand cupped your face, forcing you to meet his eyes, and there was no escape from the intensity in them.

"No," he said, firm but quiet. "I’m not letting you go. You’re not pushing me away. I’m not leaving, no matter how hard you try to sabotage this."

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you shook your head, trying to argue, but then his lips were on yours, cutting off whatever weak protest you had left. The kiss wasn’t gentle or slow—it was harsh, like he was trying to make you understand something without words. 

 And damn it, you kissed him back. Because of course, you did.

Because despite everything you said, everything you feared, you wanted this. You wanted him. But the second you felt yourself giving in, you pushed him back, your hands pressed against his chest, trying to regain some control. 

"Stop doing that," you snapped, breathless.

"Doing what?" He sounded just as breathless, but he didn’t step away.

"Kissing me like you can fix this. Like—like I’m just gonna believe you."

He exhaled sharply, his hands gripping your waist, keeping you close. "You don’t have to believe me now, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll prove it to you, okay? Just stop trying to run every time it gets hard."

"I don’t know how to do this," you admitted quietly, your hands still resting against his chest, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

"I’ll show you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Just stop pushing me away."

For a moment, you let yourself just be there with him, your defenses crumbling piece by piece. You didn’t know how long it would last, or if you could even survive it, but maybe… just maybe, he was worth the risk.

But still, you couldn’t help but mutter, "You’re so stupid, you know that?"

His lips twitched into a smile. “And you’re still kissing me, again, so what does that say about you?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way your lips twitched with a smirk of your own.

 “Says I’m just as stupid as you,” you muttered under your breath, but the words lacked bite. Your hands stayed on his chest, fingers still gripping his polo like you were afraid to let go, like maybe if you held on tight enough, you wouldn’t fall apart, “Do you always go around kissing the saff?” You mumbled out.

Rafe’s hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you in closer. His forehead still rested against yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and steady, brushing against your skin. It was infuriating how easy it was to melt into him.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with the start of a grin, “Only the ones who can’t seem to stay away from me.”

You groaned, shoving him in the chest with just enough force to make him stumble back a step. “God, you’re insufferable.”

He caught your wrists before you could pull away completely, his grip gentle, keeping you close enough that you could still feel the warmth of his skin through your clothes. “Yeah, well, you seem to like insufferable.”

“Do I though?” You quipped, trying to sound indifferent, but your heartbeat was giving you away. You could feel it hammering in your chest, “Because I feel like this whole thing is a bad idea. You know, like ‘kiss the rich guy, ruin your life’ kind of bad idea.”

Rafe’s expression softened, and the teasing glint in his eyes faded. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” You tried to play dumb.

“Talk like this doesn’t mean something. Like I don’t mean something to you.” His voice was low, but there was a seriousness in it that made your stomach flip. “We’ve been doing this dance for a while now, and every time it starts to get real, you act like it’s just… casual.”

Your throat tightened, and you tried to pull your wrists free, but he didn’t let go, making it clear he wasn’t letting you run again.

“Maybe it is casual,” you said, even though the words tasted like a lie. “Maybe we’re just two people having a good time, and that’s it.”

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that made your chest ache. “Nah. You’re not fooling me anymore. You don’t kiss someone like you kissed me just for fun.”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “Rafe…”

“And you don’t look at me like that when I walk in unless there’s more to it.” His voice softened as his thumb traced light circles against your skin. “So stop pretending it’s nothing.”

“I should be working.”

But Rafe wasn’t letting you off that easy. “Yeah, you probably should,” he said, but his hands didn’t move, and neither did his eyes.

“So you’re gonna let me go?”

“Why’d you kiss me that day?” he asked, "I’ve been wondering.”

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the question. He was so close, and it was hard to think, let alone answer something that felt so…disarming like everything you’d been running from was waiting in his words.

"I don’t know," you groaned, suddenly feeling like a cornered animal. "I wasn’t thinking straight."

His fingers traced a slow line down your arm, sending shivers through you. "You sure about that?" His voice was quiet, like he already knew you were lying, knew you too well for you to hide behind that excuse. "Because it didn’t feel like just some random kiss."

You scoffed, trying to laugh it off, trying to keep your cool, but the sound came out shaky.

"It was— I don’t know, Rafe. It was just the heat of the moment, okay? The storm… everything." You bit your lip, avoiding his gaze because you knew he wasn’t buying it. "You saved me, and I guess I was—"

"Grateful?" he interrupted, his brow arching. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

You winced. "I didn’t mean it like that."

“Yeah, well, it sure sounds like you’re trying to make it seem like it meant nothing. Like you didn’t feel anything when you kissed me.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it impossible to respond right away. He wasn’t wrong. That kiss had meant something—maybe more than you were ready to admit to yourself, let alone to him.

“You can’t keep acting like you don’t care, because I know you do. You wouldn’t have kissed me if you didn’t.”

The way he said it, so certain, so sure of himself—it made your heart race even faster. 

“Why do you care so much?” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Why does it matter?”

He frowned, like you had just asked the stupidest question in the world. “Because it matters to me.”

Your chest tightened at that, and you hated how much you wanted to believe him. "I don’t want to get hurt, Rafe."

"I’m not gonna hurt you." His voice was low, serious, like a promise, but you’d heard promises like that before. "I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care. I’m asking for a chance, just one chance. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your chest tightened as you stared up at him. He was serious. Like, really serious. And you were scared out of your mind because you wanted to believe him so badly. But trusting someone, letting them in? That was terrifying.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, finally admitting it out loud.

“I know,” he murmured, his forehead resting gently against yours. “But I’m scared too, okay? I want to be with you. So, please, just… give us a shot.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, your mind racing a hundred miles per hour.

You could still feel his lips on yours, the way he made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could let your guard down for once. And the truth was, despite all the reasons you’d been telling yourself to walk away, your heart was telling you to stay.

 “Okay.”

His breath caught. “Okay?”

You opened your eyes, “Yeah, okay. I’ll give you a chance. Don’t screw it up.”

Rafe’s lips curved into that stupid, cocky grin, “I won’t. I promise.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead, you found yourself smiling back. 

Maybe this was crazy, maybe you were setting yourself up for heartbreak or maybe you’d really found yourself a soulmate.

[tunafruitt]

--> || ❝ I’m The Favorite! ❞

Reverse! Isekai/SAGAU || Warnings: fluff, some crack :3, gender neutral reader

[ Reverse Isekai with the genshin boys !! A day out for the first time since they were somehow transported into your world… ] [word count: 1.9k]

Character(s): NEUVILLETTE, WRIOTHESLEY, ITTO, KAEYA, DILUC, CHILDE, KAVEH, XIAO, AL HAITHAM

“Your Grace, with all due respect… THIS ISN’T FAIR AT ALL!”

“I understand what you’re saying Venti but I can’t bring all 20-something of you outside… 8 people is already too much! An average friend group has around 3-4 people and I’m bringing double that! I promise I’ll take the rest of you out some other day.”

Hearing consecutive sighs of disappointment, you turn to look at the rest of the men. They were visibly upset. It’s not that you DON’T want to bring them all outside! Really! It’s just that some… or, most, of them have features that would stand out in a public setting. Take Gorou and Tighnari for example! Their ears could maybe be hidden for some minutes at a time using a hood or beanie, but what about their tails? Not to mention ITTO. He literally has the most red, obvious horns.

You did your best to make them look somewhat normal. Kaveh and Wanderer could pass as a normal citizen if you removed some accessories, but characters like Diluc and Neuvillette couldn’t. So it was up to you to dress them up! Yayyy!!!

No. This was NOT an easy job. Diluc’s bright red hair couldn’t be hidden no matter how hard you tried. Neuvillette’s long hair could maybe pass as normal... maybe. His horns though? I guess you’ll have to go with the “Oh! Why are they dressed like that? Well you see, my friends just left a cosplay convention a while ago. They look cool right? Yeah.” Excuse.

You gave them what you had left in your closet. What did fit them were sweats, loose pants, pajamas and some old shirts. It was odd not seeing them in their usual complex and pretty outfits. The buffer and more muscular characters looked (not surprisingly) attractive in your shirts… they were tight just around the right spots. They noticed your eyes in their direction with your face ever so slightly flushed, but decided to not say anything about it. ( THEY KNOW.)

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

With the boys dressed up and ready, it was finally time to head out! The people you brought with you were: Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Kaeya, Diluc, Childe, Kaveh, Xiao and Al Haitham.

Xiao insisted on being the one to “protect you”. Denying his request felt awkward for some reason…

Kaveh had been interested in the simple and strangely large buildings cramped next to each other. You wouldn’t be so mean to deny his request to go see some of them in person right?

Al Haitham was interested about your world and wanted to learn more about it, maybe he’d find some books that weren’t all fiction and romance.

You’d feel bad if you only brought one Ragnvindr brother.. so you brought both. You also didn’t want to hear Kaeya bickering with Diluc about him going out on a “date” (it wasn’t.) with the Creator.

Neuvillette and Wriothesley look a bit intimidating so maybe they’d scare people off. Who would’ve known you’d have two scary looking men protecting and looking after you?

And Childe….. well he’s Childe. He was stuck to your hip.

You didn’t really know where to go.. The park? A restaurant? A supermarket? All of these options were a bit difficult since they’re usually filled with people. Of course, no matter where you go there’s likely to be people, but it’d be easier to not have to be completely and utterly aware of every stranger around you in fear that they might find out who the men you brought with you actually are. Your only option was to ask them if they had an idea or if they wanted to visit an area.

“Oh! Can we go to one of those food places you’ve talked about before? What is it called.. uh.. curly… curly fries..?”

“Jack in the Box. The name is Jack in the Box, Childe.” Wriothesley remembers every little thing you talked to yourself about when the only way they were able to feel you was through a screen. All of them would listen to you talk about a movie you watched, something funny that happened, or gossip that was spreading around your school or workplace. Anything.

You let out a small chuckle at their conversation. Their recommendation isn’t bad you think. All they’ve been eating is whatever you had back at home, since ordering takeout for more than 20 people would be wayyyyy too expensive.

So a fast food restaurant it is!

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

The walk there was…. tedious. Childe was trying his best to not wander off, he really was! But there was so many new things he’d never seen before, so it’s not his fault. Neuvillette was probably the calmest out of everyone. He was right by your side following your lead. Maybe holding onto your arm once or twice.. on accident! (it wasn’t) Xiao was observing his surroundings a little too hard.. yeah this is all new to him, but I guess he was serious about protecting you. Though you didn’t really need it with 7 tall men around you.

