#you think he was trying so hard to save everyone he could
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you could wipe my mind, i'd still be stuck on you
tags: peter parker x fem!reader, tooth-rotting fluff, college/university au, lots of sarcasm, 1k words synopsis: while going out shopping to buy snacks for movie night, your bf, peter parker, tries to convince to you to let him get a new video game. chaos ensues. a/n: wow hey welcome to my first fic posted on here... sorry if this seems rushed haha. tysm @103rafes for helping me with the ending, ily man. reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!! title is from stuck on you by grentperez
"alright, i think we've got everything!" your eyes scanned through the various assortment of junk food in the grocery cart. "movie night is gonna be awe-" You turned to face your bf only to find no one standing near you. "ugh... where is that idiot?"
walking around the store, you find your boyfriend of 1 year, peter parker, in the electronics section. of course he was. you thought, he probably even forgot what they were at the store for.
he was staring intently at the newest spider-man video game. Spider-Man 2, it had came out just last month and everyone was going crazy over it. he had a scrunched up look on his face, studying the cover of the game in the clear display case.
as you walked up to him, his senses picked up on your location and he turned his head around, quickly glancing at you before turning his head back towards the display case. "i still can't believe they make video games of me. they really captured my likeness" he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "i am so going to get this."
rolling your eyes, you sighed. "no we're not mister. c'mon its time to go home." you tugged on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, but Peter still didn't move an inch.
"please y/n... ned has the game! so does everyone we know!"
"why don't you just go over to ned's house and play it?" you suggested, rolling your eyes once again. "yeah, keep rolling your eyes. it'll be stuck like that soon enough." he huffed with a pout. "if you let me get it i'll let you pick the movie tonight. i know you love those cheesy hallmark movies..." peter said in a sing-songy voice. he leaned in to give you a small peck on the cheek and looked at you with his chocolate puppy-dog eyes.
"your silly antics don't work on me." you can't help but let out a giggle as buried his face into your neck and kissing every expanse of skin on it. peter wrapped his arms around your waist hugging you close. "but no. out of the both of us, you're the worst at managing your spendings and we need the money."
he hummed. "but mr. stark gave me my paycheck on monday, its more than enough to buy the game and put away some of it in our savings..."
"you mean your allowance?"
"hey! i may not be an avenger, but i still work for one of the richest people in america" he laughed, messing up your hair. "so... can i still get it?"
you hesitated for a moment, doing some calculations in your head. the two of you lived together in a dingy apartment and did extra jobs on the side to keep the both of them afloat. you knew peter worked hard a lot, trying to keep his grades up while maintaining his life as the city's spider-man so maybe he did deserve something nice for himself.
the corners of your mouth lifted in a small smile. "well..."
â
âdid you see that! i beat his ass so hard.â your bf laughed. you watched intently at the screen trying to decipher what was going on but all you could see were bright flashes of colour.
âyou already beat ass in real life. donât understand why you need to buy this game just to play a virtual version of yourself.â you said jokingly while eating from the bowls of chips and candy you bought earlier that day. you grimaced as you peter took a large handful of m&ms and popcorn, shoving them into his mouth.
âtrue, but this is more fun.â he said between mouthfuls. âplus i donât get hurt.â he gave you a dorky little grin.
well there was no denying that, you thought as you smiled back. as much as peter tried to argue, you insisted on paying for the game as a gift. just seeing peter smile over some silly game made you fall in love with him all over again. it was surreal, dating the spider-man. the same one that appeared on the news 24/7. the same one that made you worry for days wondering if he might come back from saving crime.
but he wasnât just spider-man. he was just plain old peter parker. the boy from queens that you met all those years ago. the boy who was practically an academic genius and the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.
interrupting you from your thoughts, peter wrapped his arm around your shoulder and held you tightly. he had already finished playing the game but he still grasped the controller in his hand.
âwhat are you thinking about?â he asked quietly, playing with the strands of hair falling on your shoulders. he smelled like fresh laundry and a hint of butter from the popcorn.
âwhat?â
peter chuckled. âyou were staring at me with that look you get when youâre thinking really hard. like your nose scrunches up a bit and you have this wide smile on your faceâ
âoh⊠i wasnât really thinking about anything.â you locked eyes with him, staring into his big, doe brown eyes. you shimmied closer to him and rested your head on shoulder. âjust thinking about how great you are.â
âthanks for feeding my egoâ ow!â you punched him on the arm but there was no anger to it. âim joking, im joking. youâre great too.â the smile lines on his face deepened.
peter leaned his head against yours. âthank you for getting me that game by the way. i love you.â he pressed his lips against your temple, making a line down towards your cheeks, then ending at your lips. they were soft and warm, and he tasted like slightly like chocolate.
âmm, love you too spidey-boy. now play your game, i didnât spend 90 dollars on that for nothing.â you giggled lightly.
unable to pull away from your face, he grumbled. âokay, okay! way to ruin a moment with my lovely girlfriendâŠâ
âdoes this spider-man have a girlfriend too?â you nodded towards the screen.
âyouâre better than any video game girlfriend i could have as spider-manâ. you couldnât help but let out a string of laughs as he pulled you in again, planting kisses all over your face.
fin.
#đïž ââ my works ⶠ.á#spider man fanfic#spider man#spiderman#peter parker spiderman#mcu imagine#mcu fanfiction#marvel mcu#marvel fanfiction#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker x fem!reader#peter parker x y/n#fluff#tooth rotting fluff#fanfiction#fanfic#marvel cinematic universe#video games#spider man 2 ps5
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i sent this concept before so if you really hate it you can ignore it again but since weâre talking about abo. afab beta reader whoâs omegacurious. like she really wishes she could be knotted and bred by an alpha but she doesnât have the anatomy to take the knot without getting hurt cause her stupit guts get in the way đ still she fearlessly buys knotted dildos and trains her ass on them before asking her alpha best friend if he can pretty please knot and breed her đ„° if she dies she dies
I actually don't know if I've gotten your ask before, but if I had I'm sure my answer would've been the same!
Everyone regardless of endotype can "take" a knot in my au. Human bodies are so stretchy it doesn't make sense that there'd be a hole(save mouths) that couldn't take a little extra stretching. So plenty of betas have alpha partners and have no trouble being knotted. Mostly because it has always been really weird to me that Betas were included in the gender hierarchy but were somehow completely divorced from it as well?? So in my omegaverse everyone can smell pheromone signatures, everyone has a fertility cycle, and everyone can take a knot.
The only people that really run into any issues are alpha/alpha relationships, especially m/f alpha relationships, but not because they can't take a knot... :3c
-
You can feel yourself tightening, your knot starting to squeeze Knönig's cock as he fucks you closer and closer to orgasm. The way his thick cock stretches you out, forces your knot back, makes your eyes roll. It makes your cunt tingle with heat, the stretch burning through your core. Each thrust hits you deep and hard in a way that aches, arching your spine, pushing moans from your chest that König greedily swallows down. His tongue invades your mouth, his scent invades your nose, the stick of his sweat on your skin makes your head spin. He's a glass of water at midnight, best taken in gulping, gasping breaths until you're sated. You're never sated.
The only problem is the fat knot that's starting to press against your entrance. The same entrance that's trying to lock him in place. The first time it had happened you'd been so worried about tearing that you'd almost broken his nose trying to kick him off of you, now you know better. You can feel the way your body relaxes even as your stomach tightens. Your muscles shake with tension ready to be released, but the way his fingers rub against your clit coaxes them towards melting as well. You're caught. Tensed and teased into this gasping writhing mess.
You can feel the rush of adrenaline already spiking when his hands grip your hips. His teeth snag against your bottom lip, crooked, chipped in the front from too many fights, tempting in their ability to draw blood.
"Ready liebchen?" He asks, his grip on your hips tightened to bruising. Your forehead knocks against his when you nod, your breath shuddering too much to think about speaking. Especially not when his fingers flex, and you're suddenly, achingly, full of him.
There's no build up, no gentleness, he pulls you onto his knot with a conviction that makes you think he could pull the moon from the sky. You're stretched past your limit, your own knot forced back into place, before the sudden rush of pretty, tingling, fullness snaps your control like a bow string, and your orgasm crashes into you like a wave. The way König moans as your internal knot squeezes tight around his is music to your ears. Tied to each other. You can feel the first hot spurt of come hitting your overworked walls.
König hum, grinding into you in a way that makes you whimper.
"There now," he coos, "easier every time." His big hand rests low on your stomach, his thumb rubbing lazily at your clit. You can feel the way your walls pulse around him, your poor pussy doing it's best to milk his stupid cock for all it's worth. He moves to rub at the soft stretched skin around your entrance, pushing at the spongy knot that hides under your skin. The feeling makes you gasp, your legs kicking at him uselessly as he massages the area, bringing you right back to the edge. "I think she's starting to like me." The smile in his voice could peel paint off the wall.
"Stop moving please." A vain plea. You know it'll be mere minutes before he's trying to fuck his knot past yours and then you'll both be begging.
#cod x reader#x reader#x oc#cod x oc#könig#könig cod#könig call of duty#könig x reader#könig mw2#konig x reader#konig cod#konig call of duty#a/b/o#omegaverse#f!reader#alpha!reader#alpha!könig#oc: bee
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only us who knows - leehan
synopsis: you havent seen your boyfriend, leehan, in a while so you decided to surprise him in his fansign and he tries his best not to be obvious infront of everyone else
got inspired from this leehan vid
warnings: secret relationship, fluff, idol!leehan x non-idol!reader
wc: 781
more under the cut!
video calls and late-night messages were never quite enough. nothing could ever be as great as having your boyfriend beside you; itâs been two months since you last saw each other. your heart has been torn between the joy of his success and the loneliness of his absence over the months apart, and the pain has been constant. despite all, your love remained the same.
but tonight, you are now standing in line for their fan sign in japan. you had to fly over for a few hours just to see him again, and leehan knows nothing about it. youâre standing there like everyone else, your hands sweaty, your heart racing, even though you've touched his hand a hundred times. seeing him welcome each fan with that bright smile you know so well makes it feel unreal, like a strange combination of tension and excitement. if feels weird to be here, publicly supporting him like everyone else, even though you've been keeping your relationship with him a secret.
with each step, the line moves closer, and your heart beats more loudly. in the hopes that he won't notice you until the last minute, you keep your head down. you can already imagine his reaction: his breathless laughter, his wide-eyed shock, and his usual way of reaching for your hand, as though he finds it hard to believe you're real.
taesan was seated first, followed by sungho, jaehyun, riwoo, leehan, and then woonhak. right before it was your turn to interact with jaehyun, leehanâs eyes found yours across the room, and his face broke into the most genuine, unguarded smile, the kind he usually saves just for you. you could tell that he could not contain his excitement anymore and he started finding it hard to focus on the fan in front of him. he tried to contain it, molding his features into a more controlled smile, but you could see the sparkle in his eyes, the barely-contained excitement. leehan canât hide it from you, not even if he tried.
and then, itâs your turn.
leehanâs face breaks into a more radiant smile, and he practically bounces in his chair. you furrow your eyebrows worriedly and your eyes try to tell him not to be so obvious. he clears his throat and says in his usual fan sign tone, âthank you for coming to see me.â but, his voice has a warmth and tenderness meant for you, and his eyes tell a different story, hinting at all the words he canât say here. the two of you softly chuckles. he squeezes your hand, his thumb grazing your fingers in a way that, after all this time away, feels both exhilarating and natural. âi couldnât wait any longer.â you said.
he kept squeezing your hand gently, as if to say âiâve missed you, too.â
but he breathes, almost like a whisper, âi missed you.â and you become wary of your surroundings, worried someone must have heard him because leehan was not bothered to be worrying about anyone hearing what he just said. because to be honest, he will scream how much he misses you in front of everyone else if he could. he then slides his other hand under the table, giving your knee a reassuring squeeze.
his eyes hold yours, and then his look fell into every feature you have on your face, glistening with that comforting warmth, and you know heâs struggling to hold back. âcanât i just stand there and hug you? i donât think holding hands is enough.â
his eyes lingered on your lips.
one thing about leehan when heâs restrained from doing something he wants, he becomes insufferable. âcareful, a lot of people are watching.â you whisper, trying to remind him of where you both are. he tries to regain his composure but canât help but lean in a little closer than necessary. he laughs softly and shakes his head, his eyes dancing with mischief. "you make it hard for me to be professional."
right when the staff asks you itâs almost time to move, leehanâs touch which was once so subtle now felt like he didnât want to let go. the warmth in his eyes is becoming unmistakable and the fans are starting to notice. before youâre ushered to move along, he scribbles something on one of the pages in the album. even as you walk away, you feel his gaze following you and then he mouths something only you could understand and feel.
âi love you.â
after you are done with the fan sign, you flip through the pages of the album and see his writing: letâs meet at our hotel later. itâs my turn to surprise you.
ïżŒ
#boynextdoor#boynextdoor imagines#leehan#boynextdoor x reader#kim donghyun#leehan x reader#boynextdoor fluff#leehan fluff#bnd leehan#boynextdoor leehan#bnd fluff#kim leehan#leehan scenarios#leehan fic#boynextdoor fic
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âMovie Nightâ
Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, youâd flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brotherâs best friend. You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your lifeâs film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mateâs little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy?Â
Index:
Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really⊠if i miss anything please lmk!
Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!
Chapter 6 - Your Brother | âMovie Night'
word count - 11.3k
Even though things were âgoodâ you couldnât help but feel apprehensive about what you and Trent were doing. He was in and out of town so often for football it was hard to know what was happening. So, in the midst of flickering doubts, you had decided you would try to create some self-imposed distance to keep your heart safe. Youâd gotten to a place where yes⊠you were sending nudes, videos of you in bed which in itself maybe wasnât the smartest but it was happening, you were enjoying it in fact. But enjoyment couldnât mask apprehension. Still, you were keeping everything just on the phone. Keeping everything hush, not even Layla knew how deep things were getting. And while this digital relationship was blossoming, you were keeping the public one that existed in front of everyoneâs eyes at an arm's length. And it hurt to be living what felt like a double life. You two clearly had no self control and that was evident in the text exchanges so keeping your distance felt smart. With all of that in mind, you hadnât expected to see Trent at your door this afternoon, let alone embracing you in a cuddle so warm it felt like he hadnât seen you in ages when itâd been mere days. You stiffened at first, taken by surprise, but quickly melted into him. As much as you tried to pretend you shouldnât do this, shouldnât do this with him, you yearned for this very thing; the physical connection you were trying so hard to keep at bay. You tried to believe that space was the best thing to do to keep yourself safe but the second his arms wrapped around you⊠the world melted along with you. Memories of him flooding you. It was like he had your heart before you couldnât even try to stop him from grabbing it. You were powerless and you loved being weak for him.Â
âYouâre back home.â Your voice was muffled against his skin in the embrace of the hug. He hummed, squeezing you that much tighter. Just as you began to pull back, his grin widened cheekily.Â
âCan you wait here fâme? I got something for you.â Before you could respond, He smiled as he darted back out to his car, leaving you standing there, curiosity building, warmth flooding you. When he returned, he was holding a stunning bouquet, petals in shades of blush and deep red.Â
âI donât play footie in the park anymore so I thought you deserve more than a daisy.â He smiled earnestly with a glint in his eyes that almost looked scared. Trent was still grappling with how to show you just how much he cared. He was worried about Jack, sure, but keeping things hush didnât feel so bad at the minute as long as he showed you he cared. He was looking for that sweet spot of past and present. And so began another attempt. You couldnât help the way your cheeks flushed as you took the flowers, turning them in your hands, admiring every detail. But Trent wasnât done. âPretty girlâŠâ He cooed gently to grab you attention off the floral arrangement and back to him. He smirked holding two more bags. You raised your brow with a smile you couldnât contain anymore. He handed you a sleek Dior shopping bag, his words tumbling out in a rush. âYou know like⊠I was in just France for the game and⊠well, I saw this, and I just thought of you.â He stumbled through words with a smile. You turned and placed the flowers and the bag on a console in the foyer of the house unboxing it all. Inside was a mini red Dior lady dior, classic, chic, and unmistakably something you loved on sight. Yes, this was very much so a perk of present day Trent.Â
âTrent, Iââ You looked up at him, stunned, your heart racing. But before you could finish, he interrupted with a cheeky smirk.
âOne more thing⊠because well, in my opinion it matches andâŠâ As you took the next bag he was pushing towards you and began to open the other, you smirked with a furrowed brow. It wasn't any more designer, instead something priceless. You pulled out a familiar red top you had just seen Trent wearing on the telly during his match days ago. You smiled seeing a Liverpool Alexander-Arnold jersey. One of his own. âIf you ever want to wear one,â he said, his eyes softening. âIâd prefer it if it was mine. Because you know⊠youâre kind of mine.â The words hung between you, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You ran your fingers over the bold name and number on the back, biting back a giddy smile.Â
âThis is⊠wow, are you sure, baby, Itâs a pretty big statement.â you teased, glancing up at him. He stepped closer, his eyes serious, and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.Â
âI mean it. Youâre⊠Youâre so important to me, Y/N.â That moment felt like a declaration all on its own, leaving you feeling lighter and less uncertain, ready to see where this might possibly go. That maybe it wasnât all just for behind closed doors. The gift in your hands felt weighty, more than just fabric or leatherâit felt like a quiet promise. âI always liked when you were at the park watching me play growing up, and I really like it when youâre at Anfield now watching me.â His words stuck you deep. Maybe he wasnât just making it all up about having a crush on your growing up in the park. The way Trent looked at you, the softness in his eyes and the little, lingering smile on his lips, spoke volumes. You glanced down at the jersey again, fingertips tracing over the double barreled last name. This wasnât just a shirt; it was a claim, a gesture that felt almost absurdly personal. He watched you closely, gauging every shift in your expression. His usual confident demeanor softened, almost vulnerable, as he waited for you to say something more. But words felt clumsy in that moment, so you took a small step forward and wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly. Trent hugged you back, his hands gentle against your back, pulling you in like he was afraid to let go.
âI⊠I donât even know what to say,â you finally whispered into his shoulder, feeling both overwhelmed and elated. You pulled back, just enough to look up at him. âThis is⊠itâs really thoughtful, T, baby.â He gave a little shrug, downplaying the significance.Â
âThink about you a lot. I wish I could show you better. This is one way I guess. And I just thought youâd look better in one mine, yeah?â His tone was casual, but his eyes betrayed him. You could see the warmth, the intent behind this small collection of gifts. Grinning, you took the jersey holding it up between you.Â
âSo⊠Iâm supposed to just wear this and be yours, huh?â You said with a smirk. His grin turned into a smirk.Â
âThatâs the idea,â he said, stepping in close, his hands finding your waist. âBut only if youâre up for it.â You felt your cheeks heat up, but you didnât break his gaze. His fingers began to play with the hem of the shirt you currently had on. You didnât expect your heart to stutter the way it did seeing him today. You looked down, biting your lip, feeling almost shy under his gaze.Â
âAnd youâre sure?â you murmured, looking back up at him. He reached up, cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, letting his fingers linger just a little longer against your skin.Â
âIâve known you too long not to be.â His voice was low, and there was a sincerity there that felt like a balm to every worry youâd been carrying. Without another word, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, soft but intentional, letting yourself believe him. Trentâs arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, like he was anchoring himself to you. The kiss deepened, and you both sank into it, unhurried, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. You finally pulled back from the kiss to really look at the jersey still in your hands. It wasnât from a store it was very clearly one of his. He even had drawn a little heart, in only a way a boy would, but nevertheless cute, on the bottom of the white embossed #66. The whole thing was incredibly sweet.Â
âGuess I know what Iâm wearing to the next match I go to. Someone just has to invite me.â You said with a teasing smile.
âYouâre always invited but yeah, you better be wearing that,â he chuckled, his eyes shining. âIâve got a feeling itâs gonna look perfect on you as well.â And with that, you felt some of your doubts fade, replaced by the excitement of whatever was waiting ahead and right now what was waiting was thick sexual tension creeping in. As you held the soft fabric of the jersey, Trent's eyes sparkled with mischief. He stepped back into you once more, his muscular body radiating heat, planting a soft kiss on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His warm breath fanning your sensitive skin as he gently nibbled, leaving a trail of tingling sensations. Swiftly a moment that was meant to be sentimental, suddenly began to steam up.Â
"Do you want me to try it on for you, baby?" you suggested, your voice a little hoarse with desire. Trent hummed in response, his lips still brushing against your skin as his fingers idley returned to play with the hem of your shirt. With a swift motion, he lifted the shirt you were already wearing over your head entirely exposing your bare torso, no bra. Your breath caught at the sudden rush of cool air on your heated skin. Trent's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your full tits, your nipples already hardening in anticipation.
"You look so fucking gorgeous all the fucking time, baby" he growled, his voice thick with want. His hands glided over your shoulders, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and then slid down to cup your tits. He thumbed your nipples, rolling and pinching gently, making you gasp and arch into his touch.
"I need you, T⊠now," you murmured before his lips found yours in a searing kiss. The kiss was hungry, demanding, and filled with passion. Different than before. Trent's tongue danced with yours, exploring and claiming, while his hands roamed freely over your body, mapping every curve and valley. He kneaded your boobs, squeezing and lifting them, making you moan into his mouth. You clung to him, running your fingers over his curls, pulling him closer as if you could merge your bodies into one. His erection pressing against your lower belly, a hard ridge that promised pleasure and satisfaction youâd come to know well but couldnât get enough of. His hands moved to slide around you down to your ass, over it and then under. Breaking the kiss, Trent lifted you effortlessly into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried you upstairs, making sure to grab both of your tops in his hand, sparing any damning evidence. His strong arms never faltering as you giggled breathlessly nibbling on his ear lobe whispering the naughtiest things in his ear despite feeling like an innocent princess in his hold. And then like a shot gun signaling a start, your bedroom door clicked shut behind you.Â
Trent laid you down on your soft sheets, his eyes never leaving yours. In a blur of passion, you found yourself on your bed, both of your clothes completely vanished now, your legs wrapped around Trent's strong waist again. He hovered above you, his body a delicious weight pressing you into the mattress. You could feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against you. His eyes, dark and intense, holding yours captive, and you knew in that moment it truly felt like you were his. The dominant glint in his eyes sent a thrill through your body, making you ache to surrender completely.
âTell me what you want.â He cooed almost tauntingly. Trent's voice was a low rumble, filled with desire and possession as he whispered above you leaning in to begin leaving kisses from behind your ear down your jaw. You didnât answer you just nodded eagerly, giving him permission, your eyes pleading for him to take control. And he did. He pressed his lips to yours as his fingers trailed down your body, tracing your curves, before slipping between your thighs and through your pussyâs wet folds. âSuch a messy girl. You're so always so fucking wet for me, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. You were already soaked, your arousal glistening on your sensitive folds. Trent's touch was like a lightning bolt, igniting a fire within you. âTell me what you want.â He demanded again and it started a fire in you, igniting something carnal. You whined and when he teased his fingers around your clit.Â
"You, T, fuck⊠I want you," you whimpered as he stroked your clit, his touch feather-light but intensely pleasurable. His fingers dipped lower, finding your entrance and pushing inside, filling you with a delicious stretch. You gasped as you felt him slip two fingers all the way inside of you with a curl. He smirked watching your face scrunch up from the intrusion. You arched off your bed, seeking more, your hips moving in rhythm with his fingers. "Please, baby" you begged, your voice breathy and desperate. "I need you inside me. I want your cock, T." He grinned down at you, his eyes alight with possessiveness. âI want you to be rough, T.â You whined desperate for him to just use you.Â
"You want me to be rough with you? You like that don't you, baby?" He mocked in the hottest way. You reached out towards him, dragging your hand down his abs before wrapping your hand around his hard shaft. You pumped his cock with your spit mixed with his leaking precum,l. He pulled his fingers out of you swiftly. His one hand laced his fingers with yours pinning your hands above your head, the other tapping his cock against your clit, dragging it through your foldâs teasingly. Neither of you had the patience for more foreplay. You needed him inside of you now and he was giving you just that. His big brown eyes met yours, your breathing getting heavier and heavier. âYouâre gonna be a good girl fâme, hmm?â His words send a thrill through you, a heady combination of desire and submission. You nod eagerly, your eyes locked on his.
