#how bull is nowhere near holding her hands

[thebookworm0001]

[pucksandpower]

okeyyyy!

but we need a Grid Kids that maybe y/n and seb were in an car accidente (and y/n took the worst of it) and now the roles are reversed, now they are gonna take care of them

Loving this series so much

Grid Kids: UNO Reverse Card

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the roles are reversed when disaster strikes and your grid kids make it their duty to take care of you

Series Masterlist

The rain is pouring down and the paddock is filled with the usual organized chaos accompanying a wet race. The garages are lively with the sounds of mechanics tuning engines, engineers going over data, and drivers preparing for the race.

Suddenly, a deafening silence descends as a member of the Aston Martin team rushes in, face pale and voice shaking, “There’s been an accident. It’s Sebastian and Y/N.”

The news spreads like wildfire. The paddock, usually filled with the roars of engines and excited chatter, is now eerily quiet. Your grid kids, upon hearing the news, rush to find out more details, their faces masks of concern.

A shaky video from a fan’s phone plays on loop on their screens, showing the aftermath of a devastating collision. Your car is almost unrecognizable, crushed, with the driver’s side visibly less damaged.

George, having seen the video, collapses onto a nearby chair, tears streaming down his face. “This can’t be happening,” he whispers.

Lando, usually the life of the party, stands frozen, disbelief evident in his eyes. Mick, face ashen, tries to make calls to get more information while Lance rushes to find his father to find out if the team has heard anything more.

***

Soon, details emerge that you bore the brunt of the impact and your condition is critical while Sebastian, though injured, is stable. The helicopter is already airlifting you to the nearest hospital.

As the severity of the situation sinks in, your grid kids, in an unprecedented move, gather together for an emergency meeting. The weight of the decision is clear in their eyes.

After what feels like an eternity, Charles stands up, his voice firm yet choked with emotion, “We’re pulling out. We can’t race knowing Y/N is fighting for her life. We need to be there for her, just like she’s always been there for us.”

The decision is unanimous. One by one, they all agree. Telling their teams and the FIA descends the paddock into even more chaos.

***

The hospital waiting room is filled with a mix of team colors. Red from Ferrari, orange from McLaren, deep blue from Red Bull, green from Aston Martin, white from Haas, and black from Mercedes. The fierce rivalry that usually defines race weekends is nowhere to be seen. Instead, they’re united in their concern for you.

Sebastian, despite his injuries, is by your bedside, holding your hand, praying silently for a miracle.

As the hours drag on, the grid kids take turns sitting by your side, sharing stories, hoping their voices provide some comfort, even in your unconscious state.

Mick, teary-eyed, recalls, “Remember when I missed my dad? You were there for me.”

Lando adds, “And when I just wanted milk? You welcomed me like family.”

Charles, voice filled with emotion, says, “We’re here now, for you, just like you’ve always been for us.”

***

As night turns into dawn, there’s a shift. Your vitals start stabilizing and the worst seems to be over. The relief is palpable as the somber mood hanging over your family fades away.

Sebastian, tears of gratitude in his eyes, thanks each one of them. “She’s strong, and with all of you here, I knew she’d find a way to fight through.”

***

A week has passed since the accident and you’re now firmly in the recovery phase. The room is overflowing with flowers, cards, and quirky gifts — each one a symbol of just how much you mean to the racing community.

As you slowly regain consciousness, groggy from the medication, the first thing you spot is a balloon, bobbing near the ceiling, with the words “Speedy Recovery!” It has a little caricature of you in a race car with your cat (in a tiny sweater) on your shoulder. Another one reads, “Get back on track soon!”

Mick enters the room with a tray, “Look who’s awake! I made you my special recovery smoothie. Okay, it’s mostly chocolate ... but it’s the thought that counts.”

Charles follows, holding a peculiar-looking teddy bear dressed in a racing suit. “Meet Racy. He’s going to keep you company. We tried to smuggle Speedy in under our hoodies but got caught so this is the next best thing.”

Lando waltzes in, proudly holding up a t-shirt with “I survived a car crash and all I got was this lousy t-shirt” printed on it.

Max pops his head around the door, holding a full-sized F1 helmet, “You better wear this the next time you get in a car.”

George, with his trademark smile, presents a plush safety car. “To keep you safe and sound, always.”

Lance, trying to contain his grin, brings in a steering wheel cushion. “For those moments when you feel the need to take control of your recovery.”

You can’t help but chuckle at their antics. “You guys ... always know how to lighten the mood.”

Sebastian, holding your hand, grins, “They’ve been brainstorming ways to cheer you up nonstop for days now.”

***

Determined to keep things positive, your grid kids rally together for a surprise. As the evening descends, they transform your room into a mini-movie theater. They even managed to sneak in a projector.

The movie choice? “Cars” of course.

Lance, armed with a bucket of popcorn, declares, “I mean, if we can’t race real cars today, might as well watch animated ones!”

Mick dims the lights and George hits play. As the familiar sounds of the movie fill the room, everyone settles in ready for a night of laughter.

***

It doesn’t take long for the grid kids to turn the movie night into their own commentary session.

As Lightning McQueen races across the screen, Max quips, “I think I could’ve taken that turn better.”

Lando, laughing, chimes in, “And Mater reminds me of Charles after a few too many energy drinks.”

Charles feigns outrage, “That’s unfair! I’m at least 10 percent more sophisticated than Mater.”

You, through bouts of laughter, shake your head, “Honestly, I can’t decide what's better, the movie or your commentary? You guys might have a future on a broadcast somewhere if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out.”

As the credits roll, Sebastian whispers, “This is exactly the medicine you needed.”

Your grid kids truly make the day memorable, proving that through thick and thin, family — in whatever form it may take — is everything.

***

The sun is high and the paddock is buzzing with energy as preparations for the upcoming race are in full swing. As you and Sebastian approach, there’s a sudden almost comedic halt in activity. It’s as if someone hit the pause button on a remote. Everyone turns to face you, jaws dropped.

Lance feigns fainting, “Is it a mirage? Or has our beloved Y/N truly graced us with her presence?”

Max approaches with an exaggerated limp, mimicking you, “Thought I’d get into the spirit of things,” he says with a smirk.

George emerges from the crowd holding a makeshift red carpet (it’s just a red towel he stole from Ferrari), rolling it out in front of you. “For our returning queen,” he declares with a bow.

Charles and Lando appear, each holding one end of a “Welcome Back” banner. You try to turn your head to read it … they accidentally held it upside down.

You’re trying hard to hold back tears of laughter. “You guys are impossible,” you manage to say between your chuckles.

Mick, with a gentle smile, approaches holding a small framed photo. It’s of you surrounded by all your grid kids, taken during a race earlier in the season, with the inscription “Family, Always.”

Touched by the gesture, you softly say, “Thank you so much, Mick. This means a lot.”

“You’ve always been there for us,” he replies. “It’s only right that we’re here for you.”

Sebastian, wrapping an arm around you, adds with a grin, “I think they missed you.”

You really loved your grid kids.

[sinofwriting]

Girls Are Private Creatures - Pierre Gasly & Charles Leclerc

Words: 2,399 Summary: Pierre and her have always been best friends, having a baby together didn't change or complicate that until he says something he doesn't mean to. Note(s): Was very fun to write and somehow Charles managed to sneak in his way into this as a love interest, still not too sure how that happened, lol. This is a one off, no part two, sorry everyone! Also, I don’t speak french and while I didn’t use google translate for the french, I still used a translator.

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“Ah, there are my favorite girls!” Charles exclaims, jogging over to them, exchanging kisses on the cheek with her before taking the baby out of her arms. Elodie gives him a gummy smile and he coos at her, nosing at her hair, before pressing a kiss to her cheek, a giggle leaving her because of the smacking sound it makes. “So, beautiful, Miss Elodie. I shall have to keep you and your maman close.”

She shakes her head at the poor wink Charles gives her, but gives a nod, stepping beside him as he begins to walk around the grid.

“Is that Elodie?” Max asks, as they start to pass the Red Bull garage. “Can I?” He asks, looking at her, with his arms already reached out to take her from Charles. Charles pouts at her, but she ignores him, looking at her content baby. “Elodie.” Her little head turns to look her way. “You want to go to Uncle Max?” Elodie gives a little squeal at the name, hands shaking and she smiles, nodding. Max eagerly takes the baby from Charles' arms. “I can’t believe you are letting Max Verstappen hold her.” He pouts. “You are just mad, your Elodie time got cut short.” She playfully scolds, bumping their hips together. He pokes his bottom lips further out for a second, before throwing an arm over her shoulder, tugging her close for a side hug as they watch Max talk to Elodie, bringing her into the Red Bull garage and pointing out different things to her.

“How are you feeling?” She sighs, drawing away from Charles. “I’m fine, Cha. You don’t need to worry about me.” He frowns at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “You are my friend. I will of course worry.” He then tilts his head to nod at her face. “You have circles, chéri.” “I have a six month old. Sleep is not a blessing I get.” Her french accent is thicker and his eyebrows raise, her upset clear just from that. “You only get circles when you are worried and not sleeping. What is happening?” She swallows, eyes locked on Elodie who now is babbling to Max in her babytalk, the driver has such a serious look on his face, as though he understands every word of it and is taking notes. The words are bubbling up in her but she sees Christian joining Max and Elodie and upon spotting her, he smiles waving her over. “It is nothing, Cha.” She shakes her head, giving him a smile, before reaching forward to squeeze his arm. “Let me know if you’d like to stay the night with us. Elodie always loves seeing her godfather.” “Of course.” He murmurs, watching as she leaves to join the trio in the Red Bull garage and before he can think better of it, he’s moving to Alpine’s garage.

He’s easily able to get to Pierre’s drivers room and he doesn’t bother knocking, just throws the door open, uncaring of the near naked state of his best friend and his protests as he shuts the door behind him, hands settling on his hips.

“What is wrong?” “Charles!” Pierre is looking at him with wide eyes, a hand over his crotch despite the fact that he has underwear on and it’s nothing that Charles hasn’t seen before. “Get out!” “Non. What is going on? Y/N and Elodie are here, you are nowhere to be seen. She isn’t sleeping and is worried about something but won’t say what.” Charles pokes at his chest, harshly, ignoring the yelp it earns him. “What did you do?” “Why is it me who did something?” He protests, the hand that has been hovering over his crotch, moving to rub at the spot Charles had poked. The younger looks at him unimpressed. Pierre sighs, sitting on his massage table. “I, uh, I fucked up.” “That is obvious.” “Thank you, calmar.” Charles shrugs. “I said it was a mistake.” His brows furrow. “What was a mistake?” Pierre winces and he braces himself on the table. “All of it. Us kissing and then starting our, uh, benefits. And uh Elodie.”

His head wipes to the side before he knows it and he can feel the sting on his cheek and something a bit wet on his lip. His tongue darts out and he can taste a bit of blood.

“Tête de noeud.” Dickhead. Charles spits out, glaring at one of his oldest friends. “Comment pourriez-vous dire une telle chose, penser une telle chose.” How could you say such a thing, think such a thing. “Je sais.” I know. “No, vous ne faites pas de lien. Elle est votre fille.” Charles hisses. No, you don’t. She is your daughter. “Et elle est votre plus grande partisane, la seule personne qu'elle aime le plus est Elodie et pour vous,” He stops himself, shaking his head. Anger and sick tangling together and sitting heavy in his stomach. And she is your biggest supporter, the only person she loves more is Elodie and for you too, “Je ne peux même pas te regarder. Tu me dégoûtes, Pierre. Je ne veux pas vous voir près d'eux ou moi. Et j'espère que personne ne s'en posera la question. I’m not feeling kind.” I can’t even look at you. You disgust me, Pierre. I don’t want to see you near them or me. And hope that no one asks about this.

Before Pierre can say anything else, he leaves throwing the door opening and ignoring the looks from fucking Esteban of all people as he leaves the stupid French garage.

Hours later as she burps Elodie, humming softly as she walks around the hotel room, she hears a knock.

“Charles.” She greets, opening it. “Chéri.” He greets back, pressing a kiss to her cheek before stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “She ate already.” He notes with disappointment, spotting the cloth over her shoulder. She throws him a sorry look as Elodie lets out a burp, making them both tell her good job and she pats for a few more seconds before rubbing at her back. “She’s been hungrier recently. You missed out by ten minutes.” “Is she still eating at night?” He asks, taking Elodie from her and cooing at the baby, rubbing their noses together just to see her little eyes go cross eyed before pressing a kiss to her forehead, inhaling the scent of baby with a bit of vanilla from that perfume he had bought Y/N for Christmas last year. She watches him with an amused smile. He always did the same thing with Elodie. “She wasn’t, but for the past few days, yes.” “Perfect.” He beams. “I will take the midnight feed.” “Cha,” she warns. “You have free practice tomorrow. You don’t need to exhaust yourself.” “It is free practice. Besides, I've driven the tractor hungover once already this season. I can handle a little free practice with some exhaustion.” He rolls his eyes at the idea of being exhausted from Elodie. She was many things but never exhausting and he tells her that.

“Exhausting, miss Elodie. Why I’ve never heard such a lie!” The baby giggles at his exaggerated tone and expressions, little hand going up to rest on his cheek and he pretends to eat it making her squeal. “Exactly! Your maman is crazy for saying so.” She stares at the two, feeling a pang in her heart as she’s reminded of all the times Pierre did something similar.

He always wanted the late night feeds, really any feeds he could get. He took all the diaper changes too, uncaring of the blowouts or when she started to move more how difficult it could be to get a new diaper on.

Tears prick in her eyes as she thinks of him, a weird concoction of sadness and anger dwelling in her. She knew he had been lying when he said that Elodie was a mistake. Pierre loved being a father. It hadn’t been something he wanted so young or expected but he loved Elodie, truly loved her. She was less sure about them kissing for that first time and then continuously falling into bed together. He could think of that as a mistake. But it was a mistake that led to Elodie. So could it really be one when it gave them such a perfect baby?

“Pierre told me what he said.” Charles murmurs after he sets Elodie on her playmat, which she grunts at before getting distracted by the toys hanging in front of her. She shudders, arms going over her chest. “He is a dick.” “Not in front of Elodie, Charles.” She warns. She didn’t care that Elodie couldn’t truly understand what they were saying or even hear them. She wouldn’t have Pierre insulted in front of her. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes, eyes flickering over to her before returning to Elodie whose babbling. “He shouldn’t have said those things.” “He shouldn’t have said that she was a mistake.” She corrects. “Pierre can say what he pleases about me, not her. Never her.” She murmurs. “Nor you. If you won’t stand for him saying such things for Elodie, which I will as well, I won’t stand for him saying such things about you.” “He didn’t mean it, Cha.” She shakes her head. “He loves her, adores her. Do not burn bridges you’ll regret.” “For you, I could never.” Her eyes snap away from Elodie and meet his eyes. “Charles.” He shakes his head. “Don’t say anything. I’m just telling you. You are worth more than he has given and ever thought of giving you. And if,” he pauses, lifting her hand, her left hand, to his lips. “You ever want to give us a chance, I will be here. And even if you don’t, I will still always be here for Elodie and you.” She watches with wide eyes as he presses another kiss to her hand before dropping it and pressing his lips to her forehead. “Lay down, relax, chéri. I will take care of Elodie.”

She does lay down, but she is unable to relax. Because hadn’t Pierre teased for the last year and a half that Charles had a thing for her? Something she ignored, thinking he was pulling her leg, being a little shit like normal. But to know it was true, to learn the truth of it. It sat heavy in her heart and god it aches at the thought of Charles and his feelings.

Charles wasn’t perfect, no one was, except for Elodie, but that was a bias that the majority of them had when it came to her little girl, but he was amazing even with his faults. His people pleasing ways, pushing his feelings away, not putting himself first, the anger he sometimes carried with him, the grief that still sat heavy on his shoulders. But there were his pluses as well, his dedication and focus to racing, his love for his friends and family, his ability to not have to be on all the time, to be able to sit at home or somewhere and chill, and his patience. He was unbelievably patient but also knew when to push, to not give up or in.

Something warm starts to bubble in her as she considers, admittedly not for the first time, a relationship with Charles. The way he’d come home to her and Elodie after days away. The sweaty hugs after getting out of the car. The dinners and vacations with his family. The gentle way he’d touch and hold her. Not like she was fragile, but something important. And Elodie, the way he’d be with Elodie, more so than he already was. She can see the days and nights when they have Elodie, not Pierre, how they’d put her to sleep together, play with her, read to her. Watch as she crawls and then toddles around. Can see him bringing her around Monaco to the spots he grew up with as a child and sharing them with Elodie.

The thoughts and near dreams are overwhelming but in the best way possible. However there is Pierre to consider. He wouldn’t disappear from their lives, he could never, not just because of Elodie, but because he was a best friend to both of them. He would always exist with them and she knew that Charles could handle her past with Pierre, he had already dealt with the knowledge, had a constant reminder of said past in front of him in the form of Elodie. But would Pierre be able to handle her and Elodie having a future with Charles?

They weren’t in love with each other. They certainly loved each other, but there was a reason that they only had sex and never went on dates and always made faces at the jokes and ideas of being together. Sex was a different beast than a relationship. And they both never wanted a romantic relationship with each other. They both had gone on dates with other people during their time as friends with benefits. She had only stopped after learning she was pregnant and once she was further along, Pierre had too in solidarity. It hadn’t lasted too long as soon as Elodie was two months he went back on the scene, but it had been something.

Her lips twitch into a smile as she's reminded of how excited Pierre had been when he came back from his most recent date. Rambling equally to both her and Elodie about how pretty and smart his date was and how she even liked kids, babies at that.

She’s jerked out of her thoughts by the sound of her phone chiming. Grabbing it, she sighs seeing Pierres name but opens the message.

Could I say goodnight to Elodie. Just goodnight. I won’t stay longer She sighs again, quickly typing out of course and sending it.

“Pierre is coming to say goodnight to Elodie.” She tells Charles, sitting up. He frowns, scooping Elodie up and sitting on the bed beside her before setting Elodie down to the left of her. “Will you be okay?” “I’ll be fine.” And she reaches out to him, taking his hand in hers and intertwines their fingers, earning wide eyes from him. “Besides, I think I need to talk to him.” “You mean?” “I mean, let me talk to Pierre. Make sure he’ll be okay with this. He means too much to both of us to not check.” “I will hit him again if he’s not.” The promise makes her jaw drop, “You’ll what? What do you mean again?” “Ah.” He swallows nervously, and he’s suddenly able to feel the ring that caught Pierre’s lip earlier more than ever. “Nothing?” He offers, with a smile.

@cixrosie @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @badbatch-simp24 @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @benstormy @boiohboii @iloveyou3000morgan @topguncultleader

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Hello love could you do one with aemond being betrothed with daemons and rheas daughter and his super whipped with his future lady of runestones because she’s just like her late mom mixed with that crazy Targaryen gene.

A/N: I hope you like it!

pairing: Aemond x reader

summary: Aemond being betrothed with daemons and rheas daughter and his super whipped with his future lady of Runestones because she’s just like her late mom mixed with that crazy Targaryen gene.

Word count: 1,5K

Warnings: Fluff, Sword fighting

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Masterlist 2

"Higher" Your father instructed attacking you yet again, you raised your sword high defending his attack pushing him away. Your father smirked twirling his sword as he circled you. You refused to turn around and kept the same position eyes trained on the crowd that stood around you two watching.

You did not have to see to know he was about to attack from behind. You turned around a second too early and deflected his attack. Your father chuckled but attack again you raised your sword meeting the attack with your own, you were nowhere near your father in strength so you used strategy and pushed the sword making him circle the sword before dropping it a couple of feet away.

You stood facing each other panting, you had your sword in hand still while your father was weaponless. He raised his hands up in defeat smirking at you. The crowd around you began clapping and murmuring to one another, especially the ladies about how manly your actions were and how they would never wish someone like you for their sons and brothers.

"Well done, tala" Daughter. Your father picked up Dark Sister strapping her by his side again. You threw your sword at your sworn sword to put away. Your father wrapped an arm around your shoulders pulling you away from the crowd.

"I was taught only by the best" You snickered. He glared down at you pushing you away playfully.

"Ah yes your mother" He rolled his eyes. You grinned and wrapped your arm around him again holding him in place.

"I love you as well, kepa" Father. He hugged you again resuming your walk up the stairs where Rhaenyra was waiting for you two.

"Finally you two are done, you have to bathe and wear something nice, father wishes to have dinner with all of us" Rhaenyra instructed. She pulled away from your father before he could wrap an arm around her. She had a disgusted look on her face. Still having his arm wrapped around you, you tilted your head to smell below his arm scrunching up your face in disgust.

"Yes father, you smell like a dead horse" You pulled away from him. His face flashed to an offended look bringing his hand up to show his hurt.

"You too young lady, if he smells like a dead horse you smell like a dead bull" Rhaenyra defended your father without a second thought. You scrunched up your face at the choice of animal.

"Ha" Your father cried pointed at you smirking. You pushed his finger away grumbling as you walked away. You couldn't help the small smile from brightening your face at the sound of you father's laugh as he followed Rhaenyra to their room.

Your handmaidens helped you bathe quietly and dressed you in a black dress with some red dragons sewed on the shoulders and in the middle of your bodice above your breasts. You put on a whit gold necklace with a ruby in the middle with matching earrings. Your hair was made into several braids and pulled back out of your face but still cascaded down your back in beautiful waves when dried. It was Jace who had escorted you to the room by the orders of Rhaenyra, not that you minded, Jace was a bright kid who also insisted on High Valyrian lessons with and chose your quick walk as an opportunity to practice some of it.

You two were one of the last to arrive only minutes before the King and Queen. You were sat beside Jace with Aemond on your other side and Aegon and Helaena on his other side. You were grateful that you were not sat beside the drunk, at least Aemond did not bother you, he did not talk to you at all a matter of fact.

"You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you all here around me" Your uncle spoke gleefully although he looked minutes away from death. You smiled at him when your eyes met and raised your cup saluting him before taking a sip.

"I would like to use this supper to announce a new betrothal in the family between my son Aemond-" Everyone turned to look at Aemond beside you. He raised his eyebrow at the attention but gave no other reaction.

