#deep down I think he's more of a disaster

[ninjatrashpanda]

Home (Home is wherever I'm with You)

Written for @bucktommypositivityweek Round Two. Day Seven: "Predict the Future." Read on AO3 here.

“Oh yeah,” Buck exclaimed, handing another freshly washed plate to Tommy to dry. Evenings like this one were becoming more and more common. Buck and Tommy would meet up at Tommy’s house or Buck’s loft after their shifts, cook and eat dinner together, do the dishes together, and then settle down on the couch for a movie Tommy wanted to see, or a documentary to fuel Buck’s latest hyperfixation before heading to bed, either for a round of ‘Was I a good boy, Daddy?’ or to just sleep, depending on how tired they were after work. “My lease runs out in three months. Remind me that I have to talk to my landlord about a new one.”

Tommy nodded, putting the now dry plate on top of the stack next to him. “I can remind you, but have you thought about maybe… I don’t know… not renewing it?” His tone was casual, as it usually was, but Buck could tell that he was nervous from the way the blue of his eyes seemed to waver. For all that Tommy knew how to mask his facial expressions, Buck had quickly learned that his eyes had the tendency to betray him as long as you knew what to look for.

Buck let out a small chuckle, reaching for another plate, one of his eyebrows rising in confusion. “Not renewing?” he echoed, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And what? Move into the station full time?”

Tommy laughed, shaking his head. “Not quite what I had in mind. I was thinking more… you know, here. At my place.”

An odd sense of quiet spread through the room for a moment, despite the soft clinking of silverware and the gentle hum of the dishwasher running behind them. It wasn’t an out-of-the-blue proposal, not really. In fact, Buck figured, they’d been tiptoeing around it for weeks, maybe months. Their evenings together were less about convenience and more about the deep comfort they’d found in each other’s company, the quiet routines they’d built together. On nights when their shifts kept them apart, Buck deeply missed and outright craved Tommy, and not just in the sexual sense either. He’d realized a while ago that he really didn’t want to be apart from his boyfriend for any extended amount of time.

“You… You want me to move in with you?”

Tommy stopped drying for a second, focusing on folding the towel in his hands to avoid meeting Buck’s eyes. “Yeah, I do. I mean, we’re here all the time anyway, right? You’ve got a drawer, you’ve got space in the closet, half your stuff’s already in the bathroom. It just makes sense. Plus…" He finally looked up, his expression softening. “I like having you around, Evan. It feels… good. Natural.”

Buck didn’t respond immediately. He reached for the next dish, but instead of handing it over, he stared at the water droplets sliding down the ceramic, his mind working through the unspoken implications. He wasn’t scared, exactly. Living with Tommy had an appeal, a strong one, but it also carried weight. The last time he moved in with a partner had been an absolute disaster (and Buck was mature enough to acknowledge that it wasn’t fully or even mostly on Taylor either) and he really, really didn’t want his relationship with Tommy to go down the same path.

He finally spoke, voice steady but thoughtful. “I like being here with you too, Tommy, of course I do, I love you. It’s just… moving in, it’s a big step. You sure we’re ready for that?”

Tommy’s lips pressed together as he kept playing with his towel, his lower lip caught between his teeth. He didn’t want to push, and Buck knew and appreciated that. This wasn’t about trying to goad Buck into doing something he wasn’t ready for; it was about opening a door that, deep down, he already knew they both wanted to walk through.

“I get that it’s a big step,” Tommy finally said, his voice a touch softer, though still carrying that cadance of sincerity that Buck had become so familiar with. “I’m not trying to pressure you or make you feel like we have to do this now. But I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and… honestly, I’m ready if you are.” His eyes met Buck’s, unwavering, calm but warm, and full of love. “No rush, no pressure. Just… think about it.”

Buck let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, running a hand through his damp curls. There was a knot in his chest that he hadn’t quite figured out how to untangle, a mix of excitement, anxiety, and an old, familiar fear of things falling apart when they seemed to be going too well.

“I do love being here,” Buck admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might somehow jinx what they had. “And you’re right. Half my stuff’s already here. I just…” He paused, words getting caught somewhere between his heart and his throat. “I guess I’m scared, you know? Last time I moved in with someone, I made a whole bunch of mistakes. It was a bad idea, and we rushed into things and it got… messy.”

Tommy nodded, leaning against the counter, his fingers still absently twisting the towel. “I know what happened with Taylor wasn’t easy, Evan. But that was different. You were different. And I’m not her.” He took a step closer, closing the space between them, his hand finding Buck’s in the soapy sink. The warmth of Tommy’s touch grounded him, and for a second, the room felt smaller, quieter. More intimate.

“You’re not,” Buck agreed, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of Tommy’s hand. “And I don’t want to compare what we have to that. I just… I want to make sure we’re doing this for the right reasons. Not because it’s convenient or comfortable, but because it’s what we both really want.”

Tommy tilted his head slightly, his eyes searching Buck’s face as if trying to read the thoughts that Buck was too afraid to say out loud. “If you need to think about it, that’s okay. You know I’m not gonna hold it against you, right?”

Buck let out a small sigh, feeling the weight of Tommy’s words settle over him. He knew Tommy meant every word. There was no hidden agenda, no underlying expectation. He was simply being honest about what he wanted, but ready to let it go if Buck didn’t. And Buck knew that should he say no, Tommy would be disappointed, but nothing would change between them. Tommy would know that Buck declining now wasn’t a never, just a not at this point. And that was what made this relationship so different from all the others. It wasn’t built on fleeting passion or some burning need to be wanted. It was steady, patient, and real.

“I know,” Buck said, his voice a little more solid this time. He turned to look at Tommy, really look at him. The man who had somehow woven himself into the fabric of Buck’s everyday life without either of them really noticing it happening. Tommy was everything Buck never thought he needed. Calm where Buck was impulsive, thoughtful where Buck was driven by instinct. It made Buck feel safer than he had in a long time.

Tommy smiled, a soft, understanding curve of his lips. “There’s no rush, baby,” he said again, letting his hand squeeze Buck’s gently before releasing it and taking the next dish. “We can talk about it whenever you’re ready. Or not talk about it. Whatever works.”

*

“So, what’s bugging you?” Bobby asked as he threw Buck’s apron over to him. They’d just gotten back to the station after a minor fender bender (three mild injuries, no deaths) and after sending everyone off to do their chores, he had quickly roped Buck into making dinner with him. Buck should have known it was a set-up.

“Wow, okay,” he said, grabbing an onion to dice for the bolognese recipe Tommy had gotten from his Nonna, a recipe both Bobby and Buck had gotten obsessed with mastering. “Not even gonna try to butter me up first, huh?”

Bobby chuckled as he started chopping the garlic, his hands moving with the kind of ease that came from years of cooking for the station. “We both know I’m not great at subtlety,” he said, glancing up at Buck with a pointed look. “Besides, I can tell something’s been on your mind. Figured I’d cut to the chase.”

Buck sighed, shaking his head slightly as he focused on the onion in front of him. The sharp smell of it hit him as soon as he sliced into it, and the familiar sting of onion-tears started piecing his eyes. He really should’ve known Bobby would catch on. If not him, who?

“I don’t know, Cap,” Buck said, his voice softer than usual. “It’s kinda dumb, really. I’ve just been... thinking. A lot.”

Bobby didn’t respond right away, just kept working at the garlic, letting Buck find his way to whatever he needed to say. Buck appreciated it. He hated being pushed to answer, and it always made him feel like he had to justify himself for feeling things. Bobby leaving him air to breathe and sort his thoughts, even if he was a little embarrassed that Bobby could read him so readily.

Buck did appreciate it. But it did also make him squirm.

“You know you’re allowed to think about things,” Bobby said after a moment, keeping his tone light. “But sometimes you get stuck in your head, Buck. And I’m not sure that’s where you want to be right now.”

Buck dropped the knife on the cutting board with a sigh, the rhythmic chop-chop of onions halting as he wiped his hands on his apron. “It’s not that,” he muttered, staring down at the half-diced onion, almost willing it to give him answers.

“So what is it?”

Buck looked up, meeting Bobby’s eyes for the first time since the conversation had started. He could feel the weight of Bobby’s concern, genuine and steady, like the man was always a step ahead, trying to make sure everyone around him was okay.

He swallowed hard, trying to find the words. “Tommy asked me to move in with him, and I’m scared.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow, pausing his garlic chopping for a second before setting the knife down. “Scared?” His tone was gentle, but Buck could sense the surprise there. “Of moving in with Tommy, or… something else?”

Buck let out a long breath, the air thick with the smell of onions and garlic now, the comforting scents of a familiar meal that should have helped ease his tension but only seemed to magnify the knot twisting in his stomach. He looked down at the onion, pushing it around the board with the edge of his knife. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but it was like they didn’t want to come out. Talking about feelings was never easy for him, especially not the deep, vulnerable ones. But this… this was Bobby. The man who had been there through the worst and somehow still saw him, still believed in him.

“I don’t know,” Buck finally said, the words coming out in a rush, like if he didn’t say them now, they’d never come. “I’m not really scared of moving in, I’m scared of messing it all up like I did with Taylor.”

Bobby gave a small nod and a hum, his expression one of calm realization. He turned and resumed chopping the garlic, the steady sound of the knife hitting the cutting board filling the silence between them. Buck appreciated the way Bobby let the quiet hang, giving him the space to work through his tangled thoughts.

“I know I shouldn’t compare the two,” Buck said, frustration creeping into his voice. He resumed dicing the onion, his movements a little too quick, the sharp knife clattering against the board. “Tommy’s not Taylor and I’m not the same Buck that I was back then, but it’s like I can’t help it. Every time I think about taking the next step with him, my mind goes back to everything I did wrong with Taylor. How I thought I could make it work, despite everything, and then… well, you know how that went.”

Bobby set down his knife again, wiping his hands on a towel as he turned to fully face Buck. His gaze was steady, not judgmental, just patient. “Buck, you can’t beat yourself up over past mistakes forever. You’ve learned from them. That’s what matters.”

Buck frowned, his hands stilling for a moment as he considered Bobby’s words. “Yeah, but what if I haven’t learned enough? What if I mess this up too? Tommy… he’s important to me. Like, really important. I think he could be it, you know? And the last thing I want to do is hurt him or make things awkward between us.”

Bobby gave a small nod, leaning back against the counter as he crossed his arms. “I get that, Buck. Believe me, I do. But relationships aren’t about never making mistakes. They’re about being willing to learn and grow together. From what I’ve seen, you and Tommy are already doing that.”

Buck stared at the sloppy onion dices in front of him, the smell still sharp, mixing with the garlic Bobby had finished. “What if I can’t handle the pressure? I mean, living together is a big deal. I’m just not sure I’m ready.”

Bobby smiled faintly, a hint of warmth in his eyes as he watched Buck. “Do you want to be ready, though?”

Buck blinked. The question caught him off guard. It wasn’t something he had considered, at least not in those terms. Did he want to be ready? Of course he did, didn’t he? But then again, that was part of the problem. He wanted to be perfect, to have it all figured out before he took the leap. The thought of messing up, of failing, of somehow destroying what he and Tommy had, gnawed at him.

“I do,” Buck sighed, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “I just don’t want to screw this up, Bobby. I’ve done that too many times already. What if I’m just not meant for this? What if...”

Bobby held up a hand, stopping him gently but firmly. “Buck, stop.” He shook his head slightly, his tone soft but unwavering. “You’re not broken. You’ve been through a lot, and yeah, you’ve made mistakes. We all have. But that doesn’t mean you’re destined to keep repeating them.”

Buck felt a lump form in his throat. He hated how accurate Bobby’s assessment of him was. How often had he thought like that about himself? That he was somehow defective, doomed to fail at every relationship he tried to make work? It was like a heavy weight tied around his neck, one that seemed to make it harder and harder to keep his head up.

Bobby’s eyes softened as he kept speaking, his voice filled with that steady, reassuring calm Buck had come to rely on. “You’re allowed to be scared, Buck. It means this matters to you. But don’t let that fear keep you from something good. You and Tommy… you’ve got something worth fighting for. And from what I’ve seen, you’re both willing to put in the work.”

Buck swallowed, his eyes burning a little, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the onion or the sudden rush of emotions coursing through his body. He wiped his hands on his apron again, more out of habit than necessity. “I guess I’m just scared I’ll let him down,” he admitted quietly. Bobby had done it once again. He had peeled back every single one of Buck’s worries and doubts and had nailed exactly what the source of his issues was. “He deserves someone who’s... not a mess.”

Bobby shook his head, stepping closer and resting a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Buck, you’re not a mess. You’re human. And Tommy knows that. You two are building something together, and that’s not something that happens overnight. It takes time, effort, and yeah, sometimes it takes stumbling a little along the way. But that doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of it.”

Buck looked up at Bobby, his throat tight, the knot in his stomach loosening just a little as he heard the words. He knew Bobby meant them. He could see it in his eyes, could hear it in his voice.

“Do you think I can do this?” Buck asked, his voice almost a whisper now.

Bobby’s smile was small but full of warmth. “I think you already are. You’re asking the right questions, thinking about it the way you should. You care enough to want to get it right. That’s what matters.”

Buck nodded slowly, feeling a little of the tension start to melt away. Bobby’s words had a way of doing that, of making things seem less impossible, less overwhelming. Maybe he didn’t have it all figured out yet, but maybe he didn’t need to. Maybe just wanting to do better, wanting to be there for Tommy, was enough for now.