"Yeah" you whispered. He positioned himself between your thighs, his hands moving to grip your hip firmly. You felt the broad head of his cock nudging at your entrance before he thrusted forward, filling you in one smooth stroke."Oh, God!" you cried out, your body welcoming him with a delicious tightness. Your hands broke out of his and grabbed to hold him. Your nails digging into his back muscles as he slid inside of you. Your back arched off the bed with a gasp. He rocked into you. Trentâs cock stretched you deliciously hitting the spot only he knew immediately.Â
âDoing so good fâme, baby. Take my cock so well. You okay?â He asked gently as he flicked his eyes to yours. You nodded with a shy smile as he pulled back out just barely, leaving just the tip in. With a growl, he thrusted into you again, filling you so completely that you gasped once over. His cock, hard and throbbing, stretching you to the limit, and you loved every second of it. The sensation of being so full, so possessed, sent sparks of pleasure through your body. He set a relentless pace, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with deep, powerful strokes. Your bodies creating a sensual rhythm, the squelching sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the room. Trent's jaw clenched, his eyes hooded as he watched his cock disappear into your slick heat.
"You feel so fucking good," you moaned, your breath coming in short gasps. "Feel so deep. Oh my god." You whined. You inhaled a sharp breath feeling a lightheadedness come over as you took him. He kept his beautiful brown eyes fixed on you. The pupils in his dark eyes dilated as he felt his cock pulse inside you. Every movement was slow, deep, and intentional. His lips curled into a smug smile hearing you whine. You were completely his and he reveled in it. You dragged your ankle down his back muscles. He was so gentle yet harsh at the same time. Trentâs hand slid up your body and wrapped around your neck gently but assertively causing the knot in your core to tighten as you moaned more.  Â
"Whose pussy is this?" he demanded, his voice hoarse with need.Â
"Yours, Trent," you whispered, your voice breathless. "Only yours." He quickened his pace, his hips snapping forward with each thrust, driving into you relentlessly. Your tits, full and heavy, bounced with each movement, the sensitive peaks grazing his chest, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. He let go of your neck and leaned back a little. Trent's hands moving to grip your thighs, holding your legs wide open, exposing you completely to his gaze and touch.Â
"God, fuck. You're so fucking wet, baby," he growled, his eyes fixed on the junction where his cock disappeared into your body. "So good fâme." He praised you as you moaned, the explicit words and the sight of him pounding into your body pushing you closer to the edge. Your hands moved off him to clutch at the sheets, your knuckles turning white as you tried to anchor yourself against the force of his thrusts. The room continued to be filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, your desperate moans, and Trent's dirty words. Trent could feel your pussy clenching tighter, he knew you were close.Â
"Tell me, baby, whose cock are you gonna cum on right now?" Trent's voice was rough but smug, his face a mask of pure desire and self satisfaction.
"Yours, T," you panted, your voice thick with pleasure. âI want to cum on your cock." Your eyes rolling back as you felt the climax building. "I'll only ever cum on your cock, T." Your words seemed to unleash something primal within him. His eyes lit with possession. His hips pistoned faster, his cock pounding into your sensitive flesh. You could feel his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust, his cock feeling harder inside of you, and the knowledge that he was close to his own release sent you spiraling towards your climax. The words youâd just said had tumbled out. And to be honest, you kind of hoped your commitment was true. You only ever wanted his dick⊠it was that good. You wrapped your legs stayed around his waist, drawing him even deeper, your hands moving to clutch at his shoulders, leaving half-moon marks on his tanned skin. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue invading, possessing. His hips never stoping their relentless motion, driving you closer and closer to the edge of bliss.
"That's right, you're my good girl. Only cum fâme. Only gonna ever wear my jersey too, yeah?" he grunted the question, his eyes never leaving yours. You nodded as the coil in your stomach tightened. Orgasmic bliss barrelling towards you."Cum for me, baby. Show me how much you love my cock." His words were like a match to the kindling of your desire. His words pushed you over the precipice. Your body tensed every nerve ending singing as you soared into your climax. Trent's fingers dug into your hips, holding you firmly in place as he fucked you into your climax, his own release building. And then in a split second just when the outside world couldnât have seemed further away you heard the tracks of the garage door begin to open.
 "T!" you cried out, your voice high and desperate. The distant rumble of Jack returning home made your heart stop but you couldnât stop your bodyâs orgasmic convulsions though. Your climax exploded through your body, rippling waves of pleasure that caused your back to arch and your pussy to clamp down on Trentâs cock. You cried out, your voice a mix of pleasure and surprise and panic, as your release washed over you, the waves of pleasure so intense they left you trembling. Trent's name was a mantra on your lips you were trying to bite back as you rode the waves of ecstasy but it was all mixed with genuine fear. âT⊠T.. fuck!â You yelped, your hands moving to press against his chest to push him off. He didnât hear the garage, he was locked in. You knew he was about to cum. âTrent!â You yelped just as his body tensed above you. His eyes squeezed shut, and he let out a guttural grunt, his hips making one final, powerful thrust as he filled you with his release. âJack! Trent!â You told him. Trent had never had a more conflicting climax in his life. Panic, euphoria, and disgust hearing his mates name while he finished all at once. Trent's eyes widened, and he froze, his cock still buried deep within you. His release leaking inside you. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, a frantic rhythm that matched your own. The sensation of his hot cum inside you sent you over the edge again, a second orgasm washing over you, leaving you boneless and sated, Trent fighting back a groan as you tightened around him once more. Panting, your bodies glistening with sweat, you clung to each other, hearts racing but you needed to move. Now. The sudden realization that you were both naked and exposed snapped you back to the present. Anxiety flared in your chest as you scrambled to get Trent off you and find your clothes, your heart pounding. This was it. Jack was going to find out.Â
"Shit," Trent cursed, quickly reaching for his boxers. "Your brother... we need to get downstairs." He instructed you. The urgency in his voice mirrored your own racing thoughts. You frantically searched for your clothes, scattered across the room. In a mad dash, you pulled on your panties and scrambled to find everything, while Trent hastily pulled on his trousers. The heat of the moment had turned into a frantic race against time. The sound of Jackâs arrival sent you both into a scramble, grabbing at clothes, fumbling with buttons, zipper, shirts pulled over heads, doing whatever you could to look convincingly casual.Â
âFuck, fuck!â you yelled in a whisper, heart pounding as you clutched the sides of your shirt, tugging it over your head, trying to compose yourself. You shot Trent a panicked look. Tears forming on your lash line.Â
âBaby⊠Baby⊠weâll be okay. Youâre okay. Câmon.â He kissed your forehead before helping adjust your top. The slam of the door into the house had sent you and Trent into an even more panicked frenzy as you scrambled to not look like you just fucked.Â
âMy car,â Trent hissed almost to himself, eyes wide, realizing that leaving his car in the driveway was like leaving a neon sign that he was there.
âHeâs going to see itâŠâ You glanced at him, panicked. There was no hiding now. With your pulse racing, you tried to look as normal as possible, grabbing the closest thing you could find to play off a casual visitâa charger tangled near your bed. The two of you locked eyes, a silent agreement that this was your cover story. You nodded back before you ran down the stairs just as Jack came through the other side of the house. Thank god the staircase up to your room was at the opposite end. You could hear Jackâs footsteps making his way towards you two as you made it downstairs. When he saw you and Trent his eyebrows raised, but he was relaxed enough.Â
âAye, mate, whatâs up?â he asked, looking from Trent to you and back again. Jack looked at Trent with a faintly furrowed brow. Trent plastered on a relaxed smile, putting on his most casual tone.
âYeah, good bro. Sorry, ahâŠleft my phone charger here last time,â he replied smoothly, nodding toward the one you were now holding out like a lifeline. You forced a smile, trying to seem casual. Jackâs gaze lingered on you for a second, his expression skeptical.Â
âSoâŠâ Jackâs tone held a playful curiosity. âYou knew I wasnât home?â Trent shrugged.Â
âYeah, bro, only a charger so I didnât want to nag you about it,â he said, as you casually waving the charger like it was some grand prize heâd finally retrieve. âY/N was just letting me grab it real quick.â You handed Trent the charger, feeling Jackâs gaze on both of you. Trent took it with a casual âThanks,â stuffing it into his pocket as if it had been his all along. You were mildly annoyed you were losing a charger but that was the least of your worries âJust thought Iâd pop in, grab it, and head out.â Jack stared for a moment longer, lips curving into a smirk as he finally dropped his gaze.Â
âRight⊠sound.â he chuckled. Trent laughed, playing along, and you couldnât help but join in, trying to mask your own nerves. Jack looked between you both, there was something in his eyes you couldnât quite read but it was more confusion at the energy in the room than a hint of suspicion. But he just laughed, shrugging it off as Trent left. Trent still managed to give you a tiny, playful wink before slipping out, leaving your mind reeling.
âHeâs so weird.â Jack teased you, still watching Trent get in his car. âMan makes millions and heâs pressed about a charger.â You let out a small, nervous laugh, hoping to play it cool. You felt Jackâs arm wrap around your shoulder in a lighthearted squeeze, and he shot you a teasing grin.
âNah, heâs just⊠Trent⊠mindful, maybe?â you managed, trying to fill the silence and maybe convince both Jack and yourself. Jack smirked, shaking his head. Your heart was still racing but at least Trent had remained calm.Â
âYeah, well, you were probably just gassed you got his attention alone for five minutes.â He laughed, punching at your arm as he passed you. You forced yourself to chuckle, hoping the nervous energy vibrating through you wasnât as obvious as it felt. Jackâs teasing had hit closer to home than he knew, and as you watched Trentâs car pull away from the driveway, you felt a mix of thrill and relief. The cover story mightâve worked, but the spark between you two? That was only getting harder to hide.
âOh, please,â you replied, rolling your eyes, trying to sound nonchalant as you looked down, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You laughed, a little too loudly, hoping it came off as amused and not as a frantic release of tension. Jack gave a little shrug, seemingly satisfied.Â
âJust saying, you love Trenty.â He laughed teasingly but you didnât. Not this time. âY/N⊠Iâm kidding. I know heâs your mate too. Relax. He came for a charger, innit. Iâm joking. Sorry.â He looked at you apologetically, mildly confused why a tease about you have a crush on Trent hit so differently than before. He always poked fun but your vibe felt weird. He opted to just let it roll off his back, moving on and turned, remaining oblivious as he headed to the kitchen. Meanwhile you were left with a stomach full of butterflies, lined with guilt and a heart still pounding from the close call. Watching Trent drive away, you felt an undeniable thrill mixed with something deeper, something that had you feeling torn between excitement and culpability. The cover story had worked for now, but you couldnât shake the feeling that keeping this secret would only get harder with time.
Sneaking around with Trent had quickly transformed into something more, something you felt deep in your bones. The thrill was undeniable, yet the way you kept finding yourself drawn back to him made it feel like it wasn't just about the thrill anymore. After Jack almost catching you, it just felt like you both actually thought what you were doing mightâve been worth it. Tonight felt like a step closer to something real, though the secrecy only intensified it. You'd told Jack you'd be staying over at Layla's, a lie that sat heavy, but the promise of a night with Trent made it worth it. When you arrived at his place, Trent's smile greeted you at the door, warm and familiar, and immediately, you felt all that tension melt away. He led you out to the back garden, where he had set up a cozy space just for the two of you. Blankets were draped over the outdoor couch on the patio, and the fire pit cast a gentle, golden glow. Jazz murmured softly from a speaker, blending perfectly with the low hum of the night, creating a sense of comfort that felt more intimate than you'd expected. The whole setup seemed to say: I wanted this to feel special. You nestled into the couch beside him, sharing the same blanket as the fire flickered, warming your faces. Trent leaned back, one arm stretched along the back of the couch, the other hand resting on your knee, and you felt yourself relaxing against him as if this was exactly where you belonged.
Although, it wasn't long though before he suggested a game of cards, his competitive spirit sparking in his eyes. You moved to sit cross-legged on the couch, turning to face him as you dealt the cards. Trent sat back, legs spread, confidence written across his face. But as the game went on and the tide turned in your favor, his expression shifted. He huffed when you won a hand, mumbling something about beginner's luck, but you could tell he was getting flustered. When you won again, his pout turned into a grin full of mischief.
"Nah, not having this. C'mon, there's no way you're this lucky," he teased, snatching the cards from your hand before pulling you into his lap, his hands snaking around your waist.
"Maybe I'm just better at it than you," you quipped, knowing it would get under his skin. He narrowed his eyes, pretending to look insulted but deep down you knew he hated hearing it, joke or not.
"Oh, so that's how it is, huh?" he murmured before leaning in, his teeth grazing your neck in a playful nibble, a cross between a kiss and bite as his hands gripped you tighter. You squirmed, laughing, trying to wriggle free, but he was stronger than you and wouldn't let you go.
"Just admit I won," you teased, breathless from laughing, glancing up at him with a triumphant smile.
"Not a chance," he whispered, voice low as his face hovered inches from yours, his eyes full of that look that made your pulse race. "The game's postponed. We'll settle it later." He said deciding he just wanted to be with you for the moment, no games. He let his hold on you loosen, and you rolled your eyes with a grin.Â
"Whatever you want, baby." You murmured, your voice warm and teasing. He stilled, his gaze softening as he took you in, as if hearing you calling him âbabyâ for the first time. Colloquially. The look in his eyes made your stomach flip, a moment of quiet that felt far more intimate than any kiss or touch. With a hum of satisfaction, he pulled you in closer, one hand tracing down your back.
"I like the sound of that." His fingers gently pressed into your skin, grounding you in that moment, and his other hand reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You stayed wrapped up together, letting the night carry you in the warmth of each other's presence. Hours passed without notice, the jazz lulling softly in the background as you nestled closer, feeling his hand rest securely around you. His touch was soft, comforting, as if to say he wasn't in any rush to let go. The stars were bright overhead, and the crackling flames cast shadows over his face. Trent looked at you with a rare openness, a softness that made your chest ache in the best way. He pressed a kiss to your hair, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on you. You rested your head against his shoulder, your legs curled over his lap, feeling the strength of his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. Every so often, he'd lean down, brushing his lips against your temple or whispering something sweet that made your heart stutter. It felt like you were existing in your own little world, a pocket of warmth and comfort that was just for the two of you. The night stretched on, but neither of you felt any rush to move or break the spell. This wasn't just a thrill, or a secret-you could feel the weight of something genuine growing between you, something you were both beginning to understand couldn't be hidden forever.
Settling into Trentâs bed that night felt surrealâsoft sheets, plush pillows, and the faint scent of him in the air made it feel luxurious, almost like a dream. Yet, there was that small tug of something missing, a sense of feeling a bit out of place amidst the perfection. You liked your routine, your things, thatâs all. This was well, it was his bed, his room, his world. You didnât quite realize how it showed until Trent, lying beside you with a gentle smile, noticed it.
âI can tell youâre uncomfortable. Whatâs up?â he asked, his gaze soft but curious. You shook your head with a half-hearted laugh, trying to dismiss it.Â
âIâm not uncomfortable⊠I justâŠâ you trailed off, unable to find the words. But he shook his head, unconvinced.Â
âNah, baby, câmon,â he coaxed, âalright. Tell me what you usually do before bed.â He rolled over and looked at you with a smile. At that, you couldnât help but grin.Â
âOkay, so,â you started, tucking your hair behind your ear as you settled into explaining shuffling in the sheets.. âFirst thingâs first: I have to take off all my makeup. But that means using an oil cleanser first because it breaks everything downâ mascara, everything. Then I use a second cleanser to really clean my skin. Itâs called double cleansing.â You giggled as Trent nodded with a raised eyebrow, trying not to smile.Â
âDouble cleansing?â he echoed. âMore than once seems likeâŠ.â You widened your eyes silently asking to finish and continued on.Â
âTrust me, it makes a difference because some of us donât just wake up moisturize and go.â You teased and he rolled his eyes swiping his thumb over his cheekbone as if to show off his perfect skin. âBut then I have to pat my face dry with specific towels or like disposable ones, you know? Like I canât just be rubbing whatever to dry.â He leaned back, clearly amused but listening intently. You were pretty sure he had no idea what heâd gotten himself into.Â
âOkay, whatâs next?â he asked, a playful grin on his face.
âThen itâs skincare time,â you declared. âI use a toner first.â Trent nodded but you knew he probably didnât know what that meant. âAfter that, I have a few serums. Then⊠â You cooed but Trent interjected.Â
âA few!?â Trentâs eyes widened slightly. It was becoming evidently more and more clear he did not have a sister. A part of you laughed that you never realized how deep that fact ran and then a part of you felt a bit relieved this was the first time he seemed to be hearing this. The idea that any girl that had come before you had yet to explain this to him.Â
âYeah then we move to like eye creams, moisturizers next,â you explained and continued to rattle on with more. He looked impressed and bewildered at the same time.Â
âThatâs⊠a lot,â he said, but there was a note of affection in his voice that made you smile.
âAnd weâre not even done!â you pointed out. âAfter the skincare, I do my hair care. Apply some products for hydration. Oh and silk pillowcases are a must for both skin and hair. Theyâre gentler and prevent breakage.â Trentâs eyes sparkled with humor, but he nodded as if taking mental notes.Â
âAlright, so weâve got skin and hair. Anything else?â He smirked almost assuming you were done.Â
âObviously,â you said, feigning indignation. âThen I have to set up my room. I spray a lavender sleep mist onto my bed to help me relax, and I take my nighttime supplementsâmagnesium, a sleep aid if I need it, maybe some collagen.â You explained.
âSupplements too?â he repeated, clearly finding all of this fascinating. He had routines but it was more for optimizing performance and in a way you were doing just the same.
âYep. And then I need like wattterrrs,â you explained dragging out the word, feeling more animated as you talked. âAnd sometimes, if Iâm feeling really stressed, Iâll do a short guided meditation before bed. Just five to ten minutes to clear my mind.â Trent was leaning forward now, his chin resting in his hands grinning ear to ear. Trent started laughing, eyes wide with disbelief.Â
âThatâs like 15 steps, baby!â he exclaimed, shaking his head as if youâd told him the most extravagant bedtime routine on earth and maybe you had in his mind. You laughed along, shrugging.Â
âHey, you asked! Besides, donât pretend youâre not just as high maintenance with all your Byredo lotions over there.â You smirked, nodding toward the sleek row of bottles lined on the counter in the ensuite. He rolled his eyes, giving a mock scoff.Â
âAlright, alright⊠but thatâs⊠thatâs quite the process,â he said, his voice laced with teasing affection. âYou really do all that every night?â You crossed your arms, pretending to be offended.Â
âI mean I try to every single night! Itâs called self-care, T. Thereâs more out there than just what the club tells you to do. You should try my routine sometime.â You giggled teasing him. You knew he took really good care of himself but when it came to beauty he was more relaxed. He laughed, the sound filling the room.
âI donât think I could handle all of that.â He smirked. You couldnât help but smile, warmth blooming in your chest at the compliment. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Even if he didnât fully understand each step, he was there, listening and appreciating the lengths you went to for your own well-being. And that made you feel seen in a way that was hard to explain. Still smiling, he grabbed his phone, opening his notes app. âOkay, baby⊠give me the names and brands. Everything you need for sleeping here.â Your heart fluttered at the gesture, so thoughtful and unexpected. You began listing each product, and he typed them with an almost serious focus, nodding as if he were taking notes on a game plan; Slip pillow cases, Tata Harper cleansers, Maison Francis mists, a 14th Night Hair Elixir.Â
âYou donât actually have to do all this,â you murmured, feeling almost shy. But his hand found yours, and he squeezed it gently.
âI want you to feel comfortable here,â he said softly, looking at you with that easy, open sincerity. âBesides, if itâs gonna make you sleep better, then itâs worth it. Keeps you in my bed.â He cheekily cooed. The thoughtfulness left you feeling a mix of warmth and gratitude, a sense of belonging that surprised you. And as much as you adored the idea of your favorite products sitting in his bathroom, what you loved even more was thisâhim, making space for you in his world, in his home. It also felt nice to know itâd be like a warning should any other girl be over. This was your marking your territory.
âThank you,â you whispered, shifting closer to him, a smile playing on your lips. âHonestly, though⊠all I really need to feel at home is you.â He smiled, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you.Â
âYouâve always felt like home to me.â He whispered back to you. Both of your admissions honest. The room was calm, the dim light casting soft shadows, and Trentâs fingers lazily traced patterns along your arm as you both settled into the cozy rhythm of conversation. The hum of street lights outside mixed with the soft rustling of sheets, making the entire moment feel even more intimate. Even after Trent finished noting down your list, he looked over with a smirk, still visibly amused by the whole process. âSo, am I missing anything? Or do we need to add a couple more things for this routine?â
âOh, donât even start,â you teased, giving him a playful nudge. âYou wouldnât understandâitâs just habitual; itâs so I can look pretty.â You batted your eyes at him. He laughed, tipping his head back, the sound warm and rich.Â
âWell⊠you always look beautiful. Donât think you need all this but, consider me converted if it makes you happy,â he said, miming a solemn vow. âBut seriously, Iâll get it, alright? Itâs not just about making you feel at homeâitâs about you being at home here, whenever you want.â The sincerity in his words made your cheeks warm. For a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would feel like for this to be your regular night: no need to pack an overnight bag, no sneaking in and out, just⊠this, every night. You snuggled deeper into his embrace, the weight of his arm draped protectively around you making everything feel somehow complete. He noticed the pensive look on your face and tilted his head, studying you. âWhatâre you thinking about?â
âItâs just⊠weird, you know? I didnât expect it to feel this comfortable here.â You hesitated, then smiled softly. âI thought it would feel⊠wrong.â He ran his hand gently up and down your back, pulling you even closer. It was wrong. It was wrong what you were doing to Jack, but this? This felt very right.Â
âYeah, I know what you mean. But I also knew itâd be good. You and I have always been good. I want it to feel easy. Want you to feel like you donât have to hide anything when weâre here or feel out of place here.â His voice was low, soothing, and he spoke as if he were letting you in on some quiet, long-held secret. He reached over, smoothing a strand of hair away from your face, fingers lingering as he looked into your eyes with that calm, unwavering gaze of his. âI know weâre figuring things out, and it might be complicated but it doesnât have to be here. Weâre good here,â he said softly, his hand resting gently on your cheek. You leaned into his touch, heart beating a little faster.Â
âYou really mean that?â you whispered, almost afraid of his answer.
âYeah, I do,â he replied, his voice steady. âI think weâre pretty damn good together.â He smirked. For a moment, the silence between you was filled with unspoken words, a warmth passing between you that felt equal parts thrilling and comforting. You let out a breath you didnât realize you were holding and smiled, nestling closer to him.