"_and my beautiful niece, may their marriage prove to be filled with love and fruitful in Runestone" Your uncle raised his cup with his good hand. Your eyes snapped to your father awaiting his reaction. He gave you a nod to show he had known of this and raised his cup along with Rhaenyra.

You took your cup and turned to Aemond who did the same. You two saluted each other before taking a sip form your cups. Aegon on the other hand gulped his entire cup down and demanded someone refill his cup again. Aemond pushed his chair back and stood up with his cup raised in front of him.

"I would like to raise my cup to Lady Royce-" You knew this was a jab at your father since you were given your mother's last name instead of his in order to inherit Runestone after her.

"-I am sure many men will be jealous that I will have such a beautiful wife who is also good with a sword and as strong as a bull" Your eyes flashed up at the mention of the animal. He smirked down at you making your cheeks heat up embarrassed. You sipped on the wine trying to hide your smile as he sat back down beside you.

"A bull?" You questioned turning to face him. Aemond leaned closer to you so he could whisper.

"I am glad you do not smell as one however" He teased. You giggled shaking your head.

"You heard about that?" You asked. He nodded eyes flashing over to your father and Rhaenyra who were whispering to one another while eyeing you two.

"I do smell like one after I train" You tested the waters. Aemond's eyes gleamed as he let out a small laugh.

"This sentence means two things-" He held up two of his fingers in front of your face.

"- I need to stay in shape and get used to the smell of bulls my lady" He put his hand down on top of your own on the table. You grinned raising an eyebrow.

"Why? Are you afraid I can defeat you if we were to spar?" You asked leaning even closer to him. Aemond hummed with a smirk before turning back to Aegon who was nudging him none stop muttering something you could not hear nor understand. You rolled your eyes at your other cousin's antics and turned to look at the rest of your family.

The next morning you were surprised at the sight of Aemond outside your door asking for a spar. You agreed and followed him to the training yard where you father was awaiting you. He narrowed his eyes at the sight of his nephew coming with you.

"Will you watch us uncle?" Aemond asked smirking at your father. His jaw ticked annoyed but nodded nonetheless.

You pulled out your swords facing each other expectantly. Aemond attacked first but you moved to the side just in time making him stumble a little. He tried again but you deflected his attack, he was stronger than you but not as much as your mother and father meaning you needed no big strategy to defeat him.

"Come on my prince, you can do better" You mocked twirling you sword. He raised his sword above his head and brought it down you back away letting hit the ground and his his shoulder with the blunt side of your sword. He groaned raising his head to look at you.

"I wish not to hurt you, my lady" He responded. This time you attacked, tricking him that you were going for his head and the second his sword was high enough you dropped it only to catch it with your other hand hitting his belly again but with the side of the sword, you did not wish to hurt him as well, you liked him.

You looked up at him to finding him looking at you fascinated with a spark in his eyes. You smirked swiping your leg down bringing him on his back with an "Omph" from his lips. You straddled his stomach holding the sword to his neck.

"You needn't be gentle with me, I am stronger than I look" You teased. Aemond smirked placing his hands on your thighs.

"I will keep note of that for later on" He raised his hips lightly. A blush creeped up your neck covering your cheeks as well. You two jumped at the sound of a throat clearing to find your very unamused father glaring at the both of you love sick idiot.

"Do not do that in front of me if you wish to give me grandchildren" Daemon threatened his nephew. Aemond squirmed uncomfortable. You rolled your eyes as you moved off Aemond helping him to his feet.

[lestappenforever]

Dutch GP post-qualifying Lestappen drabble

@killingevie wrote this caption to the photo of Charles watching Max's on-screen kiss post qualifying. Given how I am absolutely obsessed with her and would give my left lung to make her happy, I wrote a little something.

---

Crashing out in Q3 feels bad enough on its own.

But standing on the side of the track, watching as Max steps down from his car and approaching the Red Bull team by the barries only to see her stepping out from behind some of the engineers and pulling Max into a kiss, is a million times worse.

Charles' heart plummets into the pit of his stomach as he watches the — albeit brief, thank fuck — moment on the big screen.

Look, it's not like Charles doesn't understand. It's not like he's not painfully aware of the situation and the arrangement Max has going on with the woman, and why. After all, Charles Leclerc is no stranger to PR relationships. But having to stand there and watch as Max kisses lips that aren't Charles' will never stop hurting. Will never stop breaking his fucking heart.

No matter how undeniably well Charles understands.

It is unreasonable? Yes. Does Charles care? Absolutely fucking not.

---

Later that evening, the rain is back, heavy raindrops pounding against the window of his hotel room. Charles is sitting on the small couch right next to it, looking out into the increasing darkness of the night, trying to ignore the heaviness in his chest. Trying to ignore the way his mind keeps going back to the feeling of his car crashing into the barriers, and how that still wasn't nearly as devastating as that moment on the big screen afterwards.

The sound of three rapid tap tap tap's on the door brings him out of his trance-like state. Charles doesn't need to wonder who it is as he gets to his feet with a sigh and crosses the hotel room — doesn't need to look through the peephole to make sure it's somebody he actually wants to see before he turns the lock and pulls the door open.

He doesn't wait for Max to step into the room before he's turning back around and retreating further into the room.

"Hello to you too," Max greets sarcastically and Charles knows without looking that his eyebrows are furrowed together in a frown as the door clicks shut behind him.

"Drink?" Charles asks with his back to Max, already pulling two glass bottles of Coke out of the minibar.

They've done this enough that Charles knows he doesn't actually need to ask, just like Max knows he doesn't actually need to answer. And yet...

"Yeah," Max says, as he follows Charles into the room, coming to a halt by the edge of the bed behind Charles.

Charles opens one of the bottles and hands it to Max without looking at him, before he opens the other.

The room is silent for a long moment. It's Max who eventually speaks.

"What, you're not even going to look at me?"

Charles takes a deep breath, before he reluctantly turns to face the Dutchman, holding the bottle of Coke loosely between his thumb and index finger. He forces a smile that is nowhere near lookng sincere as he meets Max's gaze.

"Congratulations on pole," the Monégasque manages to sound more sincere than he looks.

Max cocks an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"Sorry about your crash," he counters, and the sympathy in his voice — on his face — is genuine.

Charles doesn't know why that makes the ache in his chest intensify slightly. But then again, he doesn't really understand most of his feelings for Max, even on a good day. And today is definitely not a good day.

"Good kiss?" Charles asks then, unable to help himself. The look on Max's face says one thing:

'There it is.'

"Charles," Max sighs, rubbing the hand that isn't holding his bottle of Coke over his face.

"What? Surely I should be allowed to ask questions about things I have to watch on the big screen," Charles counters, forcing his tone of voice to sound a lot more cheerful than he actually feels.

Max gives him a look, which would make Charles feel guilty in any other situation. Now, though? Not so much. Not when the image of Max kissing her after qualifying is burned into his brain.

"How's Alexandra?" Max shoots back, stepping closer to put the bottle of Coke on the desk next to Charles and proceeding to fold his arms across his chest.

Charles snorts.

"At least I'm not making you watch me kiss her."

Max throws his head back in exasperation. When he looks back at Charles, he unfolds his arms and holds them out at his sides, helpless.

"For fuck's sake, Charles, what was I supposed to do?" Max asks, the frustration in his voice clear as day. "You knew she'd be here this weekend."

"I didn't know she'd be there!" Charles spits back, feeling the anger he's been trying so hard to push down, down, down all evening return to the surface. "I didn't know that was part of the arrangement this weekend!"

"It's always part of the fucking arrangement, Charles!"

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean I have to fucking like it, Max!"

Charles is borderline shouting now, storms in his eyes as he glares at Max. As if this is his fault. As if Charles isn't the one to blame for this whole thing — this whole arrangement. It's immature and irrational and so very unfair, Charles knows, but he just can't help himself. Can't help how much it fucking hurts to see Max with someone else, even if he knows, deep down, that it's not real.

Max runs a hand through his hair, messing it up and making it stick up and out in every possible direction. It shouldn't make Charles want to pull him close and kiss him, but it does. It always fucking does.

"You're the one who didn't want to come out. You're the one who insisted on keeping this —," Max pauses to gesture between the two of them. "— us, a fucking secret. I'm just doing what you asked, Charles! And it's really unfair of you to throw it back in my face like this when all I'm trying to do is keep you happy!"

Charles stares at him, watching the way Max's chest and shoulders rise and fall with his slightly labored breathing, and he knows Max is right. Knows that if it hadn't been for Charles not being ready to come out, — to risk both their careers and their relationship — they wouldn't even be in this position. They've been together for close to three years already, and Charles knows how important having PR relationships is in order to maintain their cover. He just thought it would have become a lot less painful to deal with by now.

And yet...

The Monégasque deflates slightly at that — is never able to hold on to his anger, his hurt, when Max is throwing reason and logic at him.

Watching the fury seep out of Charles' green eyes is enough to make Max deflate, too, and his shoulders slump slightly, eyes softening.

"I'm sorry," Charles says, putting his bottle on the desk behind him and looking at the floor. "I just — I fucking hate this, Max. I hate having to see you with her."

Max sighs, and then he's right in front of Charles, pushing his finger under Charles' chin, forcing the Monégasque's head back and up — forcing Charles to meet his eyes. When he does, he looks tired and sad, like he has done so often this season.

"I know," the Dutchman says, moving his hand so that he's cupping Charles' jaw instead. "I'm sorry you had to watch that. I'll do what I can to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Charles knows that it's not possible to avoid a repeat of the kiss in the future — knows that as long as he needs to keep up the appearance of being in a relationship with someone who isn't Charles, there are going to be moments like this. Times in which Charles has to have his heart break all over again as he watches the man he loves pretend to love someone else. But, he appreciates the sentiment nevertheless, and he knows Max will do what he can to limit the amount of times it will happen in the future. And it's enough. It has to be.

At least for now.

Taking a deep breath, Charles leans into Max's touch as his own hands come to settle on the other man's waist, sneaking their way under the fabric of Max's hoodie and t-shirt, thumbs brushing against the skin underneath.

"Am I at least a better kisser?" he asks with a small smile that's a lot more sincere now.

A surprised laugh slips out of Max at the question. He reaches behind Charles with his free hand, settling it on the base of the Monégasque's spine.

"Absolutely," Max tells him. "The fact that you're the only one I actually want to kiss doesn't hurt either."

Charles huffs. "I'm going to need you to prove that?"

"Yeah? How?"

Charles doesn't answer, just rolls his eyes in mock annoyance as he leans in and presses their lips together in a firm kiss.

And when Max kisses him back as if his fucking life depends on it, all tongue and teeth and desperation, the hand on his jaw moving up and back, fingers gripping tightly at dark strands and making Charles groan helplessly into his mouth, Charles supposes he can safely take Max's word for it.

At least for now.

[hornyhornyhimbos]

can we get a glimpse into the future of how cowboy steve and reader are doing? do they still own the bar he bought for them and do they have kids? it would be cute to see steve have a mini him that loves to ride bulls

so so sorry for just now getting around to posting this!! more on that later but for now, i hope you enjoy!!!!

"When She Says Baby" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: Excitement is high as the Harringtons celebrate the two year anniversary of opening their little bar. But for Reader, anxiety is also high as her yearly gynecologist's appointment rolls around…

Pairing: Bull Rider!Steve Harrington x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3,285

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content) unprotected piv sex, creampie, oral f!receiving, fingering f!receiving, breeding kink, daddy kink, sorta cockwarming but not really, sorta dubious consent (they're in an established relationship but were both tipsy beforehand), dirty talk, explicit language, alcohol consumption, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: i haven't really written a breeding kink before so if this is bad, i apologize // also really could've sworn i queued this yesterday so let's all pretend it's still filthy friday, ok??

Based On: the rest of this series and the ask mentioned above!

Originally Written: 06/23/2023 through 06/28/2023

filthy fridays | stranger things masterlist

Your veins had been burning all day with some mixture of adrenaline, excitement and anxiety.

It was the two year anniversary of opening Harrington's Honky-Tonk, which Steve had reluctantly agreed on calling it, and the day had been filled with preparation for the big party that night. Fans had come from just about anywhere in Indiana and the surrounding states when they heard Steve Harrington was celebrating the momentous occasion with half-off drinks and a big announcement at the end of the night.

Your day, however, started to go a little differently when you arrived at your gynecologist's office for your yearly check-up.

You weren't necessarily nervous because of something potentially bad. It wasn't like you were pregnant, you and Steve used two different types of protection nearly every time you had sex. And it definitely wasn't like you had an STI, considering you and Steve had been loyal to each other for so many years.

No, what had you anxious was the fact that you needed your IUD replaced. Or, maybe you didn't…

Every part of your brain knew you should've talked to Steve before the appointment about what route to take. You were a hundred percent positive that getting pregnant was nowhere in the cards for the near future. Still, some part of you knew having the IUD replaced wasn't what you wanted. So, instead of getting it replaced, you decided to simply have the old one taken out.

Some weird jumble of both guilt and relief fluttered around in your stomach the whole afternoon and into the night. The only time you'd found a tiny bit of solace was in the two shots of vodka you'd downed at the party, but toward the end of the night, it had certainly worn off and the feeling from before quickly returned.

Steve must've noticed, pulling you away from the bar and into the back room. You were tempted to down a whole bottle of vodka from the rack beside you rather than admit your secret to him, but thought better of it.

"You alright?" he asked, his hand brushing yours as if asking permission to hold it. Despite being married for over a year now and having been together for five years in total, he was still a gentleman. Holding doors for you, giving you the last of his fries, and asking permission on almost everything were practically daily occurrences with Steve around.

You nodded softly, despite being the exact opposite of that seven letter word he'd just used. "I'm okay, just stressed about tonight."

Steve's big announcement was the whiskey brand he'd been working on, and while you weren't all that nervous about the fans' reactions—you knew it would go over well, the way his fans adored him—part of you had still been a little scared about the financial aspect of it. Starting a new company was difficult—you'd both experienced that firsthand.

One of his hands moved up to cup your cheek, distracting you from your current train of thought. His thumb rubbed soft lines along your skin. "Hey, whatever happens happens, right?" he reassured you. He pulled you up for a soft kiss on the forehead, greeting you with an even softer smile when he pulled away. "It'll be okay, I promise."

'Whatever happens happens,' his words rang through your head like an alarm you wanted so desperately to turn off. Your mind wandered back to your secret, and hoped that those words would apply once again whenever you told him.

The rest of the night went by surprisingly fast and smoothly, you and Steve loosening up a little over some Jack and Cokes and a round of line dancing that neither of you were sure how you'd gotten roped into. His announcement even went over well—considering all the excited shouts and whooping that rang throughout the bar in response—and Steve seemed to be at an all time high when he pulled you toward the staircase.

In fact, you were sure you'd never seen a smile as big as the one Steve was sporting as he picked you up bridal-style, carrying you up the stairs and into your shared apartment.

The two of you had originally planned on buying a house in a nearby neighborhood, but when things fell through, you both realized just how much you liked the idea of turning the upstairs area of the bar into an apartment. Flash forward two and a half years and now, the place was transformed into a cozy little one bedroom apartment, littered with Steve's various awards and many, many pairs of cowboy (and cowgirl) boots.

Your arms were wrapped tight around his neck, a gentle smile tugging at your own lips as he kicked the door shut with his foot. Seeing Steve so excited was almost enough to distract you from the impending news you had yet to deliver.

Steve set you down on the floor, his hands making their way to your hips while his mouth locked on yours. "Did you know I love you more than anyone has ever put into words?" he asked between kisses, one hand traveling from your hip to your ass. It had been so long since Steve had gotten tipsy, you'd almost forgotten how frisky alcohol could make him.

Guilt twisted into a tight knot in the pit of your stomach. Pulling away, you decided it was best to just rip off the band-aid. You couldn't hold back any longer, you felt like you'd explode if you did. "You can't say things like that when I'm about to tell you something that'll make you hate me forever."

His face softened as he stepped closer to you. A gentle kiss brushed over your forehead before his eyes greeted yours. "I doubt you could ever do that," he countered, his hands moving back to your waist.

Your eyes parted from his, looking down at his boots and wondering just how you of all people got lucky enough to marry the best man in the whole world. A deep sigh left your mouth before the words you'd been dreading followed. "I went to the gyno today."

"Oh, yeah, your yearly appointment was today. How'd that go?"

You forced your eyes to meet his, and the remorseful feeling in your stomach twisted and writhed even harder when you saw the soft honey color that had settled in them. After that, the words tumbled out so fast that even you couldn't believe he had that much of an influence on you. "She took out my IUD! There, I said it! Stop looking at me like that!"

A string of chuckles tumbled from his lips as he bent down, his mouth melding to yours again. You couldn't lie, you were definitely shell-shocked from this unexpected reaction.

"Don't you get it?" you all but screamed as your mouths parted. "She took it out! As in, she didn't replace it! Doesn't that make you the least bit angry with me for not asking first?"

Steve shook his head as the grin from earlier made its way back to his mouth. "No, it doesn't. It's your body, you can do whatever you so please with it. It does mean a lot though that you care about my opinion so much."

Guilt was overpowered by the biggest wave of love you'd ever felt for this man. "You do realize we have to be extra careful now, right? Like, no going without a condom, taking morning after pills, the whole nine yards of precaution."

The honey color that swirled in his irises quickly turned to a lustful black. "Who said?"

You felt like you were experiencing whiplash from the amount of different emotions you'd felt in the past five minutes. You couldn't lie, you weren't opposed to having kids, but you had been absolutely positive Steve didn't want them right now, so his words definitely took you by surprise.

Your eyebrows furrowed together, but not a second later, Steve kissed away the confused crease between them. "But-"

He shook his head, already knowing exactly what you were going to say. "I never wanted to wait. Sure, a lot has happened in the past few years so the timing wouldn't have been great, but not for one second did I not want to have kids with you."

Happy tears filled your eyes as you pulled him down for a long kiss, adoration flowing from the top of your head all the way down to the tips of your toes. His hands slipped into your back pockets as he deepened the kiss, his tongue all but forcing its way into your mouth.

You pulled him ever so close, your limbs entangling like they belonged to one another. His mouth moved away from yours and down to your neck, sucking on the pulse point and eliciting a moan. Steve chuckled, pulling you toward the bed but not once removing his lips from your body.

Somewhere along the way, he kicked off his boots before pushing you back on the bed. He tugged off your sneakers, tossing them toward the shoe rack, then making quick work of your jeans. "What do you say?" he asked, kissing you again, harder and needier than he had before. "Do you want that?"

"Please," you all but begged, your hands meeting his back, nails raking the skin beneath his shirt.

"Please… what?" he asked, tossing off the skin-tight tee shirt he'd been sporting. After seeing the way it hugged the muscles of his arms and the dips of his chest and stomach, you'd been desperate for him to take it off since the moment he put it on.

Your breathing sped up as you thought about your answer. "Please," you repeated, "wanna make you a daddy. A real daddy."

His eyes were completely lust-blown by now, his fingers drawing tantalizing circles on your thigh as he leaned down to meet your still-clothed core with a soft kiss. "I like the way you think, princess."

He made quick work of your panties, his lips immediately connecting to your clit. He hummed in pleasure, the vibration only pushing you closer to the edge. Over the years, Steve had found all the perfect ways to unravel you, and you knew it wouldn't be long before you were cumming.

"Steve," you whined, your hands intertwining in his already messy hair. You guided him to where you needed him most, his tongue dipping inside you while his nose bumped against your clit. Your legs wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer.

He parted from you with a low laugh, your eyes rolling in both frustration and want. "Can't help it," he said, kissing your pussy again, "Gotta make sure she's ready for me."

His tongue slipped back into your hole, your wetness surely soaking the stubble that covered his cheeks. Moans and whines tumbled from your mouth, one after the other, until you were on the brink of falling apart. Your veins burned with arousal, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of their sockets when his mouth moved up to your clit, replacing his tongue easily with two fingers.

Fingertips grazed your G-spot, and in an instant, you were coming undone, all but screaming his name as you came on his tongue.

Slowly, he pulled his fingers out before holding them up to your parted lips. "Suck," Steve instructed, dark eyes meeting your glassy ones. You didn't hesitate, swirling your tongue around the digits and taking in the taste of your essence.

You worked to control your breathing as his fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head, his eyes nearly popping out at the sight of your breasts and the way they all but spilled out of your bra. "Just think," he started, pulling one of them out of the cup and palming at it, his fingers twisting the bud and drawing out a mewl from your lips, "Gonna be so pretty and big." Steve was a huge fan of your boobs anyway, but you knew he was going to be utterly obsessed with how big they'd get if or when you got pregnant.

His lips wrapped around your nipple while he palmed at the neglected one. Your eyes rolled in desire, a small, "Fuck," falling from your lips.

Steve forced himself to remove his lips from you, knowing he'd stay there for hours if he didn't. He shoved his pants and boxers off in one swift motion, throwing them in the general direction of the bathroom. His cock sprung up, and you swore you'd never felt as carnal for him as you did at that moment.

"You ready?" he asked, being ever the gentleman. You nodded and in a second, he was pushing inside you. Groans and expletives tumbled from Steve's lips, his head falling forward as he slowly slid in. "Fuuuck," he sighed heavily, "I love you."

"Not as much- shit- as I love you," you exhaled, shifting your hips and chasing down the rest of his length. The crescent moons of your fingernails dug into his back, surely on the verge of making him bleed.

He slowly pulled out and pushed back in, beginning to create that perfect rhythm only he knew how to provide you with. "Yeah? Love me so much you're gonna- fuck- carry my baby around? Let everyone know who got you in that state?"

A soft whimper slipped from your tongue as you managed a nod, rutting your hips in an attempt to speed up Steve's motions.

"So needy," he teased, canting his hips faster, fast enough to catch you off guard. His cock brushed your sensitive spot, your back arching off the bed in response. "Just so ready for me to fill you up, huh?"

You whined, pulling him down with one hand while the other still scraped at his spine. Your mouths connected in a messy kiss, surely leaving your lips swollen when he pulled away. "Please," you begged again, "fill me up, daddy."

A guttural groan rolled off his tongue as his hips pistoned harder, his heavy balls slapping against you as he chased down his high. "Your wish is my command, sweetheart," he replied, his lips meeting the dip of your breasts. "Gonna get you all pretty and full, over and over again. Gonna remind you of the only man that can fill you like that."

