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russellsppttemplates · 4 months

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No more of this (Lando Norris)

Lando is trying to stop the hurt of loosing you by getting ahead of it and (trying to) leave you first

Note: english is not my first language. It's angsty but has a good ending! ✨️ I took a bit of a gamble with this one, and I'm hoping it is still a good enough piece to read! This was from a request for which I had another idea whilst I was writing this one, so I might work on it if this truly is a bad take on it!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: relationship troubles, miscommunication, anxiety symptoms, alludes to the passing of a family member and consequent inheritances

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

Lando wasn't sure how long he had been in the room on his own, but he knew he didn't have it in him to leave soon.

He thought he wasn't enough, he was too much trouble for anyone around him, that's why no one is there for him right now.

He grabbed his phone and swiped the screen to check if the texts he sent you had gone through, but the lack of an answer from your part was simply that.

Not even Y/N cares about him or what he needs. Maybe he didn't word it in the right away? Surely, Y/N would have replied by now if he had written it down properly and not appeared like a clingy, needy child. Maybe he could send another one, just to make sure it is all alright.

To lovie ✨️

I'm sorry if that was a lot, but I just wanted to know how your day had been! I love you, sweet girl 🧡

There, all better.

The McLaren driver waited for your answer, hoping to make ammends from his previous tries.

Maybe she's busy, she has so much on her plate as well. She can't take care of Lando too. Lando wonders what his girlfriend would do if she knew you felt like this. If she found him lying in a bed, unable to move and startled by the idea of facing the outside? She would leave him right then and there. Y/N can only take so much and she's not going to take this.

The tears that fell went unoticed until they pooled on the pillow cover fabric, wetting it and dampening Lando's cheek and jaw.

The weight on his chest lightened when his phone vibrated.

From lovie ✨️

I'm so sorry, Lan - my phone was on silent because of the meeting with the notary and I forgot to turn it back up 🤦‍♀️

It has been a busy couple of days with the signings and handovers, but I can already see the end of it!

And how was your day, bubs?

I miss you loads and can't wait to kiss your handsome face 🧡 I love you 💖

There it goes, that wasn't so bad, right? She replied - she's safe, she has a reason why and she wrote I love you. Maybe all of that fuss was for nothing.

Lando quickly typed back a reply, hitting the button to send after reading it a couple of times to ensure it was good.

To lovie ✨️

It's okay, sweet girl, you don't have to worry! It's been same old, had a training session with Jon and then worked on the sim.

Can't wait for you to be home soon, I love you so much ❤️

You replied, that was all he needed. Everything is back to normal, the heartbeat has slowed down, the weight on the chest had been lifted, and breathing wasn't so hard anymore.

For now, anyway.

The last two days had been fine, good even - Lando spent the afternoon playing padel with Max Verstappen, streaming with Quadrant and even played golf on his own, relief washing over him when, despite being on his own, his thoughts didn't take him to the dark side like he expected them to.

You had FaceTimed every night and exchanged texts in the morning so there hadn't been any reason to worry - until now anyway.

When Max and Pietra told you they were flying to Monaco to spend the week there, you decided to postpone leaving for two days and take the flight with them instead.

You'd have to have reached the realisation that Lando is not the best you can do. You couldn't possibly be that blind.

Y/N knows you're he's not good enough, she knows she deserves so much more and now that she has property back home and a safe ground, she'll leave him before he knows it.

It builds up again, his breathing short and laboured while his heart speeds up, his hands unconsciously retreating into themselves and making fists as his nails graze his palm.

You are going to leave him.

Not if Lando leaves you first.

"This isn't even the worst flight we've had", Max reasoned once you landed in Nice, "you're really feeling it, aren't you?", he nudged your shoulder.

"It's just been a busy couple of weeks", you sighed, looking for your luggage on the carrousel, "I'm so glad it's all dealt with now and I can finally be home again", you smil3d tiredly.

"You mean you can finally be with Lando again", Pietra teased you.

"Can you blame me, though? I miss him so much I'm not sure I can keep away from him for long once I hug him", you admitted, spotting the bright blue luggage on the conveyor belt.

"Lando just texted me saying he is by the informative screens", Max offered, grabbing his and Pietra's luggage and leaving the way out of the busy airport.

Once you spotted your boyfriend, you hastened your pace to approach him, leaving the luggage on the side so you could jump into his embrace.

"Hey, my love, I missed you so much", Lando held you impossibly tight to him, nipping on the skin of your neck and inhaling your scent.

Y/N is back, she's here.

"Me too, baby", you said, kissing his neck multiple times, "I'm so glad to be home", you mumbled, pulling a smile out of him before you kissed his lips.

"One could argue we are here too, but we're clearly not that important", Max joked, patting Lando's back where he could given that you were clinging to him like a koala.

"The car is in the -2 Parking zone", Lando offered, grabbing your luggage and walking behind his bestfriend and his girlfriend while keeping you close to him.

For now, this would have to suffice before things changed forever.

The whole drive back to Lando's apartment involved light chatter and catching up on the past few weeks.

"I think we should go out, enjoy some of the night life while you still can", Max slapped Lando's shoulder once you had settled in and unpacked.

"I can get us entrances", the Formula One driver agreed, grabbing his phone before he went through his contacts.

Once the entrances and the dinner reservations were secured, the four of you took turns in showering and getting ready, Lando never letting you leave his sight for long.

"You look beautiful, lovie", Lando complimented, watching your shake out the curls you had done on your hair.

"Thank you, bubs - you look really handsome too, I love it when you wear all black", you mused, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles gently.

It was all good. You didn't seem mad or upset with him, in the contrary actually - like he felt, you too were a bit needy for his touch and to have him close to you, offering him reassuring words and sweet nothings every time you could. Maybe his thoughts were a lie. Some of them have been, maybe those were too.

The dinner was lovely and you were able to walk to the club you'd be spending the night in, getting drinks first before finding the area you were staying in. Lando was quickly pulled by the DJ on the booth, recognising him from previous nights out, while you, Max and Pietra stayed where you were.

He was enjoying himself before he noticed you were chatting with someone else, remembering him from your friend's birthday.

He has a girlfriend who is Y/N's friend, Lando has nothing to worry about.

Until he does.

He doesn't miss the way you hug him or the way you engage in light chat with him, all smiles and cheers.

You deserve someone who is always there for you, who can be present and make you smile like that all the time, and he knows he's not the person for the job.

"I'm going back down to my group - thanks for the invite", Lando shook his hand before pulling the DJ for a quick hug, making his way to you and your friends.

"Hey, love, you're back!", you smiled with a big wave to beckon him over, lacing your hand in his as soon as you were close enough, "you remember Marvin, right?".

"Yes, hi, how are you?", he mused, shaking his hand before protectively placing his arm around your waist.

Marvin had to leave to go be with his friend group as since then, you noticed Lando seemed weird. He was usually the life of the party and he always enjoyed himself in these environments, so to see him just stand there and sway his head to the music was a foreign sight.

"Dance with me, baby", you put your back to his chest, letting his hand hold you by your waist still while you swayed your bodies.

"I love you, Y/N, never forget that", he mumbled spontaneously after a while, kissing your cheek multiple times before hiding your face in your neck.

"I love you too, Lan, so much", you replied back as that was the last clue that something was going on.

A couple hours later, and after you had been sat at the booth for quite a bit, you told Lando that you felt a little tired, Max and Pietra agreeing with you that all the travelling had caught up with you, so you made your way out and back to his apartment.

"Have a goodnight, guys", you waved as Max helped his girlfriend into the room, the blonde woman having already fallen asleep on the way.

"Are you feeling better, Y/N?", Lando wondered as he watched you put your heels back in their spot once you stepped inside your bedroom and closed the door behind you.

You debated telling him the truth, but your relationship has been built in honesty and trust about everything, so the course to take was obvious, "Actually", you began, "I am totally fine, but I noticed you weren't great, you didn't seem that happy and I thought we could talk about it , if you'd like", you suggested, "or we could sleep, I'm fine with either, but I hope you choose the one that makes you feel better", you smiled.

The smile quickly vanished when Lando got up from the bed, his body language tight and tense, "now you care about me? Now you want to know if I'm okay or if I'm doing what makes me happy? All after I felt like shit and had to deal with things on my own?", Lando mused, taking you aback with such words.

"Lando, baby, what do you mean with that?", you asked.

"You were here and I was there, and then I have been here while you've been back home and you haven't been there for me", Lando spat, "I just wanted you by my side, I needed you and you weren’t there for me", he concluded. The anger previously in his tone was replaced by sadness and a hint of shame even.

"Lando, it's not like I have been on vacation purposefully away from you - there have been matters that my family needed me to take care of as there wasn't anyone else to take that responsibility! I don't understand where this is coming from - if I wasn't with you it's because I really couldn't be there!", you argued.

"It's... I can't do this right now", Lando looked up as tears started brimming his eyes.

"It seems not", you defended yourself, feeling the hints of accusation and the lack of flexibility and empathy from your boyfriend, "excuse me", you offered, grabbing your pyjamas and leaving your shared bedroom.

The accusations you threw to one another were heard by your guests as Max looked for you while you adjusted the living room sofa so that it could turn into a single bed, not needing the full sized mattress since you'd be clearly sleeping alone.

"What are you doing here?", Max wondered.

"You don't need to pretend you didn't hear that", you shrugged your shoulders before wiping your cheeks with your thumb, pulling on the sheet so the corner wouldn't fly off during the night.

"I can't take the guest room when you are sleeping here, Y/N", Max offered, pulling your hand so you would get up.

"I'm fine, it's not like I'm counting on getting that much sleep", you mumbled, sitting down against the cushions.

"You two are going to sort it out", Max gulped, "you always do, Y/N", sitting down next to you.

"Do you think we will?", you muttered, the weight of the words leaving your mouth settling in the possibility, "did he tell you anything? I'm at a loss at where all of this has come from", you offered your perspective.

"You're Lando and Y/N - there is no way in this world that you don't make it work. You are meant to be, no matter whatever turn you took in your life or whatever decisions you could've taken differently, you and Lando were supposed to meet in every single one of them", Max comforted as he rubbed your back, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

"Things are so messed up between us", you tutted at your boyfriend's earlier words and the disbelief that this was happening.

"Lando has been under a lot of pressure lately", Max offered, "I know his words hurt you and I'm certainly not justifying them, but he's... He just wants to be his best self for you, and between his family issues and this season's prospects, not having you with him there has shaken the foundation he thought was his steady self".

"I didn't notice it - yay for the bad girlfriend points!", you jokingly cheered before groaning, "I need out of this day".

"That's why you should go to the spare bedroom to sleep it off, Y/N", Max sternly said, "and you're not a bad girlfriend for this, not at all".

"I'm staying here, I told you", you stated, "you go and take that spare room, P is probably asleep on the bed already", you giggled, "I'll be fine".