“Mortals… The need for human interaction is what makes them weak.”

Diluc and Kaeya would not SHUT UP. If you passed by a bar, Kaeya would ask if he could go in, just for a second! He just wants to see how different they are from the ones in Mondstadt, really. Diluc would follow up with “You’re no better than that… that drunkard Venti.”

Kaveh would stop mid-street to look at the buildings...

“These buildings are so… long. How do they hold up so much weight? It’s impressive! What would they need so many floors for though… Why is there a man’s face as the logo in that restaurant? Oh! He’s glowing?”

“If you get ran over by one of those vehicles it’ll be your fault.”

“Huh? Al Haitham! YOUR GRACE! Wait for me!”

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

The next problem was choosing what to eat. Ordering food for 8 people, not including yourself, was expensive. You knew that! But you didn’t mentally prepare for the bill.

“Oh god…”

“Your Grace? Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about. Eat up! We can go somewhere else after this if you want.”

You had realized that a woman had passed by your table countless times. She was very obviously staring at the men, looking almost flustered? Oh, she must think they’re attractive.

……

SHE THINKS THEYRE ATTRACTIVE??!

Okay. Thats okay. As long as she doesn’t ask for their numb—

“Uh-uhm.. excuse me, sir. Can I have your number? Or.. just Instagram is fine too.” She was staring directly at Wriothesley. You should’ve known letting him go out in a tight shirt and loose pants would’ve attracted more people.

“Uhh.. Pardon me, ma’am. Number…? As in… prisoner number..?” The Duke had an obvious confused and conflicted look on his face.

“Huh?”

“Aha.. ha… forgive him. He’s taken! So he can’t give out his number to just anyone.”

“Oh.. S-sorry. Forgive me I’ll just— I’ll get going.“ She was very obviously embarrassed over this whole ordeal.

“What did she mean by number, your grace?”

“Don’t… don’t worry about it…”

The group of men began to eat. (Neuvillette ordered a cup of iced water and Xiao didn’t eat anything.)

“Your Grace, there’s some food on the corner of your mouth.. Here. Let me help.” As Kaeya was about to reach his hand and wipe off the food with his thumb, there was thud on the window next to your table. Huh? It’s Itto.

It’s Itto?

“WHAT THE HELL. HOW DID HE GET HERE!?” You whispered screamed as turned to Itto. Did he follow you here? Was he here this whole time????

Through the glass Itto was saying something. His voice was muffled but you could make some things out.

“Your Grace! Don’t let this… this BUFFOON touch you! I, Arataki Itto will volunteer instead!”

You let out a loud sigh. You had to go get him… imagine seeing a tall, buff man with white hair and what looks like horns with a black hoodie up against a restaurants window…

Yeah that looks weird from an outsiders view.

You signal to the rest of the men to follow you out. When you got outside you wanted to tell Itto to never do something like that again… but he looked so sad, almost like a kicked puppy.

“Sorry Your Grace… I just wanted to accompany you! I might have gotten a teenyyy tinyyyy bit distracted on the way. You never told me there was so many cool lookin’ beetles in your world! There was one that that was very small and red with black spots, probably not useful for beetle fighting though. And I also saw some… uh.. not to disrespect anyone but there was a really weird lookin’ dog..”

SIGHHHHHH. You started to wonder what would have happened if he really had gotten lost, or what if someone recognized him? The thought of losing one of the men scared you. Would you be to blame if one of them never made it back to Teyvat?

“Itto… I love you and everything, but never do something like this again. What if we never found you? What would have happened then? I think we should head back home..”

Itto was on the verge of tears. He’s had more beans thrown at him than he could count, but nothing ever hurt as much as this.

It took Itto a while to process that you had also said you loved him.

“M’ bad Your Grace.. I won’t follow you next time… but, I love you too Your Grace!!”

The men turned to him SO FAST?? Xiao was about to take his spear out, Al Haitham looked DISGUSTED. Kaveh and Childe’s jaws were wide OPEN.

“DUDE YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT!”

“Childe’s right, we all love Our Grace, not just you.” Diluc only said this because he wanted to be the one to say “I love you”, but you didn’t need to know that. If it was for anything else he would never agree with a harbinger.

“That doesn’t even make sense! Why can’t I love and appreciate our beloved Creator? You guys are all just mad that I, the Number One Oni, Arataki Itto, am Your Grace’s FAVORITE.”

“WHAT? NO! Your Grace is that true?”

How many sighs have you let out today? This must be a full time job because you just let out another sigh.

“No, it’s not. I love all of you equally! Don’t start any problems with each other in public, please… We should be heading home anyways. Look at the sky, the sun will set soon.”

Almost in synch, the men respond “Yes, Your Grace!”

Seeing them like this made you feel all happy and giddy… It was nice seeing them together with you in the picture. You smiled at them and they just stared. They waited for you to turn around before looking at each other almost competitively. It was clear that each and every one of them wanted you for themselves in some way.

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

It was finally time to head home!!! After one long and exhausting day, you finally made it back.

The rest of the men were waiting patiently for you (Venti, Wanderer, Lyney and Heizou had to be held back by Albedo, Dainsleif and Pierro.)

“*SNIFF* AUGH.. YOUR GRACE! *SNIFF* WE MISSED YOU SO MUCH!”

“Hi, Venti… I missed you all too..” Venti’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, while he cried onto your shoulder.

“Your Grace, you’re here!” Thoma looked.. tired. Just what happened while you were gone? You decided to ask just incase.

“Hi Thoma, and everyone else. Did anything happen while me and the others were gone?” You had a gut feeling that something happened… they were unusually quiet… too quiet.

“A fight broke out between The Puppet and Cyno.”

“WHAT??”

AAAAAHHHHHHH thank you so much for 200 notes on my last fic omg y’all got me giggling to myself and spinning in my bed stop.. First long fic!!1!1! I plan on making little comic based off of the “The Creator has a.. LOVER?!” fic with the Zhongli and Venti scene with reader!! Yayyy! I Hope u guys enjoy this AUGH it makes me so happy to see people liking my noob writing thats really just me writing my thought and daydreams ilyily

[kurogxrix]

Look Don’t Touch

Dad!Mob!Bucky Barnes x Mom!reader

IN WHICH you accidentally walk onto your husband and his men during a meeting, clad in nothing else but a tight fitting top and a baby in your arms. The sight is enough to send the many men drooling, but Bucky reminds them that you’re only his to look at, and will always be.

WC: 2.1k

You wished you could have turned back to the few seconds you’d lived through before stumbling into your Husband’s office door. The silence in the room was deafening, at least for you it was. Alpine was all the least bothered, the white cat jumping across furniture to furniture without disturbing the decorations within. Your footsteps faltered quickly, suddenly stuck in your spot as you fell under the eyes of the familiar people that sat around the long meeting table. Men to be exact, the same exact group of men that had always been there to accidentally witness too far into yours and Bucky’s marriage.

Over the course of your relationship with Bucky, there had been one too many times where your husband’s men had caught you in compromising positions. Given that you were posed in such, you were always clad in near to nothing. The most you’d get to cover yourself with during  those unfortunate times that you’ve gotten caught was either the thin material of yours and Bucky’s bed sheet, or his discarded suit jacket as he pounded you from behind on his work desk. One too many times of embarrassment and humiliation on your side.

You were sort of sure that Bucky’s eyes were literally shining at the mere sight of you. Although he wasn’t the only one that was caught in a trance after your sudden appearance. The sight of you clad in nothing else but that fitting tank top that you'd wear to sleep was enough to make a grown man shiver. 

The stretchy fabric pressed around all the right areas, and the extras clung around your protruding belly. God and how much you hated that, your postpartum body that you’d glare at in the midst of the night while your baby laid sleeping. How It would take so much time for it to go, and how much you’d wish to have your old body back. Though Bucky loved it, he’d never fail to remind you of how beautiful you were, of how normal this all was because you had literally been carrying a whole baby inside of there. 

You knew how much your husband loved the sight of that little belly of yours, but you’d never be able to tell how much it aroused the others as well. All of the eyes were on you, especially on how your breast threatened to spill out of the U-cut top that you wore. You were very well aware of the change, and how could you not? No matter the size that your breasts had been before, that had now tripled, if not quadrupled during pregnancy. They were so sore and heavy from carrying so much milk, and you cursed your husband for giving you a baby that required so much milk. 

Not that you were genuinely complaining though, you loved your son more than yourself, and it didn’t matter if you had to suffer for him. You would and you were. 

Nevertheless, you staggered for a second as you closed the door, suddenly very aware of the group of men that watched you and your baby gurgling across your chest. You adjusted your hand to pat along your baby’s back, standing up straighter as you shivered under all the eyes. No, you weren’t embarrassed because of your attire. In fact you couldn’t care less about that, you showing skin had never been a sore spot in yours and Bucky’s relationship, he had no concerns with you wearing revealing clothes.

In fact he loved that you loved your body enough to do so. At the start of your relationship it was hard for you to even open up to him about your naked skin, after being put down by the other men that were now an awful part of your past. He was by no means an insecure man, and you were by no means an unfaithful woman, so everything worked out as it should. 

Furthermore, Bucky loved the sight of those snobby men checking you out at every given moment that he’d be far from your reach. He loved the sight of seeing those desperate men tracing your form as though to map it in their minds, a memory that they’d keep until they’d finally arrive home late at night, hands sinfully low in the shower as cold ran down their backs. 

Bucky loved watching those scums approach you as though they had a chance, before seeing you mouth what you’d always say. “Not interested, I'm married.”  before shoving your ringed finger in their face, a wicked grin plastered on your face before turning around to look for your loving husband. It was funny to him, watching their downturned expressions and you’d stare at your ring with such admiration, so much love that you held for him and him only. 

Though on the few unfortunate nights where those ratty men just refused to understand, he’d make sure to make his way to you. Towering over the men no matter their height, an intimidating look crowding his face as he keeps his arms around your form. He made sure to send one of his men after the cowering scum at the end of the night, and much to your confusion, you’d somewhat never seen them again after that.  