âOkay,â you murmured, settling fully into the pillow beside him, letting his steady breathing and the soft glow of his gaze ground you. The weight of his arm around you felt like an anchor, keeping you steady even as your mind whirled with thoughts of what this meant, of what you meant to him. He pulled you even closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.Â
âSo⊠really, pretty girl, any final steps in this ritual of yours? Any last ones?â he teased, breaking the quiet moment with a playful glint in his eyes. You rolled your eyes, laughing.Â
âAlright, alright, since youâre so curious⊠And Iâm generous, I guess I could share the one I never even leave home without.â You reached over, awkwardly leaning to grab your lip balm youâd already moved to the nightstand earlier to have on hand. It was a lip balm you brought with you everywhere, so tonight was no different. It was a rich Hermes lip balm. Nothing made your lips feel more well-hydrated, supple or better than this. You applied a layer to your own lips before leaning in, catching him with a soft kiss that tasted faintly of beeswax.
âThere, now youâre officially a part of my routine,â you said, grinning. He shook his head, still chuckling, his fingers tracing along your jaw as he pulled you in for another kiss.Â
âIf this is how the routine ends, Iâm in.â And in that moment, with the warmth of his arms around you, the soft glow of the lights outside, and the quiet thrill of realizing just how natural this all felt, you let yourself settle fully into the moment. Trent leaned over you and grabbed the sleek tube again. âYou think the lads would take the mick if I rolled around using Hermes lip balm? Because this actually feels so good.â He asked you earnestly. You smirked knowing the answer would likely be yes but you just hummed.Â
âDoes it? Or was it my kiss?â You teased. âNah, you could use it though. If youâd want you can take this one. Iâll get another one.â You cooed, pressing your lips to his again. Trent nodded agreeing. And he did. You let him take it the next day. But that night you fell to sleep happy, lips moisturized, and all the worries and doubts fading into the background, leaving just you and him, here together, finding home in each other.
As you bounded down the stairs, practically buzzing with excitement, you were already mentally at Trentâs, imagining the quiet moments youâd get to have again, just the two of you for another night. Youâd been doing this a lot. Hiding it all from everyone but reveling in the time tucked together. Your heart raced as you went through the plan in your headâanother night wrapped up in his arms, laughing, teasing, letting everything else fall away. But Jackâs voice cut through your daydreams, grounding you in an instant.
âHey, you headed out? Whoâs the lucky lad now?â he asked, his tone casual, but his eyes studying you closely. Your heart skipped, a blend of panic and guilt washing over you. You were sure heâd started to suspect something, especially with all the time youâd been spending away. Swallowing hard, you tried for a casual response. You didnât think heâd even be considering Trent, but it was clear you were spending a lot of time âoutâ with someone. No matter, lying to Jack⊠Jack, your big brother, your best friend; though youâd never tell Layla that, it all felt so wrong.Â
âYeah, but I donât want to jinx it, you know? Not yet,â you said with a soft smile, hoping heâd leave it at that. But Jack wasnât one to let things slide easily. He just hummed, giving you a long, knowing look. Then, with a gentleness that caught you off guard, he spoke again.Â
âHeyâŠâ he started, and you could hear the tenderness in his voice. âIâve never seen you like this before.â He sympathetically smiled.Â
âWhat do you mean?â You looked up at him, surprised
âI mean, thereâs a light in you that I havenât seen in a while. Itâs good to see it again.â His eyes softened, a mix of pride and love filling his gaze. âI donât know what this ladâs doing, but whatever it is, itâs bringing out the best in you. Look happier. Healthier.â A rush of emotion swelled in your chest, catching you off guard. The tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before you could stop them, and you looked away, trying to compose yourself. Jack noticed, stepping forward and wrapping you in one of those big, protective hugs he was so good at. You felt the familiar strength of his arms around you, his hand gently rubbing your back as he held you close. âI just want you happy,â he murmured into your hair, and the raw honesty in his voice almost broke you. âThatâs all Iâve ever wanted. I told Mum and Dad Iâd look out for you, you know?â His voice was low, laced with the memories and promises you both had carried for years. You felt horrible. You were lying. Why were you lying? âI know I can be a pain sometimes, but⊠I donât want you being with anyone that treats you likeâŠâ Jack tried to say it but he couldnât. Jack was protective, loving but as communicative and close as you two were he just couldnât stomach the idea of men treating you poorly so he couldnât get the words out. âYou deserve to be loved, to feel safe, thatâs all.â Jack was the only place you felt safe since your mum passed. Your dad closed off and Jack stepped up. You shut your eyes, feeling the warmth of his embrace seep into you. There were times when a hug from Jack felt like it held everything you missed, everything you longed forâcomfort, security, family. It was a rare, grounding feeling, and one that made you ache with a strange blend of gratitude and sadness. Pulling back just enough to look at you, Jack brushed his hand over your cheek, a soft smile on his lips. âMaybe we go to Sefton Park sometime soon?â he suggested. âJust us, like old times. Feels like weâre missing each other lately. Never see you.â He smiled softly and it made your heart ache. The weight of his words settled in your chest, and you managed a nod, blinking back the tears that had filled your eyes. You felt his arm tighten around you for a second, and he chuckled softly. âAnd⊠maybe one day you can introduce me to this fella. He seems alright, if heâs making you this happy.â His words hit harder than you expected, the guilt flaring up in your chest as you forced a smile.Â
âYeah⊠maybe.â You sheepishly told him feeling nauseous at the idea that Jack knew this âfellaâ better than he probably ever wanted to. Jack gave you a gentle squeeze, reaching to teasingly pull on the ends of your hair like he used to when you were kids.Â
âAlright, go on then. Donât keep him waiting. Donât fuck it up now.â He winked, letting you go, but the warmth in his eyes stayed with you. As you walked to the door, your heart hurt, the weight of your secret feeling heavier with each step. The excitement of seeing Trent was still there, humming in the back of your mind, but Jackâs words lingered. You felt torn, a part of you wanting to spill everything to your brother, to let him see the whole truth. But as you got outside, you forced yourself to push it all away. For now, you just wanted to hold onto the happiness Jack had seen in you. You wanted to be with Trent, to laugh, to feel that lightness and warmth without the shadow of guilt hanging over you. And even if it was only for a night, you let yourself believe that was enough.
When morning rolled in, you were tucked into the sheets, the soft weight of the comforter keeping you warm as you dozed off, half-conscious of Trent beside you. The light filtered in through the blinds, illuminating the room in a golden haze, and you felt a deep contentment, drifting in that hazy, relaxed state between sleep and wakefulness. But then you felt the bed shift as Trent sat up more. You looked around Trentâs room, feeling oddly out of place though, despite how many times you had now woken up tangled in his sheets, wrapped up in the ease and warmth he offered. Today, though, it felt different. Your lies seeping in the warmth. The room, with its familiar scent of him, his things strewn about casually, almost felt like a stage where you were playing a part you couldnât reveal. It was strange, bittersweet, this cozy little world of yours that felt so real here but that would eventually dissolve the moment you stepped back into your life with Jack.
âHi, baby,â you murmured, blinking up at him, a sleepy smile spreading across your face trying to be present and not get lost in your thoughts. You scooted closer, wrapping an arm around his waist and nestling into him. He gave a soft chuckle, running his fingers through your hair.Â
âHi, pretty girl.â He leaned down, kissing the top of your head. âHey, I need you to stay in bed for me for a bit, yeah?â he said, his tone gentle but somehow cautious. You raised an eyebrow, pulling back to look at him more closely, half-expecting it to be some cheeky invitation.Â
âStay in bed?â you teased, smiling as you placed a playful kiss on his chest. But then he spoke again, and you caught the slight edge in his voice.
âYeah, erm⊠Jackâs popping over,â he said, watching you carefully. It was like a cold wave washed over you, jolting you fully awake. You immediately pushed yourself up, heart racing.Â
âWaitâwhat?â You scrambled, trying to pull yourself together, suddenly very aware that you were in Trentâs bed, in his house, wearing only his shirt. Trent had forgotten Jack was swinging by today until he got the text moments ago reminding him. He had promised heâd donate a pair of signed boots or something for Jackâs company to auction off for charity and today⊠he was coming to pick them up.Â
âI forgot. Honest. Itâll be alright though.â He tried to tell you. This could not keep happening. You couldnât tell which situation was worse. Jack finding out the other day - Trent was fucking you at your house, but it wasnât uncommon for him to be there⊠Or Jack finding out now - You werenât having sex as he came over but there was zero reason for you to be at Trentâs this early. There would be no excuse. You couldnât keep lying to Jack this was eating you up. One mildly redeeming thought popped into your head â thankfully, your car was in Trentâs garage out of sight. It was tucked away though because Trent told you, you needed to take better care of it and canât just leave it out all the time but still your anxiety was spiking. Â
âT, then I have to leave!â you hissed, frantically looking around for how you could possibly grab all your things in time. You could already feel the guilt bubbling up inside, imagining Jackâs reaction if he walked in and found you here. But Trent just reached out, gently tugging you back, his arms wrapping around you, grounding you.
âHey, hey. Relax, yeah? Just stay here. Heâs not coming up into my bed,â he murmured, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your temple. âItâll be five minutes. Heâs just coming by to pick something up. Quick, in and out. Weâll be okay.â You looked up at him, worried, still tense.Â
âTrentâŠâ you began, but he only gave you a soft, reassuring smile, his eyes full of that easy confidence he always seemed to carry.
âPlease. Just stay here. Itâll be okay,â he murmured, giving you those puppy-dog eyes that you could never say no to. You sighed, settling back into his embrace, heart still hammering as you heard Jackâs car pull up outside. To be fair, it made more sense for you to hide but it felt even more shameful to do. Part of you wanted to pull the covers over your head, to hide and pretend this wasnât happening. Instead, you sat tensely in bed, listening as Trent slipped downstairs, his voice echoing faintly as he greeted Jack. You could hear their friendly banter, and it twisted your stomach with guilt. You knew it was wrong to keep this from Jack, but the thought of losing these moments with Trent was just as hard.Â
You sat there, still, hands nervously fidgeting as you heard their voices drifting up from downstairs. Jackâs laughter mixed with Trentâs lighter chuckle, and it churned something inside youâa pang of guilt mixed with a longing for this to be simpler, to be something you could share without worry. But for now, the thrill of sneaking around was overshadowed by the weight of keeping this secret from Jack, from the one person whoâd seen you through everything, helped you through everything. But still, hearing Jackâs voice below reminded you of the stakes, of how much you valued him, his trust, and how deeply you felt the need to protect this secret with Trentâeven if it meant bending the truth. You picked at the hem of Trentâs shirt, which felt soft and familiar against your skin. There was something comforting in wearing a part of him, yet it also made everything feel painfully real. This wasnât just some fling. You knew it every time you looked into Trentâs eyes, every time he pulled you into his arms like he didnât want to let go. And then you heard the front door close, there was silence for a little while until footsteps came up the stairs breaking it. You held your breath, half-wishing you could vanish into the walls. When Trent finally walked back in, you met his gaze, searching his face for some reassurance that you werenât just imagining this, that he understood the complicated feelings swirling inside you. When Trent came back into the room, youâd moved to sit at the edge of the bed, his shirt still draped over you, your hands fidgeting nervously, his face softening as he noticed the tension in your posture. He gave you a soft smile, walking over and tilting your chin up so youâd meet his eyes.
âHey. All good, yeah?â he murmured, his voice gentle. He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, and you let yourself breathe again, slowly, finding comfort in his touch. You nodded, exhaling as you managed a small smile, letting yourself relax into him.Â
âI just⊠I hate lying to him, Trent. It feels so messed up.â You let out a shaky breath, relief mingling with guilt. Trent knelt down in front of you, his hands finding yours.Â
âI know, and I get it,â he said softly, his thumbs tracing slow circles on your skin. âBut itâs just us right now. And whatever this is,â he squeezed your hands, âI want it to be ours before itâs anyone elseâs. Jack will understand that.â His words settled over you like a warm blanket, grounding you in the certainty you felt with him. The guilt didnât completely vanish, but his reassurance made it bearable, made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could navigate this without losing what mattered. âYou okay?â he asked, his gaze unwavering, full of that soft patience he always seemed to have for you. He came and sat on the bed with you. Keeping a cautious distance not wanting to overwhelm you but a gentle open hand close ready to hold yours if you wanted it. You sat across from Trent, fingers nervously fidgeting in your lap, your gaze low as you struggled to put words to the feeling that had been building up inside.
 âI just⊠I feel so guilty, lying to Jack all the time. T, itâs fucked,â you whispered repeating it once over, barely able to meet Trentâs eyes. Trentâs expression softened, and he took your hands in his, his touch grounding.Â
âI know,â he murmured, squeezing your hands gently. âI feel it too. But itâs like⊠I canât let this go. I canât let you go. Itâs⊠â He paused momentarily, grappling with this almost as much as you. âItâs hard to feel like we can have both.â He cooed. You looked up at him, eyes searching his for something, maybe an answer, but all you found was a mirrored sense of conflict.Â
âI want this,â you admitted, your voice a little choked. âI want you. But I donât know how to make it work. I feel like Iâm walking a tightrope, terrified of falling in either direction.â You sniffled, trying to keep your emotions in check. He let out a quiet sigh, his gaze intense, but he didnât look away. Instead, he lifted one of your hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.Â
âI know,â he whispered. âI donât want to hide us either, but I also donât want to put you in the middle.â The two of you sat there, wrapped in a silence that felt heavy, a quiet admission of the fears you shared but couldnât quite voice. You could feel the ache in your chest intensify, a lump rising in your throat as the weight of it pressed on you. You blinked, feeling a tear slip free despite your attempts to keep it together. Trentâs gaze softened immediately. âHey, babyâ he murmured, reaching out to gently brush the tear from your cheek. âAre you alright?â he asked, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles on your skin. âTalk to me. I know this is a lot.â You tried to smile, to reassure him, but it faltered, and instead, more tears followed, spilling over as you let out a shaky breath.Â
âIâm sorry,â you whispered, feeling raw, exposed. âItâs just⊠Jackâs all I have. And Iâm terrified that by being with you, by hiding this from him, Iâm going to somehow lose both of you.â Your voice broke, and you quickly wiped at your cheeks, embarrassed by your own vulnerability. Trentâs expression shifted, a deep sympathy filling his eyes as he moved closer, pulling you into his arms. He wrapped you up tightly, holding you like he could somehow protect you from all the things that felt like they were slipping away.
âYou could never lose me,â he whispered, his voice steady, almost as if he was willing it to be true, willing it to ease the fear in your heart. You leaned into him, feeling his arms around you, his steady presence a balm to the ache that had been building. But the silence that followed his words weighed heavily, filled with all the things neither of you could find a way to say. You let out a shaky breath, burying your face in his shoulder, feeling both comforted and conflicted in his embrace. After a moment, Trent pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. âYouâre all I think about,â he said softly, a tenderness in his gaze that made your heart ache in a different way. âI donât want you to feel like you have to choose, and I donât want you to feel alone in this.â You nodded, but the weight of the situation lingered. A part of you wanted so badly to believe that his reassurance was enough, that you wouldnât have to choose, that you could keep this connection with Trent without losing your relationship with Jack. But doubt gnawed at you, and you couldnât help but feel like you were balancing on a thin line, one misstep away from losing it all. As if sensing your inner turmoil, Trent tilted your chin up, his gaze steady as he looked at you. âYouâll never lose me, no matter what happensâ he repeated softly, his words a gentle promise. But something about the quiet that followed felt almost uncertain, as if he, too, knew how fragile everything was. Neither of you knew what would come next, and as he held you, the silence stretched, filled with both comfort and unspoken fears.In that moment, you held on tighter, hoping it would be enough to keep things from unraveling.
âOkay.â You nodded, managing a small smile as you squeezed his hands back. He smiled, his eyes brightening as he pulled you to your feet and into his arms.Â
âAlways, always, alwaysâ he murmured against your hair, between kisses, holding you close as you melted into him. You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in his arms, finding strength in his steady heartbeat, letting yourself believe that somehow, everything would work out. While your brain was spiraling, Trentâs heart hurt just the same. He felt like a scumbag for lying to Jack, for being with you. But he also felt like for the first time he was properly falling for you, getting to know you in a way heâd always longed for. He couldnât just throw it all away now, now that he had a taste. He was putting up a good front though holding you, telling you it was fine. It was hard, but fine, but he wasnât sure if he wasnât saying that to himself even more. He wasnât sure he could stomach a fall out with you or Jack.Â
One afternoon after things stayed as they were, Trent casually reached into his pocket, pulling out the sleek little tube of lip balm, twisting it open with the practiced ease of someone whoâd clearly used it more than a few times. He applied a quick swipe to his lips, completely unaware of the attention it was drawing. Noah noticed first, his brows raising in surprise before he nudged Jack, nodding subtly toward Trent. Jack caught sight of the lip balm and immediately burst into laughter.Â
âBroâŠâ he said, still chuckling, âpretty sure my sister uses that shit.â
âYeah? What about it?â Trent glanced over, unbothered. Noah shook his head, grinning.Â
âMate, good thing youâve got that contract lined up. Whatâre you doing spending pounds on⊠what is that? Lipstick? âCause it isnât Nivia innit?â he teased, exaggerating. Trent rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.Â
âFirst off, itâs a balm. Second, itâs moisturizing, and itâs not shiny or anything, so you lot can calm down.â Noah and Jack exchanged a look, both stifling laughs.Â
âAlright, alright, Pretty Boy,â Jack teased, holding up his hands in surrender.Â
âJust saying, Y/N buying Hermes chapstick is one thing⊠You? Thatâs mad.â Noah laughed. Unphased, Trent shrugged, narrowing his gaze on him.
âYou ever see Y/Nâs lips looking dry?â He held up the balm, grinning. Noah shook his head. Â
âYeah, but Iâm not exactly looking, am I?â Noah chuckled, clearly having fun with it. Trent just shrugged again, refusing to give them the satisfaction of riling him up.Â
âJust saying,â he replied smoothly. âYou can keep laughing, but Iâm the one not walking around with dry lips. Yours could use a little help, mate,â he joked, nodding toward Noah, who chuckled. Jack shook his head, still laughing.Â
âAlright, fair play,â Noah shot back, grinning. âBut careful, next thing youâll be raiding her entire collection.â Jack just laughed, shaking his head.Â
âHonestly, I canât believe youâre actually using the same shit as my sister.â Jack said. Trent smirked, tucking the balm back into his pocket with a satisfied look.Â
âGotta keep up, donât I?â he replied, unbothered. âShe knows what sheâs doing.â Noah and Jack looked at each other knowingly queuing up a joke. Trent rolled his eyes, already sensing the teasing wouldnât let up anytime soon. But he leaned back on the couch with a smirk thinking of you and your lips.
âą
Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!
Next part - Chapter 7 xx
#trent alexander arnold#Trent Alexander Arnold x reader#alexander arnold#trent alexander arnold imagines#taa x reader#footballer x y/n#footballer x reader#fie fic#Movie Night Fic
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Jealous much, but for a 'solid' reason
ââââââââââââââââââââ
ââââââââââââââââââââ
- 2012!Donnie x reader - Jealous much, but for a 'solid' reason - Fluff - Warnings: None Request: Nope, just came up with this on my own whilst reading through some one shots of my personal favourite creators. You like Donnie, he likes you. But you're both as oblivious as ever, despite clearly showing each other that you care. And as a date is set between you and someone who is -clearly- NOT Donnie, he finds it hard to not feel jealous. ââââââââââââââââââââ
For quite some time, nearly since you met, both you and Donnie had held an affection for one another. Whether it was how he saved you and your friend, April, from the Kraang that first drew you to him, or the fact that he so easily got along with you from then on, it didnât seem to matter. You became close from that point, and eventually you even took part in most of their missionsâafter youâd gotten more familiar with fighting through Splinterâs lessons.
A few problems did arise between the two of you though, like how oblivious you both seemed when it came to actually catching on that someone might be interested. Or the way doubt crept in because of your close friendship. Heâd compliment you a lot, always ensuring your safety on missions, and you did the same for him. But somehow, you both missed the bigger picture. âItâs not something new; he worries about all of us during fights,â youâd tell yourself whenever April pointed it out.
And it was true; he always watched out for his brothers, too. How could he not? They were family. But there he was, watching you train, helping you improve when Splinter was busy.
Other times, youâd be the one to assist him. Sometimes youâd grab things from the top that he did not have easy access to, or simply keep him company in the lab to make sure he took breaks. Lunch, waterâthe basics. But one thing you both did constantly, no matter how oblivious each of you seemed in the moment, was stare. Even from across the room, one of you would be looking at the other. On movie nights, for example, youâd sit on the couch, Mikey on your right and Casey on your left, everyone focused on the screenâexcept Donnie, whose gaze would occasionally drift toward you.
Heâd become well aware that he was absolutely, undeniably infatuated with you. Even he knew he sometimes went a bit too far with his attention, though his brothers never hesitated to tease him. Raph, mostly. But with his feelings also came doubt, for both of you. After so long, with neither of you daring to believe the other felt the same, you both wondered if it could ever work. You didnât want to risk your precious friendship on a confession that might lead to rejection. So, silence it was.
âI donât know, April. Just think about it. If I say something, and he doesnât feel the same, then this might just ruin our friendship. And I donât want that.â
Harsh words to admit, really. The thought wasnât exactly pleasant. April had been trying for ages to nudge you both toward a confession, convinced it would lead to something good. Or maybe that was just the hopeless romantic in her, but she hoped nonetheless. And despite her effortsâalong with the boysâ attempts to coax Donnie out of his safe shellâneither of you would budge. Sighing, she finally said, âThat is fair, I suppose. But I still stand by what I said earlier. Forgetting doesnât sound like the best alternative. Iâll help, but that doesnât mean Iâm agreeing with this plan.â
Her words made you smile in gratitude. Crushing on Donnie, though a genuine feeling, had become almost frustrating. He seemed so unaware of your feelingsâclose, yet so distant. It made you wonder if maybe he really didnât feel the same. And yes, that stung a little. But it also made you realize that moving on might be necessary. For everyoneâs sake, including your own. So, when a boy in your History class asked you out, you accepted. It felt like progress for a moment, but only for a moment. Soon, it became a test to see how quickly you could let go of Donnie, knowing that dwelling on him wasnât helping you move forward. And after all, it was just a dateâa way to focus on someone else. ââââââââââââââââââââ
When it came to being in that positionâbeing told by the girl he couldnât stop being so fond of that she had a date with some guy, a human guy no lessâDonnie wanted to dig himself a hole in the lab and never come out. Heâd imagined this day might come, and he felt like he was losing his chanceâif he ever even had one. His heart sank as the words left your mouth, and it was hard not to show his disappointment. But for your sake, he put on a smile and congratulated you. He even wished you good luck. Then, once you left the lair, he retreated to his lab, shutting the door behind him, eyes focused on his work. Anything to avoid thinking about his growing jealousy, even for a moment. The others noticed the slump in his shoulders as he walked away but decided to let him be. They knew it might be a long evening in the lair, but they figured the situation might resolve itselfâif it could.
--- Time Skip ---
Hours went by, some faster than others, and soon you found yourself back in your apartment, changed into a new set of clothes, ready to sleep the day away. Reflecting on what was supposed to be a date, you thought back to what heâd said: âListen, Iâm not really one for these serious things, âkay? Youâre cute, Iâll give you that. But Iâve got my ways around relationships, if you want to keep me happy.â That was about all youâd heard before mentally checking out of the âdate.â He seemed nice at first but turned out to be a self-centred idiotânot the good kind of idiot either. And with all his talking, you made little effort to understand what he really meant.