"Tomorrow is a new day and a new opportunity for a fresh outlook of this whole situation", Max tapped his thighs before getting up, "Good night, Y/N".

"Good night, Max", you waved as he turned off the ceiling lights and closed the French doors that separated the living room from the dining room and the rest of the apartment.

Lando tossed and turned around for what felt like the hundredth time since he laid down on the mattress.

His words didn't come out the way he wanted them to.

But maybe it was for the best.

He didn't want to hurt you, and that is both a burden and a guilt that he will carry for the rest of his life.

She'll never forgive him. Not now that he's really shown how messed up and broken he is. How the playful, giggly boyfriend she was with is now a shell of a poor excuse of a man. He had been spending the nights alone since you were gone, but now that he knew you were - hopefully - still somewhere in the apartment and not next to him, the weight on his chest couldn't be heavier. It gets harder to breathe, and the thoughts don't stop.

He's lost the best person in his life because these insecurities got the best of him. Once again, he's letting them win and take charge of his life.

Lando sits up and holds the pillow you usually sleep with, trying to catch a small whiff of your scent that still lingers there and usually calms him down.

He's done something really bad. Maybe this was him. This was who he was nowadays and he was truly doing you the favour of letting you out before it got too bad.

When Lando wakes up after sleeping for what feels like a long nap, only Max is up as he steps into the kitchen.

"Morning", Lando muttered, not sure where to pick up from what he knows his bestfriend heard only a couple of hours ago.

"Morning, mate! P is feeling the hangover, so she'll be out for a while! Let's go on a run, it will do us both good", he put his hands on Lando's shoulders and patting them.

Lando groans and looks longingly at the living room, noticing the closed doors, wondering if you were still asleep.

Such an ass he is, letting his girlfriend sleep on the sofa.

Lando and Max run the usual distance, stopping to stretch at the little park area near his apartment, and because it's still early, there is no one else around but them and an older man walking his dog.

"Will you tell me what's going on with you and Y/N? Because by the looks of it, you really should talk to someone about it", Max stated. There wasn't a chance that Lando could run away from this, figuratively or literally, so he explained to his bestfriend what had been going on his mind.

"Do you think I am someone worthy of her? Y/N deserves so much better than me, so it's best if she leaves me first", Lando concluded.

"If she leaves you first, what?! Do you think it won't hurt you? Or her? Is that what this is all about?", Max argued, "you're seriously telling me that the only way you see a solution for this is to break up with her because you're so sure she wants to break up with you?! This is ridiculous, Lando!!".

"Of course it will hurt, Max! I love that girl with everything I have and I can't bear the thought of disappointing her, of her having less than she deserves, and I also can't even think about her leaving me! The anticipation that any moment she could say those words has been killing me!", he admitted outloud for the first time.

"Lando, that girl loves you with every bone of her body, do you really think she is going to break up with you?", Max sighed, "your mind is lying to you and it pains me to see the way it's doing it to you and the people around you".

"I'm not where I should be, these thoughts are consuming me left and right and I can't tell apart what is real and what my mind is catastrophising ", Lando agreed.

"Lando, people can't help you if you don't tell them you're feeling like that", Max stated, both sternly and empathetically, "and there are so many people that care about you".

They sit in silence in the bench as Lando ponders his words and Max replays them on his head.

"Is that what is going on in your head, though? That Y/N is going to leave you, and so you're getting ahead of it by breaking up with her?", Max mused.

"When you say it like that, it sounds so stupid and the opposite of what I want to do", Lando scoffed at himself, "but everything is aligned to it - she can do so much better for herself, and it's stupid I know, but my mind goes on and on about this and it almost never quietens down", he gulped.

"Y/N doesn't want to leave you, Lando, that's another lie you're telling yourself", Max offered, "she loves you and you deserve eachother because you're it, you're the endgame and you can work through this, but she needs to know".

"I know - sometimes I do anyway, I think", Lando chuckled lightly at his own joke, "we need to go home, I need to speak with Y/N".

"Indeed you do", Max agreed, getting up and following him to the apartment.

Pietra was already up and in the kitchen when the boys arrived, pecking her boyfriend's lips and looking at Lando, "Y/N's up, we have had breakfast and she went back to the living room while I was in the shower", she informed as Lando nodded.

"Can I come in?", Lando asked after knocking on the door.

"Yes, it's your apartment after all", you mused as he stepped inside

"No, Y/N", Lando groaned, "this is our place, my love, and there's something I need to tell you, many things in fact", he added.

"You should start then", you patted the spot next to the mattress where you had spent the night.

"I love you, Y/N, so much, that was never a question, and it was because I love you so much that every now and again, I have these thoughts that I'm not good enough for you, that I can't give you what you deserve and that you'd be better off with someone else, or without me", he took a big breath in, "I just wanted to be my best self for you, and it all comes crashing and building up and up and I can't shut the noise down".

"Lando, you could've told me, I would've helped, try to do my best in helping you so you weren't carrying this on your own", you offered, your hand crawling to his so you could hold it in yours.

"I hated that I needed you that much because you also have your own life and you don't want to be next to me every waking second. In my head, you shouldn't have to deal with me being needy of feeling like this", he admitted.

"And I'll be, I don't care what you need or say, Lando, I'm going to be here for you, I don't have to go back for a while now, so I'll be where you need me", you offered, "and, Lando, you could never be too much for me, you could never make me feel like I can do better because every day I thank my lucky stars that we're together and that you feel the same love I feel for you", you cupped his face, "you deserve so much, Lando Norris, and I'll work everyday to prove you that you're worthy of love and care and that things going on here are sometimes a lie", you kissed his forehead.

"I don't deserve having you, I yelled at you for no reason", Lando mumbled.

"There was a reason, and it would take me a lot more than you yelling at me when you're stressed and worried, but I'd also like to know whatever is happening when it is happening so I can help, or we can seek out professional help too", you rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs.

No one had ever fought for him like this. He's used to be the one to prove to people that they belong in his life and that's he's all in, not the other way around since, once every time his partners start to feel like it's too much once the honeymoon phase fades out and regular, day-to-day troubles show up notice it getting serious, they flee.

"We'll do this together, lovie", Lando muttered against your lips as he looked into your eyes, "I'm sorry I doubted you when in reality you are the one who's always stuck with me", he smiled, kissing your lips.

#lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norri fic #lando norris x you #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 angst #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 21 days

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good guys, bad deeds

pairing: javi p x f!reader

cws/tags: ONLY ONE BED, javi is reader's dad's best friend, minimal physical description (reader has pussy and boobs and wears a tank top and panties), p in v (unprotected bc ... i'm sorry), oral f! receiving, accidentally cumming inside, author does not speak spanish but wishes she did and researched spanish dirty talk but still knows v little, periodic pov switch

summary: reader comes to visit javi in colombia and he only has one bed, so they decide to sleep in it together and shenanigans ensue. it's wrong but it feels so right...

a/n: for the roll a trope challenge! @burntheedges

wc: 3.9k

taglist:

@gothcsz @onlyasimp4-2dbitches @harriedandharassed @withonly-sweetheart

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Half the time Javi smokes inside out of stubbornness – he can still hear the voices of ex-girlfriends back in Texas telling him off for it. He has what he intends to be his last cigarette of the day outside because his apartment has begun to make him stir-crazy. With Escobar "behind bars", there's a brief lull in the DEA office. He's become so used to chaos that he thrives off it now.

A taxi pulls up and a young woman steps out - for better or worse, Javi knows a lot of the women who spend their nights on the streets of Bogota and Medellin. This woman is unfamiliar, though the look in her eyes suggests she knows him. He sifts through strings of drunken memories, but can't place her.

Until he hears her voice. "Uncle Javi!" she says, flying into his arms which are not yet open to catch her. He's a DEA agent, a young woman should not be strong enough to knock the wind out of him but you get pretty damn close.

He'd completely forgotten you were coming – but, even if he'd remembered, he wouldn't have recognized you. God, how long has he been away?

You look older. That's what he tells you later, trying to put it as matter-of-factly as possible, trying to sound neutral and indifferent to the fact that a beautiful woman is standing at his doorstep like a baby in a basket, helpless in a foreign world, brought by cab rather than stork.

Javi carts your luggage up the stairs and little does he know that you're practically salivating over the sight of his broad shoulders, his strong arms that could just pick you up and throw you onto the bed–

"Are you planning to stand there all night?" Javi's voice snaps you out of your daydreams.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'm so tired, I'm practically falling asleep standing up."

Jet lag can do a number on anyone, but it doesn't help that the flight attendants were happy to provide you with alcohol. You try to act sober, but Javi's a cop, he's trained to call your bluff.

You stumble through the doorstep and you hear him stifle a laugh. "Are you okay? You look drunk."

"I'm not drunk. I had a few drinks on the plane, but I sobered up at the airport while I was waiting for you to come get me."

You watch guilt wash over him, and you almost take back your statement, but you don't. It's a rare opportunity to see Javi flustered, and even if it's not for the ideal reason (in your dirty mind), you'll take it as consolation for his forgetfulness.

"I'm so sorry. I've been so wrapped up in everything here that I completely forgot you were coming."

You shrug it off, not committing to accepting his apology but not wanting to prolong his suffering either. God forbid a man has to take accountability for his actions.

He follows your gaze which travels across the living room, through the kitchen, as far as your eye can see from the entrance where you stand. "I would've tidied up if I'd known I was having a guest."

"I honestly expected worse."

"You think I'm a slob?"

"No, you're a man – a single man – and the apartment of a bachelor is never a clean one."

"Who says I'm single?"

"Your ring finger."

"Maybe I have a fiancée."

"If you did, I don't think you'd be so defensive."

"I like being single."

"I like being single too."

He moves swiftly away from the relationship status conversation. "Unfortunately, I don't have a guest room, so you'll have to sleep on the couch if that's okay…"

"You're making your guest sleep on the couch?"

"Oh, I assumed you'd be more mature."

"I am mature. That's why I'm asking politely and not throwing a tantrum."

"Fine, mija. I give up. We're both too tired to argue."

"We can take turns, so you can have your bed tomorrow."

Taking turns means Javi shares the bed with you.

He strips himself of his shirt and you struggle to keep your composure. You have a better view of his broad chest and big arms with him shirtless and you can see the trail of hair from his belly button leading down to the waistband of his sweatpants, and god, how you want to find the end of it. A happy trail, they call it, but what it makes you feel is something different than happiness, something impure.

"What?" He catches you staring. "It's hot as fuck in here, and it's my room. I sleep shirtless. Take it or leave it."

Take it. You want him to say it to you in a different context.

"Whatever. You better not try anything funny."

"What is that supposed to mean? Do you really think I'm that type of guy?" He seems genuinely offended that you think of him that way.

And, in truth, you doubt he's like that, which is why your fantasies about him 'trying something funny' are a bit unrealistic, but you let them run wild regardless.