It was a funny sight at first, seeing your 6 foot tall, tatted mafia boyfriend getting all giddy because you’d confessed that you were finally confident enough in your skin to start wearing more open clothes. You were wearing those clothes by your own want and will, because of your newfound confidence and self love that you developed because of him. Your loving, mafia boyfriend that was now your husband, and inevitably the father of your child.

Now as you stood in Bucky’s office, you were simply embarrassed because you’d accidently interrupted your husband’s meeting, the defect of your motherly brain, you’d forgotten to knock before entering. Now everyone stared at you like a deer in headlights, you couldn’t help the heat that crept up your neck. 

“Detka, is there anything that you’re looking for? Anything you need?” you watched as Bucky stood up from his chair at the head of the table, making his way towards you as the heels of his expensive Italian dress shoes clicked against the marble floor. You wanted nothing more but to melt onto a puddle at the sound of his gentle tone, and your fatigue did nothing to help ease that thought. 

“A-actually I was going to ask you if you were hungry but now I see that you’re busy so, I’ll just ask again later,” you stuttered, rambling your thoughts as you urged to leave the room. If not careful, you could’ve slipped alongside your innocent baby as you left the room, but Bucky couldn’t just let you go like that. Sure he wanted to ask you what was wrong, stop you and demand why you’d rush out of the room. Not out of preeminence, but out of worry. 

Though it was obvious by your nervously racking eyes and straight posture that you wanted nothing else than to leave the room, he followed you instead. Carefully clicking the door shut behind him, he left his men inside of the room to wonder by themselves. Bucky considered them family, like brothers, so they’d understand. He was sure of it. 

Bucky turned around after closing the door, catching you bouncing your son back to sleep after you’d heard his weak grumbling. Your husband watched with heart eyes as the little Lev raises his even tinier fists to your chest, throwing an unreasoned angry fit against his poor momma. A raspy chuckle escapes Bucky’s throat as your son’s fists come crashing down against your collarbone rather robotically, and it’s not strong enough to even hurt you, but odd enough to startle you for a second. 

Finally deciding to snap out of his awfully lovestruck trance, he sauntered towards you. The palm of his hand was warm against your arm, and it somewhat comforted you as you relished in his touch. “What’s wrong malyshka? Everything’s alright? Hope little Lev isn’t causing you too much trouble, god knows how loud he’s already been since this morning.” your husband joked, but you shuddered at the memory of getting begrudgingly out of bed at 4 in the morning because of your yelling baby.

Your heart picked up the pace at the sound of the nickname he’d reserved for you, and you felt yourself going shy before the very own man that’d seen every part of you, beyond and inside. Everything. 

“I was making lunch and I was going to bring it to you, but I forgot to knock and look at where that brought me.” you laughed off the memory now that it was over, there was no need to drown in remorse over such a silly thing. Bucky’s eyes flashed towards the side table that laid against the wall near the huge doors of his meeting room, and apparently you had no free hands either because there laid a plate of his abandoned lunch upon the smooth wooden surface of the table. 

It was his favourite dish, and Bucky unconsciously smiled at the thought of you being so keen to bring it to him because of that. Your husband’s baby blue eyes racked your body once more, taking notice of the pair of oversized sweatpants that you were wearing, those that were so obviously his. The sweats were so big on you that the strings upon your waist were painfully tightened, but no matter how many pairs of your own that your husband would buy you, no matter the price or top notch quality, you’d always find more comfort in his old, worn out ones that he’d beg you to throw away. 

“You’re so beautiful, Malyshka. Thank you for the food, I'll have it as soon as I'm done with my meeting.” his warm, large palm cupped your cheek. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, relishing in his love before he leaves to tend to his work once more. Sure, you’d see him in a couple of minutes, and his free time would last until tomorrow morning, but you wanted to be with him 24/7. 

Bucky’s eyes then trailed down towards Lev, who was peacefully drooling away with his head squished against your chest. With his thumb still rubbing soothingly at your cheek, Bucky signalled you to go relax with Lev until he orders his men out, then motioned to one of the nearby maids to take his plate back to the kitchen until he was done, just so you didn’t have to move your pinky more than you needed to. 

With you back in the comfort of your plush king sized bed alongside your son, and Bucky’s consciousness now at peace, he made his way back towards the heavy doors of his meeting room. The look on his face changed as soon as the doors clicked shut once more, and this time, the softened look completely left his features. There were no more signs of tenderness upon Bucky’s face. 

The change was intimidatingly scary, his face now completely still and the menacing glow in his eyes did nothing to soothe them. For, it wasn’t like Bucky’s team believed that they were innocent. You didn't need to be hawk-eyed to see that they were obviously ogling you, their boss's wife, and the mother of his child at that. 

Rolling up the sleeves of his suit jacket, the exposed sight of his fully tattooed arm made the grown men shiver. Forlorn excuses of men lowered their heads as Bucky walked past them, a sign of respect as though they hadn’t just snubbed him by looking a little too hard at what was his. 

Yes, Bucky would call these people his brothers, and yes he did appreciate them when times came.

He often took the role of the eldest in the family. He was highly respected upon the mob, and he cared for them as they did for him. Yet living under his roof required to obey the rules that he had set up, and the most important one was; look, don't touch. 

Though they’d manage to abide by that rule for as long as they’d set foot inside his home, they were truly starting to test their luck. Tonight, Bucky would make sure that none of them returned to their rooms without being taught a new additional rule. Perhaps this one would take the top place above  the previous one, and this time, there’d be no more looking allowed. 

-

i profoundly apologize to y’all bcuz this is my first Bucky ff and idk wtf this is

[starkwlkr]

annoying little brothers | f1

female driver x f1 drivers (platonic) (same age as daniel so 33)

part 2 part 3

Y/N L/N BEING THE FUNNIEST DRIVER ON THE GRID

The video starts of with a press conference from the United States Grand Prix. Y/n was seated with Charles, Pierre, Daniel and Sebastian her being in the middle of all the men who she considered her brothers.

She was listening to all the questions the men were receiving from how they thought they were going to do, how’s the team doing, etc. But when a reported finally asked her a question, she completely blanked.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about my son. We were supposed to get breakfast together and he hasn’t texted me back. I haven’t seen Lando all day.” Y/‘ said making the drivers and reporters laugh.

“When did you adopt Lando? I wasn’t aware.” Daniel played along.

“2019. He was actually lost when I met him. It was during the Australian Grand Prix, his first f1 race. I found him and we did the Melbourne walk together and I’ve just kind of adopted ever since. So if any of you bully my son, I’m coming after you.” Y/n explained.

“He’s probably texting you right now saying ‘stop embarrassing me, mom!’” Sebastian went on.

“Wait, he’s over there!” Pierre spotted the Brit rushing towards their direction.

“He’s alive!” Charles cheered.

Finally, Lando arrived to their interview area with a box from a a bakery in his hand. “Sorry, I have to drop this off. We’ll get breakfast tomorrow. I got you pastries.” Lando gave Y/n the box and a hug then he was off since he was late for his interview.

“You’ve raised your son well.” The reporter joked.

“That was all me, I needed no help.”

The next clip was a fan video from 2021. Y/n had just finished her date with a guy and now she was signing autographs and taking photos with a group of girls. The girls had just finished their meals at a restaurant when they spotted the f1 driver leaving with a guy. The politely asked for a photo, which y/n was more than glad to take. Her date stepped aside to give them a moment.

“Sorry to interrupt your date.” A girl apologized for her and all her friends.

“Nothing to be sorry about, honey. I’m actually nervous because I don’t know how the date went. I’m horrible at first dates so this is kinda making me less stressed.” Y/n admitted. The girls laughed as y/n signed a girls phone case.

“Has he met Lando?” Another girl asked knowing how close y/n and lando are.

“Not yet. I’m afraid that Lando might scare him off. Everyone on the grid might, especially seb. He will definitely give him one of those ‘treat her right or I will run you over’ speeches.” Y/n signed another phone case.

“Does he knows you’re famous?”

“Oh god, no! I told him I was unemployed and that a sugar daddy was giving me money. I’m surprised he still agreed to come on this date with me.” Y/n chuckled.

Months later, the guy ended up being y/n’s boyfriend. He even attended the British Grand Prix where he finally met Lando, who was actually the one to tell him to treat y/n right or he would run him over.

The next clip started off with the intro to grill the grid. The challenge was to guess the driver’s numbers, something that y/n was semi confident about.

“So we start off with my man, Danny, number three.” She wrote down on her clipboard. “Four, my son, Lando. Also ever since I met Lando I’ve been seeing the number four quite often. It’s scary actually. Can’t decide if Lando put a curse on me or not.”

“Would he do that?”

“He shouldn’t,” y/n raised her voice slightly. “Anyways, next is … oh! Seb! I don’t know why I couldn’t think of him right away. Then we have latifi at number six then kimi at seven.” She continued writing down the names.

“Nine ….Mazepin.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes since her and the driver were never on good terms.

“Ten, my favorite frenchie well one of, we treat everyone nice here, gasly.” Y/n winked at the camera. “Eleven, the mexican minister of defense, Perez. And then we have me! Thirteen!”

“Do you think Lando got your number right?”

“I don’t doubt him ever.”

“Thirteen, my mother! Everyone better get that right.” Lando pointed at the camera menacingly.

“Fourteen, Alonzo. Sixteen, Leclerc Charles. Eighteen, stroll and twenty two!” Y/n sang the number in the tune of taylor swift’s song. “Yuki! Thirty one, Esteban, my other frenchie. Thirty three, max does he have a middle name verstappen.”

“Have you noticed that you haven’t gotten any wrong yet?”

“I’m just the best, that’s why.” Y/n laughed. “Forty four, the seven time world champion, sir lewis hamilton. Fourty seven, mick mick mick. I love to say his name.”

Y/n had completely forgotten she had to be writing the names down. She was having too much fun.

“Fifty five, carlos smooth operator sainz jr. sixty three, the man with two first names, russell george.” Y/n said as she looked down at the numbers on the paper.

“Do you know his middle name?”

Y/n gasped. “Is it another first name?”

“I believe it’s William.”

“Three names!? It sounds so british.” Y/n chuckled. “Um, seventy seven valtteri, right?” Y/n saw the interviewer nod. “I was getting worried my streak would be broken. And ninety nine, antonio!”

“You got all of them!” Everyone in the room cheered.

“Did anyone else get them all?” Y/n asked.

“Daniel did.”