Your pussy fluttered around him, your orgasm quickly approaching. "Fuck, Steve!" you exclaimed, surely loud enough for the people downstairs to hear. "I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me, baby," he said, somehow making the phrase sound encouraging yet filthy at the same time. "Cum all over daddy's cock, yeah?"

Whimpers and moans tumbled off your tongue as you fell apart underneath him, your hands grasping at his shoulders to steady yourself. Your toes curled, digging into his hips and pulling him even further inside you.

His hips rutted in a sloppy rhythm and you knew it wouldn't be long before he was cumming too. He sucked a harsh kiss on the dip of your neck, surely leaving a hickey in his wake. "God, you're gonna be so pretty. All knocked up with my babies. Showing everyone how willing you were for me to fill you up and fuck you right."

His name fell from your lips like a record stuck on a loop, a mantra you needed in order to survive. The overstimulation was too much and not enough all at once, your eyes crossing in pure pleasure as yet another orgasm built within you.

One of his hands gripped yours, lacing his large digits in between your smaller ones, his thumb rubbing soft lines along the back of your hand. Steve stopped mid-thrust, his previously dark eyes turning to gentle ones, and you swore you saw tears forming in them. He took a deep breath before leaning down to kiss you, a soft kiss so different from the rough, longing kisses from before. A smile pulled at his lips when he moved away, his eyes meeting yours.

"You sure about this? Last chance," he kidded, but you could tell there was some seriousness hidden behind his playful tone.

You nodded before kissing him again, your opposite hand slipping into his hair again and giving it a gentle tug. "I'm ready," you reassured him, now nearly on the brink of tears yourself. "Been ready since the day I laid eyes on you, cowboy."

He pushed back in, slowly building back up his pace and working both of you back to the brink of orgasm. His lips parted into an open 'O' as he thrusted one last time, emptying all that he had inside you as you climaxed for a third time.

It was by no means the first time you'd gone without a condom, but something about this time was different. Maybe it was knowing that you no longer had an IUD, maybe it was the risk of it sticking this time. Whatever it was, it had you feeling a closeness to Steve that you weren't sure you'd ever felt before.

He flipped the two of you over, allowing you to fall limp on top of him. Your chests heaved in lousy attempts to calm your breathing, the only noise filling the air being that of your exhales. His palm abandoned yours, moving up to your back and sliding soft lines up and down your spine. Parted lips greeted your scalp with a gentle kiss, before they moved down to your forehead, finally stopping at your own lips as he turned your face towards his.

"Stevie?" you said, looking up at him through previously mascara-coated lashes, the makeup surely having been sweated off by now.

"Yeah?" he answered, grazing another peck across your forehead.

You hated to ruin the moment but… "I need to pee."

A goofy grin formed on his face as he rolled you back over, gripping his hands around your thighs and keeping you wrapped around him. His cock was still buried inside you, still pressed against your sweet spot, still finding a way to make you moan despite barely having moved. "Sorry, can't do that."

Your head fell back against the mattress, a frustrated growl falling your lips. Sure, you weren't really all that frustrated—you could eat, sleep, and breathe with Steve's dick buried inside you and it still wouldn't be enough—but you really did need to pee, and you knew this was the only way you'd get him to pull out. "I'm gonna piss all over you and the bed if you don't let me move."

A sly smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Kinky," he chuckled, "I like that in a woman."

You couldn't help the snicker that he elicited out of you. Still, you shook your head in protest. "Please? I really do need to pee."

"Gotta make sure it sticks," he countered, pulling you closer to him, if that was even possible.

This time, a smirk pulled at your lips. "I doubt it won't stick, considering how hard you just fucked me," you argued. "But I'll tell you what. If you let me go pee, you can try again," you paused, kissing his neck, "and again," a kiss on his earlobe, "and again," a final kiss on those plump, pink lips you loved so much, "until it finally does stick. How 'bout that?"

He slowly pulled out, low mewls exiting both of your mouths in sync. Steve moved just enough for you to stand up, his palm slapping your ass playfully as you began to walk away. "You wanna know something?"

"What's that?" you asked, flicking on the bathroom light.

He followed you into the bathroom, his eyes turning dark once again. "I like the way you think, cowgirl."

So... surprise??

I really did mean to post this however many months ago when I got the request. But I guess I was just never really happy with this fic and I wanted to re-write it or just trash the idea and start over but nothing really ever felt right. So I'm sticking with the original and hoping you guys enjoy! I have so much more to come for this cowboy and his girl but for now, this is where they are.

To the anon who requested this, I hope you're still around. Sorry I kept you waiting for so long. I hope it was somewhat worth the wait ❤️

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @rupsmorge @writer-in-theory @esoltis280 @liberhoe @wifeyreid @serenity-lattes-reads

[slightlyconceited]

@webbiigaiil​ (continued from here)

Opening her mouth as if to say something, Webby then closed it shut as she gave him a a perplexed look. Was she not supposed to know how to play this game all on her own? It was a game of darts, which all it took was to shoot tiny sharp-pointed missiles towards the dartboard. The aim of the game is to get most of the darts at the center, and to Webby that was pretty easy to achieve. She had a good throwing arm and knew how to aim, heck the distance she was suppose to stand at from the dartboard was nowhere near as far as she typically shoots at whenever she plays any of her own made up games back home. Mean— the blonde literally could shoot from the highest window of the McDuck mansion and make her target, a three foot distance with a table between was child’s play to her. Which is why Slightly’s reaction was confusing to her, but also had Webby wondering if she even was suppose to direct targets all on her own. “Yeah?! I did!" She admitted. "Isn’t this game suppose to be played alone?” She asked, now looking back at the dartboard where five darts were sticking at the center. “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t know I was supposed to have a partner for this!”

.

“Well, yeah, you can do it alone,” Slightly admitted as he plucked the darts out of the board—bull’s eyes, all of them—and brought them back over to the blonde, “But it’s way more fun with friends. Otherwise you’re not really playing, you’re just practicing your aim, right?” He smiled and handed half of the darts to Webby, keeping hold of the other ones for himself. They hadn’t been friends for very long, but Slightly was glad he had invited her to the party, not only because she was a super interesting person he’d love to get to know better, but also because it seemed like she could do with more socializing—not in a bad way! Just…it didn’t seem like she got out much. And she deserved the chance to make a lot more friends, as many as her big ol’ heart could desire, but throwing darts alone at a party with dozens of people wasn’t really serving that goal. “I can’t believe your brothers left you to play alone,” he started teasing, his grin only growing more goofy at the thought that he wouldn’t have gotten to kiss Huey if they hadn’t gotten that uninterrupted moment together. “Shame on them!” Shame on Dewey and the third one, at least. Huey definitely gets a pass. “Do you want a dart partner? Or a…a dartner?” He snorted. It was like simply thinking of Dewey suddenly invoked his knack for puns.

[monaukah]

Pairing: Tiger! Kyojuro x fem!Zookeeper Reader

Word Count: 1.5 K

Content Warning: Minors DNI, Breeding, Slight non-con, Primal urges, Belly bulge, hybrid human, cock warming, oral (M->F), clawed fingers

“ Kyo! K-Kyojuro! I need you to back up!” She cried out with some nervousness as she could feel the giant feline man rub up against her backside. 

“ Hm? I’m not doing anything…” The tiger man purrs as his cheeks are pressed up against her khaki clad cheeks. “ I’m just trying to help out my favorite keeper.” Suddenly his claws are gripped onto her belt loops and he tugs. 

“ Kyo!” 

How could she have gotten into this mess? It was just a tiny crow that was stuck in the rope that held Kyojuro’s favorite tire swing in his private feeding area. One wrong step and her hips had gotten stuck in the tire. Eventually the crow flew off back into the public portion of his habitat. She tried calling for Tanjiro to come help but he wasn’t responding on his com. Eventually she had to ask Kyo to help him. Normally the sunny and bright Siberian tiger was always very helpful. He would keep his habitat clean and tidy. Both adults and children loved to see him running around and doing acrobatic flips and moves. He always treated you with respect and was the first to offer you a “ GOOD MORNING Y/N!” Once she was in the habitat trying to get his dinner ready for the night, she saw him louding in the last of the sun. His ears gently wiggled and his tail dropped over the ledge of his sundeck. He was still clad in his Lunar New Year regalia and he sure was handsome. His bright fiery hair was a stark contrast to his strips that ran up and down the length of his arms that the sleeve of the kimono didn’t show. 

“ I need you to try to push the tire off of me. I’m stuck in it.” She huffs as she tries to move backwards before moving forward to no avail. She tries to look around for Kyojuro but can’t seem to find him until she feels two clawed hands chasty hold her. 

“ Hold on! I’ll try to see if I can get you unstuck Y/N!” The loud tigerman’s ears wiggled and his tail swished before he tried to gently pull her out of the tire. “ Hmm you seem to be very stuck!” 

Suddenly something in the air changed. She felt it and tried to move to wiggle out of his grasp before gasping softly. Kyojuro the half siberian tiger many was very friendly. But now he was getting a little too friendly. She could feel her butt pressed against something but she was nowhere near a wall. Kyojuro’s hands were still on her hips but had slid down to grasp at the juncture of her hip and thigh. 

Too low! Too low! 

What was today? Oh fuck. 

Her eyes widened. It was spring. Spring meant breeding season and the animals were very noisy in the zoo. 

Tengen the bull had been bellowing all day and attempting to mount his females out of the view of the public. Sanemi and Giyuu the wolves had been fighting for dominance for the she-wolves in the massive enclosure. Even the bear of a man that was Gyomei had been pacing around. A sign had to be put up for his rage which would come from his mating season. 

She had totally forgotten about her Kyojuro. Suddenly she was ripped out of her thoughts when the giant tiger had started bellowing and softly purring. It was a deep rumbling that came from his chest. Normally she only heard it when she would be scratching under his chin for too long. As comforting as the sound was, she also got nervous since she felt him pace and rub up against her dernier. 

“ Kyo! K-Kyojuro! I need you to back up!” She cried out with some nervousness as she could feel the giant feline man rub up against her backside. 

“ Hm? I’m not doing anything…” The tiger man purrs as his cheeks are pressed up against her khaki clad cheeks. “ I’m just trying to help out my favorite keeper.” Suddenly his claws are gripped onto her belt loops and he tugs. 

“ Kyo!” 

A breeze could be felt over her pussy lips as she realized she was bare from the waist down. After some squirming, she felt Kyojuro’s clawed hands gently hold onto her and spread her cheeks. “ Kyojuro..please. I need to-ah~” 

A wet and slightly roughened tongue had traced from her sensitive nub to her moisening hole. 

“ Umai…” Kyojuro rumbled before pressing his face fully into the apex of her thighs, causing another moan. She slapped her hands over her lips to keep from being too loud. It was after hours at the zoo but her coworkers could still be around. 

Slobbering, Kyojuro couldn’t help but lick over and over her slit. The tang was intoxicating and he wanted more of it. His teeth gently nibbled at the edges of her thighs before he smoothed over them with his lips. With the flat of his thumb, he replaced the end of his tongue with it before licking into her dripping hole as deep as possible. He could feel her tighten around the oral muscle, making him chuckle. 

The poor zookeeper was having trouble trying to keep herself quiet.. Her toes were pointed into the sand of the enclosure as she could feel his slightly barbed tongue lick over every nook and cranny of her pussy. She’s in between wanting to escape his sinful tongue or trying to reach behind her to tug on his gorgeous mane. Without warning she hears him finish lapping her up before letting go of her. 

Is he going to help me out of this tire? Where is he-

The sound of ripping is heard clearly through the air. He’s tearing off his clothes. 

“ I see the way you look at me…” Kyojuro began. “ You see the way  I look at you. That’s why I took off my mating season sign. I had to get you in here somehow…” His voice was a full octave lower and the quietest she had ever heard him. 

The head of his cock gently tapped at her bubbly ass before he swipes it though her slick. This causes his breath to catch. Slowly, as if afraid she would say something, he lets himself slide into her warmth. 

Her jaw dropped as she began to feel impossibly full. His kind was known to have barbs on their genitals but they were more pleasurable than painful. A full out moan escaped her lips as he finally bottoms out. The head of his cock pushed right up against her cervix. It nearly drives Kyojuro wild as a loud chuff is heard from him. He needed to hold onto something but didn’t want to hurt her. 

She squeaked as the tire around her waist rocks forward. Kyojuro has dug his nails into the rubber of the tire she’s stuck in. A feral look is on his face as his flame colored eyes are narrowed into slits. Now having the leverage he has, the feral tiger starts to pull it closer to him, in the process driving his swollen cock further into the poor zookeeper. She drops her head forward to see her stomach bulging. With every breath she takes in, she can feel the sensation of him twitching inside her. She moans as she sees the sticky side of her cunt gripping onto his ribbed cock. 

“ K-Kyojuro! P-please…” 

A hand then moves into her line of sight, the clawed hand moves to her clit to gently circle it. 

“ I know, my dear keeper. I know.” He grunts. Sweat covers his forehead and it drips down to the dimples on her lower back. He wants to lick it off but he needs to fill her first. Taking in a deep breath he starts to rut into her vice of a cunny. He throws his head back as the fluttering of her walls start to suck him deeper if that was even possible. 

Y/N had her eyes rolled back by this point. With every stroke into her, she felt herself become tighter and tighter like a rubberband. It wasn’t until she felt his large paw of a hand go over her lower stomach and press on it that the pressure released into a mind numbing sensation. 

“ F-fuck! Keep going! Keep going!” 

Kyojuro didn’t have to be told twice as he continued to fuck her through her organsim. Her cries were all full volume now and he could feel the call of his own end bekon to him. Several messy strokes later, he emptied himself into her with a loud roar. The rest of the animals in the zoo were in a fury with their own calls and sounds. 

At last with a gente tug, Kyojuro managed to get his zookeeper out of the tire swing. He continued to press himself into her to try to plug up as much cum as he could. 

“ That was…needed.” Kyojuro confessed with a blush on his cheeks. “ I’m sorry for using unsavory methods to get you in here but ever since you started I’ve been wanting you.” 

“ I wanted you too Kyojuro but I was too shy to ever do anything directly…also,” A giggle escapes her. “ I wasn’t really stuck in there. I’m just glad you were a little bit of a pervy kitty..” She looks back at him with a wink. 

Kyojuro can feel his cock stirring within her once again.

Taglist: @demonbanger @kireirengoku @cherrykamado @bakugosbratx @kisaken

[blueicequeen19]

Mystery Blonde Pt. 2

Previous

Two weeks. That's how long it'd been since I fucked Y/N. Actually, she fucked me. She took her own virginity while riding me like a goddamn mechanical bull. All I have to picture is her face scrunched up in pleasure and I'm aching and hard all over again. I don't think I've gotten the damn thing to go down since that night. Even if I got the shit kicked out of me by Topper and Kelc. I've been laying low so I don't run into them again. I almost felt bad that I slept with Topper's girl. I should've tried harder to stop her. I didn't realize how drunk she was or that she thought I was Topper until he barged in with steam coming out his ears. Another part of me was sick with possession and obsession over the fact that she used me. I wanted her to do it again. I wanted her to take it from me again. Use me like her own personal fuck toy until she was done then go back to whatever shit Kook girls do. I groan, palming my dick through my shorts. I could still feel her squeezing me. Fucking me so good. Shit. I was about to cum in my fucking shorts.

I get up and go to the bathroom as I pull up her instagram. My little Kook was as sweet and innocent as they come, or so I thought. So she didn't have many pictures of herself posted but she was tagged in a few of her in a tiny swimsuit and that would do. I free my dick, almost groaning from releasing it, and start to stroke it as I look at her. I picture the look on her face when she popped her cherry. That moment of discomfort that finally turned to pleasure. How she road me like there was no tomorrow. The sweet sounds she made as she came. I tightened my fist, jerking myself hard and fast while twisting my hand at the head until I came hard in my hand. My legs shook as I snatched up a towel and cleaned myself off. That would hold me over for all of five minutes then I'd be hard again. I needed to see her.

That night I finally spotted her at a party. She looked like she'd been crying even with the heavy makeup she was wearing. Topper and his goons weren't giving her the time of day and I could tell it was bothering her. She must not have been paying attention because when I follow her upstairs and corner her in the bathroom, she acts like she's seen a ghost.

"What are you doing here?!" She shoves me in the chest and I resist the urge to pin her down against the counter. "You ruined my life! Topper wants nothing to do with me!" She shoves me again, her eyes filled with angry tears.

"Good. Screw Topper." I rasp, my dick swelling in my shorts like a balloon just by being this close to her. She was wearing a pink sundress with her hair tied back. I wanted to wrap her hair around my fist as I bent her over the nearest flat surface. I bet she feels even better from behind. A slap lands across my cheek and I blink back to reality with my eyes wide.

"Stop looking at me like that! You took advantage of me!" I scoop her up with an angry growl causing her to squeal as I sit her down on the counter. The music downstairs was nowhere near loud enough to drown out what I wanted to do to her at this moment. I thought she was a vixen when she was riding me but I was even more turned on by her anger.

"You,--" I suck in a breath as I find myself starring down at her cleavage, "--came on to me. You fucked me. You took advantage of me." I growl and her two hands come up to slap against my chest.

"I was drunk! I thought you were Topper! You made no move to stop me, you sicko." She hisses and I bite back a laugh. God. She was cute.

"You didn't give me any clue that you were looking for Topper. You threw yourself at me." I find my hands slowly sliding up her thighs, pushing her dress up inch by inch and she holds her breath, just watching.

"Y-y-you didn't stop me." Her voice comes out shaky, like she's out of breath. A blush covers her cheeks once my fingers brush against the hem of her panties. Her big doe eyes looked up at me again, silently begging me for anything. She could ask me for anything in this moment and I'd fucking give it to her.

"Hell no I didn't fucking stop you. And I'd do it again. Do you know how hot it was seeing you like that? Riding me like you'd die if you didn't?" She turns away from me embarrassed but I grip her chin, forcing her to look back at me.

"I can't get you out of my fucking head. I've been hard as a rock for two fucking weeks because I want you so badly."

"Stop. That wasn't meant for you. It was meant for Topper. He'll never look at me the same again." She bats my hand away and I hook my fingers into the elastic of her panties, yanking them off not too gently. causing her to whimper. I shove them in my back pocket for safe keeping.

"Good. Listen to me when I say, fuck Topper. He doesn't deserve you anyway. He only wanted you for your cherry and he would've cast you aside as soon as he got it." She slaps me again and I debate restraining her with my belt as my fingers dive between her legs. I smirk when I find her absolutely soaked and dripping. She was making a mess.

"W-w-what are y-you doing?" She pants, her eyes hooded with her lips perfectly parted as I caress her slick folds. I slip two fingers into the first knuckle then back out, her hips arching into me for more.

"I'm fingering you, sweet girl." I lean forward, my lips brushing her ear as I repeat the same movements with my fingers again. Her breathy moan hits my ear as I kiss just below hers. "I don't plan on letting you leave this bathroom until I get what I want so you can pretend I'm Topper again if that helps." She sucks a breath in through her teeth as I sink my fingers into the last knuckle. Still so fucking tight.

"Does that feel good?" I ask, mesmerized by the sounds and faces she's making as I move my hand back and forth.

"Yes." Her voice is low, eyes falling closed as her inner walls contract around me. I'd barely touched her and she was going to cum. I curled my fingers upwards, pressing into the spot deep inside her and her body jerks, a cry leaving her lips as she cums hard, her cream coating my fingers. I pull out and there's a faint streak of blood. The thought of her bleeding for me - twice - was enough to make me lose all restraint. I yank her off the counter and spin her around, forcing her to bend over so she's on full display for me. I kick her legs further apart as I lick her from one hole to the next.

"Don't--don't go back there. That's--." Her hands attempt to cover her ass but I swat them away, buring my tongue inside her tight puckered hole. I'd never eaten anyones ass before but hers was quickly becoming my favorite. I loved that she was embarrassed. I loved that she was allowing me to humiliate her.

"Don't get all modest on me now. Eventually it'll be my dick in there." I move down to her pussy hole and she groans.

"No." She pushes back against me in defiance and I press my finger against her ass.

"Yes." I growl, barely pushing the tip of my pointer finger inside. She gasps, her legs shaking as I tease her. There’s suddenly a knock on the door. She fights to right herself but I hold her in place while quickly undoing my shorts.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Topper called.

Tag list: @lovedetlost @hoebx @strokesofstokes @alizabethcs @carnisidi @famousdestinygarden @i-always-come-back-xoxo @pankowforlife @my-baexht-ls Let me know if I missed anyone! 💕

[starkidblogs]

The Lady and Her Monster

A/n: Hello there, This is a Mayor x Reader fanfic, inspired by the artwork of @neonross of the mayor and his daughter. The link is here. It is incredible, as well as their Bull kid au.

**This is a warning that this first part contains gory descriptions and death. So It's rated M for violence**

This is also one of a three or four-part fanfic. I'm unsure because I have ADHD and fall in and out of writing/fandom. (Hyperfixation is a curse!!)

Summary: The day lady bone demon start destroying the empire and eliminating the emperor. But she also needed to keep her tool in check, so she commanded him to eliminate the one thing holding him back, his love for you and his daughter.

Sidenote; I gave the mayor a name.....It's chief... I know it's a terrible name. The mayor also starts as a human before fully becoming the LBD servant. It has been a long while since writing fanfiction and the first time to post it on Tumblr. So there may be spelling mistakes that I may have missed.

Now on to the story.

You held your young daughter close as you gazed into the eye of your former husband. The cold blue that emanated from his eyes, this wasn't the man you knew and loved. He was something else, something frightening and horrible. He held his bloodstained blade.

When did it go wrong? When did he become this monster you see before you?

You felt tears from your daughter as she was holding on to you for dear life. "Mama! What's happening? Why is papa hurting people?" She cried as you couldn't explain it to her. How could? You don't know what was possessing him to do this.

"Sweetie, That is not your papa... Not anymore..." that's all you could muster as he walked towards you both with blood-soaked katana in hand. Before he started to run, you bolted with your daughter in your arms into the house. You felt the swing of his blade was close behind you. Turning to close the door, you saw his unnerving grin before slamming the door shut and grabbing a nearby chair to slow him down. It gave you both enough time to run into the cellar as he busted into the home you both made.