"Chill," you say, "I'm kidding."

The truth is that you'd be perfectly fine with any funny business Javi would be willing to offer you. But it's late and it's your first night as a guest in his apartment, so you decide not to try to provoke him.

You fall asleep soon after you tuck yourself in beside him.

It's been quite some time since Javi has been forced to share a bed with someone. Outside of women who stay over - and women rarely stay after the act is finished — he sleeps alone. You don't snore or drool on him which was a positive as he's been with women who did both of those things. He's known sleep talkers and sleep walkers — Lorraine was the former. It isn't until the middle of the night when he's awoken by your stirring that he realizes how cumbersome it will be to sleep next to you. It's a queen-sized bed, which should fit two, especially when one of those two is a young woman. So, why are you practically on top of him? You've managed to roll over, sprawl out, and curl back up to restart the process. You always end up further on Javi's side, so he continues to inch away until he is forced to be up against you lest he fall off the bed and onto the floor.

He tries to sleep as best he can, and prays for the sun — something he's never done before. Javi is hardly a morning person. But, he wakes up again before his alarm sounds. There is one glaring issue, he finds.

It's not his fault that your ass is up against his crotch and that every movement you make inadvertently teases him. It's so unfair that you make him this hard when he can't jerk off. He can't because you're here. Doubly unfair since you did this to him. It's not your fault that you're pretty — too pretty for your own good, whether Javi ends up giving into the primal needs inside him or you end up with another man. Thinking about that gets him harder - not because he likes to think about you with another man, in fact, he hates it, but jealous fuels the fire inside him. If he let his possessive feelings towards you overcome his rationale, he could fuck you the way you deserve, and he's sure you'd enjoy it. You need it, whether you know it or not.

Or, maybe it's just projection, maybe hope. Pretty women make him weak. God forbid you find out and use it against him. Javi's the type to risk it all - money, career, even his life. Not just for pussy - because it's not about that anyway, it never has been. Pussy is easy to come by - in fact, if he gathers enough saliva in his palm and closes his eyes he can almost replicate the feeling by himself. But being with a woman, all soft skin, strangled moans of his name, nails piercing his skin, needy kisses, teeth, tongue, and heartbeat - he hasn't been able to fully satiate that need ever, and he doesn't remember a time before he was a tenderhearted soul in a soldier's body.

Javi could get himself off, it wouldn't take long, but the shower is in the en-suite so he'd wake you up if he turned on the water. Plus, it'd feel wrong having you in the next room while he did such a thing even if he tried not to think about you while he did it, even if you slept in blissful ignorance, pure and untainted by the knowledge of Javi's teeth digging into his fist to muffle a moan as he shudders through his orgasm.

He wasn't thinking about you until your body was pressed up against his own. He doesn't think of you like that, or at last, he didn't. Not before you came to Bogota, appeared in front of him so grown up that he hadn't recognized you at first. You were a girl the last time you stood in front of him, he remembers having to kneel to hug you when he said goodbye. Time has passed and you're fresh out of college now. A woman, not a girl.

He's somewhere between thinking and dreaming when you spring up in bed with a gasp, and on instinct, his hand flies to the bedside table to search blindly for his gun. Until he realizes it's just you. A harmless girl.

Maybe not completely harmless.

He places his hand to his bare chest as he breathes slowly, trying to calm down.

You look like you're on the verge of tears and it pains him. "I'm so sorry, Uncle Javi."

"Mija, don't worry," he says, rubbing your back to calm you, "You just startled me."

"I just had a bad dream," you tell him.

You used to have those when you were younger, he thinks, now I have them too.

"It was just a dream, you're safe." He lies down and nods for you to lie back down too. "I'll keep you safe," he says quieter.

You move closer, facing him, and he lets you because he knows you need comfort more than anything. Javi resists the urge to hold you, worrying you might feel his hard—on through his sweatpants.

He stares - no, gazes - at you for a moment, unsure of what to say. You meet his eyes with a similar look - inquisitive, though you're more curious than he is. Javi feels dread in the face of what he fears is unfolding. You see an opportunity where he sees a warning. Do not go any further, it says. But he hasn't done anything.

Except for lie down next to you rather than taking the couch, and sleep shirtless rather than sweat through a t-shirt. He's more angry at himself for his reluctance to admit that this is a self-indulgent choice no matter how he flips it. Either he's a bad host or he's a bad man.

The answer becomes clearer when you lean in and he closes his eyes instead of pulling back like he should. He doesn't want to embarrass you, he decides. Better not reject you, at least not like this, he should let you down easy. Which he'll certainly do after kissing you.

It's so unfair, Javi thinks. He'd forgotten what it feels like to kiss someone who wants him. Women want his money, at best, his body. Often, both. But Javi is the type of man who wakes up at sunrise so he can slip out before he has to man up and have an awkward conversation over coffee.

Cupping your cheek gently is certainly wrong but so is kissing you, and he's already doing that. He should kiss you sweetly, make this a little more dignified, salvage what's left.

Your lips are soft and it's not your first kiss unless this is an incredible stroke of beginner's luck. Hungry, yet teasing, forcing him to reveal his own desire when you draw back a bit and he has to be the one to reach for you.

He notices you drifting closer to him and before he can make things much, much worse, he snaps out of it and pulls back entirely.

"Querida, we shouldn't… It's not right," he says because he can't say he doesn't want you.

"Why? What's wrong with it? We're both adults, we're sober, we're single…"

"You're much younger than me, and your father is my friend."

"Age is just a number, and what my dad doesn't know, can't hurt him."

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, playing the whole thing off like he isn't grappling with conflicting feelings inside.

"You said you'd never lie to me, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Tell me the truth, then, do you want me too?"

"You can't ask questions like that, mija."

"Why, Uncle Javi?"

"That's why. I cannot sleep with someone who calls me 'Uncle Javi'."

"It's not like we're actually related."

"I know that. This wouldn't even be up for discussion if that were the case."

"So it's up for discussion?"

"No. No, it's not. We're not doing it."

He stands up abruptly, does a terrible job of adjusting himself in his sweatpants, and walks towards the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

"Taking a shower."

"It's past midnight."

"Can a man not take a shower at night?"

"At least be honest and say you're going to jerk off."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, putting his head in his hands. Then, he turns to you, "I'm going to jerk off. Happy?"

"Can I come with?"

"No. If I wanted you to be with me, I'd just do it in bed."

You pout, disappointed, and he thinks that's your last resort. He nearly lets his guard down as his hand reaches the bathroom door, reaches safety.

But, in a voice that's so familiar yet so foreign coming from your mouth, you ask, "You usually do it right here?"

He stares at you, his body slumps a bit like he's melting as he watches you play with the straps of your top, like you might take it off.

"Javier," you say, seductively.

"Don't do that to me…" he pouts, pleads. He doesn't want to give in.

"I just think we could have a really good time. I mean, I bought these panties for you, but I guess if you don't want to see them, maybe I can find another DEA agent who wants to…"

"I'm not letting you go and whore yourself out to my coworkers."

"Why not? You don't want me."

"I didn't say that. I said 'it's wrong', and it is."

"I guess I can see how it might be wrong from some angles, but I really like you, and I just want to know that you like me back — I just want to be wanted, to know someone thinks I'm good enough."

It's so unfair. Javi has to assume you're acting, but you're doing a great job because your teary eyes are filled with emotion — maybe it is real, he thinks. And that's what lands him back in bed with you.

"I like you," he whispers, "and you know that. I think a lot of guys like you… they don't deserve you, but trust me when I say you're more than wanted."

"I don't want any of them. I only want you." You look up at him with those pleading eyes that have always worked.

"I'm not a good man." he sighs.

"I want you anyway."

"I'm not a good man because I can't help myself."

You look at him with hope shining through you.

"Before we do anything I need you to know that I love you to death but this is sex, not marriage, not a relationship - I want to make you feel good tonight, but tomorrow we go back to normal, got it?"

"You act like you're taking my virginity. I'm not that innocent little girl anymore. I'm not expecting you to fall in love with me, I just want you to fuck me."

He has the knee-jerk instinct to tell you not to swear. but the scowl of disapproval quickly turns to a smile. You're not that innocent, are you?

You grab his face and whisper, "If I'm going to have casual sex anyway, isn't it better if I do it with you?"

"Oh, so now this is all 'casual sex', and I'm just doing damage control by fucking you?"

"My dad asked you to keep me safe, right? If I'm bed with you, I can't get in bed with any other potentially dangerous men."

"I'm always gonna take care of you." he says, dipping down to kiss your neck.

"Javier." It's a drawn-out plea for something, anything. It's the simultaneous gratitude brought about by the relief that washes over you when he agrees to this but the carnal frustration at the anticipation of him, heightened when you feel his erection pressing against your thigh.

You can tell he's big - though, the tightness of his pants leaves little to the imagination regardless. Nervousness strikes you because he's Javi. He thinks you don't know how much of a womanizer he is. As if you've ever been stupid enough to believe the marks on his neck were just razor burn or that he had no idea where the pair of panties in his glove compartment came from.

You don't dare ask how many women he's slept with, you don't need to know the number to know you have a laundry list of competition. You won't be his best - that much you know - still, you can't be his worst.

All your worries move to the background when you remember that Javier is kissing you, tugging down the straps of your top, kissing your neck, your collarbone, your chest. Your heart swells at his gentle devotion, but your core aches for him as your much dirtier fantasies flit around your mind.

You would never have guessed Javier would be into this type of sweet and slow sex. Most men you've been with want you in a way that feels more perverse, more distant.

Javi lets his hands wander along your skin, he teases you and marvels at your reaction. He doesn't just grip you, he holds you.

You shouldn't be as surprised as you are when he grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed before kneeling with his head positioned between your thighs.

"You said you wore these for me?" he asks, fingers toying with the waistband of your underwear.

"Yeah. I remember finding a similar pair in your car once, and so I thought you might like these."

"You'd look good in anything, but you did a good job picking these out. Definitely my taste."

"You can keep them."

His eyes flicker with something, something you've been dying to see. "What are you going to wear?"

"I have more, like, ever color."

"They're all for me or just these ones?"

"All for you." The statement holds greater weight than the thin lace fabric, and surely he knows that.

There is desire in his eyes when he flicks his tongue along your folds for the first time.

Javi decides that if he's going to indulge, he shouldn't indulge half-heartedly. He should not be doing this, but you deserve to feel good. Someone else should do this for you, but no one else is here. It's Javi's responsibility to take care of you. He's just helping you sleep, that's what he tells himself when he gets a taste of you and knows he's so incredibly and utterly fucked. He groans into you, and you return a prettier sound.

He's too old to be this hard, this hungry for a woman. The most unfair part of it all is that Javi doesn't need sex, he doesn't need the touch of a woman. He needs you. Forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest.