“Of course. He’s good with numbers.”

The next clip was from the same grill the grid video but it was a blooper. Lando had arrived right as y/n finished filming and handed her a water bottle.

“Did you get my number?” Lando asked curiously.

“Yeah, ninety five, right? Cause you’re a McQueen fan.” Y/n teased as she grabbed the bottle from lando’s hand.

“Yeah, you remembered!” Lando played along “how did she really do?” He asked.

“She got them all right.”

“Really? I’ve got a smart mother!” Lando high fived the woman.

“It’s because I’ve got a photographic memory.” Y/n nodded with the most serious face on.

“Do you really?” Lando asked. He was surprised to hear that.

“No, I just love to lie.”

The next clip started with Daniel and Lando standing next to boards with their 2022 rankings. As predicted, Daniel and Lando’s part of the interview was mostly filled with them drawing over each other’s pictures.

Daniel them knocked over Lando’s rankings to the ground. “That’s how I feel.”

“That was the worst timing ever. Y/n is walking this way.” Lando told Daniel, who immediately picked up the board.

“Are those your rankings?” Y/n asked as she approached the duo. She then noticed that the setup and quickly apologized to the camera man. “Sorry, I’m just curious now.”

“Are you proud of me?” Lando asked, standing next to her and throwing his arm over her shoulder.

“When am I not? Wait, except that time you pushed me into my birthday cake.” Y/n pinched his side. “Can I see the pen?” She asked the guys, Lando gave her his.

“She’s adding to our masterpieces. This piece will be worth millions years from now.” Daniel said.

Y/n then scribbled little stars around Lando’s head and then signed it at the top. “Actually you both look great in your pictures. Did they use photoshop?”

“Excuse me, this is all natural.”

“Y/n! Hi, hello. What’s going on here?” Martin brundle asked the woman as she walked with her mom and pr manager, Lucy.

“Martin! It’s been a while, nothing much. How are you?” Y/n hugged the former racing driver. “This is my mom, she’s been wanting to meet you.”

“Mrs. l/n, hello. Welcome, how are you?” Martin greeted the older woman.

“Great. I’m here supporting my girl. It’s been a wonderful weekend.” Y/n’s mom smiled.

“Are you aware that you have a grandson that drives for McLaren?” Martin asked making all three ladies laugh.

“Yes, Lando is a very lovely young man.”

“How does it feel to have a daughter and grandson in f1?” Martin asked in a serious tone.

“Amazing. I’m super proud of both of them.”

“Thank you ladies for your time. Have a wonderful day.” Martin smiled at them, but before he could leave, y/n gave him a hug goodbye.

“Take care, Martin!” Y/n waved to the man and left with her mom and Lucy.

“She wins everything. Give her all the trophies. Everything is hers.” Martin said to the camera.

The final clip was consisted of y/n after a race getting interviewed.

“Do you often see your father?” Someone asked from the back.

“No, actually we’re just good friends.”

“What’s your opinion on the president of the United States?” Asked the same person.

“I don’t think about him.”

“What’s going on between max verstappen and lewis hamilton?”

“I don’t know, I just work here.”

[lokis-army-77]

A request for you: hugging best friend!Eddie and he pops a boner. Do what you will with this information. - @munson-blurbs 💚

Recipes for Romance

Bestfriend!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 2.1k

When your best friend comes home while you're cooking dinner and something happens. . .

Warning: 18+. Oral (m receiving), gagging, choking, masturbation, cum swallowing

Thank you @munson-blurbs for sending this in.. I do believe this is the best BJ I've written 💗💗.

Masterlist

It's funny how love happens. One minute you're friends with someone and then the next, you realize something fundamental in your relationship has changed. No longer were you childhood best friends living together in a small, two-bedroom apartment trying to make a place for yourselves in this world. Now, you were childhood best friends who live together but one of you has an unrequited crush on the other. 

Simple chores around the house and just hanging out with one another have turned into something more domestic on your end. You could see yourself coming home to him so easily. 

Really, what would change if you were to tell him? Nothing, other than he would kiss you when you came home instead of only giving you a hug and asking what was on the menu for dinner that night. 

That's where you were tonight. In the kitchen, chopping up ingredients for dinner like usual, thanks to Eddie's lack of expertise in anything other than pizza rolls and microwavable macaroni cups. If it had been left up to him both of you probably would have starved by now. 

It was nearing eight when Eddie strolled through the apartment door, guitar slung on his back and an amp being hoisted up in his arms. Oh, those arms. He was wearing a black muscle shirt, perfect for the summer heat and showing off the delicious-looking veins that protrude from them. 

“Hey, Eds!” You call out to him. 

He grumbles out, “Hey,” in response, and fumbles with his things all the way down the hallway behind you, to your right, and into his room. 

It’s a few moments and chopped cilantro later that you hear his bare feet padding back to where you are. 

“How was your day?” The question comes out smoothly, without a thought, because you had been asking him this same thing forever. 

“Good," he answers. “I’m exhausted.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing dinner's almost ready, then you can go to bed.” You move about the small rectangular kitchen area with the grace that comes with knowing the area like the back of your hand. 

You’re stirring the warming spaghetti sauce so that it doesn’t burn to the bottom of the pan when you feel those same bare arms you had been lustfully gazing at only a short while before reaching around your hips. You stop, freezing your movements to focus on how not to let Eddie feel the racing of your heart. 

His chin rests on your shoulder and his hair tickles your neck. “Smells good,” he mumbles. 

You blush. You know he’s talking about the food but you wish he were talking about you. It was always nerve-wracking for you when he got clingy like this. Knowing you couldn’t just relax into him how you wanted. Having to hold yourself back from turning your head and giving him a peck on the lips. 

Eddie continued to watch you cook, nuzzling his nose deeper into the crook of your neck. You were hyper-aware of his lips on your bare skin and you were even more aware of growing hardness pressing against your ass. 

Your face heats up even more as you think to yourself, ‘Why god? Why do this to me?’ It’s a struggle to keep stirring the food when all your attention is focused on your best friend's dick. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, the movement has Eddie humming into your neck and making him harden even more. 

One of his hands unwraps from around you and grips your hip. You can feel his breathing becoming more labored as he struggles behind you. 

You reposition yourself once more, this time pushing back into him just a little. Eddie can’t catch the strangled moan that flies up from his throat. 

“Fuck.” His lips move across your skin like a hot branding iron, saying your name breathlessly. 

“Eddie?” You question innocently. 

“Hum?” He replies. 

You push the saucepan back onto a cool part of the stovetop and turn the once-in-use eye off. 

“Are you…” You can’t bring yourself to say it out loud, but he knows your silent query. 

It takes him a moment to say anything. He swallows hard and nods. “Yeah. Shit, I’m sorry.” He squeezes your hip with his large hand and begins to back away. 

“Wait!” Your voice is louder than you had anticipated it to be but the urgency in it stops Eddie before he is fully separated from you. “Eddie, wait,” you say much softer this time. 

He stops, the tips of his fingers barely touching you. You turn around in his light hold, eyes staring up into his. Your heart is beating a mile a minute as you say, “I can help with that y’know.” 

Eddie sputters, seemingly choking on air. “W-what?” His face blushed a deep red and it flushed all the way down his neck.

Taking a breath, you try and calm yourself down. Those six words can’t be taken back now, but why would you want to do that anyway? The thought of his hard cock filling your mouth was the only thing running through your mind and now that a chance had arisen, you were going to take it. 

“I said,” You trail your hand down down down until you are cupping him over his jeans. “I can help with that… Unless you don’t want me to.” 

Eddie’s eyes go wide and he opens and closes his mouth like he’s trying to find the words to say only to be left mute. Instead, he nods his head, letting his curls cover his face. 

You turn your bodies, pushing him up against the counter, and with less practiced grace than moving about the kitchen, you begin to undo his pants. His breath catches and he looks away from you for only a moment when your hand dips past the waistband of his pants. 

“Oh god-” He swallows. 

Ever so slowly you begin your descent to your knees, taking his pants and boxers down with you. The sight left before you makes your mouth water and your legs clench. He looks painfully hard, the tip flush and a bead of pre-cum pooling at the slit. You ached to run your tongue over the vein protruding down his shaft, you needed to have his balls in your mouth. 

So, that’s what you do. From base to tip you lick a fat, wet strip up him. His hips jerk forward, one hand caught in your hair, and the other holds on for dear life to the edge of the counter. You lick again and again, over and over. 

“Fuck-,” your name falls from Eddie's lips in a whimper. That sound had your stomach flipping and your pussy fluttering. You needed him to do that again.  

You start to pepper kisses along his shaft, ending at his head and giving it one big smooch before opening and taking him into your mouth. 

Eddie tugs on your hair at the first experimental suck that you give him. You can't help but moan at the slight pain. Taking him a bit more you suck again, gentle and with little force. 

"Ah-." There it was, that whiny sound. 

You bring your hand up to wrap around the length of him not nestled in the warmth of your mouth. Giving him a firm squeeze you begin to move. Up and down, up and down. You follow your hand with your mouth. 

The hot and tangy taste of him spreads across your tongue and pre-cum just dribbles out of him. Really, it makes you salivate, it makes you wet. And what really turns you on is knowing that this is your best friend. This is the guy you've known since forever. The guy you never thought you would ever be doing this with. 

It made you hungry for more, needy, and unsatisfied. You dip your head further down, lips meeting your fingers at his base.

"Oh God. Oh fuck." Another strangled whimper followed by the prettiest grunts and groans. Your other hand, resting on Eddie's thigh, could feel how his leg tensed with every suck, with every nudge of the back of your throat. Then he jerked forward again. His cock buries deep into your throat.

You choke and gag around him, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth and falling down your neck. Tears sting in your eyes but you let him thrust into you. 

Eddie says your name like a prayer. It flows from his lips in a melody only for you. He’s got your hair fisted in his hand, fingers digging into your skull. Your own fingers dig into his strong thighs. Then, he lets you go and you pull away fast for air. A string of drool connects your lips to his cock. 

“Eddie,” You say as you look up at him through thick lashes and heavy eyes. 

“Mmm.” He hums, head falling to the side. 

“You taste so good. Want you to cum down my throat.” 

He looks down at you in such a way that you think you can see something other than love for a friend. Something more potent, something like what you feel for him. It makes the breath catch in your lungs. 