You couldnât recall the whole conversation, but you knew there was no way youâd repeat the experience. The things he saidâabout you and about othersâwere all wrong for you. He kept going on about some âparty with girlsâ he had to get to, and the moment he crossed a line, youâd made your exit, realizing just how little interest you had in seeing him again.
Youâd only just drifted off when a soft, rhythmic tapping at the window stirred you back to consciousness. Groaning, you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders and shuffled toward the window, squinting through the curtains. It could only be one of the guys, you knew, but the last thing you expected was to find Donnie, hanging upside down on the fire escape patiently, his expression hovering somewhere between nervous and excited.
Fighting back a laugh, you pushed the window open. âDonnie?â you whispered, the surprise obvious in your voice. âWhat are you doing here?â
He offered a tentative smile, voice low. âHey. Sorry if I woke you. Just, uh⊠thought Iâd check in. Make sure you got home okay.â
You laughed softly, raising an eyebrow. âItâs a bit late for a check-in, donât you think?â
âYeah, I know, butâŠâ He shrugged, his calm exterior cracking just enough to reveal a hint of nervousness. âCouldnât help myself. April mentioned the date didnât, uh⊠go quite how you planned?â
A sigh slipped from you as you pulled the blanket around yourself a little tighter, rolling your eyes. April, of course. âYou could say that,â you chuckled. âHe was⊠something, alright.â You caught his amused grin, the faint hint of relief there not lost on you. You shook your head, feeling a smile tug at your lips despite it all.
Donnieâs face softened, his eyes meeting yours. âYeah, well⊠I think you deserve better than that.â His voice was quiet, sincere, but even he looked surprised by his own words, cheeks darkening just a bit under his mask. âI mean, someone whoâd treat you better than that. A lot better, actually.â
A warmth spread through you, his words settling in, making you feel a little lighter after such a disappointing night. His gaze hadnât wavered, and you felt yourself holding your breath, caught off guard by how much his simple words meant.
âThanks, Donnie. For worrying about me,â you said, the words barely a whisper. Before either of you could overthink it, you leaned out the window and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
Donnie froze completely, his eyes wide, his usual calm vanishing in a heartbeat as he stared at you, utterly speechless. It took him a secondâmaybe twoâbefore he swallowed, blinking a few times as if to process that the kiss had actually happened. A deep blush crept over his face, nearly reaching the edges of his mask.
âOh. I, yeah.. Anytime,â he stammered, his voice slightly higher than usual. His hand moved almost instinctively to where youâd kissed him, and for a second, he was all but suspended there, entirely lost in the moment.
You bit back a laugh, giving him a little wave before you gently closed the window and pulled the curtain back in place. A small thrill ran through you as you moved back toward bed, a smile lingering even as you settled back under the blankets.
Outside, Donnie remained still, one hand pressed to his cheek, replaying the moment over and over in his head. A grin broke out slowly across his face, unable to hold back the ridiculous happiness building up inside him. "Oh, man... She kissed me. She actually kissed me.â He couldnât help the ridiculous grin on his face as he clambered back up the fire escape, his heart still thudding as he slipped back into the shadows, feeling no more of that jealousy from earlier. Not even the knowing looks from his brothers as he made his way through the entrance of the lair brought him fully back, his mind still stuck in that moment.
ââââââââââââââââââââ A/N: Here's my first one-shot. I think it turned out pretty good, considering nearly half of what I made the other night in drafts did not save. But idk if I should make a part 2 for this? I could, if I feel like it. It also depends on what you guys want so I might pole it, but the main idea is that I did it. (Also I love Donnie so much, he's so bf material.) - I do NOT give permission for any of my work to be republished on any other sites, or even here. Not Ao3, not Wattpad, nowhere. This is simply for entertainment purposes and I would appreciate respecting this.
#tmnt#tmnt donnie#tmnt donnie x reader#x reader#tmnt 2012#raph tmnt#leo tmnt#mikey tmnt#april o'neil#one shot
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grief counselor soundwave
#guess what!!! itâs soundwave again!!!#this was just for fun#i read shattered glass and had some Thoughts#you think he was trying so hard to save everyone he could#because he heard thousands of dying wishes#and he didnât want to listen to theirs too?#imagine being the sole carrier of hundreds of grievances#idk sg soundwave is rlly fun to think about#transformers#maccadam#soundwave#wheeljack#shattered glass#tf soundwave#tf shattered glass
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I think if Blade ever does send a text directly it should be a single sentence of the most basic kind, and then it never happens again.
#honkai star rail#hsr#hsr blade#hsr stelle#stelle seems pretty casual blowing up the stellaron hunters' phones by now#though she seems to text silver wolf the most casually#can't get an answer to that funny meme she found? time to try all the other phones#i do think blade never texting is a pretty fun thing so i don't want to create too many texts from him#but since boothill showed that speech to text exists as a function#i want to hope this could happen#exactly once#just to show that he knows how to do it#and then never again#because he's an old man and why would he bother when everyone else already answers all the texts he gets for him anyway#silver wolf a few hours later still from blade's phone: nobody will ever believe you#stelle who already took five screenshots and saved them in three separate cloud storages: bet#ray's records#this is the other one i made#i don't think i'll make blade ones after this or it'll be rare ones and with the other stellaron hunters only#but i really think he doesn't really text#speech to text if he really needs to get a message out#but otherwise he just reads what other people send him#or he calls#texting with those hands is too hard#speech to text is a hassle he doesn't usually bother with#grandpa and the plain black case of his work phone
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My questions regarding Setzer's everything continue as he somehow managed to summon what I'm pretty sure was the warring triad and KO everything on the field (including the party) on our way up to the floating continent.
#his reunion quest in the wor emotionally wrecked me but in a good way#did not think i could love him more but i somehow do#really every character i meet again in the wor does something to make me go omg i love themmmm#edgar pretending he didnt know them to trick a gang of thugs he had locked up into leading him into the castle so he could rescue everyone#not even caring if they took the treasure all he cared about was saving the residents trapped inside#finding setzer in a pub getting plastered because hes lost his ship and his friends and talking him into coming with us was top tier content#the flashbacks in the tomb as hes leading you to the falcon hit me hard#also locke trying to revive rachel and her coming back for a brief second to thank him for being in her life ashahhfhshfus#and terra learning the meaning of love from the kids shes protecting!!! ahhhh!!!!#shit went from 0-60 really quick and got way darker but man is this game getting really good#final fantasy 6#setzer gabbiani
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CANâT TOUCH ME LIKE GOJO
what gojo does when heâs jealous
cw - gojo uses red as a punishment, smut, jealousy, possessiveness, riding, teasing, kinda toxic gojo idk, bratty reader, rough gojo
Gojo was making you mad, beyond livid. He had brought you to this stuffy gala full of his balding colleagues and ditched you! You found solace in the bar holding an aperol spritz staring at your husband. He was beautifully dressed cream suit with a million dollar smile as he talks to his coworkers about business.
He hasnât even thrown you a glance since he left your side. Normally you would still be next to him acting as arm candy but for whatever reason he left you to drink your sorrows. You assumed you would be stuck there for another hour or two with nothing to do. Until Hiromi Higuruma approached you. A man you had no idea was even distantly related to Gojos company.
âMrs.Gojo, a pleasure seeing you somewhere besides with Satoru,â The man teases.
âHiromi! Are you here to save me from this awful night?â It seems the lord has answered your prayers.
âYouâre not enjoying yourself? Doesnât Gojo normally keep by him at all times?â He asks, taking a seat next to you.
âSomethingâs up with him I guess, Iâve barely seen him all night and itâs horrible!â You complain.
âOh sweetheart, how could he possibly treat someone as pretty as you like that?â He moves a piece of your hair out of your face and stares at you.
âI know! I mean he invited me here, and then has the audacity to leave me,â You pout to him.
âFor the record, I would never treat you like that,â he smiles at you.
You look over at Gojo and he still isnât looking in your direction. You decide to tease both the men a little more.
âReally? Do you promise âRomi?â You give him your best doe eyes and touch his bicep.
âOn my life, sweetheart,â You both smile at each other.
In the corner of your eye you see a head of white hair coming toward you. Panic sets in but you canât help but rub your legs together. You continue putting your hands on Higurumas chest to further instigate the situation.
âBabe, there you are! Iâve been looking all over for you,â Gojo pulls the back of your stool so you canât touch Higuruma anymore and he wraps a large hand around your waist, âHiguruma, youâre also here.â
âI was just talking to your gorgeous wife Gojo. After you left her alone to talk to those gross executives,â Higuruma says.
Gojos jaw clenched and he squeezed your waist. His look of disgust apparent on his face.
âI think itâs about time my wife and I leave. Should I call you a cab Higuruma?â Gojo says.
âIâll be alright,â Higuruma laughs.
Gojo pulls you away from the bar and quickly takes you away from the party. He ignores everyone asking where heâs going or trying to talk to him. Immediately as he reaches the car he opens and slams the door for you. He doesnât speak a single word on the way home, despite your efforts to start conversation.
As you reach your home heâs immediately getting you through the door and up the stairs, he shoves you onto the bed as he removes his jacket. You hear him muttering swears under his breath.
âDo you enjoy being a slut who pisses me off? Hm? I mean really, what possibly do you get out of this?â He starts to undo the first few buttons of his shirt before he grabs your chin.
âI asked you a fucking question,â He growls at you.
âYou left me! You left me all alone! I donât know what you wanted from me, to just sit there twiddling my thumbs until you came back?â You argue at him, giving a big pout.
âWhat I donât want is for you flirting with that piece of shit in front of everyone? You know how embarrassing that is, not only for me, but for you?!â He slips off his boxers to reveal his semi hard cock.
He pulls you up and puts you on your knees. Heâs on his back and your face is inches away from his cock. But before you can wrap your lips around him something stops you. A force you canât describe, red. He activated his repelling force to punish you.
Youâre confused, upset, even angry at him. His usual punishment involves him overstimulating you but apparently not this time. You try to get past the barrier, using all your might to touch his cock. Yet nothing works, heâs the strongest after all.
âWhat did he call you?â He asks you, releasing red for you until you almost touch him, then activating it again.
âSweetheartâŠâ you whisper to him.
âAnd you fucking let him. Thatâs the part that pisses me off the most. I know he canât have you, fuck, he knows it. But it doesnât seem like you do,â He says back, piercing blue eyes scanning your face.
You crawl on top of him, the barrier between your pussy and his cock still apparent. You try desperately to grind down on him to no avail. Tears start to form in your eyes but Gojo doesnât seem to care.
âYou want it inside you, sweetheart? Or do you want âRomi?â He mocks you.
âYOU! I just wanted your attention, promise! I got so mad you left me by myself. See?! All i want is you,â You whine as Gojo smiles at you.
In a moment the red hue turns blue and you get sucked down onto his perfectly aligned cock. Youâre stuck to him like a magnet. His size makes you scream and want to pull away, but you canât. As soon as you pull away youâre sucked back onto him, you thought torture wasnât supposed to be addicting.
âFuck Higuruma, fuck him and all the stupid guys there. You thought i wasnât paying attention to you? I wanted you so fucking bad I had to stay away or else youâd be on the floor with my cock inside you,â He grunts, hands gripping your waist.
âToru! Itâs too much!â Youâre full on sobbing at this point, legs shaking and body sweaty.
âYou donât want him right? It was just to make me mad, right baby?â He asks you desperately, his hair falling perfectly in front of his eyes.
âYes! I just wanted you to fuck me, I swear,â You squeal.
His hips rut into your sloppy cunt as both of you moan and pant like two bunnies in heat. His fingers expertly tease your clit and he sucks blue and red hickies on every part of your body. Heâs holding you as close as possible. His thrusts get sloppy and his moans get slutty.
âGonna cum inside you baby, gonna fill my pussy up everyoneâs gonna fucking know youâre mine,â He says in your ear.
âIâm gonna-â Before you can even finish your sentence you pulse around his cock cumming so hard you see black.
He follow not long after, spurting hot ropes of cum inside you. He gets as deep as possible to ensure nothing slips out. He releases the technique and you fall on top of his chest, breathing like you just ran a marathon.
âHoly shit baby, that was so good,â He says, smiling.
âYeah⊠i wanna take a bath,â you look up at him.
âOkay my love, just promise me one thing. Never make me jealous again.â
#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#jjk#jujustu kaisen#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo x you#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut
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while im here im going to try and convince you guys to write more "Tim Drake joining the Batfam late" aus because it's underrepresented
like, i love the fics where he joins early. that's cute! but a fic where he joins late for whatever reason??? i eat it up like a cat starved for attention. i want Tim Drake being the "perfect" heir to Drake Industries and being known as the polite, well adjusted young man that everyone knows. and then turn around and find out that Tim has not only been stalking the Bats under their radar since he was, what, 9 years old? but on top of that, he's started solving cases that they can't get to. Tim who stalked so hard he learned where they learned their martial arts and went "backpacking across europe" only to have actually been learning from Shiva. Tim who has become an urban legend to the Batfam because they can't tell if this vigilante exists or not, since they never catch him, they don't have footage on him, etc. Or if they DO know him, they don't even think to put Tim Drake in the suspect pool because Tim Drake whined for an hour when he broke a nail at a charity event once. the kid is smart, sure, but he's not going out at night fighting crime and solving cases that Batman didn't know about yet.
even better if Tim named his vigilante persona an adjacent name to the Robin mantle. him knowing he can't BE Robin (perhaps Jason hadn't died in this au) but he could be a hero that helps them from the shadows
and obviously he makes a mistake of some kind... maybe he saves someone at an event as Tim Drake and Bruce sees how little hesitation he had. or maybe he gets injured and can't get up himself, and that's when a Bat or a Robin or someone finds this vigilante they almost thought was a myth: bloody, broken, and needing help. pick him up and take him home and then there are endless possibilities to what happens next but the ending BETTER be Tim finding his home with his people
#maybe he doesnt even BECOME a vigilante like that#maybe he does something else to help people#just give it to me please đ#erinwantstowrite#ao3#ao3 fanfic#tim drake#dc batfam#batfam#tim drake joins the family late au#i beg of thee
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ch.2: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)
directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four
read until the end for an author's note.
*"XX/XX/XXXX, entry no. 13.
i hate everything. i hate my family. i hate my father, i hate my brothers, i hate my classmates, i hate alfred, i hate this place, i hate my mom, i hate everyone.
why can't i ever get what i wanted? what do i have to do? i tried so hard to be everything for them, but why do i only amount to nothing? it's been a year, or two, i don't know. it hurts trying to remember when was the last time i saw him. saw, not talk, because he never talks to me, bruce never even looks at me. and i hate myself for trying to get him to look at me.
is he disgusted at me? does he see my mother in me? does he hate me that much? i don't know, i don't want to know, it hurts to know. i don't know why i'm trying anymore, i don't know how longer i can last in this hell. i can feel it, the longer i stay here, the more i lose a part of myself. i don't want to be here.
i don't want to pray anymore.
so if there's any god out there watching over me, then i wish for you to burn, to suffer, to go through the same thing i have been experiencing for yearsâ all for putting me in this place. i would've been fine living in the streets with my mother. i would've been alright providing for our small family, i would've known to never get my hopes high, but you took her away from me!ïżœïżœïżœ
i hate you."
"master (name), are you awake? dinner is ready."
you had to shut your diary at the sound of the knock and alfred's voice.
"alfr-"
a cough, hoarse and croaky, cuts you out from calling his name. it was accompanied by uncontrollable sniffles, mucus blocking your nose from breathing properly. your room was dark, save for the lamp that lights up your bedside, where you currently were seated on your bed to write another entry, grip on your pen unknowingly harsh. you didn't even have to look at your reflection from your phone laying beside the diary to know that hiding your tears were fruitless.
salty were the crystalline droplets that streaks your face, but bitter were the emotions that had your heart ache.
you hear a sigh from the other room. before he could muster a reply, you beat him to it.
"i'm not eating dinner, alfred," you hate hearing your voice, sounding so obviously scrathy from the hours of wailing. "at least not with them. i don't want to get out at all."
"then may i at least bring them over to you, master (name)?"
his answer was final, you have no choice on retaliating and starving yourself like you did for the past few days. but it wasn't your fault that you had forgotten your body's needs. it wasn't your fault that your mind blanks itself out on the dinner table. it wasn't your fault that bile quickly crawls up your throat at hearing their voices.
you simply lost your appetite seeing them happy without you.
alfred pennyworth would never play favorite.
it was drilled into his head ever since he had sworn to serve the wayne family and its extended membersâ he is to serve anyone and everyone, regardless if they respect him or they do not; as long as they do not pose any danger within the manor, then he is to attend to them.
you'd think that in his decades of service for the wayne's - with all the contrasting personalities he had to deal with - he would maintain professional standards and tell everybody in the world, "i, of course, do not favor anyone within the family, i live to serve and that is truth." when in fact, he wouldn't hesistate to admit that he does, in actuality, have a favorite.
and no, it wouldn't be the eldest child, dick grayson, as much as he is alfred's pride and joy, nor would it be the youngest, damian wayne, who had been slowly correcting his mistakes. it wouldn't even be the head of the house, master bruce.
it would be you, (name) wayne, the infamous, yet forgetten child of the wayne family.
it wouldn't be a far fetch for alfred to admit that you weren't like the others. in all of the years that he served the wayne's, you were a contrast of the family.
the first few hours that he had picked you up from the police department upon the news of bruce's secret child, he knew you were more than just a child raised by the brutal streets of gotham.
you pose secrets that speak of the underground.
he remembers your seated form on the stiff chair of the interrogation room, pose unnervingly straight, as if you had solidified yourself against the metal seat. your fingers were the only signs that showed life, twiddling with each other as if it's some form of distraction.
you stared at nothing.
not even at the police as your name was called for pick up.
it took merely a signature of confirmation to dictate the future years of your life.
what's left of your belongings were given to alfred. the police officer, a woman with a kind smile then had to walk across the interrogation table to pat your back, gesturing for you to stand up and follow her and alfred on the way outside of the station, where the car was parked.
you hadn't uttered a word nor snapped out of your dreamlike gaze. not even when you were greeted with a thousand clicks of the cameras, the buzzing crowd that drowns the police station, or the hundreds of voices that yell at you to look at them.
(name) (last name), now formally adopted by bruce wayne, would be (name) wayne. it wouldn't be a shock that your sudden appearance as the child of a scandalous relationship between a prostitute and a billionaire would cause immense reactions. news would be spreading left and right, most of which were negative on your side.
he had to shield you from the crowd of photographers and journalists itching their way to the crowd to get a glance on you.
yet you didn't display any discomfort. you had only sat on the car obediently, fastening your seatbelts robotically and ignoring the lenses that unsettlingly tried to poke through the car windows to take pictures of you.
you were more like batman than you were bruce.
alfred had tried to get you communicate with questions like, "how are you over there, master (name)?" yet you would only mumble unintelligible responses to his questions without any ounce of emotion. he had to look at the rear view mirror to take in your stiff form. again, your eyes were set on nothing, even if they were casted down on the carpeted floorboards of the car.
when he had first met bruce, that child was overflowing with anger and vengeance for his parent's killer, yet you, who refused to explain your mother's disappearance, are devoid of anything.
the silence was defeaning throughout the ride. the only comfort that was provided was the rain that began to patter against the glass windows.
alfred throught you would retain the same behavior the entire day.
yet it was only when you first walked up the steps of the manor did your demeanor change, fingers immediately reaching up to hold the cuffs of his sleeves, pulling it as if you were hesitant to step in.
the first emotion you had shown him was concern, like a switch had flickered you out of your trance. it was the first time in a while that alfred had to do a double take to check if what was happening was real.
"can you... hold my hand?" and it was the first time he had heard you speak, voice unnaturally scratchy from the lack of water. you stared at him with wide, doe eyes that refused to blink, waiting for answers. alfred had to gaze at your entire body to finally notice that you were covered head to toe in sloppy bandages with blood seeping through the grime-filled gauze. your shoes were worn, your clothes were ripped, and other uncovered scars littered your body.
the most conspicuous color on your shirt was crimson red.
yet you do not display pain.
a child, five years of age, had been through more than enough anguish to know how to block their pain out.
you were unlike the rest, truly, you were unwavering of the world's cruelty.
the world does not deserve someone like you.
alfred takes it in himself to always hold your hand after that.
through the mansion doors, inside the kitchen, on your way to school; whenever and wherever, as long as he had time.
even if it were filled with scars and bruises, dirt and grime, he will always hold your hand if it meant guiding you through the darkness of the manor.
you may not consider yourself bruce's child, but you will always be alfred's.
another knock on your door had you snapping out of your trance. time passed by so quickly in the manor. well, it does when you have nothing to do but stare at your diary, draw on your sketchbook or scroll through your phone. yet time would always be the quickest whenever you drown in your own misery.
"come in," you croak out, aware that it would only be alfred who would come by your room. it was long ago since you had given up on awaiting for dick's visits.
a turn of the knob, then the door swings quietly; the hinges creak, you need them oiled sooner. alfred walks in, you notice he holds a tray that contains two cupcakes and a plate of your favorite dish, but you don't notice the small box with a bow hidden skillfully from the back of the tray. from over your seat, you could already smell the aromatic herbs that flutter in the room and see the colorful frosting from both cupcakes; an already lit candle sticking in from one.
the candle at least provides just a split second of light inside your dim room; the moonlight just like your family, absent.
alfred graciously places the tray on your nightstand, on the left of your diary. your room was still too silent.
you could only hear yourself.
"master (name), are you simply going to sit there and stare? or would you rather i spoonfeed you like i had when you had broken your wrist?"
you blink it out again, oblivious to your very own hyperawareness. alfred's still here. you hope that, in the presence of darkness, he wouldn't see just how much of a mess you are. how your hands could barely grip onto anything, hair unwashed, face stained with tears, difficulty breathing through the buildup of mucus, foot tapping up and down erraticallyâ you wished he would pretend to be blind about your suffering for just this once.
"noâ" came your sudden reply, "i can- yeah, i can eat by myself."
it's harder to lie to yourself than it is to others.
he looks at you with doubt, it makes you shiver.
despite you wishing for company inside the manor, you could never be used to attention. it would never be normal for someone like you. though, you wish it was. you wish you never hesitated when someone gives you attention.
you hear your mattress creak, there's a dip on your bed. alfred sits beside you, only then did you realize just how quickly you lean into his side, craving for warmth in the solace of your empty room.
everything hurts, it truly does.
you wish you were strong enough to cease the sudden burst of tears when his one hand circles your shoulder and the other holds the cupcake with a candle near your face. and you wish that you weren't so weak in the presence of another, trying to find a semblance of your worth in their attention.
you at least try to stifle your sobsâ
"happy birthday, master (name)."
â but you were always weak, yet alfred never seems to mind, patting your back to console you from your wailing.
you blow the fire out with a single promise to yourself, crying a bit more when alfred had given you a gift box, laced with a ribbon of your favorite color.
it was one of the few gifts you would cherish, fondness seeping into the cracks of your heart.
though it wouldn't erase the bitterness that fills your being either way, knowing your family is still downstairs, unaware of the anguish the torment that they have put you throughâ it's still enough to let you hate alfred a little less.
"alfred?"
it was your meek voice, one that was always drowned out by the sound of the dishes clanking.
"yes, master (name)?" yet alfred could always strain out the sound of anything just to hear your talk. after all, you were a silent kid throughout your childhood.
"âif i move out of this place; would promise you wouldn't forget about me?"