Your voice shakes when you say his name, warning him of your impending orgasm. He massages your hipbones as if to say, "you're going to be okay, just let go". You look embarrassed when you come down from your high so he makes a point of staying between your legs, locking eyes while his tongue gathers every drop you give him, and smiling when he wipes his lips with his thumb.

The predicament lies between his own legs. The question still stands stiff and painfully hard. Should he allow himself the pleasure of fucking up? Of fucking.

You notice his hesitation. "Javier, I want it too, you know?"

"It's still a mistake."

"Everyone makes mistakes… maybe you could just allow yourself to make one - for me."

Making one mistake surely isn't enough to make you a bad person.

"Don't you ever get tired of being the good guy?"

He smirks at you. "Yes. Yes, I do."

Patience is a virtue, and not one you have.

"I'll do it for you," you say, tugging down his sweatpants, watching his cock spring out.

"Puta madre," he says, as you stroke his length, running your finger over the tip, kissing it with the pad of your thumb, "if you keep touching me like that I'm not gonna last."

Javi stifles his curses in English, ultimately ending up settling for Spanish at the rare moments he can find words at all. Clearly he forgets that you speak enough Spanish to understand what he's saying, but you let him think you don't because the things he says are even sexier than what he says in your daydreams.

He drags the head of his cock along your folds, coating himself with your wetness.

"Que cosa tan linda," he says under his breath, marveling at your body, fully naked in front of him.

"Please," you whine, and he nods, silent but committed.

"Mira como me toma," he says as he eases inside you finally.

He keeps the rhythm of his thrusts slow until you beg for him to go faster. Harder, deeper, more, more, more.

"¿Te gusta eso eh?" His voice is thick with lust, he's not even talking to you, not really, just running his mouth unable to help it.

Soon, it's nothing but curses through gritted teeth accompanied by the slick sounds of your arousal.

"Quiero que me hagas tuyo" you finally give up the game when he's about to cum.

It's not the fact that you want to be his that takes him over the edge unexpectedly, it's the way you say his name and he knows you already are. You hold onto him for dear life, locking your legs around his hips and forcing him deeper, your inner walls flutter around him, and he is helpless against the tidal wave of ecstasy that crashes over him.

He's dizzy after you suck the life out of him, but his rational mind returns when he pulls out and watches cum drip out of you.

Javi panics, momentarily considers every horrible possibility and every solution - will he have to fake his own death and leave the country? But your soothing touch as you gently pull him closer, your relaxing voice accompanying it, calms him.

He buys you the morning after pill and feeds it to you along with the best breakfast he can conjure up as an apology.

You thank him, but just before he thinks he's in the clear, you say, "if you really wanted to make it up to me, you could eat your breakfast in bed…"

He's about to say 'no', but you wink, and instead, he says, "Fine. But just this once."

spanish translations:

Que cosa tan linda = what a pretty thing

Mira como me toma = look at how well it takes me

¿Te gusta eso eh? = you like that eh?

Quiero que me hagas tuyo = i want you to make me yours

this post helped me lots!!

#javier peña #javier pena smut #javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena narcos #javier pena fic #roll a trope challenge

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thisapplepielife · 3 months

Text

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days.

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore.

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy.

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him.

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club.

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough.

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring.

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club.

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away.

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

#steddieweek2024 #day seven #free space #wrong number trope #meet cute #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steddieweek #steddie #thisapplepielife: steddieweek #thisapplepielife: short fic

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irisintheafterglow · 9 months

Text

don't even know, i'm talkin' nonsense

summary: on his way back from a patrol shift, your boss gets hit with a mystery quirk that affects his speech. you're the only one in the office who can help him (pro!bakugo x you).

wc: 2k

cw/tags: swearing cuz bakugo's here and he's angry, miscommunication-based comedy, idiot(s) in love, coworkers to lovers, a little bit of angst/comfort but it's just for the plot yk

note: i'm not sure where the concept of this came from; i was just listening to sabrina carpenter and was like,,,, hey i can use this. so have this! hope you like it :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

“Okay, go over it one more time for me. I think I’ve got it,” you reassure him, only to be met with a skeptical glare. “I’m serious; I think I understand it, even though it took forever.” You tap the whiteboard of the meeting room with the red marker in your hand, slightly tired from scribbling down as much as you could comprehend from your boss’ vague gestures. He exhales deeply, dragging a hand down his face, and gives you an impatient look. “Ready when you are."

“Fucking hell, I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“I didn’t understand a word of what you just said,” you remind him and he shoots you a withering glare that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. “And don’t try to write it, since that clearly didn’t work.” You glance at the scribbled mess of letters scratched onto a yellow notepad of paper, Bakugo’s first attempt to communicate that something was off when speech was not working.

“I fucking know that! You don’t think I can’t remember that you have no idea what I’m fucking saying?” You blink at him, desperately biting your tongue to avoid bursting out laughing. Even though Bakugo had been hit with a quirk that was creating some very entertaining moments in an otherwise bland office job, he could still make his palms crackle dangerously in warning. “Remind me to fire you when I get out of this.” You can’t control your laughter that time and you let a snort slip from your throat, wincing when his scathing eyes stare menacingly into you.

“Sorry, I am so sorry,” you laugh quietly, attempting to subtly wipe a tear from your eye. “It’s just that…that time it was a dolphin.” You scrunch your face to avoid laughing again and try so hard that it makes your stomach hurt. Your boss continues to stand there, absolutely mortified, while you add another animal to the list of sounds that have come out of his mouth. Since he re-entered the office after a seemingly normal patrol shift, the noises of a bear, horse, mouse, tiger, monkey, a bird you couldn’t identify, and now a dolphin had exited his mouth in place of his scratchy voice. You thought it was a sneeze, the first time the bear roar had echoed through the office, but were equally perplexed when you asked him to sign a form and the only answer you received was high-pitched squeaking.

“There’s no fucking way,” he’d muttered under his breath when you first explained to him what you thought was happening. It became all too real as his face paled when you played what your phone recorded as his “voice,” which only came out as the insistent hoots of a monkey. He was used to receiving weird looks on the street, especially when civilians realized that they were walking next to one of the top Pros in the country, but it dawned on him that they may have not heard his usual voice when he barked at them to move. “And you’re the only one in the office right now?”

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” you inform him carefully. “But, if you’re wondering if anyone else is here to help you, there’s not.” You can only imagine what kind of colorful expletives he yelled by the unrelenting scream of bird noises that left his mouth. “And I was about to leave, so if you want me to stay and help–”

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

“Oh, great. You’re a horse now,” you deadpan, understanding from his facial expressions alone what he was trying to communicate. “Well, if you don’t need my help, have fun explaining to the guys why you sound like you swallowed a zoo.” Your boss’ face turns bright red at the idea of showing up to dinner with his old classmates in his current state. He fires off a single, precise shot at the rubber door stop before you can exit the meeting room, effectively locking you in there with him until you sort out how to fix him. “So, you do want my help?” You turn to look at him with a knowingly innocent smirk, delighted to find him seething in place but reluctantly nodding. “What’s the magic word?” A single horse neigh echoes through the meeting room and you head to the whiteboard. “Alright, let’s get to work.”

You spent the next hour and a half playing a ridiculous game of charades with Bakugo after the alarming discovery that anything he tried to write would become illegible scribbles. You figured that it was just an effect of the Quirk itself, which seemed to give the user the ability to communicate with different animals without being understood by humans. If an eavesdropper managed to figure out what they were saying, the words would become unreadable on the page for further secrecy. Despite inconveniencing your boss and preventing you from leaving the office on time, it did serve as an important tool in the Quirk-stealing weapons trade you’d been investigating. The only issue now was to figure out where Bakugo was hit.

“So, you’re walking down 25th.” A nod. “And make a right on Pine?” His palm hits his forehead in frustration. “No, no, not right. A left, towards 24th.” Another nod. “And that-that alley, by the coffee shop with the good strawberry milk teas?” More aggressive nodding. “That’s where you got hit? With the dart?” He slams his hand on the desk, nodding furiously. You stare at him, slightly in disbelief as you pull out a rolling chair and slump into it. “How the hell did you get pulled into that alley?”

“Someone was screaming for help and I’m a hero so I go help them, I don’t fucking know.”

“Dolphin again,” you smirk and he rolls his eyes. “But, really. You don’t ever go that route since it’s too out of the way from where your patrol ends. What were you doing on that side of town?” He pauses, his mouth drawn into a tight line and his eyebrows drawn as he searches for an explanation in his brain. Truth be told, he had no idea what possessed him to take that route back to the office. All he could recall were snapshots, little Polaroids of information that, if he pieced them together, made a relatively cohesive explanation. He’d snapped at you unfairly, a common snap of his temper, but the hurt on your face affected him more than he was willing to admit. Something bothered him about your tense expression and it continued to bother him when he was out of the office and kicking villains into the dirt. It seemed like instinct was the only reason why he headed in the direction of the cafe with the strawberry milk he knew you liked. “Well?”

He blinks at you once, twice, and then stands abruptly and swings open the door. You watch him through the room’s tall windows as he enters his private office briefly and exits with a cardboard drink holder. A minute later, a plastic cup with the taut seal unbroken is unceremoniously set in front of you, along with a large straw to suck up the extra strawberry bits he knew you always ordered.

“What is this?”

“What does it look like, idiot?”

“I know it looks like a drink, but why did you get it for me?” His eyes widen with the idea that you could understand him again, but you’re quick to shut him down. “And no, I can’t understand you yet. Right now, you’re a tiger.” You half expect him to launch the other drink, something brown sugar looking, at the wall; instead, he pulls out the chair next to you and stabs his straw into the plastic, gesturing for you to do the same. You obey hesitantly, eyeing him curiously as he avoids your questioning expression. “Thank you.” He huffs, something you’ve learned is the only response he gives to gratitude. “You really didn’t need to do this.”

“I hurt your fucking feelings, of course I needed to.” You’re staring at him again, you and your pretty eyes and kind smile and uncanny ability to withstand even his most fiery temper tantrums. He’d discovered his feelings for you months ago and it was like a speed bump was put in front of him every time you were near, always making him trip or say something stupid. Bakugo was never known to be good with his words or his feelings, but you made him feel so warm inside that he’d be a fool to deny what it was. “I guess it’s good that you can’t understand me right now because I can vent about how stupid you make me feel.” You hum, a fond glint catching in your eye.

“That’s a new one. You’re a chicken right now.” You laugh and he can feel his forehead get airy, like he’d chugged three sojus. What he felt was sweeter, though, without the bitter taste that always followed alcohol. To him, you were pure light.

“Makes sense, ‘cause I’m too much of a dumbass to tell you how much I care about you. Fuckin’ idiot.”