Eddie releases his grasp on your hair and smooths his hand down and onto your cheek. His thumb rubs light circles into your skin. You lean in more, scooting closer to him on your knees, ignoring the numbness in them. 

The cheek he isn’t touching rests on his thigh and you continue to look up at him as you take his cock fully in your hand and start pumping. 

Eddie bites his lip but that doesn’t stop the moans. “God damnit, baby…” 

He’s never called you that before. Sure a pet name here and there, sweetheart or something of the sort, but never baby. The name had you aching with need and it only took a few more high-pitched whimpers from Eddie to have you shoving your other hand down your shorts. 

You were drenched, wetness pooled in your panties and around your fingers as you swiped them through your folds. You trail your lips down to his balls and kiss them before sucking one into your mouth. 

There is a moment when you think Eddie is going to fall on top of you. You feel his knees buckle and his feet shuffling to keep himself upright. 

You let go of him with a pop and then take the other into your mouth, warming him and running your tongue over the skin. 

“Fuck fuck fuck. Baby- mmm,” Eddie can’t keep quiet and you don’t want him to. The louder he is, the more it encourages you. 

After a few more pumps of your hand, you move your mouth back to the tip of his cock and take him deep. This time when he hits the back of your throat, you don’t gag as bad but tears still swell in your eyes. You let him buck his hips into you, following his rough pace with your hand as you rub your fingers into your clit. 

“Gonna cum baby, fuck gonna make me cum. Such a pretty mouth." Eddie blubbers. "Fuck I love you, baby. Gonna fill that mouth up. You gonna swallow all of it, baby?"

You hum around his cock at his words. Heart beating faster and safer as your own orgasm begins to come forward. 

With a hand buried in your hair again. Eddie pushes you down onto his cock, nose pressed against his abdomen and drool spilling down your chin. You feel him twitch and watch through tear-rimmed eyes as his head falls back and his mouth hangs open. Eddie lets out the most lewd-sounding moan as he releases his sticky, hot cum down your throat. 

You swallow and swallow, consuming all that he gives you. Your hand still works between your thighs and in a gush of pleasure, you can feel your release dripping over your fingers. 

Pulling away from Eddie, his cock now softening, you catch your breath. You move to sit more comfortably on the floor and lean your forehead on Eddie's left knee. 

"Wow…" Eddie heaves out. "That was- that was fucking amazing." His grip eases in your hair and then he's adjusting himself back into his pants before sitting on the floor with you. 

"Look at me?" He asks. You're avoiding eye contact with him, embarrassment of the actions and words just exchanged flooding through you. 

"Sweetheart, please look at me." He pleaded.

That name had you looking timidly through your hair. Those big, brown eyes caught yours and in that moment you knew that another fundamental piece of your relationship had changed. 

No longer was it two childhood best friends living together with one having a crush on the other. No. It was now two childhood best friends who loved each other in every way, who were once too scared to say anything lest they break up the friendship. 

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan arena beasts/fighters + handler reader. Reader is an average human working at a zoo/shelters abducted and thrown into a life of caring for a galactic tyrant's playthings due to their experience with animals. Not an idea choice for the job, but with everyone who's had the job before being maimed, killed, or worse they were running out of options. Reader does the best with what they're given. They find solitude with the other captives to an extent and some of the more feral creatures remind them of stray cats and dogs they knew back home. They treat those who allow as those same poor creatures out of habit and to cope with their new life. Others are so aggressive they have to be blindfold and sedated to even get close. Reader still tries to comfort them despite the many scratches and bites they receive

A little mix up happens where a warrior meant to fight the big bad of the area had already been slain by the beast. With no alternative, reader gets sent out instead as sacrifice to appease the blood hungry masses. They cower in the corner as the beast's mask is removed, praying their battered body at least gets shipped home so they have a proper burial and their family has some clue to what happened to them. They cast their small dagger away still unable to defend themselves against what they only see as a frightened animal protecting its own skin. The beast lifts them off the ground like a ragdoll holding them high for the crowd to see as its fangs draw from its scarred lips - breaking the band around its wrist that would seal reader's victory.

The beast ties the rope around reader's neck as the announcer declares them victor by default. The crowd boos, but as the beast snaps the neck of one of the guards and throws the limb body into the arena their demands are met. Reader quakes from the sheer disbelief of the whole ordeal, and still being trapped in the beast's arms as it coos. It takes over a dozen guards to get them to separate the two. They try again with another beast reader has care for and the same thing happens. Watching the live footage closely it's clear to experts the skilled fighters allow themselves to get injured to be coddled and tended to by reader. When rations are given they try to feed reader a share of their meals. The number of casualties skyrocket when reader's taken away or new caretakers are introduced. The beasts demand their head pats and ear scratches for their winnings and they want it from one source alone.

-

The emperor is quite amused by this revelation. It perfectly masks his paranoia in the case of his pets rising against him for whatever reason and choosing the earthling as their new overlord which few have spoken of in whispers. He's torn between killing them to null his fears and befriending them to puppeteer his pets craftfully from the shadows. He decides on the latter since getting rid of them would only anger his pets. That and it would be so easy to trick the human with his charms. Few can resist the words and body of a king, after all.

"Y/n, darling, it's so good to see you! So glad you could make it. How have things been, hm?"

"I'd like to go home, please."

"Hahaha! Oh, you're so cute with your little jokes! You may enjoy your meal in due time, but I have a favor to ask of you from a friend to a king. In the case of I don't know - my pets slaughtering my entire legion and storming my castle walls to behead me and crown you ruler - would you pretty please ask them to - not do that?"

"That....sounds like it would be out of my hands."

"Right. Changing subject, you are aware I have been topless this whole conversation and my bed is right behind me. Why haven't you attempted to have your way with me by now? Not saying you could - but you can always try."

The emperor upgrades their room to one right next to his, but they hardly sleep there favoring their time caring for the others and because they'd rather stay there than see him in a state of undress on their mattress. The emperor mimics the cooing that gets wounded beasts extra smothering from their handler, but reader mostly ignores him. He grows jealous seeing them fast asleep in a cell kept warm by the body heat of the battle scarred creatures around them. He's been scarred by attempted assassinations in the past - why doesn't he get cuddles too? Combats this jealously by making a royal decree that reader has to sit with him during every battle and on his lap if they wish to stay out of his sight afterwards. Requests for reader's fredom and hand in marriage and when a champion is chosen are banned almost immediately.

[moonstruckme]

also i LOVE your poly!marauders apocalypse au (so creative btw!! i'm obsessed!!) and would be so down to read something in that universe where the reader gets hypothermia or something like that hehe !!!! <333333

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: mild hypothermia

apocalypse poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You keep tripping, which is mildly embarrassing. You think it’s a combination of fatigue and the general numbness that’s pervaded your body even through the layers you’d put on when you’d packed up the campsite that morning. You’d all agreed that, with the death eaters on your trail, it’s really only safe to stay in one area for a few days at a time, even with all the protections you place around your sites. But that means days where, instead of lounging around your tent, listening to the radio and plotting for the Order, you use all the daylight you have to hike through the wintry woods until you’re far enough away to set up another camp. 

Sirius glances back when you stumble again, the toe of your boot catching on a branch you hadn’t seen buried in the snow. It’s a more dramatic affair than it should be, and you barely get your other foot out in front of you fast enough to avoid face-planting into the leaf litter. 

Your shivering worsens as another gust of wind burns your face, making your thick jacket feel like mesh. You think this has to be the worst moving day your group has had yet. The cold is the same, but the sun hasn’t so much as peeked from behind the clouds all day and the wind makes it nearly unbearable. The snow is thick enough that you’ve started stepping in the boys’ footprints to save energy. One of the many perks of taking up the rear. 

You nearly hit Sirius when he stops in front of you. 

“This clearing looks about as good as any,” James is saying, but Remus looks hesitant. 

“I don’t know,” he frets. “Do you think it’s far enough? We’ve been slow today.” 

“You’re tired,” James says kindly. You look at Remus, noting his slouched posture, the weariness he’s never quite learned to hide from his expression. You’re not sure how you didn’t notice his exhaustion before. You’re usually more aware of those things. “And it’s horrid out here. Let’s just call it a night, and if you’re still anxious about it tomorrow we’ll go a bit further.” 

“I can make it further tonight.” 

“It’s not all about you, Moony,” Sirius drawls. He looks especially monochrome against all the fresh white snow, you think. His superblack hair is as eye-catching as neon. “I’ve got a rock in my shoe I’d love to get out, and I know y/n’s knees have to be black and blue from the way she’s been falling for the past hour.” 

His scheme works; Remus looks to you, arguments of his own fortitude forgotten. “Are you tired, dove? You want to stop?” 

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess. It’s cold.” 

Suddenly all three boys seem focussed intently on you. You’re not sure why. You don’t actually recall much of what you’d been talking about. 

“Could you say that again?” James asks you. His brows are stitched together and his eyes have gone all sharp behind his glasses. 

“I just said it’s cold.” 

“Why’re you talking like that, doll?” Sirius takes a step toward you, then looks to Remus. “Why is she slurring?” 

“I don’t know,” Remus says softly. He’s looking at you weird, too. Frowny. “Yeah, let’s set up. Maybe she just needs a rest.” 

James spells the tent up quickly, then makes Remus stay and sit with you while he and Sirius set up the protections and everything else. The temperature inside the magical tent is cozy. Remus lights a fire in the grate to warm you all up. 

“Do you feel okay, lovely?” he asks, helping you out of your jacket. You sit on the bed, working off your shoes. 

“Yeah, just…just really tired.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, placing a palm on your cheek. You have no clue how it’s so warm, but a sigh escapes you as you lean into the touch. 

“When did you start tripping?” he asks you. 

You…you’re not sure. You can’t remember the first time it happened. How long had you been walking?

Your bemusement must show on your face, because Remus’ mouth pinches. His hand slides down to cup your face, fingers pressing oddly into your jaw. Frankly, you could care less where he puts them so long as he keeps touching you.

“Feeling better?” James asks, materializing behind Remus. You’re not sure which one of you he’s talking to, but you hum contentedly anyway. 

“I think she might be hypothermic,” Remus doesn’t look away from you as he talks, his eyebrows lowered like he’s waiting for you to answer a question you don’t remember him asking. His fingers press harder into your neck. “Her pulse is…scary weak.” 