You held in your breath as you tried to soothe your child. Trying to think of a way to keep her safe, you thought of your parents outside the empire. "My lady, we're going to play a game. Okay, you remember how you ran to your grandma and grandpa's home outside of the empire against daddy to see who's faster?"

She nodded in confusion. Why did you want to play a game at a time like this? "You need to run to them while I stop papa from catching up to you. Okay? Don't stop for anything until you are there and safe." You heard him upstairs walking into each room, flinging items out of the way while the doors shattered as he tried to find you both.

You held you're breath and heard him going into the farthest room, your only chance for your daughter to flee from the demon in your home. You quickly tip-toed out of the basement, carrying her closet to your chest to shield her eyes from the horror the empire had become. Shards of giant blue crystal erupted out of nowhere and destroyed buildings, entrapping citizens, some piercing through them. As bodies drop on the street, families cry out for lost loved ones, and neighbors attempt to liberate their friends from crystal.

As soon as you escaped the chaos, you ran into the forest near your parent's home. "Okay, my lady, remember..." You began to tear up, knowing this was the last time you'll ever hold her. "Don't look back, and keep running till you are safe and far away from here...." You choked on your sobs as you hugged her tightly and kissed her on the forehead. "Mama..." She utters as she tries to hold back her tears. "I love you, my little lady."

Before your daughter could say anything, a twig snapped behind you. Dread wanted to take over and paralyze you, but you knew you had to hold him back for your daughter. You turn to see the man you once adored smiling maliciously. It made your guts turn sour as you turned to your daughter "(d/n), run... Get out of here!" You shouted as you heard the crunching of leaves get farther away from you both, now in a stand-off. You knew you were not going to survive.

"Is this how you protect your child?" He spoke, sounding like a mad man as he laughed. "You mean our child!! Chief, what has happened to you?!" You shouted at him, clenching your hands into fists, holding in your sobs. "Destiny happened to me sadly... You both aren't in it." He utters before lunging forward at you. Without having enough time to respond, he held you by your neck and chuckled before slamming you into a tree.

You coughed as the air was knocked out of your lungs, dropping onto the ground, gasping as you struggled to stand. Only to feel a hand grab a fist full of your (h/c) hair and yank you up. You stood face to face with this monster. The cold blue of his eyes meets your weeping (E/C) ones. He was about to slam you into the tree again until you both heard a woman's voice coming from behind him. "This has gone on long enough,"

"It's time to finish with this. We must concentrate on our destiny at hand." She said coldly into your eyes as you fell to the ground. You saw her form come closer as you screamed at her, "WHO ARE YOU? HOW COME YOU'RE DOING THIS?!" She turned towards you as she spoke."I am but a humble spirit. I came here on a mission to help the mortals be free from the pain and imperfections of this world. I thought if I was able to help the emperor and make him into a better person, we could make this land prosper, but after a few months of working for him, I realized that it was pointless. He never cared about anyone else but himself, even moments before he died." This lady explained you sat up and yelled. "THEN WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY HUSBAND?!" Before feeling a blade dig in slowly into your shoulder. You cried in agony and pain as you heard him bark at you. "Show your respect to my lady."

You felt your heart sink as he yanked the blade out of you. You pressed your hand onto your shoulder to stop the bleeding somehow. "Your husband is a powerful man (Y/n), and he is so close to his future, but there is only one thing holding him back" She walked closer towards you and saw Chief kneeling for her. The woman grabbed your face and force you to look at her speaking softly. "you and your daughter." Your eyes widen " Leave her out of this!" you spat out before she let you go. "I respect your efforts into savings your offspring but note this if she comes back," She said as her eyes started to glow neon blue. "I will not have any mercy." Turning towards the once-thriving empire as she gave her final order. "End her."

You looked at her before turning to your former husband and saw him raising his katana, looking down at you. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for what happened next. Till you felt tear drops falling from his eyes onto your face as he smiled, before he brought his blade down, you gave him a final smile and calmly "I love you, my dear Chief." In his mind, one thing that was his own before fully succumbing to her influence was ' I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, my lady (Y/n)..'

Your final words to the man you spent your last few moments of life. As you passed, he wiped his tears away as he stared off into the depth of the woods before following the lady bone demon to the emperor's palace. Unbeknownst to them, two pairs of puffed (d/e/c) watched in horror behind a tree only a couple of feet away. Hiccups and sniffles came out as she turned in the direction of her grandparents, running as fast as she stumbled and tripped over roots. Huffs of air escaped her tiny lungs as they tried their best to keep up.

Her little legs with scrapes and scratches kept running as she fought the urge to fall over and wail about the scene keeps replaying in her head. (D/n) runs out of the woods, meeting a meadow of flowers. A vision of her and her father picking flowers and creating flower crowns for one another flashed in her mind. "Mama! Papa!" she whimpers as she reaches for safety underneath the only peach tree. She falls to the ground, and she feels her body trembling out of fear and sadness as she attempts to catch her breath as if it were her last and feels her energy fade.

(D/n) glanced up towards the night sky and said a small, simple prayer. "Please, help us.." Before giving in to exhaustion.

Words:1,381

I hope you enjoyed it!

Part two

[theheraldsrest]

“A very flirtatious Inquisitor with Romanceable Companions (Booty grab for the guys)”

This is going to be if you’re already pursuing their relationship/ in a relationship with said companions. Remember guys: if you’re gonna touch the butt, make sure it is with consent and that you have permission. It can be inappropriate sometimes or even unwanted. So please respect people! That would be very….

….booty-ful of you!

-LordLex

Cullen

-How red can this man go? Let’s find out! Flirting out of nowhere always surprises him and turns him into a stuttering mess. Especially if it’s in front of other people, even better if it’s in front of Josephine and Leliana, who’ll torment him on it

-He tries to flirt back, but it’s a little weak compared to your words. He thinks your...hair looks nice? Maker, just kill him on the spot.

-Any touch towards the rear end and you will most likely hear the commander of your soldiers yelp. Every. Single. Time.

Josephine

-You better be prepared for this little dual you have between the two of you. At first, she’s very surprised and even blushes a bit, but soon sees it as a game. After that, it’s much harder to get her to blush

-Whenever you attempt to have a word with Josey, she always seems ready with her own compliments. It’s just a matter of who stumbles over their words first

-You mess with the bard, you get the charm. Don’t make her get the lute

Solas

-The first time he thinks it’s a joke. The next, he does seem to get a little flushed from the not-so-discreet flirting. Now, it only seems to make him think of how adorable you are

-You better be ready for the consequences of enticing this man. The dirtier the flirt, the more emphasis on his words. He’ll describe in detail what your actions are doing to him while hiding them behind pretty words

-Listen, if you can get this man’s rear end in hand, good for you. He’s either constantly on the move, up on the loft trying to paint, or sitting. Almost always reciprocates unless inappropriate

Cassandra

-HO BOY. Just being near her is like flirting, her love language is being near you and protecting you. Add in an unholy amount of flirting? She’s gone

-It’s easy to see that as soon as you start and are in public, she’s bright red and trying to keep a straight face, hitting you to get you to stop

-But privately, she’s still a little embarrassed but oh how she loves it. She might not be able to flirt as excessively as you can, but she tries to show her thoughts another way ;)

The Iron Bull

-You dare challenge The Iron Bull to explicit flirting?! If you don’t hold back, he’s not going to either. It’s just a matter of how long until one of you runs out things to say, one of you is too embarrassed to say anything, or both of you end up in a bedroom

-Especially if you become his Kadan, he will take every given opportunity to try and make you a mess. Ranges from how beautiful/handsome you are to what he’d like to do to you in detail

-Bull always seems ready and welcoming to a booty grab, just make sure you’re ready for when he decides to grab yours

Dorian

-Kinda…immune to it? Applauds you for trying though and then says “My turn.” Sweet Andraste, you didn’t know there were so many ways to describe someone’s ass. 

-So many people have tried to flirt with him, it’s been a while since he’s heard something new. Of course, it’s a different story with you. He knows you mean most of what you say. Even the more dirtier bits

-If you grab his butt, he’ll grab yours and now you’re both walking while holding the other’s ass cheek. So much disapproval. Really now, this is getting out of hand. (Get it? Eh? Eh?)

Sera

-Spits out whatever she’s drinking at the time and just looks at you. Turns to mad giggling as you continue. She loves it and doesn't want you to stop.

-Sera has no chill whatsoever. You make a remark, she makes it dirtier. You make an implication, she’ll act upon it. Doesn’t matter when or where, if you’re alone or with company, in the woods or surrounded by nobles. She will make sure everyone knows what you said just for bragging rights

-Other than that, her only other problem is she can’t flirt worth crap. Her best worst one yet was changing the meaning behind Inky. No longer for inquisitor but for squids, you know, when they ink. Get it, Inky? Do you get it? Because they ink like when you- 

Blackwall

-Unlike Sera, Blackwall chokes on his drink. Makes sure no one heard you. He might have a face full of hair, but there’s no denying the bright red creeping over his face due to your words

-The more you flirt, the more he pretends to have gone deaf. But you can tell that he hears it, with him pausing every now and then to keep his composure. Will ask repeatedly if you need him for a private matter. Doesn’t matter, he’s already dragging you off to have a “chat”

-Will try to stop you from grabbing his butt, it’s like he has a sense for it. Of course, there are certain times where he just gets fed up and grabs your rear end as pay back

Again, butt grabs should have consent, whether it's with someone familiar or even a romantic partner. This writing is purely for fun. And I have no regrets whatsoever over the puns I have made today!

[redhoodieone]

You’re so Lucky!

A/N: Hey y’all! Here’s another sexy story that was a request from the amazing @jasontoddslut! Enjoy my peeps!

Warnings: Language, Bad Relationship with Ex-Boyfriend, Smut, Voyeurism, and Jason’s Goddamn Dirty Mouth!!!!!

It was bound to happen. She couldn’t deny this was going to happen sooner rather than later. If she believed they that they could get through their issues and be happy like they once were, then she’s a real fucking idiot.

Gabi still couldn’t believe it though. One minute she was trying to calm Bobby down and the next, he’s screaming at her and telling her to get the fuck out of his apartment. He was in a bad mood to begin with. He’s a mechanic and he’s always tired when he gets home. He was expecting dinner to be ready and maybe have his loving girlfriend of three years rub his back since his shoulder pain is getting worse.

But no. Gabi made the mistake of asking Bobby where he was tonight as soon as he got home.

What set him off was her telling him to calm down. She should have known though.

You should NEVER. EVER. Tell an easily angry guy to calm down.

Because that’s like telling fire to not burn people. Or telling a baby to not cry.

She should have known better though. It’s no surprise Bobby’s into some serious shady shit that the low life Gothamites meet up sometimes at night in casinos or nightclubs. She knows they do illegal shit like selling drugs, ordering weapons from other countries, and maybe even kidnapping young women and children.

And Bobby had participated in the ordering weapons category.

How Gabi found out is another story: she knows for damn sure that Bobby once brought home fifteen state of the art total militia AK-47 guns. Bobby had foolishly asked Gabi to go get some important documents from his huge safe; totally forgetting the weapons were in there about five months prior.

Why would a normal mechanic need such weapons?

Gabi had decided to never bring it up. Bobby would either deny or lie about it. His temper had been getting worse right about then and she knew better.

But he wasn’t always like this. Oh, no. Bobby was a funny, laid back, and loving type who worshipped the ground Gabi walked on before they even started dating. But after two years of living with each other, things changed.

Simple as that. Things changed.

Gabi always wondered how things could just...change. So easily. The fact that it could happen in the blink of an eye frightens her sometimes.

Just like Bobby’s hidden anger. She never knew a hilarious and sweet guy could have the rage of a bull.

Bobby never hit her though. He always made sure to slam his fist against the wall beside her head, though. He was the type to yell and belittle Gabi as if she was a little girl.

But she wasn’t a little girl. She was a 23-year-old woman who moved in with her boyfriend so fast that she began to understand why her parents and friends disapproved of her choices and relationship.

I just had to learn the hard way, Gabi thought to herself.

She doesn’t know why she’s trying to think of sayings that relate to this experience. The point is, Gabi knows she seriously fucked. With Bobby only giving her ten minutes to pack whatever truly mattered to her, she had to hurry the fuck up.

The moment she made it outside the apartment building, all Gabi could do is replay her questions that she asked Bobby.

Where were you tonight?

Were you with someone?

What did you do?

Why can’t you tell me what you did?

Are you hiding something from me?

Are you getting into dangerous things?

No wonder Bobby kicked her out. Gabi should have never put her nose in his business. And now, she’s practically homeless. She knows it would be embarrassing as hell to go back to her parents’ house because of what they told her before getting involved with Bobby. She also knows her friends would treat her horribly, with the “I told you so” stares and lectures. Gabi was certainly running out of options just as the rain began to fall.

There was one person she could go to, who would never turn her away.

However, Gabi hasn’t spoken to this person in about a year because of her relationship with Bobby as well as this person’s own relationship with their significant other.

But Gabi knew Y/N was a good person, a good friend. She was a sweet person, with a big warm heart and she would never turn her away.

With nowhere else to go, Gabi walked alone in the rain all the way down to high class side of Gotham.

By the time Gabi gets to the high-class penthouses, she has to call Y/N to let her inside. Of course, Y/N excitedly tells her to come up, and Gabi immediately starts to feel somehow relieved that Y/N hasn’t changed at all.

As Gabi finally makes it to the correct floor, she sees Y/N waiting by the door, where Gabi assumes is where Y/N lives. Y/N is wearing a red and black flannel pajama pants and a thin black tank top. Gabi also notices Y/N’s barefoot, and her hair’s in a messy bun.

She must have just woken up. I’m so sorry, Y/N, Gabi thinks to herself.

But none of that matters when Y/N meets Gabi halfway in the hall where they collide in a tight, warm-hearted embrace.  Y/N smells like a woodsy, musky cologne, most likely from whoever she’s seeing with now. Maybe they were snuggling up against with each other until Gabi had called and asked if she could come over.

“Come inside. You must be freezing!” Y/N says, releasing Gabi from her hug and pulling her arm towards the front door.

Gabi follows on shaky legs, completely overwhelmed by seeing her longtime best friend. Y/N giggles and leads Gabi inside the penthouse. Gabi instantly is hit by the aroma of vanilla and musk, the smell of intimacy and seduction.  Her eyes take in the red and black walls and décor, some exquisite art pieces, and the big space that is more comfortable and warmer than most homes she’s ever seen.

“Welcome, mi casa es tu casa! Seriously Gabi, babe, make yourself at home. There’s absolutely no rush to leave. You leave when you’re ready, okay?” Y/N says seriously.

“Are you absolutely sure? I really don’t want to impose or put you and your boyfriend out,” Gabi confesses.

Y/N leads Gabi to the long, cherry red couch that is facing a huge flat screen TV. Gabi sets down her duffle bag and takes a seat next to Y/N on the couch.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Jay and I insist you stay here until you figure out what you want to do, okay?” Y/N says, before she turns around to get comfortable to face Gabi.

A vanilla candle is lit on the coffee table. Gabi’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I didn’t...interrupt something, did I?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t! I was just setting the mood in the living room to be more...comfy,” Y/N admits, with a chuckle. “Jason just got home a few minutes ago and is taking a shower. He should be done by now.”

As if on cue, they hear someone walking down the hall and towards the living room. He stops near the couch. There in all his glory, well half-naked glory, stands Jason Todd, God’s greatest creation of man...at least that’s what both girls were thinking.

“Gabi, this is Jason, my boyfriend,” Y/N proudly introduces Jason to Gabi. “Jay, this is Gabi, my best friend in the whole wide world.”

Still dripping wet and fresh out of the shower, Jason at least has a white towel wrapped around his waist; hiding his goods that Gabi wanted to see so desperately. He’s really tall, must be 6’2 or something close to that. She takes note that Jason is all man: there’s absolutely nothing that screams “boy”. Gabi inhales hard when she watches his large hand run through his soaked dark hair. The other hand holds the towel tightly around his hips.

“Hi,” Jason smirks at Gabi. She notices his eyes are green, almost like emeralds. He smiles at her, even his white teeth are perfect. “So, you’re Gabi. Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

“She-she has?” Gabi chokes out. Why is it so hot in here? Why can’t she speak?

Her eyes zero in on the droplets of water running down his strong as fuck built chiseled chest and perfectly sculpted abs that she really wants to lick and bite his skin.

Holy fuck...

Gabi scolds herself for thinking such inappropriate thoughts about her best friend’s boyfriend. Even though Gabi’s never fantasized Bobby this kind of way, she realizes Y/N’s lucked out. Bobby wasn’t in shape or even remotely attractive like Jason.

“Of course, she has. You’re one of her best friends, and I’m happy to finally meet you. I would go over there to shake your hand and properly greet you, but I’m uh...not exactly dressed yet,” Jason chuckles, and almost seems shy now. “I’m gonna go get dressed real quick so we can talk.”

You don’t have to. You can stay the way you are. You can even drop the towel, Gabi thinks improperly.

Y/N smiles softly at Jason as they watch him leave. True to his word, Jason returned in a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt and took a seat next to Y/N. Throughout their comfortable and pleasant conversation, Gabi truly sees the way Jason cares about her best friend. Midway through their talk about what happened to Bobby, Jason clearly was paying attention and rubbed caressed Y/N’s thigh when Gabi recounted the latest scary fight with Bobby. Whenever Y/N looked shocked or worried, Jason made sure to calm her down through touches, forehead kisses, and whispers words along the lines of love, probably.

It almost makes Gabi jealous. Y/N’s life is clearly so much better than what Gabi had going on for herself. Jason seems like the perfect gentleman; always does and says the right thing. Gabi’s never seen a man pay so much attention to a woman before. Not only did he offer Gabi his advice and opinions on getting a better and more affordable apartment on their street, but Jason even voiced his hatred for Bobby, and even went on to criticize the man for treating women so poorly. He even made a joke about finding the man and breaking his legs; making Gabi and Y/N laugh their asses off and making the energy around them fun again.

But for some reason, Gabi couldn’t help but notice that Jason wasn’t laughing as hard as she and Y/N were. It almost seemed like Jason was serious about breaking Bobby’s legs, but Jason wouldn’t do that. She was sure of it.

He wouldn’t, would he?

By the time midnight came, the three of them stood up and decided to go to bed. Jason even surprised Gabi by giving her a hug and telling her that she can stay in their guest bedroom for however long as she wants and needs.

“I’m serious, kid. Don’t even worry about it. You mean so much to Y/N, and so therefore, you mean a lot to me, too,” Jason had said as he pulled back from their hug.

Gabi was speechless to say the least. She didn’t want the hug to end. He felt so good in her arms and he smelled so fucking good.

But it was bedtime now, and once Y/N and Jason had shown Gabi the guest bedroom, they went off to bed to let Gabi get comfortable. It wasn’t long for Gabi to quickly clean herself up and put on some plain pajama shorts with a tank top. As soon as she turned off the light, she was amazed by how big and comfortable the bed was. She figured it must be new and is probably the first person to sleep in here. In just a few minutes, exhaustion took over and Gabi fell into a deep sleep.

Her throat was dry. That’s what awoke Gabi at two in the morning and made her climb out of bed and go search for a bottle of water. She made sure to tiptoe out of the room and walk slowly and quietly to the kitchen.

As soon as Gabi made it to the end of the hallway, she stops dead in her tracks when she hears moaning. A woman moaning.

Her mind registers that it’s Y/N moaning. But why is she moaning in the living room?

Curiosity forces Gabi to peek out into the living room and see what’s going on, despite the logical part in her mind is screaming at her to have some respect for her best friend and her boyfriend.

But being a pervert outweighs being a prude.

Gabi is utterly shocked to her core when she sees her best friend straddling Jason’s lap. On the red couch where they sat a couple of hours ago, Gabi sees Y/N and Jason making out heavily. She couldn’t unsee it; she wants to keep watching them.

Gabi even sees the vanilla candle is lit again, after Jason had blown it out before they all went to bed.

But all Gabi could see is Jason’s fingertips digging hard into Y/N’s exposed flesh from where her tank top is pushed up above her bare tits. Y/N shamelessly moans in between the evident delicious kisses, and grinds against Jason’s apparent bulge.

Gabi quickly notices an isolated leather recliner that’s against the wall near the hallway. She throws herself down, sinks into the chair and watches the practically live porno show in front of her.

Jason pulls back from the deep kiss, revealing his red, swollen lips from where Y/N’s been biting and sucking since the beginning. He rests his head back against the couch and looks up with hazy, lustful eyes as Y/N grins down at him. She bites her bottom lip and pulls up her tank top, removing her top completely from her body.  

“Fuck...what the hell are you doing to me, sweetheart?” Jason asks breathlessly. He runs his hands up Y/N’s back and moves them to her front where he reaches for both her tits.

“I’m slowly...and softly killing you,” Y/N says, closing her eyes and moans when Jason gently grabs both her tits in his hands; her breasts fill his hands perfectly.

“I’d say...” he says, before sighing contently when switches from pinching her nipples to squeezing her tits before he sits up straighter and pulls Y/N’s body closer to lick and suck her sensitive nipples.

“Oh, fuck...oh Jay...feels so good,” Y/N moans louder than before. She whimpers and continues to rub herself against him. “I need to cum...please make me cum, Jay...”

Jason pulls back from her chest and gazes into Y/N’s eyes. “You wanna cum, doll? Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, please...I need you so bad!”

“No, I don’t think you need to cum,” Jason teases, before he pulls off his own t-shirt. “Now, I’m going to take off the rest of your clothes, but if you touch your pussy, I ain’t going to fuck you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Y/N snaps. Her cheeks are flushed from being aroused.

Jason smirks at Y/N’s frustration.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, sweetheart. I’m going to check how wet you are,” Jason explains, as he raises Y/N off his lap to pull down her pajama pants and panties; leaving her completely bare on his lap. “If you’re soaking wet, then I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be feeling me for days. But if I have to make you wet, then that means I get to do whatever I want to this pussy.”

“But-”

Jason runs his hand up Y/N’s thigh until his fingers glide over her bare pussy. His fingers gently push inside her, he can feel the wetness, but wants to see it for himself.