“You sure have a lot to say, boss. Go on and let me pretend I’m on a poultry farm.” You take another sip of your drink and close your eyes, appreciating his unexpected gift. “A much needed vacation, in my opinion.”

“There you go again with your stupid sarcasm and your stupid laugh. You’re insufferable, you know that? Always making me run around in circles because I don’t know what I’m fucking doing around you.” You raise your eyebrows melodramatically and nod at him slowly, still having no idea what he’s trying to communicate. “You’re lucky you’re pretty because if you were anyone else, I’d fucking deck them right now.” Your attention shoots to him but gives no indication that you comprehended what he just said, so he goes on. “I wanna take you out to dinner sometime, but I think I’m a little too proud to admit how much I like you. Fucking hell, you don’t know what you do to me.”

“Hey, boss?”

“The fuck do you want?”

“The Quirk wore off,” you breathe, in complete shock from what he just unknowingly confessed to you. You’d be less surprised if he’d told you that he murdered his way up to the top three. “You started speaking normally when you said,” you pause to try to slow your racing pulse in your ears, “that I was pretty.” You sneak a look at him out of the corner of your eye to find him bright red and mirroring your wide-eyed expression. “I guess the effects wore off pretty fast?”

“Yep,” he forces out. “Must have.”

“You really think I’m pretty?”

“It’s why I got you the fucking drink, stupid,” he mumbles, still examining the shiny wood of the table. “Didn’t want you to be sad.” An idea pops into your head and you shrug, leaning nonchalantly back into your chair. You can feel his eyes watching you, reading your body language.

“I know something that would make me less sad.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” You shrug and let the corner of your mouth turn up, brushing a stray blonde hair from his face. You didn’t think it was possible to turn such a deep shade of pink and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t amused by how miserable he looked.

“Take me out to dinner,” you reply, chuckling at the way his nostrils flare. “Repeat all the stuff you said while you were speaking zookeeper. Beside the love confession, of course. I understood that pretty well.”

“God, you’re ridiculous,” he mutters, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the office. “Next time I get you that strawberry milk, you’ll be there with me. Then we’ll both have that stupid quirk.”

“Mmm, great. We can both tell each other how much we like each other while speaking dolphin.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #mha fluff #bnha fluff

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heizlut · 1 year

Text

Jealousy (part 1)

"Can you write about Aether, Gorou, Kazuha and Albedo getting jealous because the reader is not paying attention to them (like is busy that day and didn’t have time to be with them)?" (anon ask/answer)

a/n: so i kind of added a little twist to the prompt... i hope you don't mind, anon! (any extra character mentioned has a purely platonic relationship with reader with no hidden agenda, i promise!!)

cw: none! this drabble is sfw but is suggestive

tags: multiple chars x reader (separate), possessive!aether (he gets his own tag b/c he gets a lil mean with it), gn!reader, no specific pronouns used (just they/them), use of y/n (plz forgive me), not really proofread (r.i.p)

read part 2 here!

check out my masterlist here!

Aether~

You and Aether almost always took commissions together, but today was different. Kaeya had approached you personally with the hope that you would accompany him on his business trip Sumeru that he took on to help relieve Jean of some of her workload. What fully convinced you to accept was that Kaeya had told you to consider it more as a vacation with just a touch of business on the side. You happily accepted, excited to have a break and being able to spend it with someone you considered a close friend. Caught up in the excitement, you failed to let Katheryne know to tell Aether that you would be gone for awhile.

Imagine Aether's surprise when he ends up on a commission in Sumeru a day later and sees you with Kaeya at one of the taverns. Your laughter rings in his ears as though Kaeya had just said the funniest thing in the world. Aether finds himself becoming frustrated... no, jealous. Not only had you failed to let him know you would be travelling to Sumeru for who knows how long, you were also there with Kaeya. He made his way over to where you both sat, taking the seat right next to before even greeting either of you. Your eyes widen as you realize the mistake you had made when you had forgotten to inform him of where you were going and with who.

Before you can even apologize, Aether has a fake smile plastered on his face, but you're quick to notice how his jaw is tensed as he places a hand on your thigh under the table, giving it a harsh squeeze to let you know how he really felt, "Y/n and Kaeya, funny seeing you two here." The tone of his voice was saccharine and you shift a little nervously in your seat, only making Aether dig his fingers into the plushness of your thigh even more. Kaeya is quick to notice but chooses not to say anything about it, "Well hello, traveller. What brings you all the way here to Sumeru?" Aether holds that fake smile on his face as he tells Kaeya about the commission he was on and how it was oh so interesting that he couldn't find his lover who would normally accompany him. You look at Aether, a glint of possessiveness in his eyes as he steals a glance at you before looking back to Kaeya. "Apologies for whisking them away for a day. I simply wanted some familiar company around as I completed some business here", Kaeya offers a small smile. Aether hums in response, "Well then apologies for cutting this trip a bit short. I'm sure any remaining business you have here can be done without y/n" Kaeya nods in understanding, "You're quite right. Well then, I suppose I'll see you two when I return back to Mondstadt. Safe travels!" He stands up, excusing himself as he walks off toward the docks of Port Ormos. You seem to let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding as you turn to look at your jealous lover, "Aether... I'm so sorry." Aether simply tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Don't worry. You can always make it up to me."

Gorou~

Gorou was already not the biggest fan of Heizou, especially now that you were spending the day with him, having stated that you were helping him with a new case that had caught your own personal interest. It was already nearing sundown when you still had yet to return and Gorou excuses himself from the other soldiers chatting with him, now on a mission to find you and bring you back home, away from that sneaky detective. As soon as he makes his way towards the entrance of the camp, Gorou hears the sweet sound of your voice. He almost breathes out a sigh of relief only for it to get caught in his throat when he hears his own name fall from Heizou's lips in a comment that Gorou couldn't quite pick up from this distance. His ears press flat against his head as he makes his way towards both of you, moving as if he's about to enter into a battle. You smile sweetly when you finally spot your lover, beginning to raise your hand up in a wave. But your smile flaters slightly when you see a look of anger and.. was that jealousy in his eyes? Heizou pays no mind to the demeanor of the approaching general, offering his typical sly smile, "Why hello there, General Gorou~"

Gorou fights back the growl that's trying to claw its way from deep in his chest as finally stands in front of you both. He grabs your chin, turning your head at various angles as if he was inspecting you for anything amiss. When he sees that you're perfectly fine, he tilts your head up to look at him, a stern expression on his face, "I think your time spent with that detective is over." Heizou dramatically feins offense, "Oh, so now I'm just 'that detective'? I'm wounded." Gorou shoots him a glare but your sweet voice draws his attention back to you. You reach up to gently caress his cheek, looking at him so sweetly, "Gorou, I'm fine. There's no need to be so hostile. I'm sorry I was away all day. We just got caught up on so many new leads we both lost track of the time." Gorou's expression softens slightly at your words, realizing that he's gotten all worked up over something that really shouldn't bother him as much as it does. He lets go of your chin, letting out a heavy sigh as he wraps on arm around your waist, pulling you away from the detective, "S-sorry... Let's just head back to the tent now, yeah?" You let him pull you alongside him as Heizou watches you both walk away with a shit-eating grin on his face, having been quite entertained by Gorou's antics.

Kazuha~

Kazuha doesn't get jealous easily. He has always been such a laid back lover and felt secure with his relationship with you. However, you had spent almost your entire day with Thoma making sweaters for the cute little strays around Inazuma. He knows it's really such a silly thing to be jealous over, especially when you were simply helping Thoma care for the animals that most definitely deserved the love and care you both showed them. But what truly drove him to jealousy was that you seemed to have forgotten that you two had previously made plans to spend the next couple of days together before he had to board Beidou's ship that was heading for Liyue.

Kazuha did not want to interrupt you two, but the moment that Thoma had offered to knit you both matching sweaters, he felt the need to butt in. Neither you nor Thoma noticed Kazuha approaching, so of course you let out a small gasp when he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist while pressing a kiss to your cheek, "Hello, my dove. Have you been having fun today?" Kazuha was definitely making it well known that you were his and his alone. "Kazuha! I-", you stop yourself, your mouth falling open slightly when you realize that you had forgotten about your previously made plans with him. "Oh archons, Kaz, I am so so sorry. I completely forgot-", Kazuha cuts you off this time as he puts his fingers under your chin, tilting your head back just enough for him to press a deep kiss to your lips. Thoma stands there a bit dumbfounded as he watches the scene before him, a blush creeping onto his cheeks when he quickly clears his throat awkwardly, "I-i'll just get going now. I'll see you around, y/n." Kazuha hides his satisfied smirk by nuzzling into your neck.

Albedo~

Albedo hadn't seen you all day and after one of his most prized theories ended up falling apart, all he wanted to do was hold you and let his frustrations melt away. When he got back to his lab up in Dragonspine after being at the Knights of Favonius HQ all day, he expected you to be curled up reading a book with a thick blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you usually would. His soft smile faltered when he realizes that you are not there. He pauses for a moment when he sees a note left on one of his alchemy tables. Picking it up, he recognizes your handwriting instantly, 'Albedo, I am out helping Aether and Diluc over at Angel's Share. I am unsure of when I'll return, but I will do my best to be back before it gets to be too late in the evening♡'

Albedo has never quite understood human emotions, so when this strange feeling emerged and made his chest tighten, he wasn't exactly sure what it meant. Why did you have to spend the day with those two, especially the traveller? While he considered Aether to be a friend, Aether was still a traveller from another world with a mysterious aura about him, leading Albedo to wonder if he could be completely trusted. He found himself making his way back down Dragonspine and into Angel's Share. There he found you happily chatting away with the two men as you helped them organize the various crates of wine in the back. Diluc was the first to notice Albedo's presence, "Albedo, I never expected to see you here in Angel's Share. What brings you here this evening?" Albedo forces a slight polite smile onto his face, "Y/n, here left a note to tell me they were here with you and the traveller" His eyes meet yours, but there is a darker glint to them that you had never seen in your lover's eyes before especially when Aether's hand brushed against yours as he helped you set down a particularly heavy crate of wine.

Aether can't help the blush on his face as he mutters an apology to which you smile sweetly in return, letting him know it was okay. No, it most certainly wasn't okay, Albedo thinks to himself as the feeling in his chest begins to nag at him even more. He swiftly moves to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist and holding your hand in his free one, moving it up to his lips as he presses a kiss to the top of it, "Love, I think it is time for us both to head back. It is quite late after all." His tone sounded sincere but had a hint of bitterness to it. You simply nod your head, letting your lover lead you out, but you don't fail to notice the cheeky smile he flashes back at the other two men as he raises his hand in a wave, "Have a nice evening."

a/n: i went a little feral writing these… clearly

#genshin smut #aether smut #gorou smut #kazuha smut #albedo smut #aether x reader #gorou x reader #kazuha x reader #albedo x reader

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 10 months

Text

A flock of elephants

Written for the November warm-up round of the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Prompt: Bakery AU

Rated: T

CW: some sexual tension and innuendo

Tags: Baker Steve, Rockstar Eddie

Notes: Can be read as a continuation of this microfic

“You don't understand how huge a deal this is, Steve,” Dustin says. He’s wiggling in the passenger seat, trying to take in every bit of their surroundings as they pull up to the concert hall.