James looks at you, and you look at Remus. 

“You really think so?” you ask him, befuddled. “I don’t feel…I’m only tired.” 

“Hypothermia makes you tired,” he tells you gently. “And you’re slurring your words, love.” 

You feel an icy tendril of fear snake around your spine. “I am?” 

“You’re alright.” James catches onto your panic quickly, leaning over Remus to give your shoulders a bolstering squeeze. “Let’s just get some of these layers off you, and then we’ll swaddle you in blankets.” He starts easing off your jumper, leaving you in just your undershirt. You’re newly cognizant of the sluggishness of your movements as you raise your arms to help him. “Once you sit by the fire for a bit, you’ll be feeling back to normal in no time.” 

You nod numbly, lifting your bum to tug off the jeans you’d worn over leggings. James takes the blanket from the bed and wraps it around you while Remus goes to find more in the other room. 

“Poor love,” James coos, dropping a kiss to your head. “You’re shaking like a leaf.” 

“No duh,” Sirius says, the tent flap letting in a blast of cool air behind him. “It’s fucking freezing out.” 

James offers him a sorry smile. “We think she’s got hypothermia.” 

Sirius sobers, stormcloud eyes flickering to you. “Shit, really? How bad is that?” 

“Not too bad, I don’t think,” Remus says, nudging past him with a stack of blankets in his arms. “I mean, it’d be great if I’d thought to bring any books on that sort of thing, but I’m fairly sure if it were bad she’d be more confused and a bit…blueish.” He drapes a blanket over your shoulders, letting James pull it tighter and tuck it about as he wishes. “Do you feel any better?” 

“I think so,” you say quietly. It’s a bit unnerving to be at the center of so much alarm like this. You do feel better being out of the cold, but you’re not sure if that’s what he’s asking. “It’s a little hard to tell.” 

“You don’t seem like you’re slurring as badly,” James evaluates. He cups the back of your neck, planting a kiss on the frozen tip of your nose. “I think you’re getting better already, lovie.” 

Your face certainly feels warmer. 

Sirius grins at your flustering, though it’s dampened by worry. “What about a hot chocolate?” he asks, tone unusually gentle. “Does that sound like it might help?” 

“I’m fine,” you say, and he disregards you immediately, posing the same question to Remus. 

“Would that help?”

Remus shrugs. “It could. Doubt it would hurt. James, love, I think she’s got enough blankets.” 

James frowns, peering through the layers of covering to find your face. “Do you feel warm enough, angel?” 

You blink, owlish. “I think so?” 

He shakes his head. “Sounds far from certain. More blankets it is. Sirius, get started on the hot chocolate.” 

[struggling-with-drivers]

Nothing's New - Charles Leclerc

⋗ pairing - Charles Leclerc x female!reader, (Carlos Sainz jr x ex-best friend!reader)

⋗ summary - You're tired of Carlos's treatment of you as his friend, and when you get into a fight, Charles is there to pick up the pieces

⋗ word count - 6.3k words, fluff, hurt/comfort

⋗ masterlist - this was fun to write, I hope y'all enjoy my f1 fic on here, feedback and reblogs are appreciated

It has been as obvious as the sun, right since you two met. You're utterly and truly in love with Carlos, your older brother's friend. Then after a winter that had your families vacationing to a skiing place, Carlos became your best friend. A string of unfortunate events – or fortunate in your mind – had led to you and Carlos sharing a cabin, just the two of you. If you were smitten with him before, this was the turning point where you realised your crush had bloomed to love.

And well, you weren't exactly subtle about it. Carlos knew, and would never admit to having a hand in at least getting your brother lodged in a different cabin. A bit of bribery had made him create the perfect opportunity to spend time with you alone.

This was the winter that Carlos turned from your brother's friend to your best friend. Although, in Carlos's eyes, you were still just a friend, sure a newly acquired good friend. But just a friend. Because he realised very quickly that you would do practically anything for him, hearts in your eyes as you walked to the shed in the freezing cold to get logs for the fire. All the while Carlos stayed nice and cosy inside. Sipping on the hot chocolate you had made.

It made him realise that keeping you at just an arm's length would be a good thing. He once texted you if you wanted to come by with an umbrella because he knew you were in the area. You weren't, and Carlos was aware you weren't even in the same city. Yet there you were after his meeting waiting for him with an umbrella, and he took you out to eat on his treat. Venting about his frustrations as you listened carefully and tried to give advice.

Advice that Carlos didn't care for, you never really knew what you were talking about, you knew nothing in his eyes.

Calling you sheltered and naïve behind your back, and you would ignore the comments when they inevitably came back to you. Ignoring the blossoming pain in your chest, as Carlos would claim, he never said those things.

You had to stand on the sidelines as he got girlfriend after girlfriend, pushing you aside whenever a new relationship rolled into his life. Only for him to ask you to help pick up the pieces once it all fell to the floor. Usually by his own volition. It all felt so humiliating, and yet, a few choice words and promises you thought he would actually make good on this time, and you would have forgiveness ready for him on a plate.

The tabloids claimed he had a loyalty issue, and that he couldn't keep it in his pants. And he would poke at you, begging you to defend him and his honour, because he swore it was just a matter of misunderstandings. How foolish you looked, defending the man you loved in front of thousands of eyes, hoping that maybe this time. He would finally realise you would be the right one for him. That you wouldn't leave, that you could treat him so good. If only he would let you.

Blissful ignorance kept you in the dark. While you considered Carlos your best friend, closest confidant, practically your everything. As your life had begun to revolve solely around his. Carlos on the other hand barely considered you a part of his life, when he didn't need something from you. As the years passed by, he needed you less and less, your usefulness was drying up in his eyes. He had no qualms about simply stringing you along for the few times you did prove to be of help.

He had never used you for your name, not until your brother stopped socialising with Carlos. Then it had seemed all bets were off the table. Your brother could barely take hearing Carlos's name without having a visceral reaction. He wasn't blind, he knew that Carlos was using his younger sister, but he also didn't care enough to interfere. You had stated to him so clearly that Carlos was your best friend, and what could your brother really do when you seemed to be swimming in your delusions? Your brother was forced to stand on the sidelines until you would start drowning, so he could finally pull you out, and go I told you so.

There was no saviour to pull you out of your predicament, only yourself.

Your dad has always liked to parade Carlos around when given the chance, to events he would make you talk Carlos into attending. The type of events where your dad bought his tickets into everything. Sure he had made it big once, but that was before you were born, and now his biggest investment was Carlos. You didn’t mind these events, it meant having Carlos all to yourself for a few moments after. It meant having him tell you that you’re pretty in your dress, even though he would say that no matter what you wore. Your last name was painted on his jacket as he was paraded around by your dad. 

It was always the same, the same empty words filling your ears, that sweet and devilish smile that had made you fall for him all those years ago. It was unanswered text messages and poor excuses without any apologies. It was knowing his voicemail by heart, for that was most of the time you spent on the phone hearing his voice. That tiny snippet of a prerecorded message. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Your patience was starting to wear thin, as your heavy heart barely moved around Carlos. The flutters you had once felt, had all seemed to slowly be replaced with the hurt that was filling your body. The way he would repeatedly stand you up, disappoint you, lie to your face. You knew you were the fool, but having to face it before felt too terrifying. But now, it no longer felt as scary as it used to.

Not when he showed up at your door, asking for shelter because a girl was sleeping in his apartment, and his girlfriend didn't know about it, and he didn't want to be there when that went down.

"No." You found yourself sighing, the disappointment filling you, as he once again was only breaking his weeks of silence since his newest relationship started. All to ask you to cover for him.

"What do you mean no?" Carlos is perplexed, you never say no to him. "I promise I'll take you out to dinner later, and you can wear that-"

"No Carlos." You could feel a headache coming in, or maybe it showed up when Carlos knocked on your door, and you just hadn't noticed it till now.

"C'mon it's just a little thing, just go over there and say you were borrowing my place with your friend." Carlos leaned close into your face, a move that always seemed to make you feel weak, but now you just felt utterly uncomfortable. "Baby, Hermosa, you know I love you, come on, help me out here."

You pulled back, watching the man in front of you, he seemed kind of pathetic when he was propped up against your door like that. You knew if he kept going you would crack.

"No, I- Carlos no. You need to tell me, you need to say those words like you mean them. You need to convince me, that you aren't just repeating the same thing you've done 100 times over." You tell him, you actually tell him.

"Hermosa! You can't ask this of me, you're my best friend." Carlos is grasping at any strand that might help him.

"Your best friend?" You sigh, "Your best friend?! I was such a fool, I've never been your best friend. You've always been mine, but I've never been your best friend. You've always been my highest priority, and I know I can't change that. I'm not even sure if I want to change that. But I can't take it anymore Carlos. Go home. Go home, Carlos."

You knew you were about to cry, but fuck, you weren't going to do it in front of him. You weren't going to give him the luxury of calming you down, and then try to pass it off as an intimate moment later.

"Go home, Carlos." You repeat.

"But Hermosa, I am home." Carlos tried, and you knew your tears were falling. Even now, even in your own home, he was lying to you, telling you the words you wanted to hear.

But you will not fall for them. You promised yourself you wouldn't fall for them.

Carlos reached out to try to wipe your tears away. Instead, your hand smacked his gesture away.

"Go Carlos, go home."

"Hermo-..." He stopped himself. Collecting himself, he bore a look you could never forget, one of indifference. He looked at you like you truly didn't matter to him. "You get to explain to your dad what happened yourself."

And with those words, Carlos turned around. Sauntering out of your apartment, as though his longest friendship hadn't just been broken up, no he sauntered away as though someone had told him his favourite candy at the shop was sold out.

Carlos didn't even close your front door. 

The door was still ajar by the time you realised he wasn’t coming back. Carlos left. Carlos wasn’t coming back. He had truly left you for good.

You closed the door slowly, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The weight on your shoulders seemed to lift, and you realised that you had been carrying the burden of unrequited love for far too long. A flash of envy took over, how unfair it felt to be left in the mess. Even as he had walked out your door. You would still have to be the one to make up for it all. Dread filled your stomach as you knew your dad would come to question you once the news reached his ears. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

In the following days, you spent your time throwing yourself the greatest pity party you could. A well-deserved one in your own mind, a constant checking of your phone, hoping, praying Carlos would reach out. You spent countless hours trying to convince yourself that he hadn’t looked at you like that, that he hadn’t looked at you like you truly didn’t matter to him. 