“Stand up and put your pussy in my face,” he demands.

“What?”

“I want to taste your delicious pussy right now. Don’t make me get up and literally put you on my shoulders to eat you out,” Jason threatens.

Y/N slowly moves to stand up carefully on the couch. Her legs are shaking, but Jason quickly grabs her to hold her steady. He doesn’t waste any time, and he dives into her pussy as if he’s a starving man.

“Oh fuck!” Y/N cries out.

Jason’s tongue on her clit is what she wants the most right now. He squeezes her thigh and flicks his tongue side to side until Y/N fears she’s either going to fall back or fall over him.

Y/N notices one of Jason’s pull up bars is above her. How convenient.

She grabs a hold of the bar to hold herself up just as he decides to slip a finger inside her. Holding herself up allows him to remove a hand from her thigh. He takes the opportunity to slip another finger inside and pumps them in and out fast.

Y/N’s body trembles when Jason curls his fingers and strokes the sensitive wall that he’s mastered so well. He can tell she’s close. She must have been excited earlier when they planned to stay in last minute. He manages to look up at her and he can see she’s barely holding on.

“You’re so close aren’t you, babe? You taste so fucking good that I want you to cum on my face. I want you to be my dirty girl tonight,” Jason says as he finger-fucks her harder and faster than before. “Are you going to be my dirty girl tonight?

“Yes! Fuck yes! Just-just make me cum, please!” Y/N cries out desperately, needing the push that Jason could only give her.

“You are my dirty girl. You love it when I make you cum with just my fingers and mouth. But I bet you want my cock right after, huh?” Jason asks, chuckling darkly when Y/N’s eyes roll back when he speeds up his fingers inside her. “You wanna ride me, don’t you?”

“Yes-yes I do...” she’s panting now.

“Okay, I want you to cum in my face and then quickly get on my lap and ride me. Fast, slow, hard, whatever, you pick. I just want to feel your warm, tight pussy around my dick, okay?” Jason says, quickly shoving his sweatpants and boxers down to his feet. “Fuck...give me your pretty, tasty pussy, sweetheart!”

And then Jason finally gives in. He pulls both her thighs to bring her pussy to his face. Y/N whimpers when he licks all around her wetness, and he hums in approval when he feels her hand stroking his scalp and pulling his hair, while she continues holding herself up with only one hand now.

The vibration from his humming helps her reach her release. He continues to thrust his fingers inside her and sucks her clit until she gushes in his face.

Y/N manages to silent most of her orgasm, but it didn’t help when Jason continued to lick and suck at her clit to swallow most of her juices. Once her body relaxes, she lets go of the pull up bar and drops down to the couch. Y/N quickly straddles Jason’s lap until her pussy is hovering above his hard cock.

“Spit on my cock, doll. Get it nice and wet,” Jason says, as he watches Y/N spit in her hand and stroke his thick cock until he’s nice and ready for her. “How are you going to ride me, sweetheart?”

Y/N slowly looks up into Jason’s dilated, misty eyes. “Deep. Hard. And fast,” she says.

Jason swallows hard but is able to quickly smirk up at Y/N before she takes full control. “Then ride me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my cock like the dirty girl you really are.”

Y/N finally lowers herself onto Jason’s cock, all logic and common sense flies out the window. Whenever his cock was deep inside her, they both tend to lose themselves and the world around them. Because whenever they were connected emotionally and physically in their bubble, nothing else fucking matters in the world.

When Jason fills her up completely, they both release a content sigh. They usually take their time in the beginning, mostly because of their fears whenever Jason leaves to work as Red Hood. But since they’re both so horny and want to cum sooner, they’ll have to just take their time during round two.

“Fuck me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself silly on my dick,” Jason moans, but he and Y/N laugh at the “silly” part, when he realizes that’s not very sexy.

But Y/N understands and slowly lifts herself up his lap until just the tip of Jason’s cock is inside her. She keeps a steady pace, lifting herself and lowering herself, until their rhythm flows. Within seconds, Jason helps her by holding her hips tightly and thrusting his hips in time with hers.

“Your cock is so big inside me, Jay. You fill me up so good,” Y/N moans and rides him a little faster; wanting the head of his cock to rub hard and relentlessly against her g-spot. She guides one of his hands off her waist to move towards her pussy, encouraging him to rub her clit. “I wanna cum again, Jay.”

“Yeah? You like ridin’ my big cock, you dirty girl? You want me to fill your pussy with my cum?” Jason asks, watching Y/N’s tits bounce while she rides his cock faster than before. He can’t help himself, he uses a free hand to pinch her nipple and leans in to bite and suck her breasts, until he puts his hand back to her hip to guide her thrusts. “You want me to fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes! Yes, please!” Y/N begs.

“Okay, my dirty girl. I’ll give you what you want.”

Well, Jason knows now that this is going to end fast, but he refuses to let it end without Y/N cumming hard again. He squeezes her hip with one hand and the other hand rubs her clit fast in messy circles. He begins to pull her down to meet his thrusts, fucking her harder and faster with everything he’s got. The squelching sound from his cock fucking up into her wet pussy becomes more noticeable, especially when their skin-on-skin slapping gets louder and harsher that echoes in the living room.

“Fuck...Y/N, you’re getting so tight. You feel so fucking good baby,” Jason pants hard, completely sweating and keeping his fast and erratic pace to get them to their releases. “Fuckin’ cum on my big cock, sweetheart. I wanna feel you cum so bad. Please cum for me, again.”

Y/N keeps her eyes on Jason just as her orgasm hits her hard; she squeezes and gushes around his cock, she calls out his name. Jason thrusts harder in her three more times, as he finally cums hard inside Y/N, calls out her name as quietly as he could. Y/N collapses against Jason’s chest, despite being hot and sweaty, but he doesn’t mind. He wraps both arms around her and holds her while they regain their breaths and can function normal again.

Y/N doesn’t see the loving smile Jason gives her as he kisses her forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, and hugs her tighter.

She looks up at him and smiles. “I love you, too.”

Before Y/N can lie her head against Jason’s chest again, she notices Gabi sitting and watching them. Y/N jumps up and covers her breasts with her arms, causing Jason to jump in panic and turn around to see what’s going on.

“Gabi! What-what the hell are you doing there?!” Y/N cries out in embarrassment. She can feel her cheeks are getting red again.

Gabi slowly gets up from the chair and makes her wave into the kitchen. She finds bottled water in the refrigerator, takes one, and goes back into the living room where Jason and Y/N are still frozen in fear.

“I-I was thirsty,” Gabi answers, even though she knows it sounds like a lame answer. She walks backwards until she reaches the hall. “And-and then I saw you guys, and then I couldn’t stop watching. I’m sorry, Y/N...Jason...”

But before Gabi leaves, she points a finger at Jason and smiles. She even chuckles. “But-but in my defense...he’s really sexy! He’s fucking gorgeous, Y/N, and you’re one lucky bitch! You’re so lucky!”

But Gabi is right about that.

Y/N is lucky...because she has Jason.

[blackjackmagi83]

You Are My Heaven (1) - Sweep Me Off My Feet

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Masterlist

AO3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: A short reader insert story of falling in love with pre-winter soldier James Barnes to post-Winter Soldier Bucky.

A fluffy tear jerker that’ll make you cringe or get butterflies and blush.

*Rewritten cause original was cringe (still kind of is)*

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Note:

I can't even begin with how much I've rewritten this part of the story. I have come to the conclusion that I am awful at writing 2nd person and come to the decision to not write in that form again cause *cringe*🥲 I'm still not the happiest with this version and most likely in a short time with fix it up a bit better (Maybe) but I hope you all like this version!

I am working on fixing up the other parts so look out for that hopefully soon!

Playlist listed below along with the NEW story cover ♡

Hope you enjoy! ♡

Playlist:

Can’t Help Falling In Love – Elvis Presley 

Until I Found You – Stephen Sanchez with Em Beihold

Put Your Head On My Shoulder – Paul Anka

Hold Me Tight – Evan Rachel Wood (Across the Universe Soundtrack)

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1942 New York City, quite the place to be at this time. The raging war grew larger each day, waiting to swallow seas of people preparing to dive head first into it. It felt like the only thing that was on everyone's mind, the papers made sure it was at the very least. Pages upon pages of updates that weren’t classified to the public, detailing on what’s to come. It only grew the public's fear more. Mothers held their baby boys closer with each coming night, dreading the date when they got called for duty and most likely to their future graves. I almost could relate to the grieving mothers. A beloved baby sister who was trying to grasp the reality that my brother wasn't going to be coming home. A reality that I was nowhere near ready for, let alone accept.

My daze came to a halt at the feeling of getting my hip bumped by another, taking a moment to realize the bubbly woman beside me was deep in a conversation that I held no knowledge of the subject.

Great, I did it again…

My head turned towards her, attempting to connect the pieces of conversation my brain was able to catch. Something along the lines of a scandal at the salon and her mother fussing over the money she spent on the dress she had just bought for herself to wear tonight–I think–but nothing else seemed to fit together enough to fully comprehend. A wave of guilt washed over me at my terrible lack of focus tonight, further sinking when I caught the gleam of excitement as she spoke, still oblivious to my fogged state.

“--Who knows, maybe even let someone take my hands off you if you get my gist?” The beaming smile ceased at the sight of my furrowed brows, piecing together the puzzle of conversation that I had missed entirely, “You weren’t listening were you?”

My face pinched as I cringed, eyes apologetic towards the bouncing blonde, “I’m sorry–”

Her hands encased my arm in a firm hold, shaking it as if to rid of my clouded thoughts, “Get your head out of the clouds already, Y/N! With the way this war is going we only have so much time to enjoy such freedom and you are wasting it on daydreaming.”

Maria, one of the sweetest people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting in my young lifetime, was nothing but a stubborn, spitfire that is too passionate for her own good. So outgoing, never turning the spotlight down if it came her way but my most loyal friend since the two of us graduated highschool. Determined as a bull, she is the one who pulls me out of my comfort zone–more than I’d like sometimes–when she feels it’s needed, releasing the tension if pushed too far. A quality that was hard to find when befriending someone as shy as myself and I’ve never been more thankful.

“I wasn’t daydreaming.” Face flushing, I turned away from the pinned glare of green eyes, huffing under my breath with both annoyance and defeat, “Maria, you're lucky I even came out let alone having a man take me home tonight.”

Taking a man home was the last thing on my mind. Most men were preparing for war leaving only the memory of themselves in the form of soreness and hickies. Emotional connection wasn’t something many seeked during this time unless they sought after heartbreak purposely. Ignoring the sensitivity of my emotional state, even if I did go home with one, feeding into the temptation of lust, I would still be left with an emptiness that would never be filled. I rather sit and weep than deal with the emotional damage of loving someone romantically, knowing they wouldn’t return to me or lose their connection from months–maybe years–of distance and mental trauma of war. 

“The only plans I have after tonight are a cup of tea and a few chapters from my book.” I looped my arm through her right one, refusing to meet her eyes still, “Maybe I’ll even eat a cookie before bed, just to spice it up a bit since apparently I’m such a bore.”

I didn't have to look at her to know a smirk was growing on her lips, the corners cracking as they peeked upwards. Smugness radiated off her in heavy waves, her eyes glinting with mischief, “But the unplanned ones tend to be the best and rather surprising darling.”

Should’ve seen that one coming.

A blush dappled my cheeks, further entertaining Maria at my innocence, “I guess I’ll never know.”

I’ve had experiences with men but very little if I could even count it as anything. One of the first boys I went out with had taken advantage of the less than intimate kiss, decided to try his luck at running his hands down the curves of my backside but didn’t get a chance to go further due to your brother coming into my room. It’s safe to say receiving a black eye was no invitation for a second date.

Maria pinched my side, tugging me closer as the bar grew closer, “Never say never honey, you could meet the man of your dreams tonight.” 

For my sake, I beg to the heavens that I don't…

The bar doors swung open with a bang as the two of us entered, bodies painting the room with swinging dances, flirtatious chatter and an overall intoxicating presence that made my head spin the moment I stepped in. It was filled with mostly officers and women clinging onto their uniforms trying to hold onto their short summer romances. A few elderly lovers danced around them, sparkle in their eyes as if they had fallen in love with each other all over again. That's the kind of love I've always dreamt about, the most impossible love to find. 

Maria's grip tightened around my hand as she dragged me across the lacquered floor, bumping into surrounding bodies that looked to have the least bit of care in the world as they pounded glasses of liquor. My eyes wandered around the room catching the glints of light shining on the stage as I was pulled through, dazed by the haze from cigarette smoke and suffocation the packed room gave.

I tugged at her arm when we took a moment to stop, Maria peeking over shoulders in further search of an open table, “Why don’t we just head back? All the tables seem to be taken.” I felt claustrophobic the longer I stood pressed against so many bodies, the sour smell of booze and sweat was beginning to make me nauseous, “We can try again another night, preferably not on a Friday night?”

Maria was less than pleased by my escape attempt, scrunching her face sourly, “No way! You’ll never get out of that retrid room otherwise. Look, there’s a table right over there!” Maria pulled me further towards the back of the bar, squeezing past lingering hands and bantering, the empty table in question appearing as if out of thin air, “How perfect is this little spot? Nice and quiet, all while getting a good view of tonight’s selection.”

I couldn’t help but to breathe a laugh at her openness, pulling my dress underneath myself as I sat in the wooden seat, my hands immediately playing with the ends of hair that shifted onto my cheek. An anxious habit that I still struggled to get rid of. I wasn't used to dolling myself up,  showcasing myself into the light of curious eyes that surrounded me. I'm used to simple, blending into the crowds of New York with little fuss or worry of complications. I didn’t want to be in the spotlight, I didn’t like the attention of a thousand eyes on me, but when with Maria, that mindset gets twisted by those painted nails until all that remains is a whole new woman. Tonight was no exception. My hair is curled in brushed waves that tweaked up at the ends, the deep navy cocktail dress curving to my body without being overly tight. Maria even convinced me to wear makeup, showing me how to apply it since she is far more of an expert in the field than myself. When I appeared in front of the mirror, it was a stranger looking back at me. It felt overwhelming, looking back at the mature woman in the reflection, but the thrill of adrenaline that ran through my body had me excited for the night to come. 

Maria pinched at the back of my hand, gaining my mindless attention back once again, “Alright space cadet, I’m going to go and grab us some drinks. I expect that baby tush to be sitting right there when I get back–unless afterall someone catches your interest–”

“Just get the damn drinks already.” A snort flew from my lips as I shoved her towards the bar, the sound of her laughter fading as she drifted further away from earshot.

I followed Maria’s perky figure, quirking a brow when she was stopped by a few officers leaning against the bar beside her. With a dip in her hip, the flirtatious charm turned on, twirling the short blonde strands around her finger, eyes skimming their uniforms with low lashes and her lip tucked cheekily between her teeth. The men melted into a pool of lovestruck hormones that filled their imagination with visions of her beneath their bodies, hollering and smirking with their eyes still glued to her. It was so fascinating to observe, noting the ease of skill Maria flaunted all while being innocently inviting to the opposite sex. A trait–talent–I sometimes wish I obtained.

Maria sent a kiss to each swooning man, giving a little toast with the prized beer in her hands before she made her way back to the table, an extra sway to her hips, “God I love being a woman.” Maria released a relieved sigh, cheeks warm with joy, “I will never turn down free drinks by looking pretty.” The yeasty liquid spilled from the opened top as she handed the brown glass bottle, sitting herself in the chair across from me.

The liquid was pungent, hitting the back of my throat with a sharper taste than I expected, nearly making me cough it down. But the coolness of it made me numb away from the taste, savoring the relief of heat leaving my fevered body, “One of these days you’ll have to teach me your ways with flirting. You make it look as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.” 

Maria shook her head in disagreement, chuckling as she took another sip, “Absolutely not.”

My toe tapped at her shin playfully, “Oh, come on, I can’t be that hopeless?” Her head shook stubbornly again, mumbling ‘no’ repeatedly under her breath, “You’re the one who’s practically begging for me to have my panties around my ankles tonight. I can’t woo a guy if I’m fumbling over my words every other second.”

With a sigh, her head rolled to face me, “It’s simple Y/N, I’m selfish. If I teach you my ways you’ll never be home alone again or home at all for that matter. Even worse, you wouldn't spend any time with me! I’m not sure I could handle that. And don’t get me started on your brother who would put a target on my back if he found out you were anything but innocent. Sure be a hell of a sight to witness though.”

A heavy feeling sunk into an iron pit in my chest at the mention of my brother. I almost forgot about the deployment date but it was unavoidable, especially in a bar full of enthusiastic officers, ready to fight for their country. Avoiding it felt like a complete joke now, “Yeah, I guess you’re right, how stupid of me.”

Maria sighed as she took another sip from her beer, her thoughts morphing together something to fix her slipup, “Listen to me Y/N, I know you're struggling right now with your brother's deployment coming up but you need to keep living. Do you think he wants you drowning yourself in your room by yourself every night? No, he'd give you a shoe right in the tush and you know it! Now loosen up that frown, you're gonna get wrinkles.”

I knew she was right, but the panicked feeling only grew, settling like a diseased cell until it grew unmanageable. My cheek stung as back teeth nipped at the inside of my cheek, heartbeat drumming through my skull with quickening pulses that seemed to increase with each second passing. 

The first stage of a panic attack…

Dread joined the cluster of emotions at the thought of having an attack in full bar, my lungs clawing inside my chest in a panicked plea for more oxygen. I almost gave in, my breathing pitching into near hyperventilation until the warmth of a hand wrapped around the trembling digits of my own, forcing my glazed sight to meet Maria’s. It was a soft, reassuring gaze, her fingers rubbing tenderly against the back of my hand, distracting from the panicked breaths and desperation to run out the doors.

“Y/N, I need you to do your exercises.” She demonstrated, inhaling and exhaling the way I needed to, “Deep breath in, hold for four, blow it out for another four. Can you do that for me?”

I felt my head nodding, following her instructions, the subtle relief of my breathing and heart rate slowing following soon after. The unbearable drumming dissipated and the slight shake throughout my body settled into barely a hum. 

Her other hand cupped over our interlaced ones, radiating soothing heat up my arm, her eyes never leaving mine as I continued the exercise, “Good, now I want you to throw any thoughts you have out of that head of yours. I know it's not going to be easy, this will be your biggest challenge to overcome yet. Just remember you have people who will support you through it.”

I gave her a blank stare, both mentally drained and unamused by her words of wisdom, “How do you always know what to say to make me feel better?” A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, further distracting me from the episode that just occurred, “Seriously, it’s almost creepy.”

She let go of my hand, returning to its place on the bottle as she rocked backwards in her seat, a soft smile gracing her lips, “Because it’s what you have me for.” 

A comfortable silence grew between us, slowly sipping at the warming beer until there were only the sharp remnants remaining on the tip of my tongue. Maria barely touched hers, just holding it in her lap as her attention was more focused on those surrounding us, her body subconsciously swaying to the music from the band.

A loud smack quivered the table, sending a jolt through my heart at the sudden motion of her hand coming down against the table’s surface, “Alright I’ve had enough of this mopey, depressing gunk.” Her hand moved to reach out towards me, palm open with invite, “Come on honey, let's go show everyone how to actually dance.” 

Curls invaded my vision as my head shook, leaning away from the awaiting hand, “You know I don’t dance Maria.”

A humorless laugh flooded around me, the manicured hand slapping at the top of my exposed knee lightly, “What a load of bull that is! Come on Y/N, these boys don’t know what a fine woman they’re missing if you just sit around the whole night looking like a lost little puppy.”

Stubbornness laced my features, pushing away the empty bottle from between my fingers so I could cross them against my chest, “I most certainly can. Let’s call it, playing hard to get? Give ‘em a little surprise when they pull me to the floor.”

The blank, defeated stare shifted into one of triumph as her line of sight caught something behind me, raising her hands in mock surrender as she backed off, “If that’s how you wanna play honey then that’s fine, but I don’t think you’ll have to play for too long.”

“Elaborate please.”

She leaned forward until her mouth almost touched my ear, “An officer with the most intense blue eyes I’ve ever seen, hasn’t stopped looking at you since we sat down.” A finger pointed towards the culprit, chatting amongst a group against the wall beside the bar, “The tall one in the uniform in the middle there.”

She smirked as I launched my body around the chair, nearly making it fall over. My eyes scanned over the room, hunting for this mystery man that was spoken of but all I was met with was the classic brown and gold uniforms placed on nearly every man within a two foot vicinity. With a roll of my eyes, I met her awaiting ones, “Half this bar is filled with uniformed men, it’s a little hard to tell who from who.” 

Her gaze shifted behind me again, meeting mine with a mischievous glint, “Oh trust me, you can’t miss him. Look, he’s already making his way over here.”

“This joke is starting to get old–” I followed her line of sight, lazily skimming around until I caught the blue eyes she was referring to.

She wasn’t kidding… 

Six feet of muscles dressed in military attire with the most charming smile I've had the pleasure of seeing was walking my way, watching me as he walked against the crowd. My breaths held a firm hold within my throat as I held eye contact, unable to break away even when he stood only inches from where I sat.

“Good evening ladies.” He nodded his head respectfully towards Maria before his attention returned to me briefly, intimidating but welcoming, “I hope you don’t mind–”

“Maria Elkwoods, at your service sir.” She was practically glowing, radiating with both excitement and smugness. Her eyes shot to mine, clearly reading ‘I told you so’ .

A breathy chuckle passed his lips, jolting my heart into a quicker rhythm, “Maria, would you mind if I take the company of your gorgeous friend here for a moment?”

Maria didn’t need to hear another word, jumping from her seat as if it burned, “Please, I thought you’d never ask! And don’t feel the need to return her, she’s all yours for the night officer. Have fun you two.” She winked, leaving the two of us with our jaws slightly gaped and speechless, at least I was. 

The officer appeared amused rather than offended, shaking his head as another chuckle escaped him, “She’s quite something huh?”

“That’s an understatement.” I felt myself joining in the light laughter until our eyes met again, catching the words in my throat sharply as I watched him as if in slow motion take the open seat beside me.