“Thanks, Cap,” Buck said, his voice steadier now. “I guess I just needed to hear that.”

Bobby gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back to the cutting board, picking up his knife and getting back to the garlic. “Anytime, Buck. And hey, when you move in with Tommy, don’t forget to keep practicing this bolognese. I’m counting on you to help me perfect it.”

Buck laughed, a real, genuine laugh that he hadn’t realized he needed. He picked up his knife again, the rhythm of chopping the onion coming more easily now, less frantic. “Deal. But only if you let me make the garlic bread.”

“Done,” Bobby said with a grin. “Now, let’s finish this before everyone starts complaining about being hungry.”

*

“This is the last one,” Tommy called, carrying a box down the stairs to Buck’s former bedroom. Buck, waiting at the base with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his suitcase by his side. “You had a lot less stuff than I expected, baby.”

Buck smiled, though it didn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah, it’s… I never really needed much, you know?”

It was true. Buck had, for all intents and purposes, been kind of a minimalist with the loft. He lived at the station half the time anyway, so he had never really tried to accessorize or anything. A few pictures of himself and his family, from Maddie and Bobby to Christopher and Jee-Yun were about the only things that he figured mattered. He loved his family, and being surrounded by them, even if it was only through photographs, always made him feel better.

“You okay?” Tommy asked, putting the box to the ground. And that… was a loaded question. Yes, Buck was okay, technically. He wanted this. He wanted to move in with Tommy, was okay with letting the loft go.

But this had still been his home for the last six years of his life. It was still the end of an era.

“Just… feeling a little nostalgic is all.”

Tommy nodded, an understanding smile making its way to his face. “Makes sense,” he said quietly, running his hand through his messy curls as he leaned against the doorframe. “You’ve been through a lot in this place.”

Buck sighed, his eyes drifting around the room, taking in the bare walls, the empty bookshelves, the absence of the things that had once made this place feel like his. There was a time when this loft had been a refuge, a place to heal after he had hit rock bottom more than once. He’d been here after the ladder truck had crushed his leg, after the tsunami, after the lightning strike. His relationships with Ali and Taylor and Natalia had ended here. He had spent weeks in here all alone when he had filed the lawsuit that had almost destroyed his relationships with the people that mattered most to him.

“Yeah,” he finally said, his voice soft. “A lot happened here.”

And yet, it had also been a sanctuary, a place of endless laughter, and some of the best parts of his life. Getting this place had made him feel like an adult for the first time in his life. He had felt independent in a way not even traveling across the country on his own had made him feel. He and Eddie had made up after the lawsuit in here, he and Christopher had spent countless hours pummeling each other in fighting games, he’d first seen Jee-Yun crawl in here when she had made her way from the door to the couch. He had even delivered his Conner and Kameron’s child in here.

Tommy and him had shared their first kiss here.

Tommy watched him carefully, his eyes twinkling with fondness. “You don’t have to let it all go, you know,” he said, voice gentle. “You can take the memories with you.”

Buck smiled at that, the kind of smile that cracked through the melancholy even though it still didn’t quite fill out his face. “I know. It’s just… this place has seen every part of me, you know? The mess, the mistakes, the times I got back up again. It’s hard to leave that behind.”

“I get it,” Tommy murmured, stepping closer, his hand brushing lightly against Buck’s arm. “And it’s normal. Leaving your old home for a new one is always hard.”

Buck’s gaze softened as he looked at Tommy, grateful for the way he understood, the way he just… got it. That was one of the things that had made Buck fall for him in the first place. Tommy knew how to be present, how to listen without forcing an answer or solution.

“Moving in with you,” Buck said, looking down at the duffel bag and then back at the empty space around him, “it feels right. I just didn’t expect it to feel this… complicated too.”

Tommy chuckled softly and leaned in to kiss Buck’s temple, his arm moving around Buck’s shoulders. “Change always is. Even the good ones. But look, we don’t have to rush anything. If you need more time, I—”

“No,” Buck interrupted, though his tone was gentle. “I’m ready. I really am. I want this—us.” He turned to pull Tommy into a slow, soft kiss, resting his forehead against Tommy’s. “I think I just need a second to say goodbye to this place, you know?”

Tommy squeezed his hand, a warm smile lighting up his face. “Take all the time you need.”

Buck turned back toward the loft, his heart heavy but steady, while Tommy went to grab the box and stand in the doorway. Buck walked slowly around the room, letting his fingers graze the walls, each touch bringing back fragments of the life he’d lived here. The first time he’d stood in the kitchen, fresh from a shift, feeling like he was finally becoming the man he wanted to be. The nights he’d stayed awake, trying not to let his loneliness get to him, wondering if he’d ever be enough for anyone. The day Maddie had come home after getting treated for her PPD. The moment Eddie had told him that Chris thought of him as a hero, a title Buck never felt like he deserved but wore like armor anyway.

He stepped out onto the balcony, the Los Angeles skyline glowing with the soft hues of the setting sun. The view had always been one of his favorite parts of this place. It reminded him that, no matter how chaotic life got, the world kept turning, kept moving. And so did he.

With a deep breath, Buck finally allowed t’he tears that had built behind his lids to flow free, feeling the weight of six years lift from his shoulders. This place had been his sanctuary, his shelter. But now, he realized, it had also been his cocoon. It had kept him safe while he grew, while he healed. But he wasn’t the same man who had first walked through that door all those years ago. He was ready to spread his wings and step into something new.

Something with Tommy.

He stepped back in, his heart full but at peace, and caught Tommy’s eye. “I think I’m good now,” he said softly, smiling—a real, genuine smile this time.

Tommy grinned, his eyes twinkling with that infectious warmth that had always made Buck feel grounded. “Good. Because I was starting to think I’d have to carry all your boxes back up.”

Buck laughed, the sound light and free, cutting through the bittersweet air. “You’re hilarious. But no, I won’t strain your back like that, old man.”

“Oh, okay. I see how it is!” Tommy shot back, his expression playful as Buck picked up his suitcase and duffel bag. “Come on, let’s get out of here before you change your mind.”

Tommy grabbed the last box, and together, they headed for the door. Just before stepping through, Buck paused one last time, looking back over his shoulder at the loft. He let the memories settle in his mind, like pictures into a photo album.

“Goodbye,” he whispered, not to the loft itself, but to the man he used to be inside it. Then, he turned to join Tommy in the hallway. “Let’s go home.”

[jermer10]

How would you feel about writing drabbles about pyro, heavy, medic, scout and spy with a clown/jester reader? :o)

They often engage in trickery, play silly (and sometimes horribly messy!) pranks on people and overall have a goofy personality along with colorful clothing. (You don't have to do it if you don't wanna, I love your writing and headcannons!)

TF2 mercs with a clown/jester reader

gn reader | jester reader is so silly i love it

includes: pyro, heavy, medic, scout, spy

drabbles under the cut :P

Pyro: Pyro loved your vibrant, clownish energy the moment they saw you. With their mutual love of chaos, you quickly became a duo of disaster. Today, you’d rigged up an elaborate prank - fake flowers filled with water in place of Pyro’s flamethrower. You watched as Pyro gleefully sprayed your target, Engineer, soaking him from head to toe in a wave of unexpected water. Engineer groaned, but Pyro clapped in joy, their muffled laughter contagious. You couldn’t help but join. “Ya’ll ever thought about not doin’ this?” Engineer sighed, wiping his face. You just gave him a huge grin, honking your nose with a silly honk. “Where’s the fun in that?” Pyro high-fived you with a grunt, and the two of you ran off to plan your next prank, giggling like school kids.

Heavy: Heavy sat, deep in thought, quietly cleaning Sasha, when you slid into the room. You tiptoed up to him, eyes gleaming with mischievous intent. Your colorful jester outfit clinked with bells, but Heavy didn’t notice—too focused. Perfect. With grand gesture, you reached behind him and pulled out a massive rubber chicken. Waving it like a magician about to perform a trick, you gave a loud squeak by slapping the chicken against Heavy’s back. Heavy slowly turned his head, one eyebrow raised, completely unamused. “You think this is funny?” he asked, though the twitch of his lip betrayed his amusement. “Yes!” you giggled, your clownish laughter ringing through the room. “Very funny!” Heavy shook his head but couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “You are…very silly.” He let out a small, deep laugh and ruffled your colorful hair. “But Heavy likes silly sometimes.” You beamed, bouncing away to plot your next grand jester act while Heavy watched, shaking his head but smiling fondly.

Medic: Medic was deep in his medical laboratory, concocting some new bizarre experiment, when you decided it was time to bring some color into his sterile workspace. With a wild grin, you quietly slipped in, clutching a bucket of bright, sticky goo. “Ah, mein experiments! Zey are coming along nicely,” Medic mumbled to himself as he worked. You tiptoed closer, your bells jingling slightly, but Medic was too engrossed in his notes to notice. Then, you dumped the bucket of neon goo all over his latest creation. “Was zur Hölle—?!” Medic spun around, eyes wide in disbelief. “What have you DONE?” You stood there, grinning ear to ear, hands on your hips in a victory pose. “Brightened up your day! Science is more fun when it’s colorful!” Medic stared at the mess for a moment before a laugh bubbled up from his chest. “I cannot argue with zat!” He scooped up a bit of the goo and threw it right back at you. Within minutes, the lab was a battlefield of goo, the two of you laughing like mad scientists—or rather, like one mad scientist and their jester accomplice.

Scout: Scout loved your chaotic energy. In fact, he encouraged it. The two of you often teamed up to prank the rest of the team, and today was no different. Armed with a bag of itching powder, you set your sights on Spy’s study armchair. Scout leaned against the doorway, snickering as you sprinkled the powder all over. “You’re a freakin’ genius, ya know that?” he grinned. “Of course!” you twirled around, flashing him a bright smile. “Clowning is an art form!” Spy walked in moments later, completely oblivious. As soon as he sat down, the itching powder kicked in. “What the hell is zhis?!” Spy jumped up, scratching furiously. You burst out laughing, practically rolling on the floor while Scout doubled over, holding his sides. “Oh man, that’s too good!” he wheezed. “You shitheads!” Spy shouted, glaring daggers into your tear streaked faces. Scout gave you a high-five. “We’re the best team, babe. No one can top our pranks!” You took a deep, exaggerated bow, already planning your next chaotic endeavor with him.

Spy: Spy prided himself on his composure, which made you want to test his limits even more. You darted around the base, spreading your pranks, but Spy? Oh, he was your ultimate challenge. Today, you had set up an elaborate ruse: an innocent-looking box rigged with confetti and a loud BANG. Spy walked into the room, his usual air of elegance intact. You hid behind the door, barely containing your glee. As Spy approached the box, he paused. “Hm,” he muttered, already suspicious. But curiosity got the better of him. He lifted the lid, and POP! A spray of confetti exploded in his face, coating him in brightly colored paper. “Mon dieu…” Spy sighed, wiping the confetti from his suit. “You do realize this suit costs more than your life, yes?” You peeked out, grinning. “Totally worth it, monsieur!” Spy looked at you for a long moment, completely unamused. Then, to your surprise, he plucked a piece of confetti from his shoulder and flicked it at you. “You are incorrigible,” he said, though you caught the slight smirk on his face. “I don't know the meaning of the word!” You twirled around, bells jingling as you skipped out of the room.

[im-smart-i-swear]

Does Jiro has ghost like abilities (possession, ability to levitate things, etc etc) or does she just live in Shiro's head?

when i created this au, i thought the best option would be for her to be unable to interact with the physical world in any way(including possesion), beacuse i really wanted to lean into her isolation and how it affects her....... and while thats something i still want to emphasise here, lately ive been toying with the idea of jiro being able to impact the physical world somehow(though it still being fairly limited). i think letting her have some control could have a lot of potential! buuuut i also have no idea what abilities i want her to have lol

For now i think im not gonna give her any telekinetic abilities, bc i feel like it would be giving her too much power......... if she could throw shit, shed go APESHIT with it. it would made things too easy for her. i'm sorry babygirl but i'm NOT giving you the possibilty to throw knives and other sharp objects, i dont trust you to not kill someone:/

i really like the idea of her being able to temporarily posses her old body in certain circumstances tho- maybe when shiros uncouncious?? or like when hes is very tired or heavily injured she can kind of 'squeeze through' and take control back for a few minutes???? idk. i think this could be a very cool ability to give her- it cant be frequently used but can also be very helpful, and also theres so much potential for ✨shenanigans✨here>:) oh god i could put these fuckers in so many Situations with this..........

uhhh. so basically i think all of her influence on the physical world are through shiro. shes here bc of her connection to her old body, and thus its the only way for her to interact with anyone besides him- and shes NOT HAPPY about this(neither is shiro).

[castielmacleod]

Another one for the ride-or-die season 6 Crowstiel au soundtrack

[seresinhangmanjake]

About Time

Tyler Owens x Childhood Friend!Reader

Summary: You’ve been Tyler’s best friend since childhood, but a near-death experience makes him realize he feels much more for you than friendship and he shouldn’t have allowed himself to deny it for so long. 

Warnings/Notes: cursing, mild angst, mostly fluff, typos

Words: 2300

Masterlist

It was when he almost lost you that Tyler knew he was in love with you. When he was forced to play tug of war with the violent winds to keep you in his arms. When he felt your chest move against his with your shallow, rapid breaths. When he heard his name, a soft whimper from quivering lips. 

“T–Tyler…”

He tightened his grasp on your waist and mumbled, “I got you, darlin’. Just don't let go.”