The questions from your dad were the worst. It was official now. Carlos was not to be a part of your life anymore. His personal assistant had told your dad all about the falling out, well Carlos’s version of your falling out. A tale spun from the most vicious lies, the type of story you would have once defended. The type you had put your name on the line for, was now directed at you.

Humiliation bitterly coated your mouth, as your dad chided you for making Carlos feel suffocated.

Why you couldn’t have done what the great racer just wanted?

Why did you have to go and ruin his great investment?

Then came concerned glances from friends who knew how entangled you were with Carlos. You kept your composure, explaining that things between you two had changed and that you needed space. It felt horrible to watch as the people you thought cared for you, slowly seemed to chip away with each “I’m so sorry to hear.” The way these people would turn around and spread whatever they could, all for a grasp of recognition. Milking the situation for the last bit of fame they could get from you.

The whispers reached your brother's ears, and he offered a supportive shoulder, a mix of sympathy and "I told you so." You appreciated the comfort, even if it came with a hint of vindication. The irony in his offer shining bright, he sat across the world, and you both knew neither of you would make the trip to see the other. You weren’t close like that, in fact, you were barely close enough to exchange gifts for birthdays. 

As if the world wasn’t caving in beneath you already, his teammate had texted you. Charles Leclerc himself had texted you. It made you feel mental. 

Charles Leclerc: Hey... It’s Charles. I don’t know if you have my number saved. I hope this isn't too forward. I heard about what happened with Carlos, and I just wanted to check-in. If you're not comfortable talking, I completely understand.

The text from Charles surprised you, a glimmer of unexpected support in the aftermath of your break with Carlos. You hesitated before responding, unsure of the dynamics at play and Charles's true intentions. Why would he text you? Why did he think you would have deleted his number? You know, the only reason the two of you ever swapped numbers was because of a night out last year. You think you could count your meetings with the Monegasque on one hand.

Your fingers finally worked up the courage to reply.

You: Hi, I do have your number saved. Thank you for reaching out. Yeah… It has been a lot. But why are you texting me?

The three bobbles popped up as your mind started running through all types of scenarios. From him telling you that Carlos should have walked away from you sooner, to asking if you were sure you couldn’t forgive Carlos.

Charles Leclerc: I get it if you're sceptical. But I've seen how Carlos treated you, and I felt like someone should offer support. If you're not comfortable with me, I totally understand.

His honesty surprised you, softening your initial reservations. You decided it was worth it to test the waters a bit more.

You: I appreciate the offer. But why now? Why not when I was at the races with you and Carlos was... well, Carlos?

You hesitated before hitting send, wondering if your bluntness was too much. There was a pause before Charles replied, as if he was carefully choosing his words.

Charles Leclerc: I guess I've been questioning a lot of things lately. I overheard Carlos complaining about having to play nice with your dad, and it rubbed me the wrong way. It made me realise I should've reached out sooner.

You had left him on read for half a day after that message, it had felt like a slap in the face. Even in your misery, your last name seems to be so much more important than you. It had hurt, and then you had texted him in annoyance one last time before bed. You even promised yourself you didn’t want to spend more energy on race car drivers. 

You: It’s been a mess.

A short, simple message. That neat brief text perfectly summed up all you needed to say. Except then, you had woken up to a reply from Charles. 

Charles Leclerc: If you ever feel like talking, or even if you just need a distraction, I'm here. No pressure, seriously.

It's possible that you weren't done with race car drivers. Your resolve had never been the strongest, and you did have a long list of poor decisions. You tried to rationalise with yourself, what would adding one more to that last really do for you?

You had found yourself texting Charles a lot more than you had thought you would. It surprised you how eager he seemed to respond. There was no waiting for three days for a response. He rarely left you on read without acknowledging he had at least read your message. You couldn’t find any fault with the charming Monegasque, so it was self-evident when you accepted his proposal to get coffee together. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The coffee meetup with Charles turned out to be ‌easygoing. Both of you approached the conversation with a degree of caution, but as minutes turned into hours, the conversation flowed naturally. It started with light banter, a shared laughter over amusing anecdotes, and gradually evolved into more personal topics. Then he finally breached the topic. 

“What happened between you and Carlos?” Charles didn’t smile. Instead, he looked at you seriously, a drastic change from the man who had just told you he still gets lost at most race circuits. 

It was as if the floodgates had opened, you spilt everything that had happened between you and Carlos. When your brother had brought Carlos to meet your dad for the first time. How you thought it was love at first sight upon seeing the Spaniard. To the skiing trip where you had lodged with Carlos alone for 2 entire weeks, and how you two had bonded and really connected. How he became your best friend after that. Then you admitted to having let Carlos string you along for years because every time he would leave you crumbs, feeding your delusions that one day you two would end up together. How it took years of disappointment and broken promises for you to finally muster up the courage to tell him to get out of your life.

“I’m so sorry-” You cut Charles off. 

“I really don’t want to hear those words right now.” You had told him, a saddened smile on your lips. “Don’t apologise on behalf of someone who never will.”

Charles reached out across the table, putting his hand on top of yours. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. His silent display of support had been more than Carlos had ever shown you. 

After that meeting, all the hesitation that had lingered in the corners of your minds seemed to seep away. Slowly but surely, Charles had become a constant in your life, in every sense of the word. He was there for you. He would send a good morning text, and you would send a picture of the sunrise. You would ask for recipe ideas, and he would send back the most horrid creations of his that he thought counted as good food. 

He had snuck his way into seemingly every part of your life, bleeding into your daily routine, as though he had always been a part of it. Charles even made you start watching a show you had written off as not being for you, and yet he had been correct. You had been so absorbed you binged the first two seasons in a weekend.  

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Then came the travels, Charles asked you if you had ever been to Monaco and seen the place for what it was beyond the track. You had experienced the waters from a yacht once, Carlos had rented one and insisted you went with him because he wanted his best friend to be there with him. What a lie it had turned out to be. He had used you as an excuse to tell the press the other people on the yacht were your mutual friends. And that no, he didn’t cheat on his girlfriend at the time. How could he? You had even backed up his statement. What a fool you used to be. 

Flying to Monaco had been a pleasant experience, a first-class ticket your dad had paid for, under the pretence you would bring up his name to Charles. 

Despite your constant texting with him, this was the first time since the coffee meet-up you had seen Charles, and suddenly 8 months seemed like such a long time. You shot him a quick text after you landed. 

Charles🏎️: I’m waiting for you :)

His eyes were brighter than you remembered, in a way a camera could never truly capture. His white button-up sleeves had been rolled up, and a few buttons undone at the top. He looked the part of the rich Monegasque that he was. 

“Hi…” you breathed. 

“Hey…” he responded. 

“You look…” You trailed off, not knowing what to say, what could you even say in a situation like this. 

Then a smile spread across his face, and just when you thought he couldn’t get any more handsome, your heart skipped a beat. “Handsome? Dashing? Might I even suggest breathtaking?” His laugh was so pure, and you knew you were threading dangerous territory as you watched his arms flex. Charles was making easy work of getting your suitcase in the trunk of his Ferrari. 

“Is that a Stradale?” You reached out for the handle. 

“Wait!” Charles closed the trunk and rushed over, flashing you a smile as he opened the door for you. “And yes it is, I never took you for being a car person.”

You slipped into the supercar, smiling up at him. “Well, you pick up a few things when your friends are Ferrari drivers.”

His penthouse was stunning. You recognised the view from a few of the pictures he had sent you over the last months. The interior decoration oozed with Charles’ personality in a way you had never expected it to. You would admit, you forgot Charles was probably significantly richer than you took him for. So used to only seeing him in his tracksuit, or that casual black t-shirt he had worn for your coffee meet-up. The image that had burned itself into your mind. He made even a simple outfit look so… You didn’t want to continue that sentence. 

Charles took you out to eat that evening, promising he would give you a personalised tour of the city the day after. And he did just that.

First, in broad daylight, he pointed out places he had been when he was growing up, places he liked to eat now, and then the small cafe. The one he had texted you about. Where he had made you promise not to tell his dietician that he shared an ice cream dessert with you. 

Then, as the night had come creeping up on you two, he had taken you for a walk around the track, horrified to learn you had never accompanied Carlos on a track walk before. Even an unofficial one, like you two were doing now. 

His hand brushed against yours as you walked around the track. Your mood was light, trying not to savour the few times Charles bumped his shoulder into yours. All in the attempt that you would look at him instead of the road markings. You wished he would just grab your hand, for you don’t think you would have let his go. You don’t think you could even let Charles go. 

The thought soured your mood, and it seemed Charles picked up on it. Unaware of why, you had a frown on your face, and you regretted so badly not to have given him an excuse. The shoulder bumping and hands brushing against each other seemed to stop for the night, despite the way both of your voices carried chipper tones. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Your fingers lightly brushed over the black finish of his grand piano. It was beautiful. Far above any piano you had ever played before. You gracefully slipped onto the bench, flipping up the cover, as you marvelled at the keys. Unaware Charles had come to join you.

“Do you play?” A simple question, and yet you think Charles had more intrigue in that one question than Carlos had ever had during your entire friendship. 

“I’m a trust fund baby, of course, I can play.�� You told him your fingers danced across the bright white keys, your eyes fixed on the keys as the music filled the room. Charles took it as his queue to sit down beside you, his body pressed up against yours. 

A sharp tone cut through the tranquil melody. Expecting Charles to chastise you for the simple mistake, instead, he laughed as you stopped playing. When you turned your head to look at him, you finally realised just how close the two of you were.

“You play a lot better than I expected a trust fund baby to.” His smile was truly blinding, you slowly retracted your hands to yourself, as Charles placed his fingers on the keys. “I’ve made a few pieces myself. Don’t judge me too hard.”

“I could never judge you.” The words had left your mouth before you had realised you said them. 

Charles hummed in response, his shoulder lightly pressed against yours. You pressed right back up against him. 

The first few notes came floating from the piano, his fingers mesmerising you as they danced across the keys. He was far more elegant than you could ever imagine yourself being. The melody made your body feel warm, he had captivated you completely. Wasn’t there anything this man could do? One of the greatest race car drivers of his generation, an exceptional pianist, and not to mention… You couldn’t deny it much longer, he was truly handsome. 