Washes of light blue clashed with dark as the color got closer to his pupil creating an intense gaze that pinned me to the spot, intensely observant and calculating. I was already intimidated but something about his demeanor made my nerves settle into something manageable, allowing a shy smile to grace my features as I held his stare, “So, officer–”

“Sergeant James Barnes, but everyone likes to call me Bucky.” He reached his hand out, patiently waiting to take mine in polite greeting. 

I could tell my shyness was slightly amusing to him, certain my face was flushing as red as the stage lights currently, “Y/N Y/L/N, no fancy nickname though unfortunately. It’s a pleasure to meet you James.” The callused skin of his palms rubbed roughly against the softness of mine, tingling as my fingers danced against his in a light shake.

His hand radiated with a warmth that traveled up my arm, gently tugging my hand closer as he brought his lips against the top of it, letting them linger, “Y/N...The pleasure is all mine.”

A foreign feeling bubbled to the surface within me as I watched his lips move, my name rolling off his tongue like silk, embedding my attention fully on him to the point my eyes hurt from not moving them away. My hand was locked in a gentle hold between his still, letting his fingers rub mindlessly against my palm as he spoke, bringing the feeling close to exploding. I wanted to scream it out, all while bottling it back up to avoid something I was completely unprepared for.

“--I’m taking it you’re not much of a dancer?”

My shoulders shrugged lamely, too distracted by the tingles his touch was leaving to give a proper answer, “I suppose you could say that. More of the stay at home with a book kind of gal.”

He perked at my words, straightening his back and tilting his head with interest, "What’s your favorite book?”

Is there supposed to be an answer to that question? I don’t think there's an answer…

“Oh there's too many great ones to choose from, I honestly can’t say I have one. Do you enjoy casual reading?” I cringed internally at how badly I stumbled over the words, holding back the distaste I held for myself by focusing on the buttons that adorned his jacket.

“I’m not much of a reader these days anymore, but I could reread ‘The Hobbit’ a hundred times and I wouldn’t get tired of it. There’s just something about it that I can’t get enough of. Kind of a bit like with you right now. You just keep drawing me in and I haven’t spoken to you for more than five minutes.”

God he was charming.

There was no stopping the raging blush any longer, defeated by the smoothness of his compliments. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe when his gaze was so intensely on me, piercing into me until I cracked and turned away, internally gasping for air once my eyes shifted to a poster along the bar’s back wall.

This new sensation building within me hadn’t stopped, wanting the freedom of release and take over my senses, placing me in the back seat while it steered me through all it wanted to do. It scared me with a heart pumping acceleration of rebelliousness, addictive and never fully fulfilling. I reached for it subconsciously but went a little too late, the comforting heat that wrapped around my hand vanished as Bucky pulled away to lean back in the chair, resting them atop his lap.

I turned my gaze back to him, curious of his sudden retreat, my hand closing into a clammy ball against my side. His attention was towards the dance floor, drowning out his surroundings just as I had done moments ago. It gave me a moment to admire the details of him, taking in the velvet that constructed his hat and the wrinkle-free uniform that shaped the athleticism of his body perfectly. It made me wonder of the strength that laid beneath it, how the muscles of his back flexed– 

“What’re you thinking about?” My eyes pulled up to meet those blue crystals focused on my dragging stare, “It’s me right?” Bucky teased, his eyes almost twinkling with mischief. 

I felt myself match his cockiness, my body suddenly jittery, “I was just thinking that–” The feeling could no longer be contained anymore, rising to the surface with a chilling intensity and boldness. Years of watching Maria flaunt her skills had taken its mark on me from the shadows, remembering to lower my lashes in a low lidded gaze forcing my pupils to dilate from imaginative thoughts, bringing forth the target with increasing desire. Resting a hand beneath my chin while leaning forward to show equal curiosity and reveal another advantage that hung in a small opening at your breasts, “--you should take me out on the floor and swing me around till I can barely feel my legs.”

It came out as if I held no control, the flirtatious and slightly suggestive remark surprising not only myself but Bucky as well. My eyes moved towards his mouth, his teeth grazing his bottom lip as a smirk began to form. 

Scorching fire shot through my hand and soon after my body, in a mix of tingling anticipation and adrenaline, as it was pulled up to rest against his chest, “Shall we then?”

I felt everything let go as he spun my body around the dance floor, sweaty bodies flushing against us like a wall, never removing one of his hands from my waist. The atmosphere made me feel drunk, high even. An occurrence that held no explanation, but it was heaven. It felt as if I was internally melting, unfamiliar with the hotness running throughout my insides, feeding into the adrenaline that pumped heavily through me. The sound of the music pulsated through my ears until they rang, the instruments picking up into a lively jazz that flowed through my veins with its rhythm. It all clouded my senses with a thick curtain, becoming more dangerous as my vision remained lost, the only judgment of direction being the hands that curved up my spine as they dipped me towards the lacquered floor. The possibilities of those hands gave me a ravishing hunger, craving to feel them drape along the rest of my body with as much passion as this moment. It was the most intimate experience you ever felt.

“I thought you said you couldn’t dance?” His voice was morphed, dripping like honey through my ears.

A gasping laugh flowed from my lips, allowing his hand to twirl and pull me back against his chest, his heartbeat pounding against my own, “It’s no fun to give all your tricks away.”

Just as it rose, the music that made everyone’s veins pump with the beat of the trumpet and saxophone had ended with the bang of the drums, dropping the curtain along my senses into a clarity that made me dizzy. 

Reluctantly, I drew away from him, allowing a space the length of my arms to form between us, my legs shaking from fatigue with each step, “Well, I certainly will struggle walking to work tomorrow so I guess you’ve accomplished my wish Sergeant.” 

Bucky tugged back at my hand, stopping the distance I kept attempting to make from growing further, “Just that little jig and you’re already done? Come on gorgeous, the night has barely begun. I know you have more in you than that.” 

The lively jazz music had settled into a swayful piano and soulful tone from the singer, pulling the remaining couples closer in a dance of intimacy. My heart ached to join them but time was ticking and I wasn’t sure if I accepted, if I would ever leave from between his arms.

“I have to get up early James-'' I played with his fingers in an attempt to unravel them from between mine–with little success–remaining stubbornly intertwined, “Has anyone told you you’re annoyingly persistent?”

A playful smirk laced his lips as his head shook, “You don’t know the half of it darling.” His grip along my right hand loosened enough to slide down my arm, placing it to sit along the back of his neck, the other still interlaced with his left, “One more dance is all I’m asking for.”

The distance I had succeeded at making, shrunk as my body flushed against his chest, hearts connecting in equal beats as if they were bonded, “One more and you’ll have to carry me home.” Our eyes locked, hypnotized by the power they held so strongly when connected. 

I guess Maria was right…Maybe I did meet the man of my dreams tonight.  

His head dipped to nestled at the top of my curls, smiling against the frizzed strands that loosened from their hairsprayed hold, “I can accept that.”

My head moved to rest along the curve between his neck and shoulder, allowing my eyes to close as our bodies swayed in a small circular pattern. It was blissful and serene, breathing in the mixture of his natural scent and cologne, sending me further against him in relaxation, radiating an energy from each other that felt so wholesome. Was I dreaming? Floating along the floor like clouds, in a slow waltz with a man that looked at me like I’m the most beautiful woman in the room. 

I could live in this moment for the rest of my life…

“Could’ve fooled me with those moves you pulled before.” Bucky's lips were dangerously close to my ear, voice dripping like honey within it, “I never seen someone dance like that.”

I chuckled against his chest, shyly hiding my face within it, both reluctant to move from the comfort of it and because of the pink that returned to my cheeks, “You surprised me yourself you know.” The lights had dimmed, caging his sweat slicked face in an illuminating glow, meeting the intense blue orbs once more, trying desperately not to drown within the depths of them, “No one’s swept me off my feet quite like you have.”

Pearlescent teeth flashed down at me, soaking in my admiration, ”I guess we’re both full of surprises then Y/N.”

My cheeks twitched, the permanent smile plastered to my face aching but I couldn’t stop it even if I tried, “You don’t even know the half of it James.” 

Bucky pulled my body impossibly closer with a delicate squeeze against my back allowing me to fully wrap my arms around his neck, his forehead lowering until it rested along mine. I could feel the thin layer of sweat that built up on his brow, a bead slipping from under his hat every so often as his body began to cool, the scent of beer fanning my face in light waves as his lungs regained full breaths, “Has anyone told you how beautiful you are?”

There weren’t any hairs to twirl along the back of his neck, buzzed too short but I still rubbed the shortened hairs fondly, my voice grasping playfulness as a brow raised suspiciously, “And how many times have you used that line Sergeant Barnes?”

“Only as many as you want me to.”

Hesitantly, his nose nudged against the tip of mine, silently asking for permission. Our eyes locked, lids dazed with exhaustion and admiration, “And if I want something else?” There was no hesitation accepting his invite, barely letting each other's lips touch in an innocent kiss.

His breath fanned over the sensitive skin of my lips as they hovered centimeters apart, coated lightly with the lipstick I wore, “You can have as many of those as you want too.”

This must be what Maria always talked about when you find someone who sends butterflies to your belly. The kind of feelings that make you hungry for more of that person, wanting every touch and smile, their voice playing in your ear for days. Only images of them flooding your memory with reality and imaginative scenes. That is how I felt as Bucky looked down at me, holding me as if I was molded to him like a piece of art, the missing link to a puzzle he desperately sought for. 

Maybe this was the chance worth risking for…

The skin along his jaw was rough against my palms from freshly shaving, sliding them up to his cheeks to pull myself back to his lips, greedily craving them with a ravishing desire. Bucky mimicked my passion, fisting a hand deep into the curls at the back of my head while the other cradled my lower back. 

Intoxicating was the best way to describe it, dragging me further into the depths of the paradise that was James Barnes and I wanted so much more. It was a kiss that made me lose sensation of my surroundings, full of new desires that enthralled me to explore and discover the man beneath the uniform. 

My fingers danced along his jaw as I broke away, staring up at him with absolute certainty, “I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

-

Part 2

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 11 (NSFW)

Masterlist

IT’S THE MOMENT YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR BESTIES! Thanks as always to @acollectionofficsandshit I think I broke her with this chapter! She also found  the song for this chapter so special thanks for that as well ❤

Word Count: 7.6k

Recommended song: “The Man Who Can’t be Moved” by the Script

The steam of the shower cleanses your senses and washes away the sweat from your workout. Crisp September air rushes through the open window and raises goosebumps on your skin as you step out. You turn off the tap and wrap yourself in a fluffy towel in an attempt to ward off the chill. A glance at the clock tells you that you have a half hour to get ready before your date picks you up.

Peter was one of the few guys in your major that paid you any attention. Most of them tolerated you at best but it had never bothered you. You were independent enough that you could make it through class on your own and google what you didn’t understand afterward and learn it before the exam.

It had been fairly easy to fall in with Peter and a few others during the first few weeks of summer classes. What began with group study sessions and quickly developed into hanging out one on one with Peter on the weekends to go to coffee shops or play video games.

When Peter had asked you out two months ago, Pierre's voice nagged in the back of your head. He asked if you were ready to move on from him and if you could really forget him.

The simple answer was no, forgetting him was impossible. No matter how many years passed, he would always own a part of you. 

Peter was sweet and he cared about you but you were quickly realizing the bond you shared with him didn't run as deep as it had with Pierre. He started as your friend and you really didn't feel right letting it develop past that. Although you had agreed to that date and plenty more in the time since, it still didn’t feel like a relationship. You had to stop yourself from imagining someone else's arm around you when you lounged on the sofa or someone else's lips kissing you goodnight.

You slip into a form fitting red cocktail dress and sweep your hair over a shoulder, banishing the memory. The person staring back at you in the mirror is a stranger, a ghost of who you once were. You pull your lips into a smile nowhere near as bright as it was months ago.

A knock on your apartment door startles you from your trance. Peter holds a bouquet of flowers, a broad grin on his face. He was handsome in a traditional sense, with a sharp jawline and playful forest green eyes that promised a good time. He was adventurous; a night in wasn’t in the cards. Everything was an event with him and you didn’t mind the distractions one bit.

"You look amazing as always," he says, stepping inside and kissing your cheek. You sniff the flowers lightly. Daisies were some of your least favorite flowers but the gesture was too sweet to point that out.

"So do you," you respond, gaze sweeping from his scuffed wingtip shoes to his crisp blue button down shirt. Ocean blue, washed out against Peter's pale skin, but would have looked perfect on Pierre's golden complexion.

You had to stop thinking about him. You saw him everywhere. On more than one occasion, you dropped out of a conversation when you caught a glimpse of blond hair bobbing through a crowd or heard a laugh startlingly similar to his. You couldn’t escape the idea of him whether you liked it or not.

"Are you okay?" Peter asks, touching your elbow.

God, you were so far from okay. Your mind was a melted mess of memories of a blond Frenchman and all the broken promises between the pair of you. This was pointless. You were wasting your time with Peter. He was great and should have been everything you wanted but he just wasn't enough.

"I'm so sorry," you start, handing back the flowers. "I don't think this is going to work."

"Oh thank god," he says, shoulders drooping as he runs a hand through his hair. "I've been thinking the same thing, I just didn't want to be the one to say it." You both laugh, the tension ebbing from your frame.

"Don't get me wrong," he continues, "You're amazing. There's just no…"

"Spark," you finish. "Yeah, I agree. Friends?"

You stick out your hand and he shakes it firmly. "Sounds like a plan. No hard feelings. See you in class on Monday?"

"I'll be there."

You slip out of your heels with a sigh, glad you don't have to endure that form of torture any longer. For the first time in months, you allow yourself to scroll through Pierre's Instagram.

Instead of being flooded with personal pictures it had become mostly posed shoots.it was the kind of thing that seemed staged, like he was only posted because his PR team deemed it necessary.

As time went on the content became more and more clinical. He was giving fans less of an insight into his personal life and focusing on racing content. You knew he had probably thrown everything he had into the season in an attempt to move on and you couldn't blame him. 

If his Insta was to be believed, he had earned a handful of podiums in the four months since you had mostly lost interest in the sport. After Austin it had been nearly impossible to watch a full race and you had instead been getting your biased updates from Max, who conveniently left out all but the barest details of anyone’s race weekend but his own.

There was no point in trying to convince yourself you no longer felt anything for Pierre. Just scrolling through his page reignites the flame in your chest that had been burning far too dimly for far too long. 

Heart pounding, you double tap a photoset of him modeling for Alpha Tauri, the lighting accenting his eyes. Their distinct, rich blue had always been your weakness. 

Your fingers find their way to the charm at your throat. You hadn't taken it off once since the gala. It was pointless to deny the sway he still held over you all these months later. Maybe it was time you stopped pretending you were fine and finally give in to the pull. 

The past few months have given you plenty of time to reflect. The media would hound you like dogs but at least while you were in London they would leave your family alone. And really, enduring their scrutiny was a small price to pay if it meant loving Pierre.  

“I’m an idiot,” you mumble, pulling up his contact in your phone. Breaking up with him had been the dumbest decision of your life. You’d watched him from afar as he traveled from grand prix to grand prix, touring cities and sleeping everywhere except where he belonged: curled up next to you in your tiny London flat, whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you both fell asleep.

You couldn’t bear it any longer. Fuck what anyone would say. Nothing could be worse than knowing your soulmate was out there and you let him go.

Heart pounding, you type out a text. I miss you.

Shaking your head, you erase it. How are you? Seemed more appropriate.

"Here goes nothing," you murmur and hit send.

**********

 It started off as any other free Sunday did: Charles and Charlotte arriving at his apartment carrying snacks and beer which neither of them would tell their trainers about tomorrow and plopping in front of the television to watch the PSG match.

The trio roared at the screen at poor calls and yelled when a goal was scored, all completely lost in the sport.

Pierre absently registers his phone buzzing during the last few minutes of the match but ignores it. PSG comes out on top and he finally checks it, nearly choking on the pretzels he was eating.

How are you?

Pierre has to read it thrice before he’s convinced it’s real. 

"Holy fuck," he says softly, tipping the phone so Charles can see. 

"Told you mate." He takes Charlotte's hand and stands. Football match completely forgotten, Pierre lifts a hand in a wave as the couple leaves. His eyes are fixed on the screen as he tries to comprehend the gravity your words carry.

After months of waiting in agony and wondering if you still cared, you’d texted him.

He had no idea how he managed to keep his feet on the floor. He was completely weightless, reading your message over and over again until it sinks in.

He takes the three simple words as permission to finally delve back into your life, immediately scrolling through your instagram to catch up. He double taps every post save for the ones with you and some tall, handsome guy. His stomach twists. 

Fuck it. Even if you just wanted to catch up, he'd take it. If you told him you were with someone else and you were happy, he'd learn to live with it. He was starved of you and was prepared to beg for crumbs of your life.

I'm fine. You have time for a phone call?

It was a leap but he acknowledged and accepted the risks.

Yeah. That would be good.

You pick up on the second ring.

"Hey."

Pierre squeezes his eyes shut, pushing back the lump in his throat. Years of memories rush over him in the space of a breath. The shock in your voice when you found out he was a driver for the first time. Your smile and breathless laugh when you met him in the garage in Brazil after his first podium in Formula 1. The tentative glances he had thrown your way for months after he finally accepted that he had begun to fall for you. The way your velvet lips felt when he made a gamble and kissed you for the first time. The drunken lilt of your voice when you told him you loved him that night in London.

Before he can stop it the bad comes rushing back too. The memory of the terror on your face when he let it slip that you were together sends a chill through him. If there was one moment he could change, it wouldn’t be the time he fucked up and lost his seat at Red Bull. It would be to keep his damned mouth shut at that karting track and preserve the bliss of that day and tuck it away in a bulletproof case that he could pull out and look at whenever he wanted.

"Hey you," he manages, silently thanking whoever is listening that he keeps the tremble out of his voice. "Been awhile."

"Yeah," you say sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," he says quickly. "You never need to apologize to me."

You were the last one that needed to apologize for anything. He should be the one beginning for forgiveness. It was his fault you’d panicked. He should have fought harder for you, proved that he could make it work and save you both from months of heartache. But then again, maybe you had moved on. He couldn’t expect you to wait for him forever.

He doesn’t realize he’s been silent for so long until you clear your throat. For the first time he can recall, the silence is thick and heavy with unspoken words. It had always been effortless, the stories and words flowing like a babbling brook between the two of you. Now the confessions on his tongue remain poised there, too terrified to give them the light of day. 

"How's your season been?" He’s thankful you break the quiet first but the question makes his stomach sink. 

"You haven't been watching?"

"Not really."

"Oh." It made sense that you would distance yourself from him and that was fine, but he couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. "It's been decent. Red Bull wants me to come to Milton for contract discussions this week, actually."

"You're moving back up?"

"Potentially." Horner had only called him earlier that week to discuss the potential of him returning to Red Bull next year. The informal agreement was that if he could make seventh in the championship in a midfield car, they would bump him back for the following season. 

It wasn’t a concrete guarantee- that’s why Horner wanted to speak with him in person. He had a year left in his contract and being in a Red Bull meant he would be able to prove his worth to other teams and potentially secure a world championship worthy seat at a team that actually appreciated his talent.

He draws a breath before continuing, "I'll be in London on Monday. You know- if you wanna get together."

You stay silent for a touch too long and he panics. It was too soon. He should have kept his mouth shut because now he’d driven you away again. “Nevermind, forget I said anything-"

"No," you interrupt, "no, I'd love to see you and catch up. I don't have classes on Tuesdays. Have any free time then?"

His eyes slide shut and he exhales. The flack he would undoubtedly catch for shuffling around a few interviews would be worth it to see you. "Yeah. I can swing by your apartment around seven?"

"Okay," you say, a touch of excitement lacing your voice. "I'll make myself presentable."

"I-" he stops himself before the words can slip past his lips. "I'll see you then."

*********

Pierre blows out a breath and adjusts his backpack. He stands at the threshold of your building, keys in hand, unsure if he should let himself in. The dilemma had kept him rooted to the spot for nearly ten minutes now, weighing the pros and cons of his options. 

“Hey you, blond fucker.” Pierre whips around and is met by Daniel’s girlfriend glaring up at him from the sidewalk. She tips her head to the side to study him. Apparently he wasn’t the only one that had to cancel plans to be here tonight. “You gonna grow a pair and go up there or just keep staring at the door all day?”

“I’m going,” he grumbles, “are you?”

“Oh, I was going to but clearly whatever you have planned is more important.” Her grin splits her face ear to ear. “About damn time she got ahold of you. I was getting sick of listening to her gripe about you twenty four seven.”

“Didn’t she tell you I was coming by? If you guys have plans I can come back later.”

She waves a hand and dismisses the offer. “Absolutely not. Go get your girl.”

“She’s not-” The glare she cuts him snatches the words from his mouth. She makes a shooing motion before setting off down the sidewalk, munching on whatever snacks were in her shopping bag.

Pierre shakes out his hands and tries to gather the courage to use his key. The hopeless romantic argued that you would expect him to use it because you would know he still had it. The rational side of him butts in to point out that it might catch you off guard if he showed up without warning. He settles on buzzing your unit, your answer fuzzy from the distortion.

"Pierre?"

Even with the warbly static in your voice, his name on your lips is the salvation he’s been dreaming about for months. "Yeah it's me."

"Don't you have a key?"

"I wasn't sure if I should use it."

You don't answer, instead letting the buzz of the electronic lock do the talking. He takes the stairs three at a time, barely winded by the time he reaches the third floor. He doesn't even have to knock, your door swinging open as he steps up. The sight of you knocks the breath from his lungs. 

It didn't matter that you were in a simple hoodie and jeans, feet bare and hair swept back in a low bun. You are the most beautiful person he's ever seen and after months apart he nearly falls to his knees then and there to beg for your forgiveness, to get lost in you until two souls became one and he never had to live another second apart from you.

"Are you gonna stand there or do you wanna come in?"

God, he had missed your teasing jabs. His fingers ache for contact with your soft skin and he curls them into a fist to resist the urge. “Coming in,” he says softly, purposefully brushing your arm as he skirts past you. Every inch of him sings from the barely there touch, his soul aching for more.

Just stepping foot into your quaint flat has the weight he had been carrying on his chest for months beginning to ease up. Nothing beat the elation of being back where he belonged, not even spraying champagne from the top step on a podium.