At that moment, he didn't know if he could protect you, but the alternative was an unbearable thought. Living without you was unimaginable, unacceptable, so if the winds planned to take you, they would have no choice but to take him, too. Then at least you'd be going together. 

He’d always felt something for you, and he understood that he probably always would, but he'd been unwilling to give it a name more intense than a teenage crush that just happened to last well past its expiration date. And while your perpetually growing beauty and intoxicating laugh made it hard for him to tame what he continued to feel, he’d managed. 

But that fear of imminent death—more potent than ever—tapped into the depths of those feelings he’d been swallowing for more than a decade. The abuse of pelting rain and flying debris paled in comparison to the overwhelming storm breaking free from the neglected portion of his heart. 

Once disaster moved along, you looked up at him with wide, weary eyes, and he couldn’t think clearly past the repetitive chanting in his head: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, overpowering every other sense of logic and reason. He pushed strands of damp hair from your face, cupped your cheeks, then leaned down and sealed his lips to yours in a deep kiss. The first kiss. A kiss that typically has a much better outcome than what followed.

He hasn't seen you since that day. A week has come and gone and not one glimpse of your face, and now he’s more desperate for the sight than he’s ever been before. Missing you when you’re not around is far from new, but having released his feelings, the all-consuming sensation is worse. It’s harder to tolerate.

You're avoiding him, he knows it, but he supposes that can happen when someone kisses their best friend with no prior discussion of deeper feelings. It's not what he would do were the situation reversed—he'd still be all over you, kissing you back, smiling, never letting you go—but you've chosen to handle things quite differently, and in doing so, has left him no choice but to respond accordingly.

—

“Mornin’,” you hear, nearly dropping the pail of milk you’d been collecting all morning. Eyes darting to your right, you find Tyler sitting in one of the living room's quilted armchairs. Your heartbeat stutters. 

When you turn your head to the left, your mother is leaning against the kitchen countertop, her fluffy robe tied around her body and a cup of steaming coffee in her hands that she brings to her lips as she reads the newspaper splayed out beside her. 

“Mom, what is Tyler doing here?”

She glances up, swallows, and swipes her tongue across her bottom lip to catch the remnants of caramel-colored liquid. “Oh gosh, dear, he must've snuck in,” she replies, feigning ignorance. “But I’m not one for kickin’ anyone—especially not a fine, young man—off my property, so I guess he’ll just have to stay.”

With a huff, you set the pail down on the breakfast table, knowing your mother will take care of it, and shoot her a glare before making your way to the living room. Tyler stares up at you. You cross your arms and nudge your head toward the storage barn just behind the house where the two of you used to hold your late-night meetings when you were children, and later, teenagers. Many nights you spent in that barn after Tyler had snuck out of his parent’s house and chucked a pebble at your window to wake you. 

Tyler nods and follows you out the back door to the large structure that protects your privacy from the prying ears of the woman inside the house. 

“We gotta get you a new phone, darlin’,” Tyler says to your back once you're enclosed in the barn. “The one you've got doesn't seem to be receiving my calls…or texts…or elaborate voicemails.”

“Tyler…” you sigh, twisting to face him.

“You know we gotta talk about it,” he says. And he’s right, despite how the complicated element introduced into your relationship is entirely his fault and so you shouldn’t have to owe him the time of day until you're ready to give it. “You didn’t have to run away from me.”

“I didn’t run.” Tyler’s eyes follow the movement of your arms wrapping tighter around yourself and he swallows hard. “I walked.”

“Speed-walked,” he counters. “Borderline jogged.”

You groan, your tense shoulders sagging. “Tyler listen, I just–”

“Do you really think disappearing on me was a fair thing to do?” he interrupts. “I’m your best friend.”

Your jaw drops at the audacity. Not surprising, really; Tyler’s always had a way of wording things that gets under people’s skin, but out of the two of you, he is the last person who should be doling out the criticism. 

“Fair?” you huff. “You’re the one who–”

“I mean, what was so wrong with it?” Long fingers slide through his blond hair. “Can you honestly say you’ve never thought about me in that way? It hasn’t crossed your mind once? No sex dreams? Nothin’? ‘Cause I’ve been wrestlin’ with it since fuckin’ high school, but ok, sure, fine.”

“Ty–”

“And I know it was unexpected but was it really that shocking? Don’t you think we’d be good together? I think we’d–”

“For fuck’s sake, Tyler, will you let me talk!” you snap, your voice carrying throughout the barn.

If you were trying to preserve your privacy, you’ve definitely failed now. Half of town probably heard you and they’re nothing short of a mile away, but at this point, Tyler has pushed you well past caring. Let them hear. Let them know what’s going on between you. They all saw him kiss you anyway.

“We nearly died,” you continue. “People around us did die.”

Tyler’s face breaks down and you instantly regret your words. You know he stuck around after you left. You know he helped everyone he could in the aftermath of disaster while you let your emotions override your system and ran home to cry to your mother over how he just rocked what was your very steady relationship.

“Look,” you sigh. “Even if I wasn’t thinking about death—and that is a massive ‘if’—I told myself a long time ago that you are my friend, just my friend.”

Tyler’s hands settle on his hips. His eyes fall to the floor and his back teeth clench. “Why?”

“Because I repeated it so many times in my head that it solidified,” you tell him, throwing your arms up. “You know why Bradley dumped me last year? And Pete a couple years before that? And Bobby back in high school?” you ask. “Because of you. They all sensed this weird…energy…from you. All of them. Do you know how many times I had to tell them they were crazy? Do you know how many times I had to tell myself that I was crazy whenever they brought it up to me and I actually considered the possibility of you feeling that way?” 

You know exactly how many. Bobby had mentioned it five times before he decided he was done; broke it off with you right before prom and scoffed when he saw that Tyler had stepped up as your date. Pete was shorter-lived; asked you about Tyler three times before he said he could see which way the wind was blowing and had no interest in getting in between anything. And Bradley held the record at seven, each time making the fight outdo the one prior before he was simply fed up with the friendship you refused to sacrifice. Three boyfriends have ditched you solely because of Tyler, and fifteen times you had to talk yourself down from the jolt of excitement you got from imagining him loving you.    

Taking a deep breath, you say, “You don’t just get to kiss me and not let me sort out my thoughts for five damn seconds.”

Tyler’s head snaps up, jaw ticking and eyes blazing. “Five seconds?” he spits. “I haven’t seen you in a week. That’s the longest we’ve gone since I graduated.”

“This isn’t just about you; how you feel; what you think; what you want.”

“Then what are you tellin’ me?” Tyler asks.

The light quiver in his voice unnerves you. Not because you aren’t used to him expressing himself to the fullest—and if he’s ever going to be vulnerable with anyone, it’s with you—but that quiver is typically the trigger for you comforting him, taking him into your arms and holding him, letting him wrap himself around you until he feels better and is ready to stop. For some reason, you never noticed how long he would stay tied to you when you gave him the chance. 

“Are you feelin’ like this is it?” he continues. “Are you wantin’ us to be done?”

And suddenly, you’re irritated again. You can’t stop the roll of your eyes. In no universe would you ever be done with Tyler Owens, and the fact that he would entertain otherwise is asinine. “Don't be dramatic.”

“Well, what do you expect!” he shouts. “You’re actin’ like I’m about to lose you!”

“I didn’t say anything like that!”

“But you're mad that I kissed you!”

“Damn it, Tyler! I am not!”       

Green eyes widen, his breaths heavy from his heaving chest. His mouth opens then closes then opens once more. “You’re—” He licks his lips as you watch him grasp for words. “Then why haven't you called me back?”

You shrug. “I don't know. We've never fought before, and I thought you'd be pissed that I walked off, which clearly you are, so…”

“That’s not true,” he says, moving to take a step closer to you before thinking better of it and staying put. “I haven’t been pissed, darlin’, just terrified. And missing you. And…wanting you.” Heat flares your cheeks, forcing you to tear your eyes away from the desperation in his. “But I’m sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to…I mean, you left and I thought…”

You shake your head. Whatever he let himself think, he was wrong.

The silence that settles over you is thicker than you're used to in his presence. You're used to laughter and jokes, sweet comments and banter. Tension zings in the space between your bodies, but it's pleasant, electrifying, invigorating. You feel the full impact of everything that was tucked underneath the stress and anxiety of barrelling through such a hard conversation. 

Tyler feels it too. His face shows it. His eyes you can only describe as heatedly glittering as he stares at you staring at him. His brows are pinched from frustration of a different kind. It's his lips, though, that reveal his thoughts better than any other feature. They're softly parted, glistening from a swipe of his tongue like he's ready to lock them to yours at any second. Like he needs to be ready just in case you give him the go-ahead so he can kiss you before you dare rescind your permission. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask, words quieter than you meant for them to be, but Tyler hears you.  

His chuckle is short, half-formed, partially overtaken by the exhale of a breath. You detect a slight tease, as if you should already know the answer to that question. 

“That I wanna kiss you again,” he says. “So fuckin’ bad.”

The corners of your mouth struggle not to quirk upward. “Tyler.” He hums. “You know what it means if we do this, right?”

He nods. “We can’t go back,” he says. “But darlin’, I don’t wanna go back. I wanna keep on goin’...with you.”

“Everything will be different.”

“Not everything. We're still us, we'd just be kissin’ and touchin’ and, you know, doin’ other stuff,” he replies with a smile. “Hopefully.”

You picture Tyler standing before you as you have secretly wished you could have him for years—bare and muscled and grinning and telling you he loves you—and for the first time, you aren’t awash with guilt and shame. It feels right to think of him like this. Natural. There’s a soothing ocean of serenity flowing under the flames of desire, and it hits you that this was probably inevitable. All the pieces were there—friendship, trust, love—all there was left to do was act on it. 

“You won't change your mind?” you ask, stepping to him. 

At your question, distress takes over Tyler's face, but it melts into a grin once he notices your smirk. He closes the remaining distance between you and takes your hand, carefully interlocking your fingers. 

“No chance,” he tells you. 

“Ok,” you say, nodding. “Well, if you’re absolutely sure, then I guess it’s ok if you kiss me agai–”

Your chuckle is muffled against his lips. His fingers untangle from yours and he guides your hand to rest on the back of his neck so he can cup your cheek. His free arm coils around your waist, pulling you in closer, and your body melts into his. Your brain fuzzes. You lose all awareness of your surroundings. You think you might just stay like this forever.

----

Tag List (if you wanna join)

[ozzgin]

I'm so sorry but I'm back with another one after the 'Affair with Death' job on Crime Scene Cleaner...This one's gory. Maybe romantic? In a very messed up way. Content: gender neutral reader, morally grey reader, violence, gore!!, murder, obsessive behavior, extreme jealousy

Yandere!Crime Boss is easy to anger. Thankfully you've never had the "luck" of experiencing his wrath, but even witnessing the outcome leaves you with an upside-down stomach.

Tonight, you're the direct cause of this mess.

Despite being in the early stages of dating, you've decided to continue your bizarre agreement. He does need someone to erase his tracks, and you've gotten used to this grimy job. You get to relax most days, and you earn so much you'll never have to worry about your finances ever again.

Additionally, being involved with the most relevant criminal in town comes with surprisingly many benefits. And, as you have just learned, the occasional trouble.

"Hey, uh...Remember that guy who kept getting flirty with you?" he probes sheepishly over the phone.

"...Yeah?"

"I might've killed him and his whole family. Can you take care of it? There's some surveillance files you should also delete."

You sigh, parking the car at the given address and twisting the keys. Somehow, being the cause of the disaster you're about to encounter makes it particularly grim.

Dear God. The stench of the dried-up blood and viscera is burning your nostrils. You pass by the unfortunate wife, suspended over the balcony rail with multiple bullet holes in her back.

You follow the deep crimson trails all the way to the basement. There's your guy. The same man who smirked down at you, insisting that you drop your attitude and give him your number, is now lying cold and stiff in a chair, hands held in place by kitchen knives. You wonder how his innards ended up mangled in his lap, then you notice the power drill neatly propped on the table nearby. You swallow and prepare the trash bag.

"Sorry for the extra work", your partner apologizes upon your return. "I've been thinking of a proper reward."

"If you want to discuss work details, it'll have to wait. I need to scrub the death off of me", you whine, heading towards the shower.

He blocks your path with a smirk.

"I'm not talking about money."

[Part 1] | [More Yandere Stories]

[lovebugism]

do something with king steve who secretly likes female/shy/reader

hope u like it xoxo — the one where king steve keeps his best girl a secret (shy!fem!r, secret relationship, fluff, 1.2k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

“Boo!”

You jump when a figure appears suddenly behind the door of your opened locker. They’re wearing bell bottoms and a sparkly clip in their strawberry curls. Carol Perkins giggles when her attempts to scare you work. Tommy Hagan follows just behind her, laughing louder until his freckled face scrunches together.

The only reassuring thing about seeing both of them together is knowing Steve isn’t too far behind. He’s got his tongue in his cheek, and his arms crossed over his chest, visibly unamused.  “What are you guys— three?” he scoffs, pushing the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows.

“Yeah, three inches deep in your mom,” Tommy retorts with a boyish chuckle.

Carol squints her made-up eyes at him. She deadpans, “That’s not the comeback you think it is, Hagan.”

You turn to Steve with a panicked glimmer in your eye. You’re so used to being the butt of all their jokes that being in their proximity now fills you with something close to ice-cold dread. You peer at the boy beside you with pinched-together brows, knowing he’s the only one who cares about you past cheating off your homework.