As the music drew you further in, your head rested against his shoulder, and Charles said nothing. Instead, he kept playing and playing and playing, one piece flowing right into the next one. You weren’t aware of how much time had passed. Completely lost in the moment, lost in Charles. You didn’t realise when you had closed your eyes, all too absorbed in the comfort Charles seemed to radiate here at his piano. 

“I can’t have you fall asleep on me now.” His voice gently brought you out of the trance. You wanted to dispute his words, but he had been right. If he had kept playing. You would probably have slept up against him, not that you would have minded. 

You slowly opened your eyes, shifting your head slightly. His eyes were already looking at yours. Your breath hitched. 

Had his eyes always been this green?

You barely noticed how he had moved his hands from the piano, not until one of them gently graced your chin. He looked so peaceful, so content, as though this was all that mattered to him. As though you were all that mattered to him. 

“Can I?” He whispered.

“Please.” You replied. 

Then your eyes shut closed, as you felt his soft lips on yours. The kiss was slow and passionate. Charles was the first to pull away, and your eyes fluttered open. Anxious thoughts were quick to enter your head, he was going to say it’s a mistake. 

Instead, Charles simply threw a leg over the bench, so he could pull you closer. Both his hands were quick to find your face once more. A carefree smile on his lips, the ones you just kissed.

“Chérie…” he breathed, before pulling you into him once more. This time the kiss was more desperate, and you mirror his sudden change in attitude. You craved him. You needed him. You wanted Charles with every inch of your body, and you wanted him to know it too. 

Waking up tangled in the Monegasque’s bedsheets, his arm lazily wrapped around your body, was nowhere in your vacation plans to his country, and yet it had been the best part. 

Peaceful times rarely last as long as people want them to. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Nearly a year of travelling back and forth to see Charles in Monaco, and him to you. Had made the two of you realise this was serious. It was blissful, and heaven. Your dad had even got to meet him, must against your better judgement, but Charles had managed himself fine and brushed off the need for your dad to sponsor him. He had stated a clear-cut need to not mix business with pleasure, and he planned to keep you around for as long as you would let him. 

Time always seems to stand still when you’re waiting for something. And right now you wished it would pass faster. You were waiting for Charles to call, he had told you to wait by the phone. But that was 5 minutes ago, and you know he’s busy. But it never made you any less nervous when he was late to call.

Cariño🏎️ is calling…

A sigh of relief flooded your body. His voice greeted you with an apology before launching right into what he wanted to talk about. 

“Chérie, come visit me next month. We can stay in Monza for a week, just the two of us.” Charles had pleaded with you. 

“But what will people say?” You asked him, as though you weren’t already thinking of what to pack to see your boyfriend. Wanting to look your best when you were to cheer him on from the side.

“Let them talk.” Charles laughed, “I know you’re already starting to pack.” 

“No, I am not!” You dropped the red dress you were holding in your hands. 

“Sure, Chérie.” He seemed to know you better than yourself some days, and you had never thought you would ever feel this way. And yet here he was, showing you day after day, that he loved you like no other. “We’ll talk later okay? I love you.”

“Love you too, Cariño.” You told him, as the phone line went dead. A small laugh escaped as two flight tickets and a hotel booking immediately popped up in your mail. He was well aware you could not stand to say no to his charm, and he loved it. 

As the car pulled up to the paddock, Charles clasped his hand around yours. You were wearing your best red dress. The one you knew gave Charles a hard time. You enjoyed his eyes on you, and Charles enjoyed having his eyes on you. 

The Grand Prix was only a few hours away. You had opted to stay at the hotel for Friday and Saturday. You didn’t want to cause unnecessary press to be directed at Charles. Ferrari appeared to already have that in their bag, judging from the sudden car issue during qualifying, which resulted in Charles starting from P14 on the grid. 

“It will be alright, Chérie.” Charles kissed the back of your hand. “I’ll be your knight in shiny red.” 

You laughed. He always seemed to know how to make your worries disappear and float away. “You’re too cheesy, Cariño.”

“And yet you love me.” 

“That I do.”

Then the car door went up, and Charles stepped out of the car, making a big show of helping you out of the car. Before offering his arm up for you to take. Your previous years of coming to the paddock had more than prepared you for the flashes of cameras and the screaming of fans. Charles took it all nonchalantly as well. Just another weekend, just another race. Expect the pictures would come to tell the story of a man so utterly in love, a far cry from his usual demeanour on the grid. 

Charles had no qualms about showing you off to anyone who would look at him. A hand constantly rested on your lower back, and he enjoyed your closeness. A small hint of protectiveness in the air, and you suddenly wished he showed his side of himself more. 

“Charles! And- oh hey, long time.” Max Verstappen was the first to approach the two of you. It slightly surprised you to have him remember you. You were never the big socialiser when you had been on the paddock before, but you suppose even after a few years certain faces stick around in others' memories. 

Max didn’t have more to say about you and Charles, rather he had started talking about the breaking zone in turn 6. Although you were clearly checked out for most of it, Charles never let go of you during the entire interaction. His hand never strayed from your lower back. He enjoyed your closeness, and he was going to soak in every single moment of it he could get. 

It wasn’t long before Charles got called away. Max took that as his queue to leave as well. 

“I’ll see you right before the race, Chérie.” He stole a quick kiss from you right in front of everyone before being led away. You didn’t know until after that those pictures were quick to make the rounds on social media. Neither were you aware of the fact that Carlos had seen the entire ordeal. His blood was boiling at the sight. 

Nearly two years of no contact, and the first time Carlos saw you, you were kissing his teammate. What a cruel joke. He didn’t even laugh. 

You made use of your time without Charles to wander down the grid, saying hi to a few of the engineers in the McLaren garage. Even exchanging hellos with Lando, albeit it was a short-lived conversation. He, like every other driver, was busy. You took in the paddock's atmosphere, realising to yourself you had missed this place. Or maybe you were just finally enjoying it for all of its worth. 

True to his promise, as Charles always was. Fully geared up in his tracksuit, and suddenly red had never been as pretty a colour. 

“Well thank you for calling me pretty, Chérie, although I will say, you’re the pretty one here,” Charles said, putting his hands on your waist. 

“I said that out loud.” 

“For everyone to hear, and I am flattered.” Charles teased you before he stole a quick peck on your lips. You lightly punched his chest, and he faked a look of hurt. 

“Good luck out there. Take care of yourself.” You smiled at him, stealing a kiss for yourself. 

“Well, I have to, since I have such a pretty one waiting for me.”

“Charles!” 

He laughed with you, before stealing one last kiss and hurrying over to his car. Reading up for the formation lap. The race itself was nothing special for the top 5, not that you would know. All too fixed on following the red car carrying your boyfriend. Who was fighting for his life to get anything useful out of starting P14. 

However, Charles soon ran into issues as he and Carlos had become P6 and P7. Carlos was refusing to let Charles overtake him. Despite Charles having a much better pace. The fighting continued for multiple laps, as the ones behind them started to catch up. Charles finally got an opening that was good enough for him to pass Carlos properly, but Carlos would not let it slide that easily. Defending hard against Charles, but ends up clipping the tire of the other Ferrari, sending Carlos into under-steer right out of the corner. Carlos lost 3 positions and was all the way back in P9. With Charles in P6. 

Charles overtakes twice more in the rest of the race. Landing him just out of the podium, and yet your pride for him is overflowing. Not hesitating to kiss him once Charles reaches you. 

“It’s just 4th place, Chérie.” He would say, and you would correct him. “It’s still better than 15 others.” Kissing him every time he would display any dissatisfaction about his ending result. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The media pen had gone easy on Charles in comparison to Carlos. While most had asked Charles about the small tire touching with his teammate, most were interested to hear if this 4th place could mean Ferrari was to get a podium soon. And then he answered some questions about you, confirming that he was no longer single and very much in a happy relationship. 

Some mercy might have been shown to Charles, but the same couldn't be said for Carlos. The Spaniard was already enraged before stepping into the media pen. Then he was thrown for the wolves to be torn apart. Question upon question about how he could have gone against team orders and not let Charles pass. How Carlos endangered both of the Ferrari drivers with his reckless and downright unnecessary defending. But then there was a question about you to finally snip his thin thread of patience. 

“How do you feel about seeing a familiar face on the paddock after the last 2 years?” The interviewer asked Carlos. 

“It seems anybody and everyone is welcome these days.” Carlos laughed disdainfully. “Even gold diggers and fame chasers.” The headlines were writing themselves after that interview. 

Formula 1 driver Carlos Sainz Jr. drags his sponsor's daughter in an interview.Carlos Sainz speaks out about his teammate dating his ex-friend.Sponsor pulls out of contract with Carlos Sainz Jr. after interview. 

It seemed even your dad had his limits. A surprise to you. Instead of bothering to call you about it himself, he let you find out from an article your brother sent you. Your brother had asked if you knew anything, and you had been honest about being as blindsided as he was. 

“What are you looking at, Chérie?” Charles kissed your shoulder as he leaned over the couch. You tilted your head back, as he leaned down to kiss your lips this time. 

“Dad pulled out of his sponsorship with Carlos.” You told him. 

“What?” Charles wandered around the couch, falling down beside you, he was quick to open his arms, and let you cuddle into him. 

“I know!” You showed him the article. You handed over your phone to Charles, as you settled into your favourite spot in the whole world. 

“Merde, he actually did.” Charles was in disbelief as much as you were. It was no secret your dad absolutely adored Carlos. Even after first, your brother fell out with him, and then you as well. Your dad had never strayed from putting Carlos on an absolute pedestal, his favourite child.

“Are you going to start walking around with my last name on your chest then, Cariño?” You snuggled closer into him, enjoying the warmth he was omitting. Your eyes closed in bliss, as Charles started carting his fingers through your hair. 

“I would much rather you took my last name, Chérie.” Charles kissed the top of your head. 

“Slow down there Romeo, my dad just broke up with Carlos, I don’t think he can take another earth-shattering situation within this year.” Your head resting against his chest, you were able to follow his heartbeat. You had always loved the sound of it, because his heart was truly beating for you. And Charles never let you doubt it for a second.  

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, a tremendous shout out to @thisismeracing and @pucksandpower for suffering through my obsession with all of this, and helping me through editing. And lastly, thank you to @toiletwipes for always telling me to keep writing and getting me back into proper fic writing