Determined not to scare you off before he could have a proper conversation with you, Pierre opts for falling into the same humor you had used earlier. The corners of his mouth twitch upward. "Is that takeout I smell?" 

You nod, your cheeks turning a pale pink. “I got you two orders of beef lo mein. I figured you might be hungry.”

As if summoned, his stomach growls. “Yeah. I haven’t eaten since breakfast."

“Figures,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief as you settle into the plush carpet and pull a takeout box towards you. "I got it from that place across town, the one you liked best." Pierre perches on the edge of the sofa and snags the plastic tray with his name on it, eyes never leaving yours.

Now that you were mere feet from him he found it increasingly difficult to deny himself the relief of kissing you here and now. He wanted to trace his thumb over your lips before replacing it with his own, to slot his mouth over yours until time was nothing and he was no one other than yours.

You clear your throat and drop his gaze first, sending him crashing back to reality. “So, ninth huh? Glad to see you cracked the top ten.”

Pierre scrunches his nose and spears a piece of broccoli. He was shit with chopsticks but you always got a kick out of him fumbling with them. “Not where I’d like to be but I’ll take it. Horner took notice obviously, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”

“I think an invitation to Milton Keynes is enough reason to hope," you say around a mouthful of sticky rice.

This interaction was reason to hope. The fact that you were once again on speaking terms, that things were finally returning to some semblance of normal, was enough for him to believe that one day everything would be back to how it was before. That maybe, just maybe, he could hold you in his arms again and fall asleep to the soundtrack of your heart beating in his ear. 

Remembering the guy from your instagram, he scans the room for any sign of a male companion. Finding none, he asks, “How’s your boyfriend?”

It probably would have been a good idea to go about this particular line of questioning with a bit more tact. Inquiring so blatantly betrayed his inner thoughts, laid all his cards on the table. He didn't have it in him to care, not when his world might be turned upside down by your answer.

“Oh, you mean Peter?” You sip your water, seemingly working up the courage to explain. Each moment that the silence dragged on it became more of a physical monster. Pierre could feel it growing until it threatened to sink his claws in him and drag him deeper into the pits of his insecurity.

“If that’s his name, yeah.” Pierre braces himself for whatever comes next, reminding himself to be happy for you no matter what you choose. It would take time but he could put aside what he still felt for you and learn to accept your choice if it meant staying in your life.

You shake your head. “He’s a friend from uni. He’s not my boyfriend. At least not anymore.”

“Oh,” he says, frowning down at his food to cover the way his heart skips. “But he was?”

He had expected you to move on, if he was being honest. No way in hell did you deserve to be as miserable as he had been since you'd left- you deserved all the happiness he couldn't seem to give you and more. And if someone else had been the one to grant you that happiness, he should thank them. 

“For a little while,” you say softly, like it would cushion the blow. “It didn’t feel right.”

He was familiar with that feeling. Nothing he did felt right after the break up. Just about the only thing that kept him sane was telling himself that you’d come to your senses sooner or later.

And now that he was here, his world was beginning to right itself.

“Earth to Pierre,” you say teasingly, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I just- I’ve missed this,” he says, picking at his food.

“What, eating subpar takeout in my tiny apartment?” You laugh and stuff another bite in your mouth. God, you could be so oblivious. It was one of the many things he adored about you. 

“I do. I miss doing anything that involves you, actually.”

There it was. His heart laid bare before you for the second time, waiting to see how you would respond. You set down your chopsticks and wipe your lips. His eyes track their movement as you whisper, “I’ve missed you too.”

Four syllables and he melts. It takes all he has to keep himself from sobbing with relief. It was everything he had come here hoping to hear. He couldn’t endure this again, couldn’t lose you for a second time-

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he pleads, body thrumming with the need to wrap you in his arms. “Don’t put me through this again unless you’re here to stay.”

He wasn't strong enough to tell you to stop. He would let you wreck him and he would be completely powerless to stop it. He would welcome it if it meant you granting him a sliver of your time. It would ruin him for anyone else but he didn’t have it in him to turn you away.

You rise to your feet and pad around the low table until you’re standing knee to knee, his neck craned up to study your face. You just keep looking at him, the leash on his carefully controlled restraint slipping as he rambles, “Because I can’t take it if you leave me again, I won’t-”

You simply nod, as if that’s all the answer he should need. But it’s not enough. “Tell me,” he pleads. “Tell me you mean it.”

He didn’t care that he was begging. He didn’t care that you had reduced his normally impenetrably stoic mentality to a jumble of you. If he was being honest with himself, you were the light of his life, the reason he pushed so hard for results on track. Everything had gone black and white when you left and racing had been the only thing keeping him from falling apart at the seams. The need to make you proud still propelled him forward even if he'd had no idea if you still cared.

So no, he didn’t care at all that he was practically on his knees. He would grovel at your feet for his entire life if it meant you’d grant him one more day to be with you.

“I mean it,” you murmur and place a hand on his cheek. He draws a shaky breath, leaning into you. Home, home, home, his head screams, acutely aware of every square inch of contact between the two of you.

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, and I’ve finally come to terms with it- your lifestyle. If I love you, I have to accept it being public. I have to build myself a shelter to withstand the storm, but I’ll make it big enough for two.”

It takes everything in him to keep from crushing you to his chest and never letting go. He had to ask, had to be certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was forever. “Promise me you won’t leave again if things get hard. Promise me we’ll get through whatever they throw at us together.”

“I promise. I’m not afraid anymore,” you murmur. Pierre’s head falls forward to rest on your hip bone, your fingers threading in his hair. “Daniel’s girlfriend helped me see that it doesn’t matter what anyone says. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I haven't been the same since I…”

“Neither have I.” His thumb winds under your shirt to sweep over your soft skin. “You’re safe with me, you know that right? I can protect you from whatever they say and you’re right, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is this-” he finally lets himself look up at you- “what we have. I’ve never stopped loving you, not once.”

Your smile is soft and tentative as you climb into his lap. His hands slide up your sides to pull you closer, refusing to let an inch separate you now that you’d bridged the gap. “I promise I’m not going anywhere. I learned my lesson.”

You lean down to ghost your lips over his brow, his closed eyelids, his nose. He can feel himself reconstructing under your touch, that final piece of the puzzle clicking home after being lost for so long. “I promise that I’m yours until the last star falls from the sky.”

He had lost four months of time with you. He wouldn't allow another second to slip through his fingers. 

Anticipating his movements, you meet him halfway. Fireworks explode as his lips finally return home and his world is finally, finally righted. Your nails scratch lightly at the nape of his neck, drawing him impossibly closer as your body moulds against his. He had nearly forgotten how perfectly your curves fit against him after all this time. He was determined to memorize every mountain and valley of you by the night's end.

His hands grip your thighs and he stands. Your arms automatically wind around his neck to keep from falling. He carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the edge of the island, never breaking the kiss. Nothing mattered outside of this apartment; not his career, not any baseless gossip, nothing existed beyond the space where your skin met his.

Pierre pulls back long enough to remove his shirt. Your fingers dance over his skin, relearning the planes of his chest like you had all the time in the world. And you did; he would stay here as long as you let him, reveling in the way you drank up every inch of his body like it was the first time you’d seen it.

“I love you,” you say as he kisses along your jaw.

How many times had he dreamt of you whispering that to him the past four months? How many times had it echoed in his head before a race, taunting him? He could scarcely believe his mind wasn’t playing more tricks on him now. He had to be certain it was real.

“Say it again,” he breathes. “Please. Please, tell me again.”

“I love you,” you repeat, punctuating each word with a kiss. “I love you Pierre, my champion, my heart, my everything.”

Pierre groans against your mouth, knotting his fingers in your hair and tugging your head back to expose your throat. He nips at the soft skin, not caring that he was leaving a trail of tiny marks in his wake. His focus was entirely on the gasps he was dragging from you with each touch, your heels digging into his ass and begging for him to be closer.

"My sweet, kindhearted man," you continue breathlessly. He didn't know if the words were for your benefit or his. "My best friend. My one and only love."

In that moment, you could ask him to bring you a star from the midnight sky and he wouldn't stop until he found a way to make it happen. You could ask for his last dollar and he would hand it to you with a smile on his face, completely enthralled with the way his name sounds on your tongue, professing that you still wanted him as much as he wanted you.

You were his undoing.

“Off,” he growls, tugging at your sweatshirt. You obey instantly and fling it aside, neither of you caring when dishes clatter to the tile floor and undoubtedly break. Your jeans follow suit after he helps you slip out of them. He runs his fingers over the delicate black lace of your bra and panties and pauses to appreciate that you knew exactly where the night would lead.

His cock twitches as you reach between your bodies to run a knuckle over his clothed length. “Your turn.” You undo the button with practiced ease, taking your sweet time as his breath comes in ragged gasps. He’d had a taste of you and hadn’t forgotten how you’d felt around him. He needed you more than he needed the air he breathed, his desperation taking over as he swats your hand aside and strips off his jeans and boxers himself.

He drops to his knees and grips your thighs, pulling you forward until your center is inches from his face. The yelp that escapes you is intoxicating, your hands flying back to catch yourself. His teeth sink none too gently into the flesh of your thigh and he’s rewarded with a moan before he flicks his tongue over the hurt.

Your head falls back and Pierre places one of your legs over his shoulder. “Mon amour,” he purrs, garnering your attention. Your head lolls forward and he waits until you meet his gaze to speak again. “You know I love you, right?”

“I never doubted it,” you confirm, lips curling in a smile. “But why don’t you prove it to me again?”

He pulls your panties aside and blows lightly. You groan, thighs tensing under his fingers as your toes curl and he chuckles. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Do you really want to tease me?”

“What I want,” he says sharply, “is to have you moaning my name until it's the only word you know.” His tongue flicks out to dance over your thigh, dangerously close to where he knows you want him. “What I want is to make up for lost time.” He rips through the thin lace of your panties and lets the ruined scraps fall to the floor.

“Those were expensive.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

He would buy you an entire lingerie store if he could rip every set of it off you. He didn’t care how much it costed, it was never too much when it came to you.

“What I want most, my love,” he murmurs, smiling when his hot breath curls over your dripping cunt and you squirm, “is to forget everything else and stay here forever.”

You cry out when his tongue finally flicks through your folds. Pierre hums approvingly at your reaction, one arm snaking up to pin your hips in place. He sucks lightly at your clit and your fingers tangle in his hair.

“P-Pierre,” you breathe. He pulls back and you whine at the loss of contact. He grins up at you, the wickedness of it dragging the moan from your lips that he was after. He was drunk on the sound, desperate to hear it again and again.

“There’s my good girl.” He runs his tongue flat over your sex, savoring the taste as you squirm under him. You let out a choked noise when he repeats the motion before fucking you with his tongue, his nose hitting your clit with each stroke.

He doesn’t miss the way your lip wobbles and Pierre knows you’re ready to cry with frustration. He decides he’s tortured you enough for now and relents, putting two fingers in his mouth to wet them before plunging them inside you.

His mouth is spelling his name on your clit a moment later, your walls already clamping down on his fingers as your orgasm nears. In the handful of times he’d taken you to bed, he had already learned that when your head rolls back like that and your breathing stops, you’re seconds away from climaxing. He doesn’t let up until you’re shaking beneath him, finally slowing to work you through your orgasm without making you hypersensitive.

“Baby,” you groan breathlessly. Pierre slowly withdraws his fingers and wipes them on his thigh before pressing a final, tender kiss to your center that makes you jump.

“Use my name,” he demands, uncoiling to his full height. He grips your wrist and hauls your boneless body up, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders to keep you upright.

“Pierre,” you murmur and he grinds his hips against you in approval. He captures your mouth with his, taking advantage of your hazy mind to lazily explore it. 

You hum into the kiss, managing to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Suddenly the column of your neck is all he can think about and he wraps a hand around it, squeezing with enough force that you pull back with a gasp.

“Too much?” He murmurs, lessening his grip. Your brows knit together and your lower lips juts out, begging for him to take it between his teeth. He leans in and gives in to the impulse as he swipes his thumb under your jaw.

“Tell me if you want my hand on your throat, my love. I need to hear you say it.”

“Please,” you say finally. Your eyes are cloudy when they meet his. “Keep it there.”

He shows his approval in the form of a light squeeze. You angle your hips up, nudging his cock with your center. You reach a hand down to wrap around his shaft and drag the head through your folds, teasing him as he had done to you. The grip on your throat tightens to a point bordering blissfully between pain and pleasure, both a warning and an order to continue. 

If you knew how close he was to flipping you on your stomach and slamming into you, you’d call him crazy. Or maybe you’d like it, judging by the way your head falls back as he rocks his hips and inches into you.

You both moan when he decides the time for restraint has passed and he slams into you. You lift your hips to meet his with every thrust, clearly missing this just as much as he had. God, he’d lost months of fucking you, of feeling you clench around him and writhe beneath him. If he could stay like this forever he would, his hand around your neck and cock splitting you open as he laps up your moans like sweet candy.

“I’m- Pierre,” you squeak out, and he knows you’re barreling towards your second orgasm of the night. He pulls you up by your neck until you’re eye to eye and forced to look at him.

“Come for me,” he whispers, slamming into you again and again. “Come on my cock mon amour and I might just cum inside you.”

His words are your undoing, pleasure rippling from you in waves as your mouth falls open in a silent plea. He grants you no clemency as your cunt twitches around him, instead following through on his promise and following your lead.

You pants mix with his own as he struggles to keep both of you upright, his knees turned to jelly. Your head rests on his shoulder and he presses a kiss to your temple, slowly pulling out of you. A pitiful whimper escapes your throat involuntarily.

“I know,” Pierre murmurs, reaching over to start the kitchen sink. He wets a clean cloth and runs it between your legs, still supporting you as he doesn’t trust that your legs won't give out if he doesn’t. When it’s clear you can barely form a coherent thought, he scoops you in his arms and carries you to your room. He nudges the bathroom door open with his hip and sets you on the vanity.

The absence of his body heat makes you shiver when he goes to turn on the shower, adjusting the knobs until he’s satisfied with the temperature. He gathers you in his arms and steps into the tub, your sigh audible as the warm water hits your skin.

“Can you stand?” he murmurs before kissing your temple. You nod against his chest and he sets you down, keeping his hands on your waist just in case. You’re thankful for it when your knees wobble, a hand flying out to steady yourself.

“I’m okay,” you say after a beat and grin up at him. “I can stand, promise.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m taking my hands off you,” he says, grinning right back. “At least not for long.” He reaches over your shoulder for the shampoo and gestures for you to turn around. You obey, tipping your head back to wet your hair. A blissful sigh escapes you when his fingers meet your scalp, the cherry blossom scent blooming in the air as he works it into a lather.

Taking care of you was just as satisfying as the sex was. He cherished the intimacy of taking this small burden from your shoulders. The seemingly simple task was one of deep seated trust and it proved to him that your love ran bone deep. There was a level of trust in you letting him wash you that he didn't want to have with anyone else. It was reserved for you and you alone.

“Close your eyes,” he warns before guiding your head back under the water for a rinse. He cups a hand to your forehead to keep the soap from your eyes. Your smile is soft but unrestrained as you lean further into him until your back is pressed to his chest.

You both stay silent as he runs the creamy conditioner through the ends of your hair. His hand cups your jaw and tips your head back for a lazy kiss before he rinses that too and cuts the tap.

Once you're wrapped in a fuzzy white towel he finally dries himself off, fighting off a chill. He doesn't realize you're watching him until he turns around and notices you standing in the doorway.

"What?"

You push off the wall and pad back to where he stands to wrap your arms around his middle. His thumb traces patterns on your shoulder, perfectly content to stand there dripping on the tile until morning. 

When it's clear you're lost in thought he speaks up. "What's on your mind?"

"When did you know you loved me?"

"Like the exact moment?" He asks, caught off guard. You nod against his chest.

"When you visited me in Milan last summer," he says a few heartbeats later. That night insisted on making guacamole at two in the morning and woke me up because you couldn't find a lime. You told me you couldn't sleep because it was all you could think about after you saw that couple at the cafe eating it."

"Why then?"

"Because I knew I didn't have a lime but I was fully prepared to knock on every door in the building to find you one. Because in that moment all that mattered was seeing your face light up when I handed it to you and knowing that it was me that made you smile like that. I knew then that I’d do anything for you."

It still amazed him how a lime of all things was the tipping point. In that moment, a lime was important to you and it so naturally became important to him. If anyone else had woken him from his deep sleep he would have grumbled and told them off. But you, seeing your face inches from his, the light from the hall casting a warm halo around your frame as you whispered his name, he hadn’t cared at all.

"But then I found the juice in the fridge," you recall and glance up at him.

"Yeah, you did. And you felt so bad for waking me up- you had no idea that I had already fallen so hard that I had to keep myself from shutting you up with a kiss.”

The easy admission seems to stir something in you and you rise up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. “I knew that time you sent food to my dorm at midnight when I was pulling an all nighter. I was studying for my calculus final, remember?”

Pierre nods. “I was in Barcelona. You weren’t answering your phone so I sent a message with the takeout guy.” He had been wholly enamored with you at that point, having quickly learned that trying to keep his feelings buried deep was an option that would never work. So he leaned into it, letting little bits of it shine through in hopes that you might pick up on it.

Your laugh rumbles through him. “It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me. I hadn’t eaten all day. I was too nervous.”

“Took us long enough to figure it out didn’t it?” He untangles himself from you and leads you to bed.

“I’m just glad we did eventually.” You let him guide you to the mattress while he stays standing and goes to your closet. He hunts for the shirt he wants to see you in, praying you hadn’t gotten rid of it. He finally finds it tucked back in the corner and pulls it out, the cobalt blue fabric a little faded from how often you’d worn it over the years.

“I remember that,” you say softly as he returns with it and slips it over your head. 

It was the first shirt he had ever gotten upon entering Formula 1 and somehow you had wound up snagging it from his closet while he cleaned up the mess in the kitchen during that same trip to Milan. He had choked on his guac when you reappeared wearing it, eyes lingering on the Torro Rosso logo on the chest and his name splayed across your back like a claiming.

"I don't have sweatpants for you anymore," you point out with an apologetic wince. "I got rid of them."

Pierre just shrugs and hands you the shirt. "I have a change of clothes in my backpack. I was planning on working out to blow off some steam if…"

He trails off and you nod in silent acknowledgement. He didn’t have to voice the thought, you were already in his head and knew exactly what he meant. Unable to help himself, he kisses your head just because he can before retrieving his bag from the kitchen. "I have something for you," he says and lets the towel around his waist drop.

You let out a low whistle and grin at him as your eyes slide over every inch of his body. He takes more time than necessary to pull out his shorts, appreciating your gaze. You're still watching him as he slips them on and brings his bag to you.

"Do you wanna see what I got you or are you gonna stare at me all night?"

"I think I'll stare."

Pierre rolls his eyes and chuckles, plopping down next to you. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

You do as he asks but not before cocking a brow at him. Knowing the sound of the package will give it away, he does his best to draw out the first item as quietly as he can. The second he sets it in your hands a smile splits your face. He'd tear down the energy station with his bare hands to keep that expression on your face.

"It's candy." Your eyes open and you gasp. "Laffy taffy? But you can only get this-"

"In the states," He finishes. “I got as much as the store had.” The chewy, fruity candy was your absolute favorite and every once in a while you craved it. His backpack was currently stuffed full of it and various other packages of sweets, having been collected at every gp he had been to since Austin.

You tear into the package and dig for a pink one. You hold it out to him triumphantly and somehow, it’s that simple gesture that makes him melt. “You like the strawberry ones don’t you?”

“Yes baby, I do.” He lets you pop the sweet in his mouth - Pyry would certainly not approve- and grins at you. “If you eat too many before bed you won’t be able to sleep.”

“It’s still early,” you point out but don’t hesitate to set the sweets aside and cuddle up to him when he lays back. “Got somewhere to be?”

“I have to be at Milton by eight,” he says, wrapping an arm around your middle. “But you’re coming with me.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @ricciartodododo​ 

If you have asked to be tagged in the past and I missed you I apologize! Just comment below and I’ll get you added for future updates. Thanks for reading ❤

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

I’ve been rewatching CM and god, what I wouldn’t give for them to bring TG back for this revival. I haven’t even watched seasons 12-15 yet because I’m in denial about him being gone 😭😭😩

omg I haven't watched it either xD I've been holding off watching s11e22, The Storm, for like a month I swear. Which, I know is going to be amazing but I also have heard it's the beginning of the end and I'm not readyyyyyyy.

I would give anything for TG to come back. A n y t h i n g. But idk what CBS feels is the appropriate amount of time to be blacklisted or whatever the hell they did 🤷‍♀️ despite how it would be so easy to write him back in, and the missed opportunities is already making my skin crawl.

Okay. This was going to be a quick answer, but I've been THINKING about this way more than I should lately, without ever having watched 12-15 but I feel like I know enough, and with all the projects I'm going to be finishing/starting soon I know I won’t have time to do anything with my ideas. So I'm just going to type this little beginning I have plotted out and maybe one day I'll make it into the fic I want it to be:

(I know you didn't ask for a hc/blurb thing but surprise you get one xD)

CW: Spoilers for season 11-15 that are probably inaccurate af, fighting, violence, bit of blood and injuries talk, some profanity. 

-

((I legit have this all plotted out like a full season, and picture everything as shots and scenes and I know exactly how I would want to bring Hotch back.))

-

It would start in a small suburban town in Indiana, legit white-picket fence, middle of nowhere, off the grid town. With the most pedestrian name ever, we might as well call it Mayberry. Typical weekend morning, bright green grass and trees and summer sunshine lighting it all up, they still get papers delivered it’s that picturesque. And it’ll pan to all sorts of people on this street of nice, two-story houses, and finally zero in on not the man picking up his paper from his front porch, but the jogger slowing down that the man calls to next door, calling him a name we’ve never heard before -- but the jogger answers with that dark eyed squint and a nod... and it is Aaron Hotchner. Or the man who used to be Aaron Hotchner. He hasn’t gone by that name in years, WITSEC provided him and Jack with new ones.