“What’s going on?” you wonder quietly, for only him to hear.

Steve grins, brows raised and eyes twinkling. “My house is gonna be empty tonight. ‘Cause, you know, my dad’s got a work conference or whatever, so… No parents. Big house—”

“A total recipe for disaster,” Tommy interjects with a laugh.

“You’re throwing a party?” you ask, voice trembling. There’s little more that scares you than crowds — well, crowds and loud music and drunk people. Parties were never your scene. Steve knows that better than anyone.

He corrects you quickly, stammering over himself because he never wants you to feel uncomfortable. “No! No, not a party. It’s gonna be lowkey. Just a— a get-together, you know? Just the four of us.”

“Ooh,” Carol croons from behind you. “So no priss?”

“Shut up, Carol,” Steve snaps.

“I’m just used to you following her around like a lost puppy, that’s all.” Carol and Tommy laugh about it together. ‘Cause that’s all they’re really good at — making stupid jokes and cackling like supervillains.

Steve rolls his eyes with an annoyed huff and turns his attention back to you. You take it from him wholly, every ounce of his focus. 

There was something ethereal in your vagueness — in how softly you spoke and how pretty you looked when you weren’t even trying. You’re quiet and mysterious and hidden. Steve desperately wants to be the one that deciphers you.

“Are you in?” he asks in a low, honeyed tone.

Your gaze falls to the tile. “I don’t know…” you murmur.

“C’mon,” he croons and steps closer to you. His sneakers enter your vision until you look up at him again, peering at him from beneath your lashes. His grin is pink and pretty and lopsided. “Don’t leave me with these assholes all night.”

“Dick,” you hear Tommy scoff from behind you. He sounds much further away than that ‘cause all you can see now is Steve. And his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his stupid pretty smile.

You cave instantly. 

You never really stood a chance, anyway. Not with the way he was looking at you.

“I’ll think about it,” you mumble and turn back to your locker. You switch your English textbook for a History one and cradle it in your arms. Steve grins, knowing he’s forgotten his on purpose just so he could sit next to you all period.

“Good,” the boy hums.

“We’re finally wearing Wallflower down,” Carol muses, giggling to herself.

Tommy knocks you too hard on the shoulder. “You’ll be one of us in no time,” he grins.

You grimace as they walk off down the hall. That’s the last thing you’ve ever wanted. The thought of there being an ounce of similarities between you and them makes your stomach ache.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Steve tells you, smiling quietly when you nod. 

He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and passes you a folded-up piece of paper. He doesn’t look back at you when he follows his friends down the corridor. You don’t open it until he’s gone.

West wing chem lab, he’s written in chicken scratch. Come find me. 

—————

The hallway at the west end of the school is dim and empty. The floors are untouched, and the lockers are sparingly opened. The air is thick and noticeably stale. You open the door to the old chemistry room with a high-pitched squeak that sounds like something out of a horror movie.

Steve waits for you in the dark classroom, lit only by the natural sunlight streaming in through translucent curtains. He sits at a table in front of the window and toys with the burner at the end of it. He turns the thin blue flame on and off and on again, silently wishing he’d plucked a cigarette from Tommy before he left.

His honey eyes flit to yours when you walk into the room. He grins at the soft smirk on your bitten lips. “What’s that look for, huh?” he teases, turning off the burner and sliding off the desk.

You shrug. “Nothin’…”

“I missed you.”

You scoff when he wraps his arms around you. His wide palms smooth over your back. “You just saw me.”

“It doesn’t count when I’m with Tommy and Carol. I need you all to myself…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs lowly, ducking down to kiss you. His plush lips lock with yours, tasting of nicotine and chewing gum — a near-lethal concoction. He smiles against your mouth when you melt further into him. He parts from you with a gentle smack.

“They’re starting to like me, I think,” you mumble, smoothing your hands over his chest. “Tommy and Carol.”

“I think so, too.”

“It’s awful.”

“Absolutely disgusting,” he concurs, grinning wide when you giggle.

“But, you know, maybe we wouldn’t have to hide anymore,” you stammer, gaze falling when it becomes too hard to hold his. “If they don’t think I’m, like, the lamest person on the planet.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, that’s why you don’t want them to know about us, right? ‘Cause you’re King Steve, and I’m… fish bait,” you conclude with a forced laugh.

“No,” he answers instantly. “What? No. That’s not— That’s not why.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want them to know about us because they’re assholes,” Steve confesses. “I mean, they were awful to Nancy when we were together. ‘Cause they’re miserable, and they hate when other people are actually nice. I just don’t want them to… ruin anything, that’s all…”

You muss with a rogue thread at the neckline of his sweater and smile quietly to yourself. “I thought you were scared because you accidentally fell in love with the Wallflower instead of the Prom Queen.”

Steve scoffs. “I didn’t accidentally fall in love with you, first of all.”

“No?” you murmur, brow quirking in disbelief. 

“No, it was very intentional.”

“I don’t believe that,” you argue with a lighthearted chuckle. You think it’s easier than saying, I don’t believe you because there’s no way you love someone like me because you want to.

Steve’s palms squeeze your sides reassuringly, like he can hear all the mean thoughts swirling in your head. “Well, you didn’t make it any easier on me,” he tells you, a crooked smile tugging at his pink lips. “You started talkin’ all smart in Ms. Click’s class, and I started melting.”

“That’s when you knew you liked me?” you scoff. “After I gave a presentation about geopolitical tensions in China?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, licking his lips with heavy eyelids. “See what I mean? That’s hot.”

“God, you’re such a boy.”

[bianquitasunderworld]

dave lizewski smut plsss i love nerdy dick 😭😭🙏

Parings: Dave Lizewski x Reader

Warnings: Smut

A/N: I love nerdy dick too twin, you so real for this omg😭‼️ (omg y’all i didn’t expect myself to make this kind of romantic sorry y’all i’ll write something crazy next time, this is long as hell ‼️)

How did this happen? How did Dave end up with the woman he thought was the hottest girl on earth, on top of him straddling his hips?

It all started when Dave decided to invite his girlfriend over to study. She definitely did not want to study—how could she, when all she could think about was how hot he looked while he rambled on about some silly, boring, and excessively long economic questions for class.

Truth be told, she didn’t care much about anything he was saying at the moment. Although that might sound rude, she didn’t care one bit. Her boyfriend sat at the edge of his bed, rambling, and he looked absolutely perfect. His glasses were set perfectly in place on his face, and the way the tip of his tongue stuck out as he delved deep into thought about his stupid economics homework—how could she possibly focus?

Dave was completely oblivious to her ogling. He wasn’t aware that she was practically salivating just from looking at him, he was oblivious to all the impure thoughts running through his girlfriends head, he was so focused on finishing his assignments he didn’t realize just how needy his girlfriend was.

Although Dave and you were in a very serious relationship you’ve never discussed sex it was uncharted territory for both of you. Dave was too shy and embarrassed because he was still a virgin it was a sensitive topic for him. Everyone is aware he isn’t the most popular guy at school.

You on the other hand were scared you’d send him running for the hills if you tried to suggest sex, It’s not like you both never did anything well…the furthest you’ve gotten with each other was making out and grinding against each other, and the ending result was always the same: Dave blushing, covering his lap with a pillow while he sat at his desk chair, and diverting into discussions about random comics and superhero references as if you didn’t just have your tongue in his mouth.

You kept eyeing Dave and biting your lip the thoughts running through your head were pure sin, you were convinced if Dave knew about them he would be a stuttering and blushing disaster. You didn’t think your staring was obvious until Dave suddenly redirected his attention from his five-minute monologue about consumerism, catching you in the act.

He looked back at you from his spot on the bed as he cleared his throat and spoke softly. “Are you okay? Is um something wrong?” God he was so sweet and caring he was oblivious to the fact that all you wanted to do was have him whimpering and groaning beneath you, your desires were consuming your mind. You always wondered what he would sound like when he was overwhelmed with pleasure. You’d caught a glimpse of it once, and since then, your thirst for more was like that of a desert traveler yearning for a drop of water.

“Yeah-Mhm everything’s fine sorry my mind was somewhere else for a second” you smiled at him trying to sound as if you weren’t seconds away from jumping on him. He smiled and adjusted his glasses before he nodded and turned his attention back to his paper.

You couldn’t stand it the last straw was when he bit his bottom lip in concentration you couldn’t stop yourself you swiped his paper off the table, the rustling sound breaking the spell between you. You set it down with a bit more force than intended, a bold move that marked your intentions.

Leaning in, you placed a hand on his cheek and pressed your lips to his, a surge of unspoken desires finally finding expression. His initial surprise melted away, replaced by a hunger that mirrored your own. In that stolen kiss, the air crackled with a mix of passion and anticipation, as if the world outside had faded, leaving just the two of you suspended in that breathtaking moment.

And there it was, the culmination of all those unspoken desires, manifesting in the reality of the moment. Dave found himself reclined against the headboard, a sensation of both exhilaration and disbelief coursing through him. You straddled him, your legs encasing his body, intimacy that had been a distant fantasy until now. His glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, which had turned a deep shade of crimson. The flush of his cheeks mirrored the intensity of the moment, a testament to the shared vulnerability and passion.

Your gaze trailed down, drinking in the sight of his bare chest pressed against you, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath a captivating dance. The tousled strands of his hair cradled his head against the pillow like a crown, accentuating his allure.

His eyes held a mix of emotions as they lingered on your chest, a blend of curiosity and desire. The gravity of the moment weighed on the air, punctuated by his words, “Are you sure about this?” Your fingers, tender as a whisper, glided across his cheek, a gesture of reassurance and care. Leaning down, you captured his lips in a soft, lingering kiss, your intention clear—to grant him the choice to halt if his comfort wavered.

You sought to convey through touch what words might not fully express. His gaze held yours, a reservoir of affection and trust that spoke volumes. With a glance saturated in love, he nodded, affirming his readiness to explore uncharted realms with you.

He looked down between both your bodies, you were hovering over him, he bit his lip. Dave whined out a small, broken “please.” You closed your eyes savoring the way he spoken his plead was music to your ears.

You slowly sank down on to him, your mouth let out a small gasp at the feeling as he let out a deep groan, he felt the way you clamped down against him, the way he stretched you open had you groaning. You leaned down to kiss him gently, and gave yourselves time to adjust to the new sensation. Dave was girthy and long, he was bigger than anyone you’ve ever had, this felt different from all the times you’ve had sex this, this was love. You could feel the love radiating off of him as he kissed you and groaned into the passionate kiss.

Once you both adjusted, Dave gripped your hips and bucked his hips into you, his thrust were slow and deep, the noises of skin against each other and pleasurable moans filled the room. “Y-you’re so beautiful” Dave muttered and he looked into your eyes. “You’re so pretty davie” You couldn’t help but cry out as you reached down to play with yourself rubbing small gentle circles on your clit and slowly grinding down against him.

He whimpered and you felt his arms wrap around you, holding you in place. You could feel the tension in his body, the excitement building as he felt you against his body. You leaned down to kiss him gently, your lips meeting his in a gentle, tender embrace. You were addicted to the feeling of him inside you, the way he held you, the way he moaned your name. The pressure was building and you knew that you were about to cum you were trying to hold off trying to make this last for as long as you could. “Dave-I’m gonna cum--“ You cried out.

“I-f-fuck” Dave stuttered out as he felt you squeeze around him as you reached your climax, your body shaking with the intensity of the orgasm. Dave was groaning deep in his throat, his hips moving up and down as he came as well. You felt like you were one, a single unit, moving together in a synchronized dance of pleasure as he came deep in you.

Dave whimpered as you rode out your high against him, he felt himself growing overstimulated, he reached for your hips and kept a firm hold on you to keep you from moving, his body was shaking and sweat dripped from his forehead.

“I love you,” you murmured, your voice laced with affection.

“I love you too, baby,” Dave replied, a tender smile on his lips. With a gentle motion, he lifted himself and drew you in for a sweet, lingering kiss.

Releasing yourself from the embrace, you let out a soft sigh of contentment as you reclined against the bed, Dave at your side. He seemed to shift, a hint of nervousness tainting his usual bashful demeanor. “So, uh, how did I do? Was it okay?” His cheeks flushed a shade of crimson that rivaled a tomato’s hue.

“You were amazing.”

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,�� he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

[naomiarai]

↳ 𝖬𝗈𝗋𝖾 — [𝙿. 𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚗]

╔═.✾. ════╗

➤ you persuade your boyfriend, telling him you could take more.

╚════.✾. ═╝

➤ PAIRING — sunghoon × fem!reader

➤ GENRE — smut, pwp

➤ WARNINGS — dom! sunghoon, sub! reader, pet names (baby, pretty, angel), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, dacrphyllia, ass slapping (like once), kissing, overstimulation.

➤ WC — 0.6k

➤ AUTHOR — reblogs and feedback appreciated!

➤ [ enha masterlist ] [ taglist ]

“Come on baby, just one more” Sunghoon coaxes you, stern grip on your ass. You can’t even recall how many times you’ve came; orgasm washing upon you so fast and immediately pushed to run the next one.

You’ve heard him repeat the same words over and over to you, promising you it’ll be the last one, but the way his fingers pump out of your wet and overly messy cunt from behind says otherwise. Burying your head into the sheets, your hips jerk up shakily, ass jiggling as you feel his fingers never leave your pussy, only sliding out to push your cum back in.