... (name) wayne was full of surpises.
even at the ripe age of seventeen, and in the near fourteen years of raising you, alfred could never predict your words nor your actions.
you had always said things spontaneously, carrying an aura of awkwardness in your tone, reminiscent of someone who had their personal growth (moreover their social life) stunted.
but now, with the way you had said your resolve so confidently, it felt like he was looking at a different version of you; all the more confident and resilient.
except... you were behind him when you had said that - so he wasn't really looking at you - eating the first batch of his cookies whilst he was polishing the dishes with a cloth.
when he had turned around to look at you, though, you were still the socially inept child he knows and love, sitting on the breakfast bar and twirling around the stool as you attempt to not get crumbs everywhere. you were still so young in his eyes.
it's just, the way you had looked at him expectedly like you needed his approval that shocked him. it was always your eyes that had expressed the most emotions, glazing with anticipation for his response.
he knows it when you lie, and right now, you were dead serious in your resolve.
alfred had to relax the crease on his brows before he ages faster than he already is.
"well, master (name)," he continues, turning back to wiping the dishes clean before he could fully face you. "i would fully support you in your... journey, but what warranted you to be suddenly motivated on moving out?"
alfred had finished setting aside the dishes, but he still doesn't look back.
"i mean, i thought i already told you? i have a scholarship for college but it's on the other side of gotham and...
â i kind of don't want to be chauffeured by a limo around the campus everyday, you know? so the next best thing is to get a dorm."
alfred knows it when you lie. and right now, your hesitance tells him everything he needs to know.
you may have proved a point, but that point was an entire lie. with a person name wayne flaunting across a city whilst riding a limousine, you might find yourself into more trouble than anything else.
but he had always been the one to pick you up and drop you off from elementary and halfway through your highschool lifeâ and you never seemed to mind until now.
it doesn't take a genius to know that you had already deviced a full plan of moving out and taken it into action; all you had to do was confront the only man in the manor who had cared about you enough to raise you about your worries.
it wasn't enough to convince him to let you go, though, especially not right after an incident that had occured prior to you highschool life. if he allows you to gain independence in gotham, he wouldn't know how long you would last.
but when he looks back at you again, he couldn't bring it in himself to oppose to your whims. you need a new environment; one that provides you a way to gain independence and, most preferably, social skills. staying cooped up in a manor with barely anybody talking to you does more harm than good.
and being ignored by your own family for almost fourteen years wouldn't be a great way to celebrate your already nearing eighteenth birthday.
alfred doesn't want to admit it, but if he keeps you here any longer, you would never grow up. one person could only do so much.
he whips out a sigh, looking at you with resignation in his eyes. but you know it in yourself that he swears his life on the promise.
"master (name)," he walks over to you, eyes darting at the cookie crumbs that litter around your mouth making a note to scold you on your manner later. he sits directly in front of you, hand patting your head as you merely stare at him expectedly.
"i have raised you for almost fourteen years, it's like you are my very own child. i would never forget you." he takes your hands in his. "but you have to also promise me to stay safe out there, master (name). call me once you're there."
alfred would find a way to get you to come back eventually, even if it meant utilizing your family's neglect, which was primarily the reason why you had moved out on the first place.
he just hopes you wouldn't connect the dots and pin the blame on him once you're back and safe in the manor.
and now, it had only been months since you had gotten away from the manor. he was proud of your development, of your choice and overall, you, but he wouldn't lie and say he doesn't miss you.
he misses hearing your voice directly, the line on the phone being too blotchy to properly hear you. he misses it when he would sit on your bed as your only audience whilst he watches you paint on your canvases, drawling on and on about highschool's latest drama. he misses it when you would always be the first to taste his dishes, face lighting up whenever the food was seasoned up; now he has to constantly remind you to eat a nutritious diet, even offering to send you money whenever you mention you were short on it.
in the good of your heart, you would always decline, even going as far to deny him of any liberty to track you down and bring you a meal himself.
alfred misses you.
does he regret allowing you your freedom? not really, no. but he knows it in himself that a greedy part of him prefers it if you were would visit the manor occasionally during your vacations, at least to bond with him. but you simply chose not to, even going as far to legally change your name once you had become eighteen so you wouldn't be associated with your father's last name.
but that wouldn't erase the past you had tried to meticulously cover.
(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid leaving a police station and entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.
and most importantly, you are a product of a one-night-stand.
but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.
your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.
you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.
it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.
the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.
after all, your freedom is your doom.
the wayne manor, in all its glory, could only be described as this palace overflowing his its abundant history and fame.
it was a castle that houses a boy who had lost his parents and became gotham's very own vigilante who stalks through the night to lessen the very evil that devours its citizens. it was the training grounds where the robins, sidekicks dressed in colorful attire, opposite to batman, were raised to be worthy enough to stand by the dark knight's side. but most importantly, it was a home for troubled children who were in their journey of their very own personal struggles.
yet even in its exterior splendour, it would always be innately overcome with loneliness.
for someone like bruce wayne, he embraces this desolation just as he embraces his alter-ego, batman, who wears a suit of black and dons an aura that demanded fear.
even if he carries the persona of 'brucie wayne' a ditsy, playboy who enjoys galas and sleeping with women every other night, he prefers solitude over the sea of interviewers who throng around him like he was a piece of meat.
it would be the only time he could focus on his countless of stacked paperworks to sign and his plans to ransack another criminal's master plan.
before winter could cover gotham in its sheet of pure, white coldness, rain would always terrorize the skies. he finds this the perfect atmosphere; dark grey clouds prevent the sun from peaking through, droplets of rain would pelt against the vast windows that surrounds his study, and there was enough background noise to block out any sounds that would pass through the door.
bruce wayne was focused on his work, and that meant disturbance wasn't allowed inside the manor. thankfully, it was a quiet, uneventful afternoon today.
in fact, it was all too abnormally quiet.
his scarred hands work through signing papers effiently and effortlessly, practiced fingers signing papers after he would meticulously scan over the paragraphs of texts that scale from business deals to partnerships to buying a piece of land. then later, once the moon rises, he would have to patrol with damian and disrupt another drug trade that had been recently dealing with children on the alleys of gotham.
that means he has to sign or reject at least half of the papers before evening falls through, so he could have alfred send them over through the post office tomorrow morning.
he was at least a quarter way through his work, though, when his flow was disrupted by a courteous knock by the mahogany doors.
he didn't have to look up or ask who it was, knowing it was alfred, his butler.
"master bruce, i have your tea ready, along with news to bare," bruce could hear the tone of urgency and a tinge of sullenness in alfred's voice. it was rare for alfred to be emotionally distressed, as he was typically the most composed out of everyone in the family.
"come on in, alfred," bruce's vocal chords were gruff, raspy whenever he's too engrossed in whatever he was doing.
but he was piqued at the news alfred was eager to share, the butler expertly turning the knob and entering with a tray that holds a hot serving of tea.
bruce stopped signing the papers, putting down his pen as he watches alfred, composed as always, place the tray down on his desk, not a single clank that was produced from the metal sheets. he watches as alfred reflexively pours him a cup of tea.
it was only after that action that the two share eye contact, alfred stationing himself to the right of bruce's desk.
if he wasn't a detective, he wouldn't have noticed the furrow of alfred's brows, which was uncharacteristic of the composed butler.
he reckons he should address the elephant in the room.
"what is it that you want to tell me, alfred?" bruce swivels his chair to face alfred, fingers tapping the mahogany desk rhythmically.
"master bruce, i figured you should have known this for quite a long time ago, but your third child had moved out on their own and now lives at the opposite side of gotham. right now, they may have been struggling to make ends meet."
huh?
"what do you mean, alfred? you're aware that tim is currently living in the manorâ"
"no, master, i am talking about your third, not fourth child; master (name)."
... (name)?
ah, his... other child.
alfred looks at his seated form, expecting the befuddled reaction from bruce.
it doesn't take long for bruce to recover from his thoughts, eyebrows furrowed the same way as alfred as he leans against his chair.
"and what of (name)? why was i not updated about them?"
alfred had to stifle a groan as he then glares at bruce with what he could suppose was exasperation.
"i had already told you about their leave months ago, master bruce. you had simply waved me off whenever the topic is of master (name)." the butler's glare hardened, reminiscent of the times where bruce was scolded as a child. and like a child, he doesn't know what he had done wrong.
"i feel it is time for you to take it into your hands to deal with master (name)'s situation right now. i do not have access to their location and just like you, they are stubborn and refuse to accept any financial aid that comes to them in any formâ"
to make matters worse, alfred had the gall to stop midway into his explanation, sighing and blinking unnervingly which catches more than bruce's attention.
"they would rather not admit it, but if they were to fail to pay for this month's rent of their apartment, they would get evicted from their very own living space."
at pretty much the last sentence, bruce's gaze hardened. not at alfred, no, but at the thought of you; his... forgotten child. if it was money that you need, why had you not ask for any allowance in the first place? bruce would admit that, well, it had been too long since he had last seen your face, nor even... remember itâ
but you were still a child of his and he wouldn't deny you of an allowance if it meant persuing your... highschool or college dreams...?
shit, what grade are you in?
why didn't he know you moved out in the first place? waitâ
"alfred, how long has it been since they had last moved out?"
"roughly six or seven months ago, master."
"ah, but having a place of your own as a minor would be prohibited by law."
"master bruce, they're eighteen. they're old enough to live in their own apartment."
eighteen years old...? how long had it been since he had last seen or heard of you? if what alfred had said was true, that the butler had attempted to reach out to him about you, then why had he not remember in the first place? you were a quiet kid, sure, but for someone like bruce, people would always not be overlooked.
it wasn't in him to easily forget, but he hates how he couldn't muster up a single memory of your faceâ not even your hair color nor your eyes. did you even... exist in his eyes? there was not a single memory of you that he could come up in his head.
his child was eighteen now, how could he not have known in the first place? how could he not recollect a single birthday of yours? or any celebration or gala that had you in it?
alfred's sigh snapped him out of his trance once more.
bruce looked up, seeing resignation upon alfred's face. he simply stood there, posture straight as always, but bruce couldn't wash away the shame that cages his heart when there was not a single image of you that pops up in his mindâ alfred's disappointment merely worsened
the tea in his desk had long since gone untouched, but bruce couldn't bring it in himself to drink a single drop of it, even if his lips were dried and his throat was begging for even a single droplet of water.
he denies himself of any relief.
"i figure i should leave you in your own, master bruce, to at least compose yourself before nightfall. please do take your child into consideration, though, enough time has passed since you have last seen them." alfred states, as if it was a matter of fact. and it was, bruce should've known about your leave, as your father and as the man who took you in, he should've.
so before the butler could even take a step, bruce hastily stands up from his seat, pen long since discarded on his desk and a quarter of the papers are now messily stacked upon each other, but bruce pays them no mind.
"take me to (name)'s room right now, i need to see things for myself."
if bruce couldn't even remember a single instance of you, then maybe a trip to your room would be enough for him to remember.
but if that doesn't work then... bruce would a find a way, he always would.
and as your father, he needs to at least support you, even financial no matter your stubbornness? even if the shame he feels right now is so immensely disturbing, and the migraine is quickly finding its way into his headâ he needs to know more about you, his actual third child.
bruce wayne needs to see your face just once.
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
a/n: 5k+ words. no beta, we die like jason todd with a crowbar. my least favorite part of writing the chapter is literally starting it. i had at least 5 drafts all lined up and it took me an hour in the bed to think about how should i start it. i literally hope you guys enjoy the chapter hehe, and start to yk, notice the patterns and the parallels between your perspective and bruce's perspective bec ur literally his child, u guys share some habits even if u never once talked to him lmao. the most emotionally draining scene was writing the birthday scene, i had to take breaks from typing it out hehe. bruce's descent to yandere-ism isn't as quick as dick's but it would be worst in the next chapter.
also, i hope you guys are able to notice the bad habits that the reader eventually collects because it's important for the next chapters. it would be better if anyone of u could... point them out in my asks or comments, i love rambling about it yk, and a lot of you are absolutely brilliant in making theories that are absolutely right. anyways, i hope u enjoy this chapter because this was one hell of a ride for me and i appreciate all the reblogs and comments despite me not replying to a lot of yall but u guys truly are my motivation so thank u lots :(((<33!
taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa, @maicenitas, @ilovvmyhusband, @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony, @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts, @darling006, @starringyau, @rosecentury, @jaythes1mp, @pi1nkl0ver, @i-thirsty-boi, @sharks-r-cool-l, @silverklaus, @samanthathanes, @traumaramacenter, @maddimoon, @anxrq, @thedarknesslord, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @lazy-idate, @googeecat44, @simpingfor-wakasa, @zvghfgn, @0patito0 (if i had forgotten to put any of u in a taglist please forgive me, it's hard to keep track !!)
#đ·... yael's works#series: again & again#yandere dc#yandere batfam#soft yandere#yandere batman#yandere bruce wayne#yandere alfred pennyworth#yandere batboys#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#yandere x gn reader#yandere x male reader#platonic yandere#yandere angst#i appreciate all ur comments and reblogs and asks and i heavily encourage it for faster updates !!#imagine crying at you own writing lmao#im so poetic core u totally did not see me rhyme like one paragraph
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GETTING CAUGHT IN THE MOMENT⊠LIPSTICK ON YOUR FACE
â alastor + lucifer + vox getting caught with lipstick stains all over themâŠ
â generally gn!reader. guys can wear lipstick too smh
hehe i got a new lip tint (˶âŸá· â»Ì« âŸá·
Ë”) maybe alastorâs part is a little self-projected
â alastor
alastor himself isnât one for physical affection. in fact, the thought itself makes him feel dirty. someone elseâs skin against his⊠eughâŠ
though, when it came to you, he couldnât keep his hands to himself; hands clawing and playing with your hair, wrapping his arms around your neck, pinching your cute cheeks, holding your hand⊠itâs almost as if heâd double-die without you near!
and the only thing heâd enjoy more than that would be having his affection reciprocated; interlocking your arm with his, a surprise hug from behind, a kiss on the cheek, they are all more than appreciated! especially the thing about kissingâŠ
a kiss from you is simply just exhilarating. the suddenness yet sweetness of it, itâs truly the purest form of love, regardless of if itâs familial, romantic, or platonicâ itâs the purest expression of your love for another person.
so, just imagine alastorâs reaction to your new lipstick, strawberry red to give your lips a glossy color, yet still light enough to appear natural. the pretty hue of red complimenting your face features perfectly by giving it the color it needs as to not appear pale.
absolutely gorgeous. so confusing how a simple amount of color could make you look as if you were an angel from heaven itself. you quite literally took his breath away from just applying a new lipstickâŠ
at some point, alastor had reached some sort of limit when he finally caved into his inner desires, bringing you to a secluded place in the hotel, his hands moving to your hips and hair.
he couldnât wait any longer to place his lips on yourâs, your lipstick smearing all over his thin lips. kissing him from his cheeks to his jawline, leaving light pink stains all over his skin.
he groaned at the feeling of wet lipstick all over his face, and at the same time reveled in the ways you are telling everyone that the only one who could see the radio demon in such a needy and doe-like state would be you; heâd be yours to fool around with, and yours to do however youâd see fit. just as you are hisâ no one elseâs. the smeared lipstick on the side of your lips should send that as a statement enough to whatever lowlife hooligan would even attempt to sweep you off your feet.
when the two of you had returned, it was a strange sight to say the least⊠alastorâs face and jaw covered with pink lips, and you with your lipstick smudged and smeared off your lips, instead all over you neck.
âwell, uh⊠you two look like âya had lotâsa funâŠâ angel said monotonously, awkwardly trying to keep up conversation. âohh, most certainly!â alastor grinned, his transatlantic accent popping through the radio static.
he knows he couldâve wiped it off⊠he has a handkerchief in his back pocket, he couldâve easily saved himself that awkward conversation.
but, he didnât.
could you blame him? he wants all of hell to know that both you and him off-limits for good.
â lucifer
when many imagine the king of hell, itâs hard to think heâd be a social piranha. the same case had gone for you.
who knew lucifer was still as pure of heart as he was during his time in heaven? and who knew heâd fall for someone so easily after the sudden disappearance of his wife?
when he saw you, it was practically love at first sight! your big eyes, your shiny hair, and those big pretty lips of yours that he just wanted to kiss so badlyâŠ
he listened carefully as charlie introduced you to him, trying to remember every detail about you and every feature on your face, stuttering over his words once it was time to speak for himself.
and somehow, despite his meekness towards you and your awkwardness whenever he was around, you two ended up in a relationshipâ with the help of vaggie and charlieâs meddling in pushing you two together.
the two of you loved each other, of course⊠but it was always hard to express. the only way lucifer knew how to show his love was through his presence and gifts. he wasnât hellâs greatest kisser, but he tries.
and, todayâ it was your 5 month anniversary⊠quite a long time, the hotelâs been good so far, no major threats other than one of cherri bombâs occasional explosions. and because of how long itâs been, you decided to do something a little special⊠put on some relatively expensive clothes and make-up your face a little bit.
when lucifer saw you all dolled up, he was honestly a little stunned. lips as red as an apple, hair as soft as silk, the words were stuck in his mouth. âw- er- wow..! iâm not dressed up or anythingâ agh, this is awkward..â lucifer muttered. âhey, itâs ok⊠this was a surprise for you, yâknow?â you said, comforting him slightly.
âyou look⊠stunning todayâ he smiled, carefully putting down his anniversary present for you on his work desk, still wrapped in a red ribbon. he made his way to you, hands making their way to your cheeks to softly cup them as he gently leaned into you for a kiss.
he released a breath he didnât know he had been holding as you kissed his face all over, as if healing the wounds of his past with his present. his banishment into hell, lilithâs abandonment, they all didnât matter anymore, you are the present and the future.
he wrapped his arms around your waist in a hug as he kissed your forehead, the residual lipstick from his lips smeared onto you.
lucifer laughed awkwardly before using his finger to carefully rub off the pink stains on your forehead. âhaha⊠câmon, i got a dinner reservation in the lust ring tonightâŠâ he laughed, interlocking his arm with yours.
âdonât you wanna take off that lipstick on your face first?â you raised an eyebrow at him. âi mean⊠i dont minddd⊠so, itâs only if you wanna take if offâ his eyes wandered, his cheeks growing flustered âhmm⊠nah. i want everyone to know you belong to me now.â you grinned mischievously.
and when the two of you walked out of the hotel lobby, charlie went to wish you a safe trip and happy anniversary before she noticed the stains on her dadâs face. âerr⊠dad..? you gotta a little something thereâŠâ charlie muttered as she pointed all over his face. âah..? yeah, i knowâ he laughed it off, proudly showing off to hell how hopelessly devoted he is to you.
â vox
vox was a busy man. from having many public appearances, to coming up with new ideas for voxtek, to putting out valentinoâs temper tantrums, he barely had the time for romance.
barely. he loved you, truly. he keeps you dear to his heart, no matter how busy heâd be, vox would still make time for you late at night.
everyone had known you, why wouldnât they? youâre the partner of one of the most influential overlords in hell, thatâs a feat that is amazing to accomplish, dating vox in itself has made you into a sort of local celebrity; causing you to be invited to many galas, parties, and occasional raves.
and tonight happened to be the night of one of those parties. zestial had invited you to a formal dinner party, an all star guest list filled by many of the goetic princes, various overlords in hell, and other local hellborns such as verosika mayday.
âplease, voxxx? just this once, itâs only like 3 hours!â you grumble as your apply a coat of ruby red over your lips, checking your appearance in the bathroom mirror. âi canât.. i have a 5:00 with val and velvette, then after that, a board meeting about new gadgets to releaseâŠâ vox groaned, already pissed about the day ahead.
âfine then, your loss.â you pouted, rolling your eyes as you left the bathroom and into the bedroom. âholy shitâŠâ vox sighed out. âyou look⊠really good, my love.â he walked over to you, his hands moving to your body, outlining the clothesâ stitching as he recognized it to be the one he had custom-made for you.
your hands rested on voxâs shoulders, forcibly making him lean over a bit before leaving various kiss stains all over his screen.
vox visibly tensed as his screen started glowing a bright teal, showing his clear embarrassment as pink smudges fogged his screen.
his breath heaved as his hands moved all around your body, desperate to find some kind of relief to his pent-up stress.
ending your kiss attack all too soon on his lips, you pulled away, your lips slightly pale now as you grinned at him. âspend the day looking like that and iâll give you more after workâ you winked, taking your belongings and leaving out the door, leaving a flustered vox in your bedroom, covered with lipstick stains.
âvox⊠the fuck is going on with your face?â velvette snarled. âit looks as if you got fucking mauled by a bear pretending to be a woman.â she yelled, her british accent making her trip over some consonants.
vox sighed, hearing valentino mutter some sort of dirty comparison of vox to a prostitute. âinstead of focusing on me, why donât you put your efforts into our agenda today?â vox frowned, his tone clearly saying that heâs holding himself back from releasing a flood of curses onto the twoâŠ
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#hasbin alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#lucifer magne x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer#hazbin lucifer#lucifer magne#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin vox#vox#vox x reader#vox hazbin hotel#vox headcanons#hazbin hotel smut#vivziepop
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âYouâre such a perv!âÂ
Aka DC Superheroes as pervs; Dick, Jason, Tim, Roy, Wally
Please don't put a community label on this (it will only shadow ban it)
Surely your friend and confidant is not some peeping tom right?!
Warnings/tags; SMUT, female reader, vigilante!reader, Perv shenanigans, panty stealing, masturbation, dirty thoughts, corruption kink, invasion of privacy
Dick Grayson has always been your closest friend; he's the leader, the guy that everyone either wants to be like or wants him for themselves. But the boy wonder had his eyes on you, his oblivious friend. He has always been there, aiding you in missions; always saving the day, or praising you for a job well done. So how could you ever possibly know of his intense desire just for you. Dick knows his actions are downright disgusting, that small voice inside his head filling him with guilt, but his desire is just stronger.Â
Missions with you are the worst. Watching you be so confident and just kick ass has him feeling all sorts of ways. Trying to turn away from your line of sight so you won't see his hard-on, his cock rubbing uncomfortably against his suit. Dick will use any excuse to get away, jerking off on the side of a rooftop, a hand against a wall and another stroking his cock, while he imagines it was your hand instead, and that alone pushes him over the edge.Â
He'll find a way to make you want him too, Dick knows you're not immune to his charms. Will it be too obvious that when he goes for a hug, it's a little too tight. Is it when he places a hand on your waist pretending to keep you in place, daring his fingers to go further down. Will you push away the hands that place themselves on your thighs to pretend he's comforting you. You won't. Just as you refuse to shove away the fingers that inch closer and closer between your legs. Is it really so bad if you want him too.
--------------
Jason Todd knows he's a sick fuck. What kind of friend is he to even think of such things. But they are just thoughts, right? As long as he doesn't do anything creepy that is. Surely anyone dreams of fucking their best friend-that is, imagining your lips wrapped around his dick while he fists your hair, forcing you to take all of him. The guilt returns when your voice reaches him, asking him if he heard you, interrupting his brief moment of fantasy. He's relieved that the mask doesn't allow you to see how intensely he's staring at you.
It becomes a line he knows he crossed. When Jason found himself staring at your apartment window - he didn't intend to, he was just patrolling and happened to come across your apartment. Knowing you were safe and well should have been his reason to leave, until you started undressing. Seeing your tits exposed made the blood rush to his cock and when you bent slightly to remove your panties, Jason was sure he could have come right on the spot.Â
You went to take a shower as Jason entered your apartment. Surely you must know to keep your window locked. Finding himself creeping toward the bathroom as if you were beckoning him in, instead, he stopped and stood over the disregarded clothes; reaching for the panties. Jason would have beaten anyone to a bloody pulp if they had done that, but it was his own reflection staring at him. He is a sick fuck, he thinks as his finger brushes over the damp spot and how he shoves it into his pockets. He's not sure if he should return your panties later, given that he eagerly rubbed his cock with it, leaving it cum stained.