His house isn’t even really decorated like a home, he’s been in enough over the years to know tell-tale signs of what a happy home should entail. Photographs, memorabilia, nostalgia tucked away in corners -- they don’t have that. He has a couple of photographs he keeps in his office, the only two in inconspicuous view being a photo of Haley and Jack when he was two years old, and a photo of his team the day he completed the FBI triathlon and they all showed up to support him. Everything else of their old life is in boxes in a storage facility in downtown D.C., under another false name that can never be linked back to them. 

Mr. Scratch was a poor excuse for why he and Jack were still under WITSEC, but he hopes near daily that it was enough of a reason that no one would question why he didn’t return once that monster was dead. That no one smart enough to read between the lines would go digging for more reasons, or worse -- try to find him -- and they pictured him living a happy retirement very similar to the charade he is living now. 

But Aaron Hotchner was never meant for retirement. No matter how easy and simple his days have been the past few years. It was only a matter of time. 

He walks through his home that looks more like the insides of a Home Living magazine, to his kitchen which is bright and spacious and tiled white that he knows Haley would have loved, getting a glass of water from the sink and chugging it all in one go. It isn’t until he’s getting a second glass that he hears it. The faucet was supposed to have masked any disturbance, they were careful in when they moved, how they placed their feet, the slowness of the their approach -- but not enough.

Hotch keeps his shoulders relaxed, his spine still ram-rod straight but that’s just how he stands and it keeps tension ready at a moment’s notice. Keeps him on alert, which he needs as he takes slower sips of water and lets all his other sense shift to a heightened awareness. Knows this house like the back of his hand, even if he’s never allowed himself to consider it home, so he knows which floorboards creak and where all the furniture is strategically placed. Always prepared for something like this to happen, even if he never imagined someone would be so bold. 

Their mistake.

With a careful tick of his head, peripherals his only guidance, he strikes before the intruder gets to. An iron grip and momentum that propels their face into the metal of the sink basin, shocking them that what their file was so misleading about their target. Retired FBI agent, almost 60 years old, living in Pleasantville with a picket fence and a vegetable garden. This should have been easy. The intruder is stunned by the blow, attempts a quick recovery where they lash out and get a few good body shots into the older man -- but he’s built like a brick wall, can take a blow and give it back twice as hard -- a few more precise hits and another crack of their face to the sink that shatters the bridge of their nose leaves the attacker slumping to the floor. 

“You didn’t do your research,” Hotch tells them, breathing a little heavy, opening up a drawer usually deemed for junk and pulls out zipties and an ancient looking cell phone buried deep at the back. “Sloppy. I expected more from him.” 

The attacker kicks out Hotch’s knees in a fit of rage (at having his skill set insulted so), leaving them both crashing to the floor. They grapple and fight a bit more, knocking dishes from the counters and pots and pans to the floor from the grill top island, but Hotch is so well-trained in take downs he gets the slighter man pinned with only a split lip and a single hitch in breath. He barely broke a sweat. Knocks the guy out clean, two solid punches to his face, and he stops because he knows better. Has been there before, and they need to question whoever was sent to his house to kill him. 

He’s barely off the floor, the intruder binded and stuck in a corner when Jack walks in from early morning soccer practice. Takes one look at the kitchen, his dad with blood in the corner of his mouth, and the guy all in black bound by zipties and already knows what happened. Sixteen, nearly as tall as his father now, he looks only mildly worried for all of two seconds until he sees that his dad has an old flip cell phone held up to his good ear, awaiting a connection with their handler in Indianapolis. 

“... Does this mean we get to go home?” 

The shot would pan back to Hotch, and he wouldn’t answer him, just tells the person on the phone to ‘patch him through, they have a situation’, and there would be no very obvious look in answer to Jack’s question. But all of us who know him, know the subtle changes in expression and the slight softening to that stern frown, knows what his reply would have been.

-

The very next scene would be the BAU. JJ and Emily walking at a brisk pace covering a debrief, since they basically run the department now. Everyone has been called in, everyone, retired and moved away and even the ones who cut all ties have been contacted. JJ has just gotten off the phone with Elle, who is working as a liaison in Rome and assured her that if anyone showed up in her home to attack her that they would be leaving in a body bag. But she appreciated the heads up. 

In the bullpen it’s more like a family reunion than anything. Garcia has just gotten off the elevators, a flurry of color and blonde curls and bright as ever, Morgan and Savannah are trying to corral Hank and the twins (both girls and pure chaos now that they can walk) while still making introductions with the new team and their families, and asking if Reid or Rossi know anything about what’s going on as JJ gets there and asks for everyone’s attention. 

“Not everyone is here yet, Kate and her family are on their way from upstate, Will’s getting the boys from school, and Alex and her husband are on a plane, but we need to get started as soon as possible.”

“What’s is going on, JJ?” Morgan asks, passing off one of the twins to Penelope who is in full baby fever mode despite what is obviously a very bad circumstance that has brought them all together. It’s a juxtaposition that has put everyone on edge. It doesn’t help when JJ and Emily look at each other as if in confirmation, trying to decide who is going to tell them.

“Okay, that doesn’t inspire confidence,” Rossi points out. “What happened?”

Emily sighs and makes a gesture for JJ to take the floor, since she has been on point for most of this.

The bull pen is silent in anticipation.

“Earlier this morning, Hotch was attacked in his home in Indiana,” she says, and whatever anyone thought was going on -- that wasn’t it. The shock across the room is like a bomb has detonated.

Rossi curses something out in Italian, looking down, and JJ immediately realizes how this all sounds. But doesn’t even get to backtrack as Reid looks completely devastated and Garcia like she’s about to cry and everyone else starts shouting questions at her. 

“What happened to Jack?”

“How did they even find him? What the fuck is wrong with WITSEC?!”

“Is he okay?” asks Tara, the only intellectual who can see the panic now blooming on JJ’s face.

“Yes, yes! He’s okay, sorry, no -- Hotch is fine. The guy who tried to kill him... not so much, but he should be conscious soon so they can question him.” 

“Jesus Christ, JJ,” Morgan says looking like he just aged ten years in the past 30 seconds. “Lead with that.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. He’s okay, Jack is okay, they’ve been picked up. But... there’s a lot we need to be filled in on,” she admits, which quiets the room once more. “Apparently, the WITSEC had nothing to do with Mr. Scratch. There’s something much bigger and more dangerous going on, and he went under to keep us all safe. As well as himself, and Jack.” 

“What is it?”

JJ makes a gesture with her hands splayed as she looks a little lost. “I only know bare bones, we have to wait to hear the specifics and get everyone somewhere safe.” 

“You think we’re going to trust WICSEC after this?!”

Emily intervenes this time, “We have a plan, or... Hotch has a plan, I think. We’re just learning about everything as we go, he’s really the one that knows the most about it.”

“Then where is he?” Morgan speaks up again. “If he’s been pulled out, and we’re all in danger, why isn’t he here explaining this to us himself?” 

It’s a good question, and everyone looks expectantly at the two women leading the informal briefing. 

“Will he come back at all?” Reid asks, speaking up for the first time. It’s been years, that’s a long time to rethink a life like the BAU, and everything it entails.

JJ takes a deep breath. “He’s... in--”

“Out-processing.” 

Hotch is at the back of the room. Everyone turns to him, even JJ and Emily look surprised to see him so soon.  ((But we all know the CM cinematography love that kind of return shot, so I’m catering to it. For situational parallels if nothing else. Imagine the gif sets.))

“I pushed it as fast as they could go, but WITSEC always drags their feet.” The familiar drone, dry barely-there-humor, breaks whatever spell that had been over the room at the sight of the old Unit Chief. Disbelief and relief and stunned surprise litter every expression, and although Penelope looks like the first to say something, her words change course just as she opens her mouth. Because  Hotch is still in civilian clothes, a duffle-bag over his shoulder he used as a go-bag for decades, and beside him with a bag of his own with messy dirty blonde hair is--

“Oh my God, is that Jack!?” she near sobs, the teenager smiling at her in a way that looks so much like Haley, and she goes to hug him first with the boy meeting her halfway. “You’re so tall! And so grown up, look at you!” There’s definitely tears and the team converges on the Hotchners all at once. Reid hugs Hotch first, as tight and bone-crushing as that night in Atlanta all those years ago, followed soon after by Rossi who looks like he might shake the man but just hugs him tight and plants an absurdly embarrassing kiss on his cheek that finally cracks Hotch’s expression into something like a smile. Everyone hugs, everyone, Savannah calls him Aaron instead of Hotch because that was how he’d introduced himself all those years ago, the twins wave shyly and he shakes hands with the newer members that never got to meet him but have heard very tall tales about him for years and years. 

(And y’all, it would be the best damn scene and I would sob like a baby watching it.)

Morgan would be the one that would hold back and let the others go first, but it would also be the most profound when Hotch goes to shake his hand and the other man uses that to pull him into a tight hug of his own. 

“I’m glad you can still hold your own,” he’ll tease with nearly no heat behind it. Hotch hears it for the caring that it is.

“Like hell I would let that happen twice in my own home,” he assures him. 

Everyone settles down, and Emily leads some finer points of what’s going to happen with everyone in the next few hours. Days. Weeks, even, because there’s no knowing what is going to happen next. Hotch observes her, and there HAS to be a shot where she glances over to him and they share a look of understanding -- because she is Unit Chief now, and he approves of what he sees. 

But she turns the floor over to him, and Hotch explains what’s going on.

((I’m going to leave the finer points out about the case and the unsub, mostly because I haven’t finished ironing them out yet and I hope once I watch the remaining season I will be able to much more easily))

But at SOME POINT in the briefing, when Hotch is explaining what happened with the assassin in his home and how he apprehended him, and Emily maybe interjects with the injuries sustained and that they are still waiting for the man to regain consciousness. Penelope will 100% lean over to where Jack is sitting beside her and say without flinching, “Your dad is such a bad ass.”

((I also plan on bringing up Reid was in prison in this scene but it will be more humorous than anything because of Hotch’s reaction, stay tuned on that one. Again I’m not there yet))

((and where I’m taking them is also a secret because I need to do research and it will be so damn cool, but Hotch has everything completely planned out -- like he does. Goes as far as asking the few who question him “Secure enough for you?” when he drops where they will be staying and the protection they will have. Full blown mic drop moment.))

“So gather all of your belongings that you have here. Secure pets and homes, call the kid’s schools, whatever you need to do,” Hotch informs them, stepping back into his old shoes as team leader without even meaning to. But no one tells him to stop. “We need to be in the air ASAP, the jet is being prepped as we speak so we need to move on this.”

He leaves it at that, and everyone doesn’t move. Watching, waiting, smirking a little bit (Penelope, maybe even Reid), until he gives in.

“Wheels up in 30.”

Garcia giggles so much she near cackles with it. “Oh, I just got goosebumps!” And by Emily’s smirk and Morgan’s shared grin with Reid, a million watts between them, everyone is up and moving and pulling out cell phones to get their affairs in order.

Rossi sidles up to Hotch at that point, also openly smirking that they got him to say those four time-honored words. “Welcome back, Aaron.”

And Hotch, well -- he looks around the room at the family he had to leave behind without any hope of seeing them again, and feels every hardened edge in his face and demeanor soften. Before he looks to Dave and tells him what’s been going through his head ever since he walked back through the doors of the BAU.

“It’s good to be home.”

((END SCENE))

[redxblueihateloveyou]

Hiiii!!! 💫💕🌸🥳

Can I bother with a question... I was (re)watching that zhang qiling edit (not today) - 'cause it's so cool, btw- and I wondered if Reboot Xiaoge’s your favourite one...? And if you're up to answering, what do you think about the other adaptations? Especially (our small bean) xiao yuliang's interpretation of xiaoge?

🤗🌺💐🐰💕

Hey, my precious patootie hehe ILY it always makes me very happy knowing that you rewatch my vids <3

lol dang it, I was kinda hoping to avoid this question, just because I feel like I'd find it hella hard to explain some things, but I'll try my best and hopefully it'll make some sense xD

I'll start from afar bc I wanna try to explain my reasonings, since I don't want to go without arguments into such highly debated question lolz. I talked about this a bit in my previous asks somewhere, but not broadly as to why that one guy hit all the right spots.

So throughout the books Wu Xie always does this wonderful thing, where he very tangibly describes the feeling he gets when Xiaoge is near, I mean like the aura around him. And he always somehow does it so colorful, that this mix of safety, assurance, calmness, composure and some things I can't quite put into one noun, that he brings to him, I think everyone who've read the books can recognize as this almost magical "Xiaoge feeling". It's not just the way he acts in some dangerous situations or smth like that. It's just everything. You either have it or you don't. And here goes my first argument... to me none of them, except for Huang Junjie and Yuliang have it.

I mean it's not even the obvious stuff, it's like the way they move during the action scenes, the way they even stand and hold themselves, the way they touch Wu Xie, the tone of their voices (both of which are like soothing as fuck), little things you'd think wouldn't matter, but when you watch it and all the puzzle pieces are together, you're like... fuck yeah, thats him.

Also not really that weighty of a point, but to me there's always a joy to see that the actor who plays the character not only gets what's he's playing, but also loves it, bc it's always seen on screen. Usually when some asked about the character they play and what they have in common for example they answer with obvious things like if some character is introverted they're like "well I also don't talk very much" or smth like that, you know what I mean. When I was watching interviews of Yuliang and Huang Junjie I was just smiling so much, bc they've said such things that made me go "yeah, Qiling is safe in their hands".

In Reboot case working in such close proximity with the author definitely also played a huge role here. Bc it kinda gets complicated in some aspects since the books are written from Wu Xie's point of view and you can't only base your picture on his perspective, just bc it's coming from a person who after being basically told "you're my whole world" goes "I'm just a person he randomly passes by in his long life" in his thoughts. Not only he's utterly clueless and dumb when it comes to all this, that he wouldn't notice the way Qiling looks at him and other things, its also not that kind of book, that would go "I suddenly caught poker face looking at me like I'm his whole existence" (and I honestly don't want it to be that book lmao). So you have to take into the account here stuff like what author says to get the whole picture, bc if you look at that from the point of Qiling's view for example, this shit takes a whole wild turn. So I really loved that in UN and Reboot ways of showing Qiling's feelings were well thought out and fit the timeline.

Bc it also works both ways, when it comes to other adaptations. Like Qiling is very and I mean ETREMELY hard to win over. We all know that it was a very long process of gaining his trust and even longer for him to fall for Wu Xie to the point of him being his everything. So what I want in those interpretations is for them to get at which point of their relationships what Xiaoge's behavior makes sense. I do not need any fanservice if it ruins the character, I'll just hate it. The thing that their feelings didn't come out of nowhere is what I LOVE about this ship, bc I'm not the kind of person who believes in "we love for nothing" thing and love at first sight thing (only "got hots for each other" at first sight), bc thats bull. Wu Xie became his everything after a long LONG process of getting to know each other. At the beginning tho he was the same stranger to him as everyone else. So what Reboot Qiling feels for Wu Xie is not what UN's Qiling feels for Wu Xie yet and what UN's Qiling feels for Wu Xie is not what Lost Tomb's Qiling feels for Wu Xie (which at that point was nothing). And I feel like not everyone gets the fact that you can totally wreck the character if you make him behave not the way he behaved in that particular time. Like for example, if someone would make a MDZS adaptation where at the very beginning of their relationships LZ treats WWX the way he treated him after the reincarnation just because "who cares, it's still LZ", that would be dumb af, see what I mean. So Xiaoge having a weakness for Wu Xie in part one is automatically not a Xiaoge to me, bc a huge part of his character and the thing NPSS speaks a lot about is just how IMPOSSIBLE it is for someone to catch his attention and how long it took Wu Xie to get there. So let's just say to me UN and Reboot Qilings for the first time didn't feel like some mashup or character summary/parody, they were Qilings the way they are supposed to be in that part of the story, bc it was the only times someone actually bothered to coordinate it.

Now as to why I prefer one to another. Xiaoge has this thing... the way he holds himself with other people, that is sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally suppressing.

Like everyone knows that if you're a passerby, Qiling genuinely doesn't fucking care and would in fact be pretty harsh about it in terms of treating people like they do not deserve their attention. He won't be like "please, don't bother me", he simply ignored them like an empty space. He is also like that with acquaintances who in his opinion do not deserve his respect like that girl who went hysterical, bc she was upset that he was the only one who wasn't drooling on her like all other men on the crew, Chen Wenjin, Wu Xie's uncles and etc. He's not openly disrespectful unless they trigger him in some way (usually by trying to act superior or later on for not treating Wu Xie right), but if they do, he will in fact remind them their place in sometimes a very rude way, at times humiliating them in front of ppl bc he looks younger than them and talking starts.

He's always doing things on his own terms and hates being told what to do. Like he legit scared Chen Wenjin just with a look and the tone of his voice when he said "let go", when she tried to command him on the mission and grabbed him trying to lecture him about what he should or shouldn't do. That's why Wu Erbai didn't even try anything like this and let him do whatever he needed to do and equally lead the mission in Reboot. And why the scene where Wu Xie 'commands' "Xiaoge, come back" and he immediately listens holds another special place in my heart. Bc he NEVER and I mean NEVER allows such things to ANYONE.

So here I came to a point of why despite loving them both dearly, my favorite Xiaoge is Huang Junjie.

I have this dissonance with Yuliang's version when to me in many scenes it felt like he and Wu Xie are the same age. Like if he was Xiaoge, but in his 20s. In his interactions with Chen Wenjin the dynamics was turned upside down, with him being okay with her telling him what to do and just in general the way she behaved with him. Same as like I didn't always quite believe him to be on par with older generation or even Pangzi, it just felt like he was truly younger than them. Some scenes that I do find extremely cute just don't fit book Xiaoge at all, I'm talking about some moments like his face when Wu Xie gave him food, or him pouting and many things he's done, when you were going "uwu he's a baby". He just never gives me this feeling in the books ever, not just bc he's 100 years old, but sad fact here.. bc he's simply unable to behave that way. Like in the books you'll desperately want to shower him with love, but he's just... I can't quite explain, it's very sad.

I guess it's just you know these characters, who are like hundreds years old, but look like they're 18? I think you have to be very careful with how you write those, so you could deliver that. And in UN because of some changed dynamics and scenes I straight up forgot about it, until Wu Xie threw some joke like "he's an old man" in front of a restaurant.

In Reboot Xiaoge could make Wu Erbai stutter with one move, put Yuliang's version in the same scene, I just don't think it would've worked. Like I'm trying to imagine him telling UN's Wu Erbai what to do and having troubles already haha. Same as I don't think he's capable to be genuinely mad at Wu Xie, and HJJ nailed it esp in one of my fav when Wu Xie was laughing at Pangzi's joke about him catching cold. The look he gave him and how ZYL just retreated was priceless xD. And boy could Qiling get angry with him in the books!

Otherwise I didn't have any drastic fall outs there, like with Joseph's Wu Xie and Ah Ning's death, because that was just too much of a difference, but there were still moments where it was once again this the same scene completely different emotion thing. He was more tolerable to ppl in general here, more pliable. And 50% of the time he gave me the cute lost kitten type, which I just cannot connect with the feeling he gave me in the books. His personality is a cat type 100%, but like seriously "cute baby" is the last word combination I would ever apply to book Xiaoge, but with Yuliang's version it's easily applied. So small bean he is indeed. With Joseph and in UN it works incredibly perfect to me, but the way he is in UN is at times too gentle. And there are lots of scenes where Joseph himself looked at him in a way "you're too cute, let me pinch your cheeks" kind of way, or the way he like sat down next to him on the coast, he was a bit babying him at times. I can't imagine book pingxie doing that. It's just a whole different vibe, the way he takes care of him, the way he lets him take care of him... it's...uuuuuuuuu another vibe (see, I'm so good at explaining lmao).

It's also kinda funny to me, bc HJJ who's the smallest and who irl truly a kitten never once gave me that feeling on screen for some reason. The one babied and loved by every crew and old ppl, who was cutely hiding behind ZYL's back on set, who won't sue an ex who almost ruined his career bc of how stupid she is, bc he "didn't want to hurt her", who according to staff can't even step on a fly, whom CMH was petting for several minutes after he had to hit him with a prop brick bc he didn't wanna do it lmao. I was just like.. ok, this is hilarious, bc I in fact didn't expect him to be a small bean, so watching all the bts made me go LOOOOL. Probably ZYL acting like a 3 year old helped him transform and the age difference problem got lost lmao

As for other adaptations. You know I can't watch seriously "Lost Tomb", I think some ppl probably have some nostalgic feeling about it, but I'm sorry, to me it's fucking hilarious. Like I've already said it looks like some type of twilight parody thing or smth. Soft damselle Wu Xie esp killed me, bc 1st when he ever was that, 2nd in the first book he's salty af, I don't even know this dude in this interpretation, I was like who's this. YangYang I know him from other things, I really don't think it's his role. I know the script and everything is bad. I know the costume and hair are horrendously funny, but it's just I was watching him in those action scenes and was like no... just I'm sorry but I'm not feeling it. I simply just don't know what to say about the whole thing seriously, bc I don't even know where to start. 10 episodes of some salad finished with one mutilated scene from book 6 for no reason the fact that characters are weird themselves also I can't quite tell, did they really just meet or they imply smth else lmao.. I'm sorry, but I do not get it.

I've given LT2 another try after finishing all the books and I've dropped it half way through, Cheng Yi wasn't even close to how I pictured Xiaoge in any aspect. He in fact didn't do anything OOC or off the book or anything, I just was like "not my Qiling". Happens sometimes.

Explore with the note you already know how I feel about this lol let's just forget.

P.S. To be fair here also maybe we should take into account the fact that some got luckier than other with "at which point" Xiaoge they're playing. Like for example, "Wrath of the Sea" and "Qingling Tree" books which is LT2 is not exactly you can say much about Qiling there, he trolls them there in the beginning (in a brilliant way that was totally lost in the adaptation) and he is there in "Wrath of Sea", but it's not the part that can make his character shine in any way, there's not much things happening there that would make you fall for him or get to know him; Yuliang grabbed the fattest piece bc it's middle several books, when they're always together and his character shines the most in terms of clues about past, opening up to Wu Xie and Pangzi, and there are many many events where you can get the picture of what kind of man he is; Huang Junjie grabbed my fav piece of utter devotion, where he's already fully and wholeheartedly belongs to Wu Xie, that I'm just weak for. So like... there's also that I guess xD.