”Sung— please! nngh, can’t take no m..more” you beg, voice muffled into the sheets. It’s all hazy for you, you feel like you’re floating; eyes rolling back so often you lose control over your senses. But you promised him you could take more. You were always sensitive, ending up tired at just one orgasm, so your ever so sweet boyfriend never went over your low limit.

He was gentle with you each time you had sex, fucking into you slowly till you came just once. You’d pestered him, telling him so pleadingly that you could it more than just once, and to just let you have a chance.

“You sure, pretty? Think you can so it more than just once?” he questions you, hands rubbing the sides of your hips soothingly.

“I swear I can! I’ll do it as many times as you want” you reassure him with a confident voice.

And now, here you were, with your ass covered in lots of sticky white and tears streaming down your face, trapped in the bed sheets. Sunghoon’s eyes are completely focused on how your cunt engulfes his fingers covering them in pretty mess. He chuckles at the little sniffles you make as he gradually slows down, giving you a chance to regain your composure.

“You can do it, pretty c’mon” he says, leaning over behind you to kiss your cheek. He’s back to his original pace, wet squelching noises fogging up your mind again, placing you in pure bliss again. You whimper as you lift your head from the sheets, mounting yourself on your elbows as your mouth hands open, eyes dazed and rolling back once again. Sunghoon spreads one of your cheeks with his other hands, watching cum drip out of your swollen folds till he’s spreading it all over again.

His fingers are deep, so so deep, it’s having your thighs shake uncontrollably. He only slaps your ass lightly to make you stay still, because he’s fixed on your little promise, because they’re your words, not his.

You’re almost there, he can sense it, the way you tighten around his three fingers deep inside you. You chatter and shout; his fingers moving quicker and quicker inside you, your walls craving release. “fuckfuck, gonna c-cum, please” you cry out loudly as you squirt all over his fingers. It all rushes past you in an instant, your eyes wide and red from tears, the lower part of your body a sticky, wet disaster as you collapse back onto the sheets.

Sunghoon thinks he hasn't witnessed anything more beautiful, you fucking squirted. He looks after you, embracing your exhausted body as he plants a kiss on your cheek.

“You just squirted, baby,”he exclaims playfully, poking your cheek. You grin at him, surprised by your own abilities.

"I never thought I could do that," you mumble sleepily, nuzzling into his shoulder.

He simply looks at you with desperation for moment, “Well, you did angel,” he says as you turn to look back at him, anticipation in your eyes.

“Think you can let me do it again?”

[helluvapoison]

Hey hey !

Can I request a part 2 of Adam and Lucifer being romantic rivals ? Ending in a threesome maybe ? I'm dying to read an Adam x reader x Lucifer smut lmao

I'm sure they would still fight about who is pleasuring y/n better lol

Thanks ! And take this : 💐 !

three’s a crowd if you’re a coward

[i], [ii]

Adam x Reader x Lucifer (NSFW)

18+ /only beyond this point!

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• Considering you had the two of them wrapped around your finger… this was destined to happen– and there was no lying your way out of this one, you wanted it to happen too

• They didn’t need to like each other. Just you, if they wanted it to work. Lord have mercy, did they ever

• “I don’t think he’ll be a problem for me,” Lucifer chuckles then drops a kiss on the back of your hand

Adam bristles, glaring at him with a tight smile as he grabs your other hand and kisses your wrist, “Yeah? You’ll be even less of a problem for me, shorty!”

• Like it never ended, which it didn’t, the rivalry and bickering started all over again. What one said, the other would counter placing kisses higher and higher up your arms

“This is exactly what I was worried abo–out!” Your voice jumped to a squeak when one of them, your guess was Adam, bit your neck, “That’s it! Both of you sit!”

• Simultaneously, they dropped to their knees on the ground and looked up at you. Not exactly what you had in mind but not a bad look for them either. Adam seemed a tad unsure of himself in this position, glancing Lucifer who was fidgeting and deliberately avoiding facing either of you

“For fucks sake,” Adam snickered, “don’t tell me you have a boner—“

“Shut it,” You snapped at him, “I’m serious, if you guys want this to work I cannot deal with anymore fighting! And-And no biting so high!”

You didn’t particularly care about the latter one way or the other, you were merely riding this power high

“So… bite lower?” Lucifer asks eagerly, his crimson eyes the size of pinpricks

• Destined, I tell you

• Reduced to a moaning disaster, Adam stood in front of you, cradling your jaw and rocking his dick into your drooling mouth. Every time your tongue swirled around the head of his cock, his hips would stutter and he’d push your limits, earning a swat to his thigh. He’d stutter out a, “s-sorry, babe,” and force himself still

• Lucifer was fairing no better. He came in you twice already, sobbing from overstimulation. How could he not!? Kneeling over him, bouncing on his cock while he dug his claws into your hips like a lifeline. “C-Can’t. Please, fuck, I can’t,” he whined against your skin

• You had no choice but to change positions for him. You were almost disappointed Lucifer had to tap out when he slithered underneath you and pulled your down onto his face. Forked tongue deep inside you, cleaning up the mess he made had you moaning around Adam’s dick

• “Shit, ‘m gonna cum—“

Lucifer pulled away just enough to let his snarky comment be heard, “So soon?”

“Motherf-f-fucker! Fuck, fuck fuck!”

• Desperate not to let Lucifer ruin his orgasm, Adam pulled your hair, effectively tugging you closer to him and away from the other. He grunted out many more swears amongst your name, filling your mouth with his load

• Lucifer would later declare he was acting selflessly, in your best interest when he guided you back onto his tongue and drove you over the edge a final time

• Adam fixed your hair and brought you water

• Lucifer took a damp rag and cleaned you up

• They both doted on you, delivered praise in their own ways, dressing you with clothes that didn’t match. Maybe they didn’t realize they were working together but it was possible! And that made you feel much, much better about your decision

• They absolutely bickered about who made you moan louder later as you slept between them. Lucifer snuggled into your chest while Adam brought you into his, keeping an arm around your waist

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ UNO REVERSO! TAKE THIS 🍫 because you’re so sweet! enjoy!

[norrizzandpia]

bff reader x lando where they’re at a party maybs in monaco? pool party and stuff and the night gets messy but lando and reader stays out in the pool till late,and he becomes all clingy bc it’s getting cold and he likes reader 🥹 coz i’m a sucker for bff x lando aswell as cute smutty jealous lando,idk if you’ll be able to make something out of this but thank uuuu ☺️ xoxo

I love a good best friends to lovers

His (LN4)

Summary: When a fun pool party turns into a hurtful disaster, the only good thing to come from it is two confessions.

Warnings: wandering hands 😏, y/n’s ex, slightly jealous Lando, PROTECTIVE lando, the use of “whore” (not in an attractive way) language, major fluff at the end like i was blushing at my own writing

Note: I THINK I LOVE THIS ONE GUYS

To be honest, nobody told Y/n that her ex, David, was on the invite list. As she stood next to Max, him a rambling and blushing mess over Pietra - who was laughing with her friends in the cutest bikini across the way, Y/n tried to convince herself that her eyes were lying. There was no way in hell David was walking through the door to the backyard of whosever house Lando had dragged her to. There was no way in hell David was making eye contact with her, a sickening smile on his face as her presence greeted him. There was no way in hell David was walking toward her.

No way in hell.

Except, there was!

David’s hand squeezed the flesh of her arm as he grinned down at her, “Y/n! What’re you doing here?”

She blinked a few times, her fingers slightly denting the plastic of her cup as his sliminess seeped into her skin, “David! Lando brought me here. What about you?”

The problem with David was that he was always intimidated by Lando. Whether that was because Lando had a bigger build and had a few inches on him or because of the fact that Lando was more successful, she never could tell. However, all she knew was that one of the reasons they broke up was because of his continuous insecurity that controlled their fights over Lando. No matter how many times she reassured him or told him Lando was just a friend, David would never relent. In his mind, Lando and her were basically fucking on the side.

His eyes turned a darker shade, “Lando’s here?”

She nodded, “Yes, he got invited and had a plus one.”

David scoffed, “Oh, and you’re the plus one, I suppose.”

“Yes, she is.” Lando’s voice interrupted the conversation. His body stuck to Y/n’s side like glue, his hand around her waist, as he stared the man down. Another problem with their previous relationship - Lando and David hated each other. At first, Lando had kept an open mind to his best friend’s boyfriend, albeit he was a little standoffish, but the moment Y/n started to show up at his door - sobbing - in the middle of the night because of some bullshit David had said during a fight, Lando was immediately turned off.

Lando was always protective over the people he loved, attentive and caring to its fullest potential. But, with Y/n, there had always been an inherent need to be there for her through everything from the moment he met her. The way he was with her stood out among the rest. They could try and explain the deep connection away with certain things they shared in common, they had tried, but everybody knew.

David’s chest puffed up higher, not enough to scare Lando though, “Lando.”

Each syllable drenched in a need to exert dominance, David’s words made the McLaren Driver glance down at the girl tucked under his arm. His eyes, the ones she could always read, asked for her to trust him. She always would. She smiled back at him.

With the reassurance, Lando’s hand came to rest dangerously low on her back, “Is there anything more you need to say to my girlfriend?”

She did trust him, just didn’t expect that to come out of his mouth. Her fingers almost ripped through the cup in her hands as her firm hold continued.

David’s eyes bulged, “Girlfriend?!”

From some place deep within herself, one she had never met before, Y/n nodded feverishly, “Yeah, we got together a few months ago.”

Lando’s body leaned into her and it all began to feel… comfortable. They would never address it, but there was always some sort of unspeakable tension between them that made hangouts and interactions a bit intense and awkward, too much for people who were supposed to be the closest of friends. For once, as their hands were allowed to sit nicely on places they had been too aware of every time they touched each other, that sense of heightened uncertainty was completely gone.

Replaced was warm palms.

A soft smile plastered on Lando’s face was quickly gone the moment David laughed, “Oh, I saw this coming for ages.” His gaze, dangerous and angry, shifted to Y/n and Lando almost moved his entire body in front of her. Honestly, he wished he had as David mumbled in her direction, “Whore.”

Max, sipping on his drink off to the side, choked as he watched Lando’s entire body tense up. His arm, that was once wrapped around his “girlfriend”, very quickly came to clutch the man’s shirt, shoving him harshly.

“What’d you say?!” Lando said, right in his face as Pietra came to pull Y/n away. The two girls held hands tightly as the entire party’s attention was turned toward the spectacle that was Y/n’s ex-boyfriend and her speculated new one.

David’s face went pale, “Nothing.”

Lando pushed him away once more, slapping his chest harshly before pointing a finger in his face, “Say that about her again and I will make your life a living hell, I swear to God.”

David coughed out an apology to which Lando spit on his shoes and said, “Say it to her not me, dick.”

Her eyes caught his as he stuttered it out, pure fear etched into them - something she had never seen before. He was always eager to make her feel scared during an argument. It was weird to see him in the same position he had put her in multiple times before.

When he stumbled away, out the same door he had come from twenty minutes before, Lando stopped being concerned with the cameras around him, waltzing right up to his Y/n and holding her head in his hands. He whispered, “You good?”

She nodded, leaning into his hands as he began to lead her into the house. She knew it was his friend’s house, but she didn’t expect for him to know the complete layout of it when he brought her to the kitchen so effortlessly.

She looked around, “I’m not hungry.”

He nodded, shrugged, “I know, but I thought we could hide out in here while everyone filters out.”

Her head peeked around the corner and, sure enough, the guests who were once lingering around the pool in the back were now scurrying through the door.

Lando chuckled, “Guess David’s a downer.”

—

An hour later, dinner ingested and everybody gone, Y/n found herself back in the backyard. Her body laid against the concrete of the pool as she stared at the place where David had been, calling her names, an hour and a half before. It hurt to think about, wonder if that’s what he had genuinely thought of her throughout their relationship. Nobody knew that it all got to her, the comments under Lando’s posts about her being something entertaining for him and the others on Twitter talking about the same things David had muttered before, but it did. No matter how much she tried to make it seem as though she knew those claims were ridiculous, a part of her did, she had gradually begun to internalize it all, creating a deep sore spot.

Nobody knew.

Well, except for him.

Lando’s footsteps pattered against the cold ground before they begun splashing around as he submerged himself in the water. She turned around to see him, one arm hanging on to the edge of the pool while the other wadded in the water. He smiled at her as he begun swimming toward her, coming to rest skin-to-skin right next to her.

He looked on at the spot she was so infatuated with before whispering, “You know what he said was completely wrong, right?”

All she could do was nod, her voice would not be convincing. She knew that. Lando knew that and that’s why his arm creeped around her torso, holding her close.

His mouth was right next to her ear, “It’s not true, Y/n.”

There was a deep sincerity in his words that hit her heart hard, prompting her fingers to trail up his arm before clutching his shoulder. Her head turned, their faces inches apart, and she smiled, “Thank you.”

His body fell further into the water as he let go of the edge, pulling her flush against him right after. He was gentle in his touches as he guided her legs to wrap around him, continuing to hold her waist as her arms wrapped around his neck. A dark, starry sky above them illuminated the twinkle in Lando’s eye. One Y/n found hard to explain away.

He pushed the wet hair out of her face, “He didn’t know what he had.”

Her fingers traced and memorized the sharpness of his cheekbones, “Are you saying you do?”

Her question, however bold, opened their friendship up. For once, one of them was giving the other the opportunity to confess whatever had manifested throughout the time they’d spent together.