-----------
Tim Drake is a wolf in sheep's clothing; he is the one person you never suspect of thinking such perverted thoughts. Tim is aware he can never justify the things he's doing. He just tells himself that he merely lacks the courage to approach you, not that it's a good reason, but it's enough for him to maintain that tiny sliver of morality. There are moments when he wishes he could just concentrate on his patrolling to keep you off his mind, but you are always there, at the back of his mind.Â
Tim realizes he just can't get off without thinking about you. Tim tries watching some porn, but he keeps imagining your face instead of the actress, and he hates how it helped him reach his orgasm. Or in the mornings, when his boner is becoming too much of an issue and he's in the shower trying to rid of it. His thoughts wander to picturing you in front of him, bare and wet, with your back against the glass walls and you moaning his name.Â
If there was ever a time that Tim was made known that he was really sick was that day. Him laying in bed stroking his cock and seeing the phone ringing in the corner. It's you. He ought to have just let it ring or decline, but Tim didn't know what possessed him to answer the call. Your voice is heard as he bites his lip to not let his whimpers be heard, tasting copper on his tongue. Tim moves the phone further away when he reaches his high, cum covering his hands and stomach as he continues the conversation, hoping you don't hear his ragged breath.
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Roy Harper was the one person you could always confide in. He had a way of cheering you up, your tears dried as your laugh echoed throughout the room. How you consider him to be your closest friend and best partner in crime as you speak to him, while Roy thinks of how the low cut of your shirt gives him a good view of your tits from an angle. When you call his name to get his attention, Roy gives you that smile of his as he uses an excuse to use the restroom.Â
Roy loves taking pictures of you. You knew Roy had them, just never imagined he would have them in his sights while he jerked off. Pictures of you with a skirt had Roy fantasize about wearing em while he's railing you from behind. Your face pressed against the pillow while you bubble nonsense, too drunk on his cock. Pictures of you looking up, had him fantasizing of you staring at him with those eyes of yours as you use your mouth, bobbing up and down on his dick.
Unaware too Roy had 'private' photos, all thanks to a few hacking tricks. Roy was occasionally tempted to send you a nude photo of himself, see how you react, and cover it up by saying it was a 'mistake'. Would you perhaps return one or get jealous wondering who it was intended for. Roy gets up, cleaning himself as heâs planning to you meet you later that day. He eyes the slightly crooked tile above his ceiling, storing all the belongings he's taken from his visits to your place. Roy thinks when the two of you are official, he should hide it in a better place.
â-----------
Wally West had plenty of opportunities to hint at his feelings toward you. He liked making flirtatious comments, complaining when he wasn't paired with you during missions, and placing an arm over your shoulders. But you just assume it's Wally's typical self, not noticing his hurt look when you claimed to be "just friends". Then again you never noticed his hurried departure and quick return, where he avoided making eye contact at all costs.
Wally feels the guilt the most. He could have just confessed to you like a normal person. Guilt consumes him when he sees your gullible smile, unaware of the horrible things he did behind your back. It's not his fault really; he was invited to your place and was simply looking around until he found a certain drawer. Wally reassures himself it's not that bad if he only takes one. But it gets to a point where you're complaining to Wally about how your clothes disappear (not telling him which kind).
A point comes where Wally reaches his breaking point. The sneaky pictures, lying on your bed when you weren't around, face in the pillows to inhale your scent could do so little. As he stares at you speaking, Wally makes a move expecting to be rejected, but you kiss him back. He was in heaven, the dreams he had in every waking point coming true. He was where he wanted you to be, on top with you full of his cock, your eyes nearly blacked out as he slams his hips repeatedly into yours. Can you blame him for moving too fast when he has been holding back for so long.Â
#dick grayson x reader#jason todd x reader#tim drake x reader#wally west x reader#roy harper x reader#dc comics x reader#yandere dc comics#yandere dc#dc x reader#dc smut#dc comics smut#smut#yandere smut#yandere x reader
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Harley crawled into the apartment. It was organized, but it looked like the occupant didn't have a lot of time for cleaning. She walked softly through it, taking it in. There were photos of her target and what had to be her family, but no friends or romantic partners. Some had a pair of older adults, matching traits meant bio-parents. More of the photos were of the target and a younger boy - a little brother, the highest likelihood of becoming another target if things go bad.
Harley continued forward, following the light to where her target was. She stood in the doorway, looking in.
Dr. Jasmine Fenton, Arkham Asylum's newest psychologist, just got her degree and everything. She did what most newbies do, actually thinking she could get through to the Joker. Harley didn't want to say it was impossible, but everyone who tried ended up in a new job or dead. Harley would try and make sure it was the former and not the later.
Harley watched as the redhead read over a file as she ate from a takeout box. She didn't want to scare the girl, yet. The scaring her away from Joker came later. So, she had to wait for the perfect moment to-
"I know you're there." Jasmine didn't look up from her file, but held out the last box of Chinese food in Harley's direction. "There's plenty if you want some."
"Awe, you ruined the surprise." Harley walked out of the shadows of the hallway into the girl's home office. She snatched the offered box of food and took a few bites as she jumped to sit on the desk.
"I'm hard to sneak up on." Jasmine said, closing her file and finally looking at Harley. "So, Dr. Quinzel, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this evening?"
"Oh, call me Harley!" She laughed, she wasn't called Dr. all that often any more. She tapped her chop sticks on the file Jasmine just closed. "I thought you'd like a consult on your new patient, Dr. Fenton. I've got a lot of experience with him."
"I prefer to go by Jazz." She said with a smile, "While I appreciate the offer, I'd like to see how far I can get on my own. And, sorry, but I'm pretty sure your license was revoked."
Harley nodded as she swallowed to get the noodles out of her mouth. "I get it! You're new, fresh outta school, gotta prove yourself. But Joker ain't the guy to do that with. He eats people like us for breakfast, and in all the years he's been in Arkham, no one's been able to get anywhere with him."
Jazz sighed, "I don't like to believe people are lost causes. There's always something we can do to help."
"You can't help everyone, especially when they don't want it. And it's not just a question if whether or not he can be saved or whatever." Harley set down the now empty box, Jazz pointed to another one that still had food in it, but Harley declined. "If you keep it up, he'll think you're worth his time to torment. There's no telling what he'll do when he inevitably gets himself out again."
"I'll be fine." Jazz said, but Harley had to cut her off before she said something stupid.
"It's not just you! You've got family out there he can target, your parents. Your Brother! Anyone you date will become a target! He'll do everything in his power to make your life miserable!"
Jazz chuckled. "If he wants to target my family, his funeral. My parents are - were supervillains. They've really only become less- well, hyper-focused on eradicating an entire race of being- in the past few years. And my brother - I'm pretty sure he's conditionally immortal. So that's nothing to worry about."
"If it's conditional, Joker will find a way around it." Harley said, but she had to admit, this might have been an unnecessary trip. "You sure y'ain't got nothing to worry about? What about you? How conditional is your mortality?"
Jazz smiled. Her mouth seemed too wide and with too many teeth. "Oh, I am nowhere near immortal. But..."
She stood up and the room was suddenly a black void. Toxic green eyes and mouths filled with glowing white teeth opened around them. "I doubt anyone could get close enough to test it."
The room was suddenly back to normal, but whatever that thing was was still there. Harley could see its eyes watching her with amusement from inside Jazz's oversized cardigan.
"Well, I guess this really was a wasted trip. You've clearly got it covered."
"Not entirely." Jazz said, her hand wend up to her neck to rub nervously, "Well, you see... I don't really have a lot of friends. People tend to get - uh, creeped out, you know? Or chased off by my parents or brother or whatever..."
"You wanna be friends?" Harley laughed so hard she almost fell over.
Jazz's face turned bright red and the shadow eyes looked way less amused. "Yeah, stupid question. You've clearly got your own things going on."
"No! No, no." Harley had to take several deep breaths before she could look Jazz in the face again. "I 100% wanna hang out with you!"
"Really?"
"Oh yeah." She took another deep breath, "I mean, I really should have made a support system before trying to take on the Joker back when I worked for Arkham. This" she pointed between them "can only end well."
Jazz's face turned brighter than the sun. "Oh my gosh! This is amazing! We should - I have Thursday's and weekends off - What - what kind of things should we-"
Oh man, Jazz was like an excited kid. She must have had a really lonely childhood... they can psychoanalyze each other later. "Come over for girl's night next week. I'll tell my gf and bff to expect an extra person... Does the-" she motioned to the cardigan creature "-go everywhere you go? Does it need food?"
"Oh, don't worry about Jet, they only eat who I tell them to."
Harley barked out more laughter. "You're going to fit right in!"
Now featuring a Part 2
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Royal Pardon
Charles Leclerc x Arthurâs best friend!Reader
Summary: Charles isnât a violent man at heart, but when he saves you from being harassed while celebrating his Monaco win, he quickly realizes that thereâs not a single line he wouldnât cross if it means keeping you safe
Warnings: attempted sexual assault, violence, and injury
Note: a break from your regularly scheduled October programming because Charles just won the United States GP and that calls for a celebration
The music pulses through the club, a steady, hypnotic beat that thrums in Charlesâ chest. Heâs never felt like this â untouchable, invincible â as if tonight could stretch on forever, an endless loop of victory and laughter.
Heâs just won Monaco.
Monaco. His Monaco.
The thought alone makes him smile, a small, private thing that he hides behind the rim of his champagne flute.
Around him, the crowd swirls in a blur of lights and shadows, everyone shouting their congratulations over the music, pulling him into hugs and clapping him on the back. Arthur is here somewhere, of course, dragging you along because where else would you be? The two of you are like shadows, inseparable since childhood.
Charles can still see you, just barely, out of the corner of his eye, chatting with a couple of Arthurâs friends near the bar. Youâre laughing, a sound that somehow cuts through the noise and settles in the back of his mind. Itâs a good sound, one that feels familiar, like home.
âCharles, mate!â A voice shouts, pulling him back. Max is there, leaning in with a grin thatâs all teeth, like heâs just as buzzed on adrenaline as Charles is. âI swear, youâre going to be insufferable after this. Monaco, finally!â
Charles laughs, shaking his head, though the truth is he probably will be insufferable. But can anyone blame him? Heâs worked so damn hard for this, pushing through every setback, every disappointment. And now, here he is, celebrating the win of his career in the only place that really matters.
Heâs about to respond when someone else pulls him into a hug, a flurry of excitement and congratulations that Charles barely processes. He doesnât mind, though. Tonight, it feels like nothing can touch him, like nothing could ever bring him down from this high.
But then, something shifts. Itâs subtle at first, just an itch at the back of his mind, a sense that something isnât right. He glances over to where you and Arthur were standing, but Arthur is gone, nowhere to be seen. And you ⊠youâre not laughing anymore.
Charlesâ stomach twists. Youâre cornered against the bar now, a man leaning in too close, too aggressive. Charles canât see your face clearly through the throng of people, but the way youâre holding yourself, tense and small, tells him everything he needs to know.
His blood turns to ice, freezing the euphoria in his veins. He canât hear what the man is saying, but it doesnât matter. The way the manâs hand snakes around your waist, the way you try to push him off with trembling hands â Charlesâ vision goes red.
Heâs moving before he can think, pushing through the crowd with a single-minded focus. The people congratulating him moments ago scatter as he brushes past them, their laughter and cheers fading into the background noise.
âHey!â Charlesâ voice cuts through the music, sharp and commanding. The man doesnât even turn at first, but you do, your eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. Charles feels something break inside him at the sight, but he channels it into a fury that propels him forward.
When the man finally notices Charles, itâs too late. Charles is on him, grabbing the manâs shoulder and yanking him away from you with a force that sends the man stumbling backward. âGet the fuck away from her,â Charles snarls, every syllable dripping with venom.
The man barely has time to react before Charles slams him against the wall, the impact rattling the bottles on the shelves behind the bar. Charlesâ forearm presses against the manâs throat, cutting off whatever protest he might have had.
âCharles, stop!â You gasp, your voice choked with a mix of fear and something else, something that twists the knife already lodged in Charlesâ chest. He doesnât stop, though. Canât stop. The image of the manâs hands on you is burned into his mind, and all he can think about is making him pay, making him hurt.
The man struggles, clawing at Charlesâ arm, but itâs useless. Charles is stronger, fueled by a rage thatâs been simmering just beneath the surface for too long. The manâs face turns red, then purple, and still, Charles doesnât let up. His grip tightens, and he leans in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.
âIf you ever so much as look at her again, Iâll fucking kill you.â
The words hang in the air, heavy and deadly serious. The manâs eyes widen, a flash of genuine fear crossing his face, but Charles doesnât care. He wants him to be scared. Wants him to know that thereâs no escaping this, no escaping the consequences of what heâs done.
âCharles, please!â Your voice breaks through the haze of anger, and itâs only then that Charles realizes how close youâve gotten. Youâre right there, your hand on his arm, tugging gently, desperately trying to pull him away.
He looks at you then, really looks at you, and sees the tears streaming down your face, the fear etched into your features. Itâs like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head, shocking him back to reality. The club, the music, the people â all of it comes rushing back in a disorienting wave.
Charles blinks, his grip on the man loosening just enough for the man to gasp for air. Heâs still furious, the anger simmering beneath the surface, but heâs no longer blind with it. He takes a breath, then another, trying to regain some semblance of control.
âYouâre lucky sheâs here,â Charles says quietly, his voice barely more than a growl. He shoves the man away from him, watching with cold satisfaction as he stumbles and nearly falls to the floor.
The man doesnât stick around. He scrambles to his feet and disappears into the crowd, no doubt eager to get as far away from Charles as possible. Good. Charles hopes he never sees the man again, because heâs not sure heâll be able to stop himself if he does.
For a moment, Charles just stands there, his chest heaving with the effort of reining in his emotions. The crowd has started to notice the commotion, a few curious onlookers craning their necks to see whatâs going on. But none of that matters. None of them matter.
All that matters is you.
Charles turns to you, his expression softening as he takes in your tear-streaked face. âAre you okay?â His voice is gentler now, full of concern that wasnât there a moment ago.
You nod, but itâs a shaky, uncertain thing. âI-Iâm fine,â you manage, though itâs clear youâre anything but. You look like youâre about to collapse, your legs barely holding you up.
Without thinking, Charles steps closer and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You donât resist, you just sink into him, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if heâs the only thing keeping you upright. And maybe he is.
âItâs okay,â Charles murmurs, his voice low and soothing. âYouâre safe now. Iâm here.â He holds you tighter, as if he can shield you from the world, from everything that just happened. And for a moment, it feels like he can. Like nothing bad can touch you as long as youâre in his arms.
You donât say anything, just press your face into his chest, your breath hitching with the remnants of your tears. Charles presses his lips to the top of your head, a gesture that feels both instinctive and impossibly intimate. Heâs never held you like this before, never been this close, but it feels right.
The music still pounds in the background, the lights still flash in a dizzying array of colors, but itâs all distant now, muted. The only thing that matters is you, and making sure youâre okay.
Charles pulls back just enough to look down at you, his hands resting on your shoulders. âWhereâs Arthur?â He asks, his voice still soft but edged with a protective concern.
âI-I donât know,â you admit, your voice small. âHe was here a minute ago, and then âŠâ Your words trail off, and Charles doesnât need you to finish the sentence to know what happened next.
He clenches his jaw, trying to keep his anger in check. Arthur should have been here, should have been looking out for you, but he isnât. Charles isnât sure where his brother is right now, but heâll deal with that later. For now, he needs to focus on you.
âItâs okay,â he says again, though the words feel inadequate. âYouâre with me now. No oneâs going to hurt you.â
You nod again, but this time itâs a little steadier, a little more certain. âThank you,â you whisper, the words barely audible over the music.
Charles shakes his head. âYou donât need to thank me,â he says, his voice rougher than he intends. âIâll always protect you. Always.â
The weight of those words hangs between you, a promise that feels more real than anything else in this moment. Charles knows, without a doubt, that he means it. Heâll protect you, no matter what. Even if it means facing down every threat, every danger, with the same ferocity he showed tonight.
He takes a deep breath, trying to let go of the lingering anger. The night isnât over yet, but heâs not sure how much longer he can stand to be here, in this place that suddenly feels too crowded, too loud, too full of people who didnât notice, didnât care. Charlesâ grip tightens on your shoulders as he scans the room, trying to spot Arthur in the sea of faces. But itâs a lost cause â the club is packed, and he knows Arthur could be anywhere.
âCome on,â Charles says, his voice a bit steadier now. âLetâs get out of here.â
You donât argue, just nod and let him guide you through the crowd. The bodies pressing in around you both feel suffocating, the music that once electrified the night now grating on Charlesâ nerves. He keeps a firm hold on your hand, as if letting go might mean losing you to the chaos.
As you near the exit, the cool night air becomes a welcome relief, a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat inside. The streets of Monaco are quieter now, the party shifting indoors as the night grows late. Charles doesnât stop moving until youâre both far enough from the club that the noise fades into a dull hum, barely audible over the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.
He finally releases your hand, only to immediately wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. Youâre shivering, whether from the cold or the shock, Charles isnât sure. Either way, he holds you tighter, wishing he could do more, say more.
But the words donât come easily. They never have. So instead, he just walks with you, slowly, allowing the night air to calm the both of you. You lean into him, and he can feel the tension gradually leaving your body, though you still seem a little too fragile, too breakable.
Charles isnât sure how long you walk like that, side by side in the near silence, before you finally speak.
âCharles, I âŠâ Your voice is hesitant, unsure. âI donât know what I wouldâve done if you hadnât been there.â
He stops walking, turning to face you, his expression serious. âYou donât have to think about that,â he says, his voice firm. âI was there. And I always will be.â
You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for something â reassurance, perhaps, or maybe just understanding. âBut what if next time-â
âThere wonât be a next time.â Charles cuts you off, his voice harder than he intends. He takes a breath, softening his tone. âI wonât let there be a next time.â
He can see the worry still etched on your face, the remnants of fear that havenât quite faded. He wishes he could take it all away, erase the memory of that man and the way he made you feel. But he knows he canât. All he can do is be there, to protect you, to make sure you know that youâre not alone.
âYouâre safe,â he repeats, quieter now, but with no less conviction. âAs long as Iâm here, youâre safe.â
You hold his gaze for a long moment, and he wonders what youâre thinking, whatâs going on behind those eyes that have always been so easy for him to read. Eventually, you nod, and some of the tension in your posture seems to melt away.
âOkay,â you say, your voice barely above a whisper. âOkay.â
Charles nods too, though a part of him still feels on edge, like the danger hasnât completely passed. But he pushes that feeling down, focusing instead on you, on the fact that youâre here with him, and thatâs all that matters right now.
âLetâs go,â he says again, but this time, his voice is softer, more gentle. He takes your hand again, lacing his fingers with yours, and starts walking, leading you away from the club, from the noise and the memories that he hopes youâll never have to revisit.
As you walk, the tension between you both begins to ease. The night air is crisp, carrying the scent of the sea, and for the first time in what feels like hours, Charles allows himself to breathe.
He glances over at you, your profile illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. You look calmer now, more like yourself, though thereâs still a shadow of what happened lingering in your eyes. Charlesâ heart aches at the sight, at the knowledge that he couldnât protect you from that, even if he was there to stop it from getting worse.
But he doesnât say any of that. Instead, he just keeps walking, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your knuckles, a silent reassurance that heâs here, and heâs not going anywhere.
Eventually, you reach the familiar streets that lead back to your apartment. The night is quiet now, the revelry of earlier giving way to the peaceful stillness of a city thatâs finally starting to sleep.
When you reach your building, you both stop, lingering on the sidewalk as if neither of you wants the night to end just yet. Charles knows he should say something, anything, but the words are stuck in his throat, too heavy and too complicated to untangle.
Youâre the one who breaks the silence, your voice soft but clear. âThank you. For everything.â
He shakes his head. âYou donât need to thank me,â he says, echoing his earlier words. âI meant what I said â Iâll always protect you.â
Thereâs a pause, a beat of silence that stretches on just long enough to make Charles wonder if youâre going to say something more. But you donât. Instead, you step closer and, without warning, wrap your arms around him in a tight hug.
Charles is momentarily stunned, his breath catching in his throat as he processes the warmth of your embrace, the way you cling to him like heâs your anchor in a storm. He hesitates for only a second before his arms come up around you, holding you just as tightly, if not more.
The hug lasts longer than it probably should, but neither of you seems to want to let go. When you finally do, you pull back just enough to look up at him, your eyes searching his with a softness that makes his chest tighten.
âGoodnight, Charlie,â you say, your voice barely more than a whisper.
âGoodnight,â he replies, his voice equally soft, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile moment between you.
You give him one last, lingering look before turning and heading into your building, the door closing softly behind you. Charles stands there for a moment, staring at the door, as if willing it to open again, as if hoping you might come back out and say something more.
But you donât, and eventually, Charles turns and starts walking back the way you came, his thoughts a tangled mess of emotions heâs not sure how to deal with.
The night is still, the only sound the distant crash of the waves against the rocks. Charles lets the quiet seep into him, trying to find some semblance of calm, but itâs difficult. The image of you, scared and vulnerable, keeps flashing through his mind, a constant reminder of how close you came to being hurt.
He knows he should feel relief â that youâre safe, that the night ended without further incident. But instead, all he feels is a gnawing sense of guilt, of not having been there sooner, of not being able to protect you from everything.
Charles clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he walks. He doesnât want to think about what could have happened if he hadnât been there, doesnât want to imagine the fear and pain you might have endured.
But he canât stop the thoughts from coming, canât shake the anger that simmers just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.
As he rounds the corner to his own street, Charles makes a silent vow to himself. Heâll be more vigilant, more careful. He wonât let anyone hurt you ever again. Heâll be there, always, to protect you, no matter what.
And if anyone tries to come between you and your safety again, well ⊠Charles isnât sure heâll be able to hold back next time.
He reaches his apartment, but he doesnât go inside right away. Instead, he stands outside, staring up at the stars barely visible above the city lights, his mind still racing with thoughts of you.
Eventually, he takes a deep breath and turns to unlock his door, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him with a quiet click. The apartment is dark and silent, but it doesnât feel like home tonight. It feels empty, hollow, as if something is missing.
And Charles knows exactly what that something is.
As he heads to bed, his thoughts are still on you â on the way you looked at him tonight, on the way you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. And somewhere, deep down, Charles knows that youâre more than just Arthurâs best friend to him.
But heâs not ready to confront that just yet. Not tonight.
So he pushes the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the promise he made to himself: to always be there for you, to protect you, no matter what.
Itâs a promise he intends to keep.
***
The morning sun stretches over Monaco, its golden rays catching on the waves that lap against the harbor. The city is just beginning to stir, and for a moment, everything feels like it should: calm, peaceful, normal. But as Charles hits his stride on his morning run, his mind is anything but calm.
The events of last night replay in his head on a loop, the image of you â shaken, scared, fighting back tears â burned into his memory. Every step he takes feels heavier, weighted down by the anger simmering just beneath the surface.
Heâs tried to push it down, to focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing, the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement, but itâs no use. The rage is still there, as fresh and raw as it was the moment he saw you in that club.