Steve huffs and squints at the signs. There's security and fans and staff everywhere and he can feel a headache coming up.

"A guy asked me to bake a cake, so what? It's literally what I do for a living, nothing-"

"A guy asked you to-" Dustin sputters. "Excuse me, what did you say? Eddie Munson commissioned you to bake a replica of his world famous Warlock, do you have any- Do you even know who Eddie Munson is?"

"Of course I know," Steve grouses. "I don't live under a rock."

"Oh yeah?" Dustin levels him with an unimpressed look. "Name one of his songs."

"Please," Steve rolls his eyes. "You're blasting that shit on repeat, it's practically seared into my brain. Especially the one about the elephants."

Dustin stares at him. Steve resists the urge to pinch his nose.

"You know the one! What was it? Flock of Elephants?"

Dustin crumples into the car seat and slaps both palms to his forehead. "It's A Court of Sycophants, Steve! Oh my God!"

"Synchro-what?" Steve ignores the way his neck prickles and takes a sharp right. "You just made that up. Now help me look for the delivery entrance or we won't have ourselves a deal at all."

Once they find the entrance, it turns out he forgot the ID badge that the label sent, because of fucking course he did. He spends about half an hour trying to convince the grumpy security guard to let them in while Dustin has a complete meltdown. Just as he's ready to give up, they're rescued by the appearance of a tiny blonde in a pink cardigan who cheerfully introduces herself as Eddie’s manager.

"Sorry about Hop," she says for what must be the fourth time, while Steve sets up the guitar-shaped cake at the center of the buffet and Dustin inspects the backstage lounge with awestruck eyes. "He takes his job very seriously."

"Yeah, I noticed," Steve mutters. She seems nice enough, but he really doesn’t wanna engage in smalltalk right now. The bustle of the stage hands and the hot air of the venue are making him squeamish. All he wants to do is get this over with and go home.

Unfortunately fate must hate him, because that is the exact moment that a familiar voice says, "Hey, Chris. No matter what Hop tells you, I didn't order hookers to the venue. I dunno where he got the-"

Dustin starts squealing.

"Oh my God, you're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie squints at him like a confused cat.

"Last time I checked, yeah. And you are?"

"Dustin," says Dustin, like that explains everything. "I'm with Steve."

Eddie’s eyes flit over and his face breaks into a delighted, dimpled smile.

"Baker boy, hi!"

Steve's mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t know why, but all of the easy confidence of their last meeting is suddenly gone.

Maybe it's because they were in the bakery, on his own turf, and now they're on Eddie’s, where the lights and the noise and the hum of the crowd in the auditorium are grating on his nerves.

Maybe it's because last time, Eddie looked like just some guy in his ripped jeans and ratty hoody, unwashed hair piled in a chaotic bun, and now …

… now he's in a pair of leather pants that are so tight they may as well be spray-painted on and what looks like a fucking harness, hair cascading around his face and shoulders in a halo of messy curls and is that eyeliner?

"Woah," Eddie breathes, eyes growing large, and yup, eyeliner. Definitely eyeliner, Jesus fucking Christ. With two long strides of those impossibly long legs, he's beside Steve and ogling the cake with an awestruck face. "This is fucking incredible, dude, it looks just like the real thing. You did all that from the photos?"

By some miracle, Steve manages to channel the incoming blush into a sly pop of his hips and a smug eyebrow quirk.

"Told you I was the best."

Eddie is looking at him like he didn't bake a cake but hung the moon, which … in combination with the eyeliner and the leather and the harness of it all? Steve squirms in his jeans.

"Okay, erm … if that's all, I'll send over the bill by-"

"Wait, what? You're not staying for the show?" Eddie swivels to Chrissy, all righteous indignation. "Why are they not staying for the show?"

Chrissy shrugs, at the same time that Steve says, "That's really not necessa-"

"We'd love to stay!"

Dustin shoves himself between them, elbowing him in the kidneys. While Steve is still coughing, Eddie turns to Chrissy.

"Show the young man to the backstage area, Chris?"

Dustin looks like he's about to die of happiness, so Steve resigns himself to his fate.

"Will you play the one about the psychopaths?" he asks as they trail after him. "It's his favorite."

"Psycho-" Eddie’s brow wrinkles.

"Sycophants, Steve!" Dustin hollers from ahead. "Jesus!"

"Anyways," Steve says over Eddie’s rumbling laughter. "You really didn't have to-"

"I know I didn't." Eddie accepts his guitar - the real one - from a stage hand and slings it over his shoulder. "But I saw what you're best at, so I figured I'd return the favor."

"Careful there," Steve huffs. "All you've done is ogle my cake. You may wanna try it first."

"Oh, I'm planning to …" Eddie's smile is sharp as he leans in, close to his ear. "Preferably with less people around, though."

And then he's gone, stepping out on the stage, making his guitar wail.

Steve can't quite tell if the roar in his ears is the crowd or the sound of his own blood.

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months

Text

if you call me back

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'mutual pining' rated: T wc: 864 cw: angst with a happy ending, mention of being drunk tags: mutual pining, long distance friends, friends to lovers

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

"Hey, Eds, just me checking in. Dustin said you lost your job and I didn't know if you already had another one or not. Uh. Just call me when you can."

"Me again. Heard you got a new job! I didn't even know a record store opened in Hawkins. You must be happy about that. Um, well, I guess call me when you can?"

"I know this is kinda the worst to get a lot of voice messages, but I just...miss you? Sorry, I just. Needed you to know that. If I upset you or something, you can tell me."

"Eds! Listen! If you call me back, I gotta tell you something! Robin said I can't say it over the phone though! Ouch, sorry, just stubbed my toe. Uh, okay wait. I think I'm drunk."

Eddie listened to every voice message on repeat every night before bed.

He didn't know why he didn't call Steve back, especially after the last message that left him dangerously hopeful that he would admit he had feelings for him.

They'd naturally drifted when Steve moved away with Robin, though they'd kept up weekly phone calls for months. The highlight of Eddie's week was getting to talk to Steve about the kids and hear about his exciting life in the city.

But after a few months, the calls got shorter, and then Eddie decided that he had to pull away completely before Steve unintentionally broke his heart.

It wasn't Steve's fault he couldn't keep things strictly platonic.

The phone ringing startled him out of his thoughts.

He looked at the clock and frowned. It was much later than Steve usually called, even the one drunk message was from closer to ten instead of one in the morning.

He answered, hoping it was just Wayne checking in from work.

"Hello?"

"Edward."

Robin.

"How're things, birdie?" Sounding casual would work for him, right?

"Things for me would be a lot better if I wasn't dealing with the mopiest human being on the planet right now."

He could hear the crossed arms in her voice.

"Oh?"

"Oh? That's all you've got? You don't return Steve's calls for almost two months and all you've got is 'oh'?"

Had it really been that long?

"I-"

"Don't wanna hear it. Can you please at least call him back and break his heart so he can move on? I cannot deal with the pining anymore."

She hung up before he could respond.

Well.

He dialed the number for their apartment, hoping Robin would at least explain more of what she meant.

"'Lo?" Steve's voice, rough with sleep, answered.

"Uh."

"Eddie?" Steve sounded like he'd just had cold water thrown on him, much more awake. "Holy shit. Hi."

"Hey. Uh-"

"I'm sorry," Steve interrupted.

"Sorry? For what?"

"Whatever I did to make you not wanna talk to me."

"Steve, I-"

"No, I just. I know sometimes I'm needy or clingy or whatever. Robin doesn't mind it because she is, too, but I know it's annoying. Like, you have a life that I don't belong in and I just have to get used to that. I should've taken the hint sooner."

Eddie's heart was racing.

Now. Do it now.

"Why would you think you don't belong in my life?"

"It's just that you always talk to everyone else, but not me. I kinda got the message, just, maybe later than you hoped."

"Stevie..." Eddie sighed, his grip on the phone tightening. "I miss you every minute of every day. I just thought...you seem happy there. I don't wanna make you feel like you owe me anything."

A whimper could be heard on the other end and Eddie felt his stomach drop.

"Eds, I." A pause. "I didn't wanna do this over the phone, but I won't be back in Hawkins for another month. I'm sorry this might change everything, but I can't keep doing this. I love you. I love you so much that some days I think about packing up and moving back there because having you laughing next to me on the couch sounds worlds better than anything this city has to offer. You've been one of my best friends for a year, and not having you next to me is like my chest is actually trying to cave in on itself."

"Oh." Oh.

"Oh?"

"Oh."

"Is that...all?"

"No, sweetheart, I just think I'd like to say the rest in person. Think you can make time for me to visit tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Don't you have work?"

"Not anymore. Tell Robin to stay somewhere else."

"Oh."

Eddie smirked as Steve let out a breath and cleared his throat.

"I have a shift in the morning, but I can be home right after lunch?"

"Perfect." Eddie started pacing as he mentally planned what he needed for his four hour drive. "Grab some lube if you don't have some. We've got a lot of time to make up for. Oh! And before I go, I love you too."

"You do?"

"Yeah, Stevie. Kind of been head over heels for the better part of a year."

"Oh."

"Mhm."

"Tomorrow?" Steve was smiling and Eddie could feel his heart melting.

"Tomorrow."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #mutual pining #angst with a happy ending

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nyxronomicon · 5 months

Note

no, cause you're absolutely right with your tags. i too put that thought in the bag of dark thoughts that i should never open but i thought of you and said there is always someone who will be able to understand me lskdk and your tags,,, nodding fervently at your tags because i don't see him as a stepbro cause i love the age difference too lol but

i love love love love the idea of him coming into your room at night and waking you up with his fingers inside you and the bulge in his pajama pants pressing from behind. I also imagine him sitting on the couch when it's just you two, he invites you to join him to watch the game or something and it ends in him cockwarming you while playing with your nipples, you can't do anything but take it and feel it throb inside you until he finally cums inside you, but you have to do it fast before your mom/brother (choso maybe megumi) gets home from work <3 so the idea of being caught is very attractive to me

Sigh... *opens dark fantasies filing cabinet and pulls out stepdad Toji folder*

omg you did this on purpose... cockwarming while he plays with your tits??? my WEAKNESS and you added the risk of getting caught RIP RIP RIP i'm DEAD .... i'm sorry... i'm sorry for the sins... my pussy wrote this i swear...

cw: !! DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT !!, stepdad!Toji x f!reader, reader is university age, age difference, dub-con (coercion & implied somno), reader has major daddy issues, reader is touch/attention-starved, corruption, pussyjob, cockwarming, praise, titplay, risk of getting caught, slight edging, size (emphasis on Toji's big dick) pet names: princess, angel, good girl, reader is referred to as "step-daughter" but not as a pet name lol 2.2k sinful, sinful words

Your mother didn't even tell you she remarried. You got home from college for the summer to find a stranger and his son living at her place. You were resistant to the whole idea, but she made you promise to give them a chance and spend time with them. They were family now, after all.