She could see it in his eyes, the hesitation and fear in moving into that space with her. Sure, they had been uncomfortable together before, but this was different. This was an opening for something that could make or break them.

This was life or death to Lando.

Though, by the way she smiled at him, he knew he would be stupid, wrong her like David had, if he continued to sweep it all under the rug, “Yes.”

Her hands stopped moving about his face, instead cradling it, “What does that mean, Lan?”

Her question made his heart stop, the moment it all came down to, “Y/n, I hated seeing you with him. I hated seeing you with all of them. I couldn’t stand to see you hanging onto someone else’s arm. It made my skin crawl. And, today, when I got to be the guy that had you under his arm, especially when I got to look your satanic ex-boyfriend in the eye and tell him you were mine, nothing felt better than that. I’ve always known what I had when it came to you. I just wish you would let me show that.”

Her hands tangled in his hair as he continued to hold her, his feet stabilizing them as he stood in the pool. She exhaled a breath, took a moment to think, before leaning closer, “I never said you couldn’t.”

Even in the cold of the night, his face warmed with a tinge of redness. He squeezed her lightly, allowing a moment of silence to pass as they looked at each other before whispering back, “It’s chilly out here.”

Her giggling warmed his body, “Lan, what does that have to do with any of this?”

His hand moved delicately up her back before resting on the nape of her neck, pulling her lips closer, “I’m thinking a kiss or two might warm us up.”

She smiled again and her thumb rubbed against his jawline, “Oh, I got it. I love that idea.”

Max and Pietra watched from the living room, hearing Lando laugh before the two were kissing in the soft light of the backyard. The couple rejoiced on the couch, jumping and down with no regard for Max and Lando’s friend yelling at them to get down. However, once he looked to see what they were screaming about, he joined them too. It felt like everyone had been waiting for this moment. The moment when Y/n and Lando realized that their friendship was never just that and the love they had for each other was never just love. It was something completely indescribable, but as long as the whispers of love they shared between kisses in that pool continued, that would feel like enough.

It sure as hell was more than enough for the smiling, blushing idiot of a Brit who was kicking himself for not telling his Y/n just how much of his she really had been all along.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Can you write something where the reader takes care of Logan, like after a mission or he's simply in a bad mood so the reader cooks his favorite meal, they shower together (nothing smutty just intimacy) and then cuddles running their fingers through his hair and on his back, pretty pls?🙏

The mission had been a disaster from the start. A simple recon turned into a firefight, and things went downhill fast. Logan wasn’t one for following orders to the letter—he’d always trusted his instincts more than any plan. But this time, those instincts had led to a mess. The team had barely made it out in one piece, and when they did, the anger was palpable.

Scott had been the first to start shouting, his face flushed with frustration. “What the hell were you thinking, Logan? You were supposed to wait for my signal! We could’ve all been killed because of you!”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his temper simmering just below the surface. He hated being called out like this, especially when he knew he was right. But he also knew when to pick his battles, and right now, he was too damn tired to fight back.

The others chimed in, their voices blending into a cacophony of frustration and anger. Logan took it all in stride, his expression darkening with each word, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white.

By the time he reached his room, he was seething. He slammed the door shut, locking it behind him with a sharp twist of the bolt. The quiet of the room did little to soothe the storm brewing inside him. He paced back and forth, the adrenaline from the mission still coursing through his veins. His hands itched to hit something, anything, but he knew better. Breaking things wouldn’t help—not this time.

After what felt like hours, he finally collapsed onto the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. The anger was still there, but it was mixed with frustration and a deep sense of weariness that had nothing to do with the mission. He was tired—tired of the fighting, the endless missions, the constant struggle to keep his demons at bay.

But before he could let the darkness swallow him whole, there was a soft knock at the door. He didn’t respond at first, hoping whoever it was would get the hint and leave him the hell alone. But the knock came again, this time a little more insistent.

With a heavy sigh, Logan pushed himself up and unlocked the door. He half-expected to see Scott or one of the others, ready to continue the argument, but instead, it was you. You stood there, holding a tray with a steaming plate of his favorite meal—steak, cooked just the way he liked it, with a side of mashed potatoes and a cold beer.

Your expression was soft, understanding in your eyes as you took in the tension still radiating off him. “I figured you could use a little something to eat,” you said quietly, holding out the tray.

Logan stared at you for a moment, the anger in him ebbing away slightly at the sight of you. He hadn’t expected anyone to reach out, especially not after how things had gone on the mission. But you were here, offering him a small comfort in the form of a hot meal, and it was enough to take the edge off the worst of his frustration.

Wordlessly, he took the tray from you and stepped aside, letting you into his room. You followed him in, closing the door gently behind you, and watched as he sat down at the small table in the corner of the room, his movements stiff with lingering anger.

He ate in silence, but you stayed close, your presence a quiet reassurance that he wasn’t alone. The tension in the room slowly eased as he worked through the meal, the familiar taste of the food grounding him in a way nothing else could. By the time he finished, some of the storm in his chest had subsided, leaving him feeling more exhausted than anything else.

Logan set the tray aside and glanced at you, his expression still dark but softened by a flicker of gratitude. “Thanks,” he muttered, the word rough but sincere.

You smiled gently, stepping closer to him. “You’ve had a rough day,” you said softly. “How about we get you cleaned up?”

He didn’t argue, just nodded, and allowed you to lead him to the bathroom. The room was warm, steam already curling up from the shower you’d started for him. Logan stood there for a moment, his shoulders slumped, and you could see just how tired he really was—how much the weight of the mission, of everything, was bearing down on him.

You stepped behind him, your fingers working at the buttons of his shirt, gently peeling it off his broad shoulders. The tension in his muscles was palpable, his body coiled tight from the stress of the day. Once his shirt was off, you helped him out of his pants, leaving him standing there in just his boxers.

Logan’s breath hitched as your hands moved to his back, massaging the knots in his muscles with firm, soothing strokes. He let out a low, relieved groan as your fingers worked out the tension, his head dropping forward as he let himself relax, if only just a little.

“Come on,” you murmured, guiding him to the shower. He stepped in, letting the hot water cascade over his body, washing away the grime and sweat from the mission. You followed him in, the water soaking through your clothes as you pressed close to him, your hands running up and down his back in slow, comforting motions.

Logan’s breath hitched again when your fingers found the tight spots in his shoulders, kneading the tension away with practiced ease. He let out another low groan, leaning back into your touch, his head tilting to the side as he closed his eyes and let himself be taken care of.

You worked the shampoo into his hair, your fingers gentle as they massaged his scalp, working the lather through his thick, unruly hair. Logan melted under your touch, the anger and frustration from earlier finally slipping away, replaced by a deep sense of calm.

Once you’d rinsed out the shampoo, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, your cheek resting against his back as you stood there together under the warm spray. Logan’s hand found yours, his fingers lacing with yours in a rare moment of vulnerability.

When the water finally started to cool, you guided him out of the shower, wrapping him in a thick towel before toweling yourself off. Logan didn’t say much, but his eyes were softer now, the hard edges of his anger dulled by the care you’d shown him.

You led him back to the bed, pulling back the covers and guiding him to lie down. Logan hesitated for a moment, then turned, settling on his side with his back to you. It wasn’t often that he let himself be this vulnerable, but tonight, he needed it.

You slid in behind him, your body fitting perfectly against his as you draped an arm over his waist. Logan let out a soft, contented sigh as you started to rub his back in slow, soothing circles, your touch gentle and comforting.

The darkness that had been weighing on him all evening finally lifted as he let himself sink into the warmth of your embrace. He wasn’t used to being the little spoon, but with you, it felt right. Safe. Loved.

“Thank you,” Logan murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion and something else—something softer, more vulnerable.

You pressed a soft kiss to the back of his neck, your hand continuing to rub slow, gentle circles into his back. “Anytime,” you whispered, your voice filled with all the love and care you felt for him.

Logan’s breathing slowed, his body relaxing completely as he finally let go of the last of his tension. With you wrapped around him, he felt like he could finally let down his guard, if only for a little while.

And as he drifted off to sleep, the last thing he felt was your gentle touch, a quiet reminder that even in his darkest moments, he wasn’t alone.

[crappymixtape]

hang on tight, baby • part one

NAVIGATION -> PART I •  PART II •  PART III favored to win in barrel racing for the upcoming rodeo, you’re out in the corral practicing when your obnoxious neighbor, tyler owens, swings by to say hi, but when the wind picks up you both won’t have a choice but to trust each other • 18+  | ( 3.0k – TW: natural disasters, tornado, injuries • witty banter as foreplay, fluff in their own way, enemies to idiots in love, tyler owens x reader )

H A N G O N T I G H T, B A B Y • P A R T O N E 🎶 devil always made me think twice, chris stapleton

Clouds stretched overhead, lazy liked pulled taffy as the sun beat down on you in the midday heat. You’d been up since the first fingers of light had crept up over the horizon, dew still clinging to the long stalks of wheat in the early morning, but as the day spun on summer made sure to remind you what it was capable of.

That June in Oklahoma wasn’t anything to mess with.

Sweat beading across your forehead, you had half a mind to toss your hat over the corral fence but it was the only thing keeping you from getting sunburned. Pushing at your windswept hair with a gloved hand you tucked the flyaways out of your face and clicked your tongue at your horse, Tilly, to get back into position.

“C’mon, girl. One more run and then we’ll call it,” you coaxed, readjusting your grip on the saddle horn and giving her neck a pat. Tilly snorted, her hooves stamping in the dirt, anxious to take off again around the three wooden barrels dotting across your little makeshift arena. “That’s it, easy…” you murmured.

Barrel racing horses were built different, like they were brought into the world locked and loaded with a fire burning in them – they lived to ride like this. A black flash of muscle and tension set loose like a snapped rubber band and honestly? You lived for it too.

Tucking your chest tight against her mane, you knotted your fingers in the reigns, sucked in a breath and held it steady in your lungs. Three…two…one…

“Yah!” you kicked your heels to Tilly’s flanks and she took off like a gunshot. Hooves thundering across the ground, winding a tight circle around the first barrel in a blur as you ticked off the seconds in your head.

Seven, eight, nine – you rounded the second barrel – ten, eleven – you approached the third – twelve – and then you heard it. A blast of drums and twangy guitar riffs, a Chris Stapleton track followed by a loud engine backfire and it threw both you and Tilly off track.

Your booted foot smashed into the side of the last barrel and you yelped, Tilly kicking her back legs in a start with a high pitched whinny.

“Whoa, whoa–easy!” Pulling back on the reigns you soothed her, hands smoothing down her mane. Shh, s’alright girl, and she slowly calmed, cantering to a stop just at the edge of the corral where you could finally see who’d come tearing up the driveway.

Tyler Owens.

“Well hey, sweet stuff. Damn, you were lookin’ good for a minute – what happened there at the end?” he hollered out his open cab window and it made your hands ball into fists.

Brows pinched together and lips twisting into a deep scowl, you tugged at Tilly to head back to the gate, “I told you not to call me that, Owens.”

“What? Sweet stuff? What’s wrong with that?” you could hear the grin in his tone, saw him in your head without even having to look. Stupid smirk, stupid aviators, stupid toothpick and stupid belt buckle.

“I ain’t sweet,” you shot back and it pulled a chuckle out of him, a low, rough sound that put a flicker of heat between your ribs.

He cut the engine on his truck, boots shuffling in the grass as he hopped out, and the heavy slam of his door told you today just wasn’t gonna be your day.

Tyler tutted at you, teasing. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Sawyer?” and that snagged your attention.

Dismounting faster than he could blink, you were out of the saddle and marching across the corral to kick at the fence board his boot was resting on. He stumbled back at the force of it and laughed again, flicking his toothpick off into the wheel ruts of the driveway.

“Alright, alright,” he held his hands up in defense and took his sunglasses off, tongue running along his bottom lip, “Didn’t come here to get my ass kicked.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you snarked, pulling your hat off to fan at your face, “You know I’m trainin’ right now.”

“Mmhm,” he agreed, notching his foot back between the fence boards and leaning his elbows lazy on top, “But I also know it’s pushin' a hundred degrees and the humidity’s sittin’ at 50%. You been drinkin’ water?”

You swallowed, mouth dry — No — and rolled your eyes before turning to walk Tilly back to the gate, “I’m fine.”

He pushed off the fence and chased a line around the corral, hollering after you, “Betcha didn’t know I’m almost as good at chasing bullshit as I am tornados!”

You groaned, dumbass, and reached the gate with Tilly in tow, but Tyler’s hand was on the latch before you could get to it.

“So. I call bullshit,” he said again, a little out of breath and eyes stuck on the way your lips twitched against a smile. “What d'you say we go get an iced tea or something,” he opened the gate and somehow you managed to pass through without so much as a glance in his direction.

Stick to your guns.

“No, Tyler.”

“Ah, c’mon,” he insisted as you pushed past him to the stable, “You and I both know it’s too hot to be out here. So does Tilly.”

But you ignored him, walked Tilly into her stall and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew Tyler had propped himself up on the other side. Arms folded over the top of the gate and hat tipped back just a little, but you went to work anyway undoing Tilly’s bridle, moving easily down to work at the buckle on the saddle and heaved it off her back.

“Least make yourself useful,” you huffed, saddle in hand and shoving it over the gate into Tyler’s chest.