Charles turns a corner, heading down toward the harbor where the yachts bob gently in the water. The morning air is crisp, a stark contrast to the heat that still lingers in his chest. He needs to clear his head, to shake off the lingering sense of helplessness that clings to him like a shadow.
But then he sees him.
The man is walking casually along the harbor, hands in his pockets, his face a picture of smug indifference. He looks like any other tourist enjoying a morning stroll, not like someone who was grabbing you, hurting you, just hours ago.
Charles stops dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, he thinks heâs imagining it, that his mind is playing tricks on him. But no, itâs him. The same face, the same sneer that Charles wanted to wipe off with his fist last night.
Something snaps inside Charles. The anger heâs been trying to control, trying to bury, erupts like a dam breaking, flooding his veins with adrenaline. His vision narrows, locking onto the man who dared to touch you, who thought he could get away with it.
Without thinking, Charles changes direction, his strides long and purposeful as he closes the distance between them. The man doesnât notice him at first, too absorbed in whatever thoughts a man like him could have. But then, as Charles gets closer, something makes the man glance over his shoulder.
His reaction is immediate. The smug look falters, replaced by a flicker of recognition, then quickly by a lazy grin that only fuels Charlesâ rage.
âWell, well,â the man drawls, stopping to face Charles, clearly not sensing the danger. âIf it isnât the big hero himself. Whatâs the matter, Leclerc? Didnât get enough attention last night?â
Charles doesnât answer, his jaw clenched so tightly he can feel his teeth grind together. Heâs close enough now to smell the lingering stench of alcohol on the manâs breath, the same breath that spewed vile words at you.
The man chuckles, a sound that grates on Charlesâ nerves like nails on a chalkboard. âYou know, she had it coming,â he says, his tone almost conversational. âThe way she was dressed, the way she looked at me â what did she expect?â
Thatâs all it takes. The words cut through Charles like a knife, sharp and searing, and before he knows what heâs doing, heâs grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, shoving him back against the railing of the harbor.
âWhat did you say?â Charlesâ voice is low, dangerous, barely more than a growl. His knuckles are white where they grip the manâs shirt, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring ready to snap.
The manâs grin only widens, unfazed by the fury in Charlesâ eyes. âYou heard me,â he sneers. âAnd you know what? Thereâs nothing you can do about it. Weâre in public, Leclerc. Youâre a famous guy â canât have your precious image tarnished, can you?â
Charlesâ lips curl into a smile, but itâs not the kind that reaches his eyes. Itâs cold, calculated, the kind of smile that sends a chill down the spine. âYou think I care about that?â He asks, his voice dangerously calm.
The manâs bravado falters just a bit, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but he doesnât back down. âYeah, I do. Youâre not gonna do anything. Not here, not in front of all these people.â
Charles laughs, but thereâs no humor in it, just a bitter edge that makes the man shift uncomfortably. âYou really donât get it, do you?â Charles says, his voice softening into something almost pitying. âThis is Monaco. And Iâm Charles Leclerc.â
The manâs face pales slightly, but he still tries to hold his ground. âSo what? You think being a driver gives you a free pass to do whatever you want?â
Charlesâ smile widens, though thereâs nothing friendly about it. âExactly.â
Before the man can react, Charles yanks him away from the railing, dragging him along the harbor. The man stumbles, trying to pull away, but Charlesâ grip is ironclad, unyielding. The few people who are out this early watch with interest, some even clapping or calling out congratulations as they recognize Charles.
âHey, what the hell?â The man protests, his voice rising in panic as he struggles against Charlesâ hold. âLet go of me!â
Charles doesnât respond, his eyes focused straight ahead as he forces the man to walk, his grip tightening whenever he feels him start to resist. The manâs attempts to free himself are pathetic, laughable even, compared to the strength Charles has built up over years of training, of pushing his body to the limits.
As they pass by a group of people, one of them cheers, âThatâs the way, Charles! Show him whoâs boss!â
The man tries to appeal to the onlookers, his voice frantic. âSomeone stop him! Heâs crazy!â
But no one moves to help. They just watch, some amused, others indifferent, as Charles continues to drag the man through the streets of Monaco like heâs nothing more than a piece of trash that needs to be disposed of.
âWhere are you taking me?â The man demands, his voice trembling now as fear starts to seep in. âYou canât do this! Iâll-Iâll call the police!â
Charlesâ laugh is cold and devoid of any warmth. âGo ahead,â he says, not slowing down for a second. âTell them Charles Leclerc is dealing with a problem. See how far that gets you.â
The manâs protests grow weaker, his struggles more desperate, but itâs clear he knows thereâs no escaping this. Charles is too strong, too determined, and the reality of his situation is starting to sink in.
The two of them reach a more secluded part of the harbor, where the buildings are fewer and the noise of the city fades into the background. Thereâs no one around to witness whatâs about to happen, no one to hear the manâs cries for help.
Charles comes to a stop in a narrow alleyway, shoving the man against the wall with enough force to knock the breath out of him. He leans in close, his face inches from the manâs, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.
âYou made a mistake last night,â Charles says, his tone icy. âYou thought you could get away with it because you were in a crowded club, because she was alone. You thought no one would stop you.â
The manâs eyes are wide with fear now, all traces of his earlier arrogance gone. âI-I didnât mean-â
âBut you did,â Charles cuts him off, his voice like steel. âYou meant every word, every touch, every threat. And now, youâre going to pay for it.â
The man tries to push Charles away, his movements frantic, but Charles is relentless. He grabs the man by the throat, pinning him against the wall, his grip just tight enough to make him understand how serious this is.
âYou think I canât do anything to you because weâre in public?â Charles hisses, his breath hot against the manâs ear. âYouâre wrong. In Monaco, I can do whatever I want. And no one will stop me.â
The manâs hands claw at Charlesâ arm, trying to pry his fingers away from his throat, but itâs useless. Charles is too strong, too focused, his anger giving him a surge of power that the man canât hope to match.
Charles leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. âYou hurt someone I care about. Someone Iâve known my whole life. And for that, Iâm going to make sure you never forget what happens when you cross me.â
The manâs breath comes in short, panicked gasps as he realizes the gravity of his situation. He tries to speak, to beg for mercy, but Charles isnât interested in hearing his excuses.
âPlease âŠâ the man finally manages to choke out, his voice barely a whisper. âI-Iâm sorry âŠâ
Charlesâ eyes narrow, his grip tightening for a moment before he abruptly lets go, letting the man collapse to the ground in a heap. The man gasps for air, his hands trembling as he scrambles to his feet, his eyes wide with fear.
But Charles isnât done. He grabs the man by the collar, dragging him deeper into the alley, where the shadows swallow them both. The manâs struggles are weak now, more out of instinct than any real hope of escape.
âPeople like you,â Charles says, his voice low and menacing, âthink you can do whatever you want. But hereâs the truth: youâre nothing. Just another coward who preys on the vulnerable. And cowards like you donât get to walk away.â
The alley is cold and dark, the early morning light barely reaching the grimy corners where Charles drags the man like a lifeless doll. The sounds of Monaco are distant now, just a low hum that fades into the background. The only noise that matters is the ragged breathing of the man at Charlesâ mercy, and the echo of their footsteps on the uneven pavement.
Charles stops abruptly, his grip still tight on the manâs collar. He looks around, taking in the silence, the isolation. This place, this forgotten corner of the city, is perfect. No one will find them here. No one will hear what happens next.
He shoves the man against the wall again, harder this time, the force of it knocking the breath out of him. The man lets out a choked gasp, his eyes wide with fear, the bravado from earlier completely gone.
âPlease,â he stammers, his voice trembling. âIâm sorry, okay? I didnât mean-â
Charles cuts him off with a sharp punch to the gut, and the man doubles over, wheezing. âDonât bother,â Charles says coldly. âYouâre not sorry. Youâre just scared. Thereâs a difference.â
The man tries to straighten up, but Charles doesnât give him the chance. He lands another punch, this time to the manâs jaw, the crack of bone echoing in the alley. The manâs head snaps to the side, blood already beginning to trickle from his split lip.
âYou like hurting people, donât you?â Charles asks, his voice calm, almost conversational as he paces in front of the man. âThatâs what you were doing last night, right? You saw her and you thought you could do whatever you wanted.â
The man groans, trying to push himself up from the ground where heâs fallen, but Charles is on him in an instant, his knee pressing into the manâs chest, pinning him down.
âYou thought she was alone,â Charles continues, his voice still eerily calm as he looks down at the man struggling beneath him. âYou thought no one would stop you.â
He leans in closer, his knee digging into the manâs ribs, making it harder for him to breathe. âBut she wasnât alone. And now, youâre going to pay for what you did.â
The man tries to shake his head, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. âIâm sorry,â he gasps out, his voice barely above a whisper. âI didnât know-â
Another punch, this one to the side of the manâs face, silences him. Charles doesnât care about his excuses, his lies. All he cares about is making sure this man understands the pain, the fear that you felt last night.
He grabs the man by the hair, forcing his head up so their eyes meet. The manâs face is already swelling, bruises blossoming under his skin like dark flowers. âYou think this is bad?â Charles asks, his voice low, dangerous. âThis is nothing compared to what you deserve.â
The man whimpers, his hands weakly trying to push Charles away, but itâs no use. Charles is relentless, his grip like iron as he drags the man up and slams him back against the wall.
âYou like to take what you want, donât you?â Charles says, his breath hot against the manâs ear. âWell, letâs see how you like it when someone takes something from you.â
Without waiting for a response, Charles delivers a brutal kick to the manâs knee, and the sickening sound of bone cracking echoes in the alley. The man screams, a high, desperate sound that only fuels Charlesâ anger.
He watches dispassionately as the man crumples to the ground, clutching his leg, his face contorted in agony. âHurts, doesnât it?â Charles asks, his voice devoid of any sympathy. âNow imagine how she felt. Imagine how scared she was, how helpless.â
The man tries to crawl away, his movements sluggish, hindered by the pain, but Charles isnât done. He grabs the man by the ankle, dragging him back, his face set in grim determination.
âYouâre not going anywhere,â Charles says, his voice flat, emotionless. âNot until Iâm finished.â
He pulls the man up, slamming him into the wall again, his grip never loosening. The manâs head lolls to the side, blood dripping from his nose, his mouth, but Charles doesnât care. He wonât stop until the man feels every bit of the fear and pain he inflicted on you.
âYou think you can just walk away from this?â Charles asks, his voice soft, almost a whisper, but thereâs a dangerous edge to it that makes the manâs eyes widen in fear. âYou think you can just go back to your life, like nothing happened?â
The man shakes his head weakly, but Charles doesnât believe him. He knows men like this, cowards who prey on the vulnerable, who think theyâre invincible because theyâve never had to face the consequences of their actions.
âWrong,â Charles says, his voice hard, unyielding. âYouâre not walking away from this. Not ever.â
He lands another punch, this one to the manâs ribs, and the man gasps, the air knocked out of him. Charles steps back for a moment, watching as the man collapses to the ground, coughing, wheezing, barely conscious.
âLook at you,â Charles says, his voice filled with contempt as he circles the man like a predator. âPathetic. All that confidence, all that arrogance â gone. Now youâre just a scared little boy, begging for mercy.â
The manâs eyes flutter open, bloodshot and filled with pain. He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a low, pitiful moan. Charles crouches down beside him, his eyes cold, calculating.
âDid you really think you could get away with it?â Charles asks, his voice soft, almost gentle, but thereâs a cruel undertone that makes the man flinch. âDid you think no one would care? That no one would come for you?â
The man doesnât answer, his body trembling, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Charles watches him for a moment, his anger still simmering, but thereâs a part of him â a small part â that feels a twisted sense of satisfaction. This man, this coward, is finally paying for what he did.
But itâs not enough. Not yet.
Charles reaches down, grabbing the man by the throat, his fingers digging into the bruised flesh. The manâs eyes go wide, panic setting in as he struggles to breathe, his hands weakly clawing at Charlesâ arm.
âYouâre not going to forget this,â Charles says, his voice low, dangerous. âEvery time you look in the mirror, every time you see those scars, youâre going to remember what happens when you cross me. When you hurt someone I care about.â
The man gurgles, his eyes rolling back in his head, his body going limp in Charlesâ grasp. For a moment, Charles considers finishing it, squeezing the life out of the man until thereâs nothing left. But then he releases his grip, letting the man collapse to the ground, gasping for air.
The man barely has the strength to lift his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desperation. âYou ⊠you canât ⊠do this,â he wheezes, his voice weak, barely audible. âIâll ⊠have you arrested ⊠for attempted murder âŠâ
Charles stares down at him, a cold, humorless smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends a shiver down the manâs spine. âGo ahead,â he says, his voice dripping with contempt. âTry it. See how far you get.â
The manâs eyes flutter closed, his body trembling uncontrollably as the reality of his situation sets in. Heâs helpless, broken, barely clinging to consciousness. And Charles knows that the manâs threats are empty, born out of desperation, a final attempt to grasp at some semblance of control.
âYouâre nothing,â Charles says, his voice cold, final. âNo one is going to believe you. Not after what you did. Not after what Iâve done to you.â
The manâs breath comes in short, shallow gasps, his body shuddering with pain and exhaustion. Charles watches him for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before he finally stands up, looking down at the broken, bloodied man at his feet.
âConsider this a warning,â Charles says, his voice low, menacing. âStay away from her. Stay away from Monaco. If I ever see you again, I wonât stop next time. I wonât show mercy.â
The man doesnât respond, barely clinging to consciousness, his body slumped against the wall like a discarded puppet. Charles takes one last look at him, his eyes cold, before he turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing in the silent alley.
As he steps out into the morning light, the anger that had consumed him begins to fade, replaced by a cold, detached calm. He knows what heâs done, knows that heâs crossed a line that most people wouldnât dare to. But he doesnât care. He did what he had to do, what you needed him to do.
And heâd do it again in a heartbeat.
***
The atmosphere in the police station is tense, a quiet hum of activity threading through the open space. Officers move about, their conversations muted, eyes occasionally flicking toward the door where Charles Leclerc is expected to enter any moment. Thereâs a palpable discomfort in the air, a mix of respect and unease. No one wants to be the one to arrest Charles Leclerc. And yet, protocol demands his presence.
When Charles finally walks in, the room seems to still. Heads turn, eyes widen slightly. Heâs dressed casually â sweatpants, a loose-fitting t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. Despite the nonchalance of his appearance, thereâs an unmistakable tension in his shoulders, a hardness in his eyes that wasnât there before.
The desk sergeant, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a lined face, stands up hastily. âMonsieur Leclerc,â he begins, his tone overly formal, almost reverent. âThank you for coming in on such short notice. Weâre, uh ⊠weâre very sorry about this.â
Charles offers a curt nod, his expression unreadable. âWhatâs this about?â He asks, even though he already knows.
The sergeant hesitates, glancing around nervously. âWe, uh, received a complaint this morning,â he explains, his voice wavering slightly. âFrom a ⊠an individual who claims that you assaulted him.â
Charlesâ lips twitch into something resembling a smile, though thereâs no warmth in it. âHeâs not wrong,â he says, his voice low, almost a growl. âI did.â
The sergeantâs eyes widen slightly, and thereâs a nervous shifting among the other officers in the room. This isnât how these things usually go. âMonsieur Leclerc,â the sergeant begins again, more carefully this time, âwe understand that this man may have ⊠done something to provoke you. But we have to follow protocol. We need to ask you some questions.â
Charles crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly as he regards the sergeant with a cold, detached stare. âProtocol,â he repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. âFine. Ask your questions.â
The sergeant shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat. âDid you, uh, did you physically assault the complainant?â He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
âYes.â
Thereâs a collective intake of breath from the officers around them, as if they canât quite believe what theyâre hearing. The sergeant blinks, clearly taken aback by Charlesâ bluntness. âAnd ⊠do you regret it?â
Charles laughs then, a dark, humorless sound that sends a shiver down the spines of everyone in the room. âRegret?â He echoes, shaking his head. âNo, I donât regret it. In fact, Iâd do it again.â
The sergeantâs face pales, and he looks around as if searching for some way out of this conversation. âMonsieur Leclerc,â he begins again, his voice trembling slightly, âI donât think you understand the situation. Youâve just admitted to a serious crime. We ⊠we canât just let you go.â
Charlesâ expression hardens, his jaw clenching. âYes, you can,â he says, his voice cold, unyielding. âAnd you will.â
The sergeant opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get a word out, the door to the station bursts open, and the man from the alley stumbles in. His face is still bruised, his movements stiff and pained. But thereâs a look of triumph in his eyes as he spots Charles standing there.
âThere he is!â The man shouts, pointing a shaky finger at Charles. âThatâs him! Thatâs the bastard who tried to kill me!â
Charles turns slowly to face the man, his expression unreadable. Thereâs a moment of silence, the air thick with tension. The man, emboldened by the presence of the police, takes a step closer, his voice rising with every word. âYou think you can just walk away from this, Leclerc? You think youâre untouchable? Iâm going to see you rot in prison for what you did!â
Charles doesnât respond immediately. Instead, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. The man falters slightly, confused by the lack of reaction. Charles taps the screen a few times, then puts it on speaker.
âWhat are you doing?â The man sneers, though thereâs a hint of uncertainty in his voice. âCalling your lawyer? Thatâs not going to save you.â
Charles doesnât bother to reply. The phone rings once, twice, before a familiar voice answers on the other end.
âCharles,â comes the smooth, authoritative voice of Prince Albert of Monaco. âTo what do I owe the pleasure?â
Charles doesnât take his eyes off the man as he responds. âYour Highness, Iâm at the police station. Thereâs a man here trying to press charges against me for something I did last night.â
Thereâs a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Prince Albertâs voice, calm and steady, fills the room through the speakerphone. âI see. And what exactly did you do, Charles?â
Charlesâ eyes narrow as he stares down the man, who is now looking increasingly nervous. âI made sure he understands that there are consequences for hurting people I care about,â Charles says, his voice low, menacing. âI made sure he knows that no one lays a hand on her without answering to me.â
The silence in the station is deafening. Every officer in the room is holding their breath, waiting to see what happens next. The manâs face drains of color as he realizes whatâs happening, who Charles is talking to.
Prince Albertâs voice is measured, careful. âAnd you believe this was necessary?â
âYes,â Charles replies without hesitation. âIt was necessary.â
Thereâs another pause, and then Prince Albert speaks again, his tone decisive. âThen I trust your judgment. You did what you had to do. Consider this a royal pardon. Iâll have an official document delivered to the station within the hour.â
The manâs mouth falls open in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief. âYou ⊠you canât do this!â He sputters, his voice rising in desperation. âHe assaulted me! He nearly killed me!â
Charles finally lowers the phone, ending the call. He slips it back into his pocket, his expression as cold and unyielding as ever. âYou heard him,â Charles says quietly, his eyes locked on the manâs. âYouâre done here.â
The man looks around wildly, as if searching for someone to back him up, but all he finds are the wary, sympathetic gazes of the officers. No one is going to help him. No one is going to defy Prince Albert.
The desk sergeant clears his throat, stepping forward. âMonsieur Leclerc,â he says, his voice carefully controlled, âit appears that youâre free to go.â
Charles doesnât smile. He simply nods, his gaze never leaving the man who stands trembling before him. âGood,â he says softly. âBecause I have more important things to do than waste my time here.â
The man opens his mouth to protest again, but the words die on his lips as Charles steps forward, his presence overwhelming, almost suffocating. âYou should leave Monaco,â Charles says, his voice low and dangerous. âBefore I change my mind about letting you live.â
The man stumbles back, his bravado crumbling as fear takes hold. He casts one last desperate glance at the officers, but they all turn away, unwilling to meet his eyes. Heâs alone in this, and he knows it.
With a final, defeated whimper, the man turns and flees from the station, his steps hurried, unsteady. Charles watches him go, his expression unreadable, his heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and satisfaction.
The desk sergeant shifts awkwardly, unsure of what to say. âUh, I ⊠weâre sorry for the inconvenience,â he stammers. âItâs just ⊠we had to follow procedure âŠâ
Charles waves a hand dismissively, already heading for the door. âItâs fine,â he says, though thereâs a hardness in his voice that suggests otherwise. âJust make sure this doesnât happen again.â
The sergeant nods quickly, grateful for the reprieve. âOf course, Monsieur Leclerc. It wonât happen again.â
Charles doesnât respond. He steps out into the sunlight, the tension slowly draining from his body as the warmth of the day washes over him. The streets of Monaco are as busy as ever, people going about their lives, oblivious to what just transpired inside the police station.
He takes a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs, grounding himself. The day is far from over, and there are still things he needs to do, but for now, the threat has been neutralized. The man who hurt you is gone, and Charles made sure heâll never come back.
As he walks away from the station, Charles canât help but think of you, your face, your voice, the way you smiled at him when you were just a little girl. He knows heâs crossed a line today, done things that most people wouldnât understand, wouldnât condone. But he doesnât care. He did it for you.
And heâd do it all over again if he had to.
***
Charles stands outside your apartment, a paper bag of takeout in one hand, his other raised to knock on the door. He hesitates for a moment, nerves he didnât expect twisting in his stomach. Itâs strange, feeling nervous about seeing you. Heâs known you for years â watched you grow up, shared countless family dinners with you, laughed at your jokes, teased you about your school crushes.
But this ⊠this feels different. Everything feels different now.
He finally knocks, a light tap that he knows youâll hear. A few seconds pass, and then the door swings open, revealing you standing there in a casual outfit, your hair pulled back, a soft smile on your face.
âCharles,â you greet him, your voice warm, familiar. âCome in.â
He steps inside, glancing around the cozy space. Itâs a small apartment, but itâs yours, filled with little touches that scream your personality â bookshelves overflowing with novels, a blanket draped over the back of the couch, a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table. Itâs homey, comfortable, and it smells like the vanilla candle you always seem to have burning.
âI brought lunch,â Charles says, holding up the bag. âFigured you might be hungry.â
You smile, your eyes brightening at the sight of the food. âYou know me too well. What did you get?â
âYour favorite,â he replies, setting the bag down on the table and beginning to unpack it. âPasta from that little place near the harbor.â
âPerfect,â you say, moving to grab plates from the cupboard. âYou always know how to spoil me.â
Charles chuckles, though his mind is far from the light-hearted conversation. Thereâs something heavy sitting on his chest, something he knows he needs to tell you, but the words stick in his throat. Instead, he focuses on the food, dishing out generous portions onto each plate.
You both sit down at the small dining table, and for a few minutes, thereâs nothing but the sound of forks scraping against plates and the occasional hum of satisfaction as you enjoy the meal. Itâs comfortable, easy â just like itâs always been between you.
But then, as if sensing his unease, you break the silence. âSo, I heard the craziest thing this morning,â you say, your tone light, almost teasing. âOne of my friends told me that you were almost arrested yesterday. Can you believe that?â
Charlesâ fork pauses midway to his mouth, his heart skipping a beat. He hadnât expected you to bring it up so casually, hadnât prepared himself for this moment. He forces a smile, though it doesnât quite reach his eyes. âOh? What did she say?â
You laugh, shaking your head. âShe said she heard you were involved in some kind of fight and that the police were called. I told her she was crazy. I mean, you wouldnât hurt a fly, right?â
Thereâs a playful glint in your eyes, but Charles canât bring himself to join in. Instead, he sets his fork down, the sound of metal against porcelain unnaturally loud in the quiet room. He looks at you, his expression serious, all traces of his earlier smile gone.