Megumi was just a year older than you. He had one more year of university before graduation, so he was in a similar situation as you. You thought maybe you could bond about it, but he wasn't very talkative and showed more interest in his video games than you.

Your new stepdad... Toji Fushiguro. You didn't even know where to start with your thoughts on him. He was sleazy, shameless, and a little more friendly than you'd like. You couldn't really figure out what he did for work, and to be honest, you wouldn't be surprised if he didn't do anything. Your mom was a chronic workaholic, constantly gone on work trips and spending late hours at the office. She could easily support the three of you on her own.

There was another thought about him that clawed at the back of your mind. The one you immediately compartmentalized, the forbidden knowledge that once fully synthesized in your mind, you wouldn't be able to erase. It remained in a little bottle, threatening to shatter every time your stepfather got home from the gym. Or took you out to dinner. Or watched a movie with you.

You tried to include Megumi as much as possible at first, if only you have a buffer. Hanging out alone with Toji felt weird. It felt wrong, though you couldn't quite pin why. But Megumi was entirely disinterested in spending time with his dad, and only marginally more interested in getting to know his new stepsister.

After a couple of months of getting used to Toji, you were starting to notice things you liked about him. He was actually there for you, for one. Your mother was never around and in the past, and she never kept a man around long enough for you to have any kind of father figure. It was just you and her, but more often than not, it was really just you. You didn't realize how lonely you were at home but with him here, at least you had someone to talk to.

You let his sleazy comments slide. The few times you'd gone out with friends, he made sure to tell you how sexy you looked. And when you got home, he grilled you on if there were any guys you had an eye on. It always flustered you, reminding you of the forbidden thought trapped in that bottle. But as long as you didn't think about it too hard, it would stay bottled up, where it should be.

You hated to admit that your mother was right. That you liked your new stepdad after giving him a chance. You liked the banter, and he was always complimenting you. He made you feel good about yourself. So in turn, you let him get away with more. When you'd watch TV with him at home, you started cuddling with him. He was warm, comforting. Maybe you were a little old to be cuddling with your stepdad, but he smelled so nice and you always wondered what it would be like.

Your mom was at a conference. Megumi was gaming in the other room. It was like any other night, and you and Toji would be left alone as usual. You were half asleep, cuddled up to his chest, when you felt a hand on your breast. It took a second to process, your gaze suddenly shooting up to your stepdad, who froze in place.

"Oh," he smiled sheepishly. "Still awake, huh?" He whispered.

Your mind instantly replayed the number of times you'd innocently fallen asleep like this, only to wake up horny and wet. He was always sleeping himself, but surely he wasn't so brazen that he made a habit of groping you, his step-daughter, while you slept.

"What are you doing?" You whispered back, glancing at Megumi's door, which was open just a crack. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but his hand remained on your tit.

Toji pouted a little, gazing down at you. He knew it was wrong but he always had a weakness for naive college girls. "Sorry, your mother has been gone so much lately, I'm a little... pent up." His finger lightly brushed over your nipple, sending pleasure up your spine.

"Toji, we can't..." You whispered, though you made no motions to stop him. It felt good. He smelled divine. The living room was dark, only lit by the glow of the TV screen. Megumi could emerge from his room any minute and that only made this hotter.

"I know, I know." He agreed with you, but his fingers kept kneading your breast. "I just really like spending time with you. I wanted to take it a little further. Make you feel good." Heat flooded your body. You were sure if he could see your expression, he'd know about the dark thought threatening to take over.

You and your mother had the same taste in men. Admittedly you'd always been fixated on older men, maybe trying to fill the void the lack of a father had. But he filled that void perfectly. The reason it felt weird to spend time with him was because you wanted this. You wanted him to touch you and praise you. And you wanted more.

"I'll stop if you want me to." He added. It was too late, the desire in your body burning a hole in your innocence. The buried feelings you had for him shattered that tiny bottle. You wanted to fuck your stepdad.

Your face felt hot. You looked at the TV, playing sports highlights that you couldn't care less about. The sound was loud enough that you couldn't hear the clacking on Megumi's keyboard. And the sinful thought that entered your mind was that Megumi couldn't hear anything happening in here, either.

"No..." your voice was nearly silent. "Don't stop."

His eyes widened for a moment, movements paused. "Oh?" The empathetic smile on his face was replaced with one of a predator. The man could have torn himself away from you a moment ago but now? Even if you changed your mind he'd be playing those words in his head over and over until he could coerce them from your lips again. "You sure?" He added, in an attempt to appear more respectful than he intended to be.

The glow of the TV highlighted your features as you looked back at him. Your eyes were big and soft, like you were on the verge of taking back the permission you just gave him. Before you could say a word, his free hand tilted your chin, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. All the while, he massaged your breast again, your body melted against his.

"It's ok, princess. Just say the word and I'll stop." His voice was sensual, a soft murmur in your ear before his lips pressed to your neck. Shivers ran up your spine and you arched your back, giving him easier access to your collarbone.

It felt so good. His undivided attention, his touch, it was like a drug that you couldn't get enough of.

You knew you should tell him to stop as he tugged you onto his lap. You straddled his thick thighs, feeling his bulge against your clothed cunt. You knew how wrong it was for you to let him lift your top. The feeling of the forbidden pleasure coursed through you as he peppered kisses on your breasts. He was married to your mother. Thoughts of her long erased by his lips wrapping around your nipple. His tongue flicked the bud as your breathing became unsteady. He had a kid your age. But Toji Fushiguro doted on you, his son in the other room nearly forgotten as his thick fingers felt your pussy through the thin pajama shorts you wore.

Finally, finally you were the favorite. His fingers pushed your shorts and panties aside, sliding his cock into the space between the fabric and your wet cunt. It didn't matter that your mother ignored you in favor of the revolving door of your her lovers anymore. His thick girth was nestled perfectly between your pussy lips. You didn't need to grasp at straws trying to relate to your uninterested stepbrother. Toji's tip danced at your entrance, making you tingle with anticipation as you let yourself drown in his affection.

"So fuckin' sexy..." He mumbled against your breast. The praise nearly made you whimper, glancing at Megumi's cracked door as you bit your lip. "Wanna do me a favor?"

Words still escaped you, meeting his gaze with a shy nod of your head. It was almost cute, as if you were trying to play up the innocent act. Toji wanted nothing more than to flip you on your back and fuck you mercilessly on the couch until you were screaming his name. Get you to admit you'd been flirting and leading him on this whole time. After all, what kind of a slut shows this much interest in her stepdad? But with Megumi in the other room, he needed you quiet. And he knew just the perfect way to tease you.

"Just want you wrapped around me for a minute." He pushed his hips up so you could feel his cock sliding in your folds.

"Toji, we..." you trailed off a moment, considering how desperately you wanted to say yes. Your eyes were on Megumi's door again, dreading the idea that he could get up at any moment and find the two of you like this. "We shouldn't." You whispered.

"It's not sex." His hands were on your ass, encouraging you to grind against his dick. Your body moved with a mind of its own, the friction adding to the heat bubbling in your core. "Just a little cockwarming. It's no big deal."

"I don't know..." You knew there were reasons to say no but none of them came to mind anymore. You were so needy and horny and you felt yourself melting into every touch.

"It'll feel good. Don't you want to feel good?" He pressed his lips to your ear, whispering softly. His finger found your clit, toying with the sensitive bud as you rolled your hips against him.

You didn't answer, freezing up while pleasure coursed through you. Your cunt ached, desperate to be filled with him. You buried your face in his neck, panting as you whined silently in response.

"C'mon, princess." He fingered you faster, a sadistic grin spreading on his face. You were close. He could tell you were close from how fucking wet you were. Even his balls were soaked. "You want me to stop?" He slowed his ministrations, watching your reaction carefully.

"Don't stop." You immediately murmured. Your core frustratingly teetered on edge, frowning at your stepfather for toying with you like this. "Fuck," you moaned softly, careful to remain as silent as possible. You'd had sex before but college boys were nothing compared to him. You'd never ever wanted someone so bad. "I wanna cockwarm you..."

"Good girl." Toji grinned, and the praise went straight to your cunt. He lined himself up, your natural slick more than enough lubrication despite his size. It was a tight fit, he slowly eased your hips down until he bottomed out with a groan. "So good for me... my perfect angel..." admiration dripped from his lips.

The praise alone was enough for your pussy to flutter around him. Your back arched, a lewd expression on your face as your gaze met his. He smirked, now knowing how easy it would be to make you cum. "Stay still for me, princess. No matter what." You eagerly nodded your head, hoping for more praise. But he said nothing, instead groping your tits before latching on again.

He paid close attention to your irregular breathing. As his tongue and teeth tugged at your nipple, one of his hands toyed with your other breast. His free hand slid down your torso and into your panties, swirling around your clit. Your breath hitched, your cunt tightening around him. Feeling how full his big dick made you. You were getting close again as desire bubbled in your core.

You sighed with ecstasy, obediently doing your best not to move around. Slick now drooled onto the base of his cock, your sweet pussy clenching around him as your pleasure heightened, a familiar heat swirling within you. You felt so sensitive, fighting the instincts that were desperate for friction. You bit your knuckle holding back the moan that threatened to burst as Toji's movements sped up.

Your whole body tensed up, your orgasm suddenly and violently washing through you. Your cunt squeezed him as he helped you ride through the pleasure, his hands now gripping your hips to hold you in place. He continued to suck your tit, although his movement slowed to allow you to breathe. Still, he refused to pull out until he felt an aftershock or two strangle his cock.

"Such a good girl." Toji murmured in the shell of your ear, tugging you against his chest and leaning back onto the sofa.

@sourpeachsayshi

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk x reader #x reader #cw stepcest #tw stepcest #to be quite honest i don't know how to tag this lol

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the-kr8tor · 4 months

Text

What is Normal for the Spider is Chaos to the Fly

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.7 k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader, CW violence and gore, CW blood, TW death, CW guns, CW food mention.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 3 >>> CHAPTER 4

Eyes closed, you breathe in the fresh spring breeze, the first of many this season. Pollen makes your nose itch, bees buzz around the field of flowers, yellow dots kissing the soft petals. A babbling brook sits near you, perfect spherical rocks worn down by the waters makes you want to skip them across the transparent clean water where fish lie and swim right under the currents.