“Shit–” he grunted, fingers scrambling to grab hold of it. A frown tugged down at the corners of his mouth, but he walked the saddle to the tack room anyway and came back with a renewed sense of purpose. “C’mon, Sawyer. Just a nice cold iced tea between friends?”

Sawyer. The nickname he’d gifted you when you’d moved in next door, a nod to your home town – Sawyer, Oklahoma. The home you’d left. The one you tried to forget. The place that held too many memories, too much hurt, and made your chest ache every time you thought about it.

You stopped brushing Tilly and let her get after a much needed drink of water, heaving a sigh from your lungs. It was cooler in the stable and without the sun beating down on you, you didn’t need your button down anymore. Fingers moving to undo the damp, long-sleeved, shirt clinging to your skin, it sighed with relief as the fabric shifted to let the breeze sweep over you.

“Tyler. I need to focus on training,” you grumbled glancing up at him, but it was mistake.

Without his sunglasses, you could see him tracking the movement of your hands. The buttons as they slipped through the loops one at a time. The heady mix of your sweat and shampoo a sweet scent lingering in the air between you and it made you feel dizzy. Made you want something you knew you shouldn’t have. Tyler knew it too as he swallowed thick, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, jaw ticking as he bit down on the feeling flickering in his chest.

“Promise I won’t ask you again if you still hate me in an hour,” he said, tone a little strangled, and your lips betrayed you, the corner of your mouth tugging up in the world’s tiniest smile.

“Honest?” you challenged, quirking a skeptical brow and he winked.

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” he traced his fingers over his chest and you swore right then and there you’d be the one to kill him if he put even one toe out of line.

❝ THE MINUTE THAT I SAW YOU WALKIN’ OVER, I FIGURED I WAS DIGGIN’ MY GRAVE. AND YOU HAD THE SHOVEL, I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE, BUT YOU’RE JUST THE KIND OF TROUBLE I CRAVE. ❞

Your property was a few miles out of town, a small farmhouse with an old horse stable on seventy-eight acres you rented to the Calhoun brothers for their fescue. It was a lot of work. The house badly needed updating, but it was all you could afford with your winnings from nationals last year and in the end, it didn’t matter – if you hadn't gotten a fresh start you’d have suffocated.

So, a little over a year ago when you’d pulled up the dirt drive in your red Ford pickup, Tilly’s trailer in tow, you felt like you could breathe again. Felt like this little patch of earth there on the outskirts of Tulsa was just what you needed, but when you started hauling boxes out of the truck bed you heard the one thing you didn’t need coming up the road.

Your neighbor.

Tyler Owens.

Renowned twister chaser and resident hot air balloon with an ass that could make even the most beat up pair of Wranglers look good. You knew before he even opened his mouth that he was trouble, but he was easy on the eyes and – surprisingly – pretty helpful.

When your roof sprung a leak during a particularly bad downpour he came over. Climbed up the ladder with a hammer and nails hanging off the tool belt on his hips and had it patched in twenty minutes.

When your chickens got loose and took off into the Calhoun’s fescue he and his horse Banjo helped corral them back up and into the coop before they did too much damage to the crops.

And when he’d found you at the Tin Bucket last year, too many drinks deep after losing at the Fourth of July rodeo, he drove you home. Held your hair out of your face while you puked and cried and spilled your guts to him in a muddled mess and didn’t say anything after. Kept your secrets just that, secret.

“Still with me, Sawyer?”

Tyler’s voice cut into your thoughts and you blinked over at him from the other side of the truck bench.

“What?”

“You’re not here,” he chuckled, brows pinched with just the smallest bit of worry. “You’re somewhere else.”

“Oh,” you felt your cheeks grow hot and tossed your gaze out your window, “Just thinkin’ about Friday. Adeline Stout got a 13:20 last weekend, I gotta beat that to qualify for nationals.”

“Hm,” he hummed, thumbs tapping on the steering wheel, “Seems like you had it earlier.”

“Yeah, ’til you drove up.”

Tyler huffed a laugh under his breath and clicked his tongue, “Sorry. Should’a called first.”

Silence settled in the cab and the air between you buzzed, felt like static, charged and pulling taut with something loaded until the truck bumped over the curb of the parking lot and shattered it in an instant.

You couldn’t jump out of his rig fast enough and didn’t wait for him as you cut a path over the asphalt and into the dingy little diner, the bell overhead tinkling happily.

“Howdy, sugar!” Dot greeted you with her big, friendly smile, cowboy hats dangling from her earrings as she gave the man at the counter a refill on his coffee.

“Hey, Dot,” you couldn’t help smiling back, the bell on the door jingling again letting you know Tyler had finally caught up.

“Dottie, you are lookin’ fine as ever,” Tyler grinned, smooth like butter and the older woman chuckled, hand on her hip as she watched him pick out a booth.

“And you’re lucky I’m pushin’ seventy,” she teased back with a wink.

“Age is just a number!” Tyler played along and you rolled your eyes.

“We’ll take a couple iced teas, please,” you cut in, Dottie giving you a knowing smile and it made your cheeks flush again.

“And fries,” Tyler added, sliding into a booth by the window and you followed suit, sitting across from him on the glittering red plastic of the seat.

“You got it, hoss,” Dot nodded, hollering the order back over her shoulder to the kitchen and pouring two big glasses of her famous sweet iced tea.

Picking at the peeling vinyl table top, your knee bounced, a silent protest at having to be still for a minute.

You always made sure to keep yourself busy. To keep your mind from wandering off back home and everything that came with it, and sitting across from Tyler Owens at the quiet little diner while Dolly Parton sang overhead about working nine to five wasn’t doing you any favors.

“So,” Tyler started, dragging out the ‘o’ and lifting his brows at you, “How’re the girls?”

The girls. The chickens.

You deadpanned him and shook your head, propped your chin in your hand with your elbow on the table.

“They’re fine.”

“Good, good. And the Calhouns?”

“Also fine,” you shot him a look, a side-eye glance, but he only smiled.

“And did you get your boots worked in for Friday?”

“Tyler,” you firmed, turning finally to look at him straight on and his smile faded.

“What?”

“All this–this small talk and being chummy and whatever, it’s just–”

“Just what?” he asked, leaning forward on the table toward you and your heart stuttered in your chest.

“What’s your game?” you leveled, meeting his gaze despite the way he had your pulse fluttering against your neck and his lips curved up.

“No game. Just bein’ a good neighbor.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and leaned forward just a little more. “Thought you said you were good at chasin’ bullshit,” you pushed and he burned, a flush of red from the collar of his white t-shirt all the way up to his cheeks.

“Alright, two iced teas and some fries. You need anything else, peaches?” Dot cut right between the two of you with a couple of glasses and a red plastic basket piled high with shoestring french fries.

“Thank you, thank you,” Tyler recovered, thankful for the out and took the basket from Dot. “Think that’ll do it for now.”

“Mmhm,” Dot murmured, clicking her long pink nails on the table top. “You two be good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” fell out of Tyler’s mouth automatically as she left you it.

You picked up a bottle of ketchup and squeezed some into the corner of the basket, swirling a fry around in it and lifting it to your lips to take a bite. Maybe you should be nicer to Tyler, should give him a chance, the benefit of the doubt, but you weren’t about to be made a fool again. Weren’t ready to put your walls down yet even if he was mostly sweet and only a little sour – the fun kind – but maybe it wasn’t fair.

“Gonna be outta town on Tuesday,” Tyler started, looking over at you through the long sweep of his lashes, green eyes meeting yours across the table. “In case you punch a hole through your wall or something.”

“Ha, ha. Should do stand up.”

He grinned. “You wanna come with me?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“With you?”

“Yeah, I gotta go pick up a case of rockets for our next video series.”

You scoffed, half-laugh half-nerves, but didn’t say no and his grin widened, eyes narrowed and almost closed with the way he was smiling so big.

“Pick you up at six,” he grabbed a bunch of fries and shoved them into his mouth, “Includes complimentary coffee.”

And something in you melted with the way he was looking at you. The way you could hear the tease in his tone softening and shifting more sincere and you cracked and finally gave him a real, honest-to-god smile.

“Fine,” you surrendered as he slapped a hand on the table and made you jump.

“Hell yeah,” he buzzed and you laughed, dropping your gaze to your lap so he couldn’t see you blushing.

“Keep your pants on,” you chided and the laugh that pushed from his lungs was hard enough to made his head tip back on the seat, but then you felt a buzz in your pocket.

You weren’t expecting a call.

Then Tyler’s buzzed on the table top.

And Dot’s from back behind the counter.

And the farmer’s at the booth behind you and when the siren sounded from down the street your stomach dropped.

“Shit,” Tyler breathed.

Jolting up from the table he pressed a hand to the window and looked out across the plains stretching out ahead of you. Cotton candy clouds turned dark and heavy, curling in on themselves and tinged in an eerie yellow and when he finally turned to look back at you, the feeling in your stomach twisted into something more ominous.

A storm was coming.

[ NOTE -> THIS IS PART 1 OF A 3 PART SERIES – STAY TUNED FOR THE LAST INSTALLMENT! ]

crappymixtape™ • tyler owens / twisters masterlist to come!  ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[littlexdeaths]

someone’s a little jealous…

older brother’s best friend eddie x fem reader

warnings: smut +18 only, jealous!eddie, possessive!eddie, thigh riding, praise kink, semi-public sex, also a lil sprinkle of mean!eddie bc i love him.

it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist.

“eddie, hold on—” you mewl, unintentionally grinding yourself harder onto his thigh.

eddie has you pinned between the side of your garage and his chest, purposefully out of view from the prying eyes of your brother. his lips are everywhere, pressing heavy kisses wherever he could reach.

no sliver of skin was left untouched, whether that was from his wandering hands or his lips. he wanted you to feel him all over, to imprint his touch onto your skin forever.

as if to remind you just who you really belonged to, not that you could ever forget.

once you’d said your goodbyes to steve after an incredibly unpleasant dinner, you’d planted a chaste kiss on his cheek (it’s all for the bit, right?) but eddie was beyond fuming.

he’d convinced your brother he had forgotten something back at his trailer, so he’d be gone for at least another twenty minutes. giving him plenty of time to pull you aside and have his way with you.

“what? you want your other boyfriend to come take care of you? is that it?” he grunts, pressing his denim-clad thigh harder against your cunt.

your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head, fingernails digging harder into the meat of his shoulders.

“no, i want you, ed.” you whine, feeling the way his lips turn up in a smirk against your jaw.

“is that so?” he hums, nipping at your throat. “didn’t look that way at dinner, baby. looked to me like you really wanted, stevie.”

he all but sneers the other male’s name, the possessive edge to his voice has you practically trembling in his embrace. you’d seen eddie jealous before, but this was on a whole other level.

and you can’t deny the way your cunt practically throbs in response to it.

but when you frantically shake your head and look up at him with those doe eyes, his resolve starts to slip. “it’s only you, eddie. i only want you.”

he makes a deep humming sound in the back of his throat, pressing more heated kisses along your jaw.

“think you’re gonna need to prove it to me, sweetness. prove to me that you’re my good girl.”

he leans one hand on the wall beside your head, and the other he uses to help continually guide your hips along his thigh. your body is buzzing, practically alight under his ministrations— but as good as this felt, you needed more.

“need you to fuck me,” you whimper, burying your face in the sweaty skin of his neck to press some open-mouthed kisses there.

you can feel the chuckle that vibrates against your lips, the sound further dampening your panties.

“you gotta earn that, sweetheart. show me you can come like this and then i’ll think about it.”

he can tell you’re pouting without actually seeing you, earning you another deep chuckle. but you know that’s not going to get you what you want. so when you grip onto his battle vest for leverage and use it to further dampen his jeans, he has to hold back a moan.

“that’s it baby, see you can listen, huh?” the condescension in his tone is thick, “just gotta give you proper incentive, that it?”

you can only manage a whine in response, your own thighs starting to tighten around his own once you find just the right spot. and you’re downright frantic then, hips stuttering as you chase that high. your boyfriend only encourages you, gently coaxing your face from his neck.

his eyes are dark, hungry as he greedily takes in your expressions. the way you tuck your lip between your teeth, a habit you’d formed to keep yourself quiet. and the way your lashes are fluttering, eyes threatening to close with each glide of your clit against the denim beneath your hips.

you’re utterly wrecked, and it’s all because of him.

“cum for me baby, you can do it.” he coos, leaning down to press your lips together.

that’s all it takes for you to fall apart, your body trembling in his strong embrace. he swallows your cries as he kisses you deeper, cradling your body against his own. but you barely have time to relish in the feeling as you hear the back door slam open.

you both freeze as the distinct sound of your brother’s whistling fills the evening air. eddie carefully slides his thigh out from between your own, and you allow your body to rest fully against the garage. neither of you make another move as the lid of the garbage can is flung open, barely five feet around the corner from where you both are standing.

sid makes a noise of disgust as he tosses the bag of trash into the can, and you have to cover your mouth to stifle a giggle. eddie just gives you a pointed look, as if to say, really? right now?

unbeknownst to you, your brother has guns n’roses blasting through the headset of his walkman— so there’s no way he would’ve heard you anyhow.

but your body sags in relief when you hear the back door close again, and eddie blows out the breath he’d been holding.

“jesus christ, that was way too close,” he groans.

you can’t help but giggle when you tug him back into you, nudging your nose with his as you kiss him deeply. eddie rests his hands on your hips, groaning into your mouth when your knee brushes against the bulge in his jeans.

“wait, wait, wait, sweetheart.” he almost whines, causing you to giggle again.