âActually,â he begins, his voice low, steady, âitâs true.â
Your smile falters, confusion flickering across your face. âWhat do you mean?â
Charles leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he meets your gaze head-on. âI was at the police station yesterday,â he says, the words heavy, deliberate. âThey called me in because that guy â the one who ⊠hurt you â he tried to press charges against me.â
You stare at him, the shock evident in your wide eyes. âWait, youâre serious? This isnât some joke?â
âIâm serious,â Charles replies, his voice calm, almost too calm. âIâm not proud of what I did, but Iâm not ashamed of it either. He deserved what he got.â
For a moment, you just sit there, trying to process what heâs telling you. You set your fork down, your appetite suddenly gone. âBut ⊠Charles, what did you do?â
Charles takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. âI made sure he understood that there are consequences for his actions. That he canât just walk away after what he did to you.â
Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your glass of water, taking a sip to steady yourself. âYou ⊠you didnât âŠâ
âI didnât kill him,â Charles says quickly, sensing your fear. âBut I hurt him. Badly. And I donât regret it.â
Youâre silent for a long moment, your mind racing. The Charles you know â the Charles you grew up with, the one who used to give you piggyback rides when you were too tired to walk â wouldnât do something like this. But then again, this isnât just anyone weâre talking about. This is you. And for Charles, youâre different. Youâve always been different.
âI did it to protect you,â Charles continues, his voice softer now, almost pleading. âI couldnât just stand by and let him get away with what he did. I couldnât âŠâ
He trails off, his gaze dropping to the table, his shoulders slumping slightly. Itâs as if all the fight has drained out of him, leaving behind only the raw, honest truth of his actions.
You swallow hard, trying to make sense of everything. âBut ⊠you could have been arrested. You could have gone to jail.â
Charles laughs, a bitter sound that holds no real amusement. âNot in Monaco,â he says, shaking his head. âNot for this.â
You furrow your brow, confusion evident in your expression. âWhat do you mean?â
Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. âI talked to Prince Albert. He gave me a royal pardon. The guy had no chance.â
You blink, stunned by the casual way he says it, as if itâs the most normal thing in the world. âA royal pardon? Charles, thatâs ⊠thatâs not normal.â
âNo, itâs not,â Charles agrees, his tone somber. âBut I donât care. Iâd do it all over again if it meant keeping you safe.â
The weight of his words hangs between you, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. Youâve always known Charles was protective of you, but this ⊠this is something else entirely. Heâs crossed a line, and thereâs no going back.
For a moment, youâre both silent, the tension in the room thick, suffocating. Charles watches you, his heart pounding in his chest, waiting for you to say something, anything. Heâs prepared for you to be angry, to be horrified by what heâs done. But he wasnât prepared for the look of sadness that crosses your face, the way your shoulders slump as if the weight of the world has suddenly fallen on you.
âI donât know what to say,â you finally whisper, your voice shaky. âI never wanted you to do something like this for me.â
Charles leans forward, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. His touch is warm, steady, and for a moment, it grounds you, pulls you back from the edge of the panic thatâs been rising in your chest.
âI know,â he says softly. âI know this isnât what you wanted. But itâs what I needed to do. I couldnât just stand by and let him hurt you.â
You squeeze his hand, your grip tightening as if youâre afraid to let go. âBut what if you had been arrested? What if you couldnât get out of it? I couldnât bear the thought of you being locked up because of me.â
âI wouldnât let that happen,â Charles replies, his voice firm, resolute. âI told you, Iâd do anything to protect you. And I mean it.â
You look up at him then, your eyes searching his, trying to find some sign that this is all just a bad dream, that youâll wake up and everything will be back to normal. But all you see is the truth â the raw, unfiltered truth of what Charles has done, and why he did it.
âI donât know if I should be angry or grateful,â you admit, your voice trembling slightly. âYouâve always been there for me. But this ⊠this is something else.â
Charles smiles then, a small, sad smile that doesnât quite reach his eyes. âYou donât have to be anything,â he says softly. âJust know that Iâll always be here for you. No matter what.â
For a moment, you just sit there, holding his hand, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. Thereâs so much you want to say, so much you want to ask, but you canât seem to find the right words. Instead, you focus on the warmth of his hand in yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his eyes never leave yours.
And then, before you can second-guess yourself, you lean across the table and press your lips to his. The kiss is soft, tentative at first, but it quickly deepens, the tension thatâs been building between you finally finding release.
Charlesâ hand comes up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. The kiss is everything you didnât know you needed â desperate, passionate, full of all the emotions that have been bubbling beneath the surface.
When you finally pull away, youâre both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you try to catch your breath. Charlesâ eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, and thereâs a look in them that youâve never seen before â something raw and vulnerable, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest.
For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence heavy with the weight of what just happened. Charlesâ hand is still in your hair, his thumb gently stroking the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his breath on your lips, warm and steady, as if heâs trying to anchor himself in this moment, to hold onto it for as long as he can.
Eventually, you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your own heart pounding so loudly in your ears that youâre sure he can hear it too. âCharles âŠâ you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words catch in your throat. Youâre not sure what you want to say, what youâre supposed to say. Everything feels too big, too overwhelming.
Charles doesnât say anything, just watches you with that same intense gaze, his eyes searching yours for something â reassurance, maybe, or understanding. Slowly, he lowers his hand from your hair, his fingers trailing down the side of your face before he lets it fall to his lap. The loss of his touch leaves you feeling cold, and you almost want to reach out and pull him back to you, to kiss him again and forget everything else. But you donât.
Instead, you take a shaky breath and try to gather your thoughts, your mind racing. âWhat ⊠what does this mean?â You finally manage to ask, your voice trembling.
He looks down at his hands, his brows furrowing in thought. âI donât know,â he admits quietly. âAll I know is that Iâve never felt like this before. Iâve known you my whole life, but ⊠this is different.â
You bite your lip, trying to make sense of it all. âIâve always cared about you. You know that. But I never thought âŠâ You trail off, unable to finish the sentence, but the implication hangs in the air between you.
Charles finally looks up at you again, his expression softening. âNeither did I,â he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. âBut now that itâs happened ⊠I donât think I can go back. I donât want to.â
Youâre silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you. Thereâs a part of you that wants to be cautious, to protect yourself from whatever this is, but thereâs another part â one thatâs stronger â that wants to take the leap, to see where this could go.
âI donât want to either,â you whisper, the admission almost too much to say out loud. But itâs the truth, and once itâs out there, you feel a sense of relief, as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.
Charlesâ eyes soften even more, his smile widening slightly. He reaches out, taking your hand in his once more, his grip warm and steady. âThen letâs see where this goes,â he says, his voice low and full of promise.
You nod, unable to keep the smile off your face. âOkay.â
For a moment, you both just sit there, hands intertwined, the food on the table long forgotten as the reality of what just happened begins to sink in. Thereâs still so much you need to talk about, so many questions that need answers, but for now, this is enough. The kiss, the confession, the promise of something more â itâs all more than you ever expected.
Charles gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes never leaving yours. âWhatever happens next, I want you to know that Iâm here for you.â
You smile, your heart swelling with affection. âI know,â you say softly. âAnd Iâm here for you too.â
He nods, his expression earnest. âGood.â
The silence between you is comfortable now, the tension from earlier finally dissipating. You feel a sense of peace settle over you, a feeling that everything will be okay, no matter what comes next.
Finally, Charles glances at the table, his smile turning sheepish. âWe should probably finish our lunch,â he says, his tone light.
You laugh, the sound easing the last of your lingering nerves. âYeah, we probably should.â
You both pick up your forks, and the conversation shifts back to lighter topics, the ease between you returning as if nothing has changed. But you both know that something has. Thereâs a new understanding between you, a new connection that wasnât there before. And as you finish your meal, stealing glances at each other across the table, you canât help but feel excited about what the future might hold.
***
Monaco at night is a different kind of magic. The streets are quieter, the buzz of the day replaced by the hum of luxury cars and the distant sound of waves crashing against the harbor. The city glows with a soft, golden light, the kind that makes everything look a little more romantic, a little more surreal. And tonight, with you tucked into Charlesâ side as you walk home from dinner, it feels like the world has shrunk down to just the two of you.
Youâve been together for a few years now, and yet thereâs still a thrill in the way he holds you close, his arm draped around your shoulders as if heâs claiming you all over again. Thereâs something comforting in the familiarity of it, the way your bodies just fit together, like two puzzle pieces that were always meant to be.
The conversation between you is light, filled with teasing banter about the dessert you shared at the restaurant â how he insists you ate most of it, and you argue that heâs the one with the sweet tooth. Itâs the kind of easy back-and-forth that comes with knowing someone inside out, with having weathered storms together and come out stronger on the other side.
But as you turn down a quieter street, the atmosphere shifts. Itâs subtle at first â a flicker of movement in the corner of Charlesâ eye, the sense that youâre being watched. And then, out of nowhere, a voice cuts through the night, crude and jarring in its tone.
âHey, baby, how about a smile?â
You freeze, your muscles tensing instinctively. The voice belongs to a man leaning against a lamppost, his eyes raking over you with a leer that makes your skin crawl. You feel Charles stiffen beside you, his arm tightening around your shoulders protectively. But before you can react, the man pushes off from the lamppost and approaches, his hand reaching out to touch you.
It all happens in a blur. The manâs fingers graze your arm, and you flinch back, your heart racing. But before you can fully process the disgust that courses through you, Charles is already moving.
The look in his eyes is one you recognize â a dark, dangerous glint that youâve only seen a handful of times, but each one burned into your memory. Itâs the same look he had that night at the club, the night he became more than just your protector, the night everything between you changed.
Heâs about to lunge, his body coiled like a spring, ready to unleash all the anger simmering beneath the surface. But you place a hand on his chest, stopping him just in time.
âCharles,â you say softly, but thereâs a knowing edge to your voice, a familiarity with the situation. âShould I call Prince Albert? Let him know you might need another pardon?â
Charles pauses, his gaze flickering to yours, and for a moment, the tension eases. The corners of his mouth twitch upward, a dark, almost feral smile playing on his lips.
âYeah,â he replies, his voice low and laced with a dangerous amusement. âThis must be the fourth one this year.â
You canât help but laugh, the sound lightening the mood, if only for a second. âActually,â you correct him, your eyes sparkling with mischief, âitâs the fifth.â
His smile widens at that, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. But the humor doesnât last long. The reality of the situation pulls him back, and his expression hardens once more as he turns his attention to the man who dared to touch you.
âStay here,â Charles says, his tone leaving no room for argument. Itâs the voice of a man whoâs about to do something he wonât regret â something heâs done before.
You nod, trusting him, knowing that whatever happens next, itâs out of your hands. And as Charles steps away from you, you canât help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction, a sense of justice in knowing that this man is about to face the consequences of his actions.
The man, oblivious to the danger heâs in, sneers at Charles, clearly unbothered by the presence of another man. âWhat are you gonna do, pretty boy?â He taunts, his voice dripping with arrogance. âYou think you can scare me?â
Charles doesnât respond immediately. He takes his time, closing the distance between them with a measured, almost predatory grace. And when he finally speaks, his voice is as cold as ice.
âYou have no idea who youâre dealing with,â Charles says quietly, the words laced with a threat that hangs heavy in the air.
The man laughs, the sound grating and unpleasant. âOh, I know exactly who you are,â he sneers. âYouâre that driver, right? Leclerc? Big deal. Doesnât mean you can do whatever you want.â
Charles tilts his head slightly, as if considering the manâs words, and then, to your surprise, he laughs â a dark, cruel sound that sends a shiver down your spine.
âYou think being in public will protect you?â Charles asks, his voice dripping with mockery. âYou think because there are people around, I wonât make you regret ever laying a hand on her?â
The man falters, some of his bravado slipping as he realizes that Charles isnât backing down. He glances around, perhaps expecting someone to come to his aid, but the street is empty, save for a few onlookers who are too far away to hear the exchange.
Charles doesnât give him time to think. With a speed that takes the man by surprise, he grabs him by the collar, yanking him forward with a strength that belies his lean frame. The man stumbles, his cocky demeanor evaporating as he realizes heâs in over his head.
âYou should have walked away,â Charles murmurs, his voice dangerously calm. âBut now ⊠now youâre going to pay.â
The man struggles, trying to push Charles away, but itâs futile. Charles is a professional athlete, his body honed for strength and endurance, and the man is no match for him. Within seconds, Charles has him pinned against the wall of a nearby building, his forearm pressed against the manâs throat.
âGet off me, you psycho!â The man chokes out, his voice panicked as he claws at Charlesâ arm.
But Charles doesnât budge. He leans in closer, his face inches from the manâs, his eyes filled with a cold, calculated fury. âYouâre going to regret ever touching her,â he says quietly, his words laced with venom.
And then, without warning, he drags the man away from the wall, pulling him down the street with a force that makes it clear this isnât just a warning â itâs a promise. The man tries to resist, tries to fight back, but itâs no use. Charles is stronger, faster, and more determined, his grip unyielding as he hauls the man toward a darker, more secluded part of the street.
You watch from a distance, your heart pounding in your chest. Part of you wants to stop him, to tell him itâs not worth it, but another part of youâ the part that remembers the fear and helplessness you felt when that man touched you â wants Charles to follow through, to make sure this man never does this to anyone else again.
As they disappear around a corner, you take a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside you. You trust Charles, you know heâll be careful, but you canât help the worry that creeps in, the fear of what might happen next.
Minutes pass, each one feeling like an eternity, and then finally, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, your breath catching in your throat as you see Charles emerging from the shadows, alone.
His expression is unreadable, his eyes dark and stormy as he walks back to you. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence heavy with unspoken words.
Then, without a word, Charles pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if heâs afraid to let go. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you.
âIâm sorry,â he murmurs, his voice muffled against your hair. âIâm sorry you had to see that.â
You shake your head, pulling back just enough to look up at him. âYou donât have to apologize,â you say softly, your hand cupping his cheek. âIâm just glad youâre okay.â
He smiles then, a small, tired smile that doesnât quite reach his eyes. âIâm okay,â he says, though you can hear the weariness in his voice. âBut he wonât be bothering you â or anyone else â again.â
You nod, knowing thereâs more to the story than heâs telling you, but you donât press him. Not now, not when heâs holding you so tightly, as if heâs afraid to let you go.
âLetâs go home,â you say gently, taking his hand in yours.
Charles nods, his grip on your hand firm as he leads you back down the street, away from the darkness and into the light. And as you walk together, side by side, you canât help but feel a sense of relief, a sense of safety in knowing that no matter what happens, Charles will always be there to protect you.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
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bubble || LN4
â summary: internet sleuths find out that lando norris has been flirting with and potentially dating a relatively unknown singer
â pairing: lando norris x singer!reader
â fc & warnings: zinadelphia & slightly suggestive. you are responsible for the content you consume
â requested: nope!
ïŸ. âż àšâ€ïžà§â âż . ïŸ
f1gossip has made a post
liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, yourbff and 18,345 others
f1gossip: itâs been brought to our attention by an anonymous user that our lando norris has been caught seemingly flirting in the comment sections (for at least the past 24 weeks based off the time stamps) with a small american artist, y/n y/l/n. heâs the only driver that follows her and has been consistently in her comment section hyping her up and calling her things like âgorgeousâ, âtalentedâ and âpretty.â what do you all make of this?
view all 653 comments
user1: oh my god lando????
user14: iâve never once heard of this girl?
user2: how did we not know about this for the past 24 weeks guys wtf
user4: no like seriouslyâŠ. seems like something we should have known already
user3: wait her music is really good tho đ„č
user7: her song mirrorball??? the girl has some vocals wow
user4: just looked her up and sheâs beautiful⊠i see what heâs seeing
yourbff: screaming my head off at this
user1: and who are you??? do you know y/n??
f1gossip: check your dms yourbff
user5: sheâs using him for fame!
user4: considering we all just found out about herâŠ. imma go ahead and say no sheâs not
user6: now how do i make this about me đââïž
ynuser has added to their story
view all story the replies
user1: ooooo orange or papaya ???
yourbff: girl you fueling the flames with this post đđ
ynuser: HAHA i know⊠i got 24k new followers in the past 2 days since you sent me that post by f1gossip and figured id have some fun with it since thereâs no hiding now
yourbff: who knew meeting that guy randomly in europe 6 months ago was going to turn out like this
ynuser: certainly not me girl. remember when i thought he was some weirdo who was just trying to hit on me in the bar??
yourbff: bc he had no rizz but max and p really swooped in and saved him and now look at you đ„č
ynuser: my perfect little no rizz baby boy đ„č love of my life đ€
landonorris: itâs papaya baby
ynuser: i couldnât be too obvious now could i?
landonorris: nah go on then be obvious
ynuser: oh you want me to post you?
landonorris: yeah specifically that one pic you took of us in the mirror last night
ynuser: LANDO that is for OUR eyes only
landonorris: right yes
landonorris: i still think you should post me
ynuser: i donât know if i want to burst our little bubble yet
landonorris: fair enough baby. you just tell me when! iâve got paddock passes, pictures, plane tickets â everything lined up for when youâre ready
ynuser: đ„čđ vegas? we go on our little vacation after im done my tour and youâre done in brazil and then pop the bubble?
landonorris: sounds great to me gorgeous but seriously no pressure
user2: my delusions are working over time
maxfewtrell: iâm trying so hard to defend your privacy and this is what you post
ynuser: whatâs wrong with the color orange?
maxfewtrell: y/n
user3: ainât ever seen you and lando in the same room but i somehow know yall doing it
user4: youâre so pretty and your outfits eat so hard wtf đ
user9: praying this is a new song lyric idk who these new fans are talking about lando this lando that âŠ. i need a new song
ynuser has made a post
liked by youbff, yourfriend2, yoursibling, landonorris, maxfewtrell, ynupdates, and 54,235 others
ynuser: babyâs first headlining tour was a success! thank you to everyone who came out and sang along with me every night. i love you all dearly đ€ and for all the newbies here, welcome đ«¶đ»
view all 324 comments
user1: oh sheâs so cute
user2: starting a y/n fan club rn yall
yourbff: you are making those dreams come true bb girl
ynuser: trying to đ„č
yoursibling: cutie patootie i love you
ynuser: i love you more
user23: the peoples most beautiful princess đ€
user9: who are all you new people here
user2: lando norris fans. who are you?
user9: a y/n y/l/n fan. who is lando norris?
user2: a formula 1 driver!
user9: race cars?? i did not expect thatâŠ
user8: taking note of lando and max in the likes
user4: also taking note of their lack of a commentâŠ. lando has commented on every single one of her posts before the f1gossip post dropped
user16: i was there last night!!! best show ever!!! love you y/n
user19: iâm obsessed with those cherry earrings
landonorris has made a post
liked by maxfewtrell, quadrant, mclarenf1, oscarpiastri, ynuser, alex_albon23, and 823,104 others
landonorris: a much needed break. vegas here we come baby
view all 743 comments
user1: i donât know where to look ,, at the wh*re in the first pic or the soft launch in the second my god đźâđšđđđđ
user9: ok user2⊠i get it now. also iâve seen those white shoes in y/nâs posts before itâs def her
user2: omg youâre an icon for this
ynuser: dmn yâall really can identify me by my shoes?
user9: YN WHAT ARE YOU SOING HERE IM SORRY
user2: y/nlando confirmed
maxfewtrell: interesting choice of photos mate
landonorris: thanks! picked them myself
maxfewtrell: yeah clearly
pietra.pilao: đ€
landonorris: đ§Ą
user2: iâm speechless
user55: hey lando idk if u heard but thereâs a lookalike contest happening in my room tonight. $59 cash prize
oscarpiastri: those arenât maxâs legs đ
landonorris: youâd be correct
user12: this is monumental
user18: my favorite sinister, evil and orange little gremlin
user14: youâre gonna cook in vegas king
ynuser had posted to her story
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yourbff: this dress is eating in a way i didnât think it would. iâm sorry for doubting you
ynuser: never doubt me đ€
lilyzneimer: had so much fun meeting you at dinner this evening!!! looking forward to spending the weekend with you at mclaren đ«¶đ»
ynuser: omg it was so fun getting dinner with you and oscar!! iâm so so so glad to have you as a buddy in the paddock. i was super nervous about it all
lilyzneimer: it can be very overwhelming at times but weâve got you y/n!!
ynuser: that means so much to me đ„č
user9: mother is mothering ⊠in vegas?????
user12: are you in vegas per chance?! for the formula 1 grand prix?! for lando norris?!
user2: i fr need style tips and grwmâs from you y/n. every time you post an outfit it moves me
landonorris: in my hotel room đ
ynuser: you got it âđ» now hurry up and get back here
landonorris: trust me im hurrying
user8: i need someone to get you on a magazine cover stat
f1gossip has made a post
liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, yourbff and 19,231 others
f1gossip: confirmed! y/n y/l/n, singer songwriter, is in las vegas with lando norris for the las vegas gp. this seems to be their first official weekend out together
view all 327 comments
user2: as someone who has been deeply invested since the beginning (3 weeks ago).. this is everything
user9: my girl đ„č
user10: i truly wonder how in the world they even met⊠theyâre such an interesting pair
user18: mclaren admin please ask him this weekend
user13: that should be me đ
user24: ok wait guys im at the gp and y/n was walking through the paddock with lily and we waved her down because we had made some lando merch and she was honestly so sweet and stopped and took photos with us and chatted for way longer than she needed to. i truly hope she never changes sheâs an angel
user21: this is so wholesome
user23: i fear sheâs on track to become the peopleâs paddock princess in record time
user18: i have no one to send this to who will get it
mclaren has made a post
liked by landonorris, ynuser, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, yourbff, and 432,444 others
mclaren: this weekends most requested interview just dropped! make sure to check out the full thing over on the mclaren app đ
view all 329 comments
user18: mclaren admin is a y/nlando girly confirmed
maxfewtrell: heâs leaving out the bit where i had to save him from completely bombing
landonorris: đ youâre not gonna let me live that down huh
ynuser: idk what would have happened if max didnât come over and stop you from explaining why you hate fish so passionately
landonorris: babe please not on the public instagram
user2: lando norizz strikes again
landonorris: love when i get asked good questions like this!
user4: king said if one more person asks me abt wdc im gonna lose it. ask me abt y/n instead
user9: this is making it incredibly hard to gatekeep y/n
ynuser: thatâs my man đââïž
landonorris: damn right it is
user13: the mutual do you know who i am is lowkey so funny
landonorris has made a post
liked by mclaren, ynuser, yourbff, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell, pierregasly, and 843,238
landonorris: thanks for being nice to me this time vegas!! oh and thanks for coming y/n đđ
view all 854 comments
user12: iâm so proud of you lando
user9: wahooooo first race i watched and you won. i think me and y/n are good luck for you
mclaren: incredible drive lando! thatâs our winner!!
ynuser: something about seeing you on that podium đźâđš
landonorris: oh you like that?
ynuser: yes đ€
landonorris: alright podium finishes only from now on đ
user19: oh you two are freaks i just know it
ln4: LFGGGGG
user13: congrats on the win and the hot gf đ
carlossainz55: congrats lando!! and hi y/n!
ynuser: hi carlos đ€
maxfewtrell: much better post mate
landonorris: why thank you. i worked hard on this one
user2: a win and a hard launch = double win for me
ïŸ. âż àšâ€ïžà§â âż . ïŸ
a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated đ«¶đ»
ïŸ. âż àšâ€ïžà§â âż . ïŸ
disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction
© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform
#f1 fandom#formula 1#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 social media au#f1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#lando norris smau#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#ln4 x y/n#ln4 fic#ln4 imagine#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 fluff#ln4 x you#lando norris social media au
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