“you promised me, munson.”

he curses again, pulling away from you to run a hand through his tousled hair.

“trust me, i’ll make good on that promise, baby…. but later, okay?”

he gives you a look as you jut out your lower lip in a pout, to which he responds by taking it inbetween his teeth with a grunt.

“god, you’ll be the death of me. you know that?”

series taglist: @nailbatanddungeon @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts @mugloversonly @eddiemunsonfuxks

dm me if you want to join the taglist!

[eccentricwritingbaby]

fake or real? 

charles leclerc x sainz!reader

summary - y/n sainz had just broken up with her boyfriend of four years. with the tension of both ferrari drivers at each other's throats, their pr team believes it a good idea to have y/n and charles date. y/n can look like she’s moving on from her boyfriend and save her company, charles can look like he likes his teammate, ferrari can avoid any future pr disaster. everyone wins! right?

masterlist 

-

you woke up from your slumber with a pounding headache and pounding on your bedroom door. 

“Y/N! abre la puerta, es carlos,” open the door, it’s carlos

you groaned a bit and shuffled out of bed, still dressed in the clothes and heels you wore to the club last night, too drunk and tired to worry about removing it all. 

“que?” what? you squeak out, throwing your heels to a corner of your room as you open the door to face your older brother, “this better be an emergency, that’s the only reason i gave you a key to my place, pendejo,“ asshole 

“aye aye, no need for the harsh names, hermanita,” little sister you huffed and went towards your ensuite bathroom in order to clean up a little bit more as carlos continued, “i got a call today from my press officer, ferrari pr wants to speak with you, so you’re coming back with me to italy,” 

you shot him a confused and unimpressed look as your toothbrush hung from your mouth. it was like he could read your thoughts exactly with his response, “i don’t know what they want to speak to you about, just think of this as an all expense paid trip in my favor, porfa,” please

you rolled your eyes and shut the door to change clothes as your brother continued his pestering, “y/n it’s probably nothing serious, just something about you coming to more races for a family thing or something,” he shouted through the closed door. 

you opened it in a huff, all changed into some more comfortable clothes, “carlos they are your pr team, not mine. if i don’t want to pick up and go then i’m not going to. i have a job and a life here, i can’t just excuse that for your team or your boss,” 

“i know that, y/n, and i would usually support that but…” carlos shifted uncomfortably across from you and began to stare at his shoes - an obvious trait there was something hidden he needed to let go of. that he was lying. 

“but what, carlos?” your voice was sharp and direct, scaring your older brother just a bit to meet your eye and finish. 

“your company’s pr team also recommended it, it was a joint decision for this meeting. they think ever since marco-”

“do not say his name,” you spit out at carlos. he shakes his head with a deep breath in as an apology and continues on. 

“okay, lo siento,” i’m sorry carlos takes a deep breath again, “ever since a couple months ago, you’re losing the buyer’s trust since you haven’t been around. you are your brand, y/n. and you haven’t been on brand in months. you’ve just been clubbing every single night and sleeping throughout the day. your brand is about strength, and right now…” he wears off, not daring to look you in the eye in order to see your pain with his final words, “your company thinks you look, well, weak,” 

carlos looks up to meet your eyes, glossed over and a bit red at his confession. your lip shakes, leading you to bite down on it in order to gain control, “when do we leave?” is all that slips out of your mouth.

you knew the breakup had been hard on you and you weren’t exactly ‘healing’ from it correctly. you knew you had missed board meetings and pr opportunities because you felt so sick. all you kept replaying in your head was finding your boyfriend - marco - in bed with his coworker on your anniversary. it was a rough one. you had been together for what would have been four years. and now - about a month and a half later - you’re facing the consequences. you knew you couldn’t scrape by like this forever and your board members would have you in check. therefore the confession carlos made didn’t hurt as much - it was a necessary reality check for you.

-

“hi everybody, i’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here today,” the ferrari pr officer speaks into the conference room filled with you, your brother, some of your press team and charles. 

charles? you look at your brother with your eyebrows knitted and he returns the look right back, not understanding what your eyes are asking which was - what the hell is charles leclerc doing here? rolling your eyes and a light huff being released from your mouth you shake your head in the direction of charles, widening your eyes in order to get your question across. however, it falls on an idiotic brain because carlos just shrugs his shoulders and looks towards the direction of the speaker yet again. 

“there has been some obvious tension between the teammates, carlos and charles, and the fans and media are now picking up on it. we thought it would be a good idea to squash that as well as assist y/n with reintroducing her public image if charles and y/n began a relationship,” she finishes with a happy smile as if she just cured cancer while you and charles could only gape at her audacity. 

“excuse me, could i say something?” you speak up, pushing your chair out from behind you as you stand. 

you could hear a distant monegasque accent whispering a ‘please’, giving you more of a confident push with his support, “if my brand is all about strength as you said,” you gesture towards your team, “then how would me falling right into the arms of another man represent that? is female strength really about a man making me fall and another man picking me up? wouldn’t that be what makes me weak?” 

your pr officer - amanda- goes to speak up but you cut her off quickly to continue, “i don’t mean to sound bitter or arrogant but i just don’t believe that this will do what you believe it to. carlos has one year left on this team, there is no reason to keep up happy smiles with them, and as for me, i will be fine after i meet with the board in a week,” you take your seat and eye charles. he gives a light smile and a thumbs up, earning a wink from you back to him. 

amanda now stands and looks directly at you, “y/n, i don’t want to be blunt but at this point it is what you need. sponsors do not want teammates who hate each other. sponsors are dropping your brother and charles. and as for your ‘board meeting’ - they are discussing finding a new ceo if you do not clean up your act and get it together. and marco has been out and about with his new girl as you have been sloppy at clubs and pubs. so this is actually a last ditch effort. do it, or lose it all,” 

with yours and charles’ confidence now shook, he speaks up slowly and quietly, “what will we have to do?”

“y/n attends races on your arm, at least every other week. a public outing once or twice a week,” amanda keeps talking about the details, but you simply drown it out. you knew you needed a reality check but this? this was the rug being pulled out from under you. they wouldn’t take the company you built from you. and you won’t let your brother drown either. 

-

the next day, you are officially official with your ‘boyfriend’ charles leclerc. walking hand in hand through italy and getting gelato together. what a cliche, is all you can think right now, but the thumb rubbing over the back of your hand brings you out of your pessimism for a brief moment. 

“are you alright with this?” charles asks you as you continue your walk to the shop. it wasn’t a paparazzi walk, only a slight soft launch to get people to start talking. 

“i think i have to be,” you chuckle out. he laughs with you and nods his head. 

“yeah, your amanda was kind of harsh about this,”

“she usually is, that’s why i hired her, i enjoy the brutally honest,” you look up and meet his soft eyes, your stomach doing a flip you haven’t felt in years. 

“it seemed like she didn’t want to be like that with you, though,” he gently pushes you, ever so kindly to keep going, something you pick up on and yet still go along with.

“everyone’s been like that since the breakup,” you shrug off as you both walk into the gelato shop, “carlos, my parents, my friends, amanda, even the board of directors at my company. but that’s what i hate,” charles raises his eyebrows, inviting you to keep going.

“the sugar coating, being nice and talking around the problem - i’ve never liked that,” 

charles lets go of your hand quickly to order and pay as you find a table, and as he slides into the chair across from you, his hand appears in yours almost as quickly as it left. 

“i understand that, i hate it too,” he continues on from your conversation, “whenever i have a bad race, my engineers will try to justify it or make me feel better when i just need the criticism. it’s the only way i’ll get better,”

you nod along as you eat, chiming in again, “exactly, even though it hurt to hear when amanda said that to me, i wish she had told me earlier so that this wouldn’t be a last ditch effort. but no, everyone had to tiptoe around the broken-hearted girl when really i just needed a swift kick in the ass,” you laugh off and charles joins your giggles. 

“this isn’t so bad for a last ditch effort though,” he adds in.

“eh, it’s growing on me,” you both laugh again into your gelato, ignoring the phones filming you both and the whispers growing around you. 

-

it had been four months of public outings, race weekends, calculated instagram posts, and ‘dating’ charles leclerc. you two had always been friendly, but due to the time together, you’ve grown to enjoy him more than you thought you would. you’ve grown to enjoy this more than you thought you would. your fake relationship felt more real than your real one ever had. and it scared the shit out of you. 

“y/n? are you ready?” charles calls from outside the bathroom door, tapping his ring clad hand against it a few times. since people talk, amanda had suggested you share a hotel room during race weekends to not raise suspicion. since you both were adults, you slept in the same bed just fine, yet the tension was able to be cut with a knife. both you and charles could feel it, you were just waiting for the other to make the first move. tonight after media day at silverstone, charles was taking you to a nice dinner for your average fake-dating date. you wore a little black dress as charles sported a white button up and dress pants. ‘an attractive match’ as the media tended to call you both, and you didn’t complain. 

“i’m coming, char. just need a little help with my zipper,” you grunt out back to him, still attempting to zip it up on your own.

“let me in, i’ll do it for you,”

“it’s open,”

as charles opens the door, his mouth drops open for a second before he closes it, not letting you catch his eyes draping over your body in admiration. his hands ghost over your shoulders before they land on the zipper, synching you up into your attire. you spin around to face him, eyes darting between his own then down to his lips, your breath intertwining with his. 

“we’re gonna be late,” you whisper out, patting his shoulder as you squeeze around him and out of the bathroom to slip into your shoes. 

charles - still stunned by your brief moment in the bathroom - comes out of his fog with a cough to clear the air along with his throat, “you’re right, we should get going,” and with that you both head out of the room and out of the hotel. 

-

walking out of the restaurant, hand in hand, both you and charles felt so good it was decided you’d walk back to the hotel. it was only a few blocks and the cool breeze with the lack of rain was something you needed to take advantage of when in england. 

“i had a nice time with you tonight, y/n,” charles sighs, swinging your hand a bit in his. 

“i did too, char. we always have a good time,” you reply with a light laugh, continuing to swing your intertwined hands. 

“i mean it, though, like, on a different level,” he slowed down his pace in order to really speak to you, to get through to you. your eyes darted around, catching a few phones beginning to surround you. 

“kiss me,” you whisper out. charles’ eyes widen in surprise as he hadn’t noticed why you told him, taking it instead as a sign that you understood what he was trying to express to you, that he loved you. 

“are you sure, y/n? because i know it’ll get complicated and-”

“no, charles, there are people looking, just kiss me so this seems real,” you hiss towards him, beginning to pull on his shirt. charles leans in for the kiss, pushing his hurt from your words to the back of his mind in order to simply soak in any chance he can get to kiss you. 

once pulled apart, you both stay close to each other, having both felt the love that radiated through the kiss. one of you - charles - was giddy and giggle while the other - you - were scared shitless. you couldn’t fall in love again. your position at your company was just saved, your brothers sponsors back on his side, and even worse you couldn’t let yourself get hurt and fall into a hole again. you wouldn’t be that version of yourself again. 

pulling away quicker from charles, you kept your hands linked as you kept walking back towards the hotel, but he could feel your grip loosen and your feelings begin to grow cold again. 

once in the hotel room, you headed straight for the bathroom to change and get ready for bed, yet as you were closing the door - a hand came up to stop it from closing. swiftly turning around, you bumped into the chest of charles. 

“what the hell?” you ask more to yourself than to him.

“what was that tonight?”

“what do you mean?”

“the kiss, we both felt it - i know you felt it, y/n,”

“felt what, charles?”

“SOMETHING! ANYTHING!” he shouted in exasperation, making you jump from the surprise in his lifted tone. 

“i don’t know what you mean,” you grumble out, turning back to the mirror and starting to take off your jewelry. 

“y/n,” charles sighed, hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose while his eyes screwed shut, “this between us is real, it’s not fake anymore i don’t know if it ever has been,”

“we just get along, charles, we’re friends,” 

“then explain the kiss,” he pushes, hands now coming to rest on his hips, challenging you to finally admit the feelings he knows you have for him. 

“we’re both good kissers, so it felt good,” you shrug off. 

“y/n, please, you know this is real just say it,” a few beats go by after charles’ ply as you stare at each other through the mirror. you’ve halted your movements, blood rushing everywhere in your body except your brain. 

“i- i can’t charles,” you finally stutter out, his stare only intensifying. 

“why,” he pushes, “if you can’t tell me that you love me and this is real then i need to know why,”

you spin around quickly, courage taking over as you take the two steps in order to stand in front of him, “because i will not allow myself to be a mess again all due to a man,” you respond sharply. even though your tone was even, you could feel your eyes beginning to well up as you continue, “i almost lost the business i built from the ground up because some man ruined me, no one will get that power again, i won’t allow it,” you take a shaky inhale as charles’ eyes soften at your confession. 

“but, if there’s no risk, there’s no reward, y/n,” he speaks softly to you, as if an octave higher would shatter you to pieces, “and you deserve a reward,” you could feel him slowly wearing you down, his scent filling your nose and his crystal eyes taking over your vision, “let me be your reward, y/n,” 

“kiss me,” you breathe out, fading into your happiness as his lips take no time to land on yours. the sparks were flying, a magnetic pull bringing your lips together again and again. he was taking away your pain, as he’d been doing for months, and rebuilding a heart he never broke. and a heart he had vowed to never break. 

-

a/n - if you want a part two with reactions and them just being happy together and stuff let me know send in requests! i feel like i could do more with this story so just lmk how you feel <3