The bright sun above shines down on you, its light fighting through your eyelids and through the canopy of the oak tree. Its strong trunk provides the perfect back rest, the wood is stable and protective of your relaxed form. Like the softest carpet, the green grass below is splayed under you. Blades of grass and wildflowers swaying amidst the wind just like how your lashes flutter with every soft blow of the cool air.

“Why'd you stop?” Hobie asks from below. You crack open your eyes to see his lopsided smile, jade eyes crinkling in the corners. His head is resting on your lap, fingers absentmindedly playing a tune on the beaten up guitar on his chest. There's flowers in his hair, courtesy of you. “C’mon, lovie, I was just starting to fall asleep.”

You chuckle, and he smiles wider. The sun bathes you in its glow, a halo of light around your head, a heavenly sight for a mere mortal. “You're spoiled you know.” You realize your fingers are in his hair, soft fingertips paused on his skin. Your vision goes blurry, with a blink, everything shifts back. “So spoiled.”

“Says the one who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.” He says it with no ounce of malice.

“How'd you know about spoony?” You joke, he laughs, a sound better than anything you've ever heard of. “How was work?”

“Lonesome, you didn't come by.” You tilt your head, lips pursing into a soft smile. “Do I still smell like gunpowder to you?”

“No, you smell like flowers.”

“Is it too late to say that I'm allergic to ‘em?”

You giggle, “No you're not. You haven't even sneezed.” Grabbing a daisy from his hair to wiggle it under his nose, his face scrunches up comedically, and then he fakes a sneeze. The loudness of it startles the birds nesting by the branches, wings fluttering rapidly further away.

“Good job, you scared the birds.” You look down at him, hand inching closer to the daisy ring you've made a while ago.

“What? I can't sneeze?” His eyes are glued to you, the sun paints a pretty picture of his viridescent eyes shining in the light.

With a deep inhale, you take his hand away from the guitar, slipping the flower ring you've been itching to place on his finger. Hobie seems to freeze up either in your touch or the sight of the makeshift ring. You show him your hand, an identical white flower whose stems are wrapped gingerly around your middle finger.

“Ta dah.” You say shyly. The tightness around your chest clenches at his silence. “I'll take it off, I'm sorry. I thought—”

Hobie quickly reaches up to shield the ring away from you, “No, don't—it’s brilliant. Thank you.” You beam at him as he intertwines his fingers around your own, the rings in full display. “Suits me, I think. But it looks better on you.” You inhale, the comfortable warmth is replaced by icy air. Everything shifts.

The breeze is colder now, the grass is frozen under your feet, frost clinging to each blade. The canopy is no more, only dark angled branches with tiny leaves hang off the precious oak tree. A puff of smoke billows out of your dry lips, Hobie hugs you closer, hand rubbing up and down your arm, body heat shielding you from frost bite.

“Cold?”

“Yes, very.” You shiver, and he holds you closer. “This sunset better be worth it, Hobie, I had to put down a really good botanical book for this.” You say, cheek pressed atop his chest, breath warming his neck. You'd choose him over any book.

“First sunset of the season, love. It's worth it, I promise.” Without a second thought, he takes his coat off to place it over your shivering shoulders. You huddle closer, wrapping yourself around him. Sharing your warmth.

Blue slowly ebbs away as he pulls you closer. The clouds part ways for red and orange, pink splashes across the sky, a watercolour painting that leaves you gasping for air. Or was it his lips upon yours for the first time that has you heaving for air?

Hobie kisses you with the gentleness only a lover could provide, yet with the tentativeness of someone who isn't sure you'd kiss back. The pads of his fingers brush along your jaw, ghosting over your flustered flesh. With a sigh and a pull on his jacket collar, you kiss back. Lips pecking the corner of his own, clouds of smoke mixing in, hands warm on your searing cheeks— he slowly leads you towards the same oak tree. Your back hits the wood with an almost silent thump, his hand protecting the back of your head. Eyes closed, you memorize his lips by kiss alone. Your hands knead at his nape, he shivers not from the cold.

“I'm in love with you.” He says it confidently, like he's been saying it to himself for years. He feels like he has.

“I've been waiting to hear you say that.” Your eyes meet his own in a dance. Eyes flicking down to his lips, jade eyes looking between your blown out eyes and your quivering lips. “I've been in love with you. For a really long time.” You feel his lips open, mouthing the three words back against your own. It's barely above a whisper but you know that he'll scream it if you asked.

A flash of his warm hands around your own, a glimpse of a knife carving yours and his initials on the wood that you both call home. A muffled promise lingers in your ears, soft, just like his lips on yours.

You open your eyes and you see him above you. Hobie pinches your nose with a laugh, calloused fingertips squeezing lovingly at you, emerald eyes swimming with affection. The warm air passes by, humidity stuck in your nose. The sweat of your brow is quickly wiped away by him.

“Stop sayin' that, yeah?” You don't remember what you said. “You're bloody gorgeous, she doesn't know real beauty even if it hits her powdered arse.”

“Hobie!” You laugh, hands planted on his hips, the fabric of his shirt is hitched up for easy access. “She's still my aunt, and my legal guardian.”

“Unfortunately.”

Your smile agrees with him, but if you say it out loud you're afraid that the ground will swallow you alive and Hobie will be ripped away from you.

“It's a nice day today, you plannin’ on gropin’ me the whole afternoon?”

“Yep!” You look down at where his hands are placed, palms cupping you right above your ribs. “You planning on doing the same to me?”

“Say otherwise and I'll take my hands away from you—”

“No!” You say quickly before he could finish.

Hobie guffaws loudly, face leaning closer to yours. You close your eyes, expecting the expected. Instead, his head falls on the crook of your neck, blowing warm air into your skin.

Your laughs echoes around the clearing, fading into the sound of leaves crunching under your footsteps.

Orange leaves fall down on you like rain, a puff of breeze settles in your muscles, rattling your bones. Despite the cold, you inch your way closer to him, his smile beckons you over, grassy spring coloured eyes lighting up at the mere sight of you. His back resting on the strong oak tree that carries both your names.

“You know, we could always meet up at your place now that you're the up and coming associate.” You hold your hand out towards him, his fingers slide on your palm so naturally that you think you're made for eachother. “We can stop sneaking around now thanks to you.”

Hobie feels like he can finally breathe once he has his hands on you. He twists your wrist gently, leaning down, he presses a quick kiss on your pulse, eyes meeting your own. Years of being together, and he still makes your heart race.

Warm lips on your skin, he pecks it again for good measure before leaning away and pulling you closer. His hands are around your hip, while you wrap yours over his shoulders. “We could. But even after all my hard work, your aunt still doesn't—won't approve of us together. I'm me and you're you, love. What would they say when they see their heiress skulkin’ around the harbour, hm?”

“They won't say anything because I'm good at skulking around.”

“Or they'd say you're hurtin' your prospects of a good husband.”

“Fuck them! You and my garden are all I need.”

He calls your name solemnly, “we have to face the fact that—”

“What? That I'll be stuck in a loveless marriage in the near future?” You shake your head. “I refuse.” A humourless laugh breaks through.

“Good thing you said that or this will be awkward.” Hobie takes out a pair of gold rings from his pocket, it shimmers in the sunset, cold metal upon his warm trembling hands. “It took me a hundred days to save up for them, they're scraps from the factory. All melted together to make a pair.”

“Y–you're stealing from us now?” You could barely finish your joking sentence with the sob fighting to escape your throat.

Hobie laughs, a breathy one that has you mentally making up another joke just to hear it again. “Been at it since they hired me.” He hands you one, not sliding it down your finger, no, he places it right in the middle of your palm. “Remember those daisy rings you made years ago?” You nod, eyes brimming with tears. “I've made ‘em real this time. But the next one would be pure gold, none of the mixed ones I've melted with it.” He bounces on the balls of his feet as you glance at the gold ring that is a hodgepodge of different shades of yellow gold. Some seem to be darker, some lighter. “You deserve real ones.”

“You could make me a ring out of grass and wood, and I'll still wear it everyday.” Taking the ring, you slide it into your middle finger, a promise, he says in your ears, a promise, you repeat against his lips as you slip his own ring around his finger. A promise you both carved out into the tree and into your hearts, a promise that you'd carve out into your skin if you could.

The smell of burning wood wakes you up with a start, You've woken up with tears trapped in your eyelashes.

Your eyes open to a boiling pot of brown liquid. It's familiar, awfully so that you've hated it, it reminds you of someone you'd rather not remember. Looking up at the sky that is darkened to a pale blue, turning the orange and green plains into its royal colour— The roaring open fire is the only bright thing in sight, a yellow glow amidst all the bitter blue.

The amber flames screams among the dead silence and the vast emptiness, ‘Someone’s here! Someone’s alive over here!’ yet, you don't feel like you are.

You cough from the cold, throat itching from dryness. Lifting your hands up to tug the blanket further up, you now notice the deep crescent moons left on your palms. Some even bled through the night, dried blood decorating the lines on your palms and under your fingernails.

“You're awake. Good.” Hobie's voice hits you like a carriage, sleep ridden mind still hazy. For a second you thought that you're still dreaming of him. But his solid form and smoke from his cigarette resting on a stone says he's real. Your mind can't dream of something so tethered to reality like this. “You want some?” He rattles the now empty tin cup, brown liquid dripping from the rim to the ground below.

“You're offering me a cup?”

He furrows his pierced brows. “‘course, there's plenty.”

“No, thank you. Do you have something to eat instead? Or water?” Sitting up, you wipe the sleep off your eyes. Your joints hurt, stomach gurgling, and ankle aching. You hate it here, he's the only one that's making everything bearable even though he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else than be with you. It still hurts, thinking that he does.

“Yeah.” Standing up with a groan, it seems like sleep didn't agree with him either. There's bags under his eyes, worsened by the shadow from the brim of his hat. Taking something from his pack on Buckeye, who still slumbers quietly, he holds out a canteen and a piece of dried meat wrapped in cloth. “‘ere.” The familiar scar on the back of your hand has him reeling away. He remembers the day you got it, he remembers how his hand trembled as he stitches your hand back together.

“Thank you.” You say, stiffly smiling. He nods, returning back to his seat.

Breakfast went over fast, with dawn turning into morning, and the crisp air warming down, you take the blanket off your shoulders. Bucky trotts on the road, coyotes chirp on your left and a tumbleweed passes by on your right. It feels like you and Hobie are the only people on the road, or even in the whole world.

You clear your throat, attempting to break the quiet after riding for hours in absolute silence. “So…are you an outlaw? A mercenary for hire, or even a trapper?”

“‘m one of those things, yes.”

“So mysterious. You know you're still an open book to me.” Looking over your shoulder, he grabs your chin to make you look away and to keep your eyes on the dirt road. To which you laugh at. “Yep, still an open book.” It's true that you still know him for the man that he was, but there's missing pieces of him in your mind. You intend to dive to find the pieces so you could piece together who he is today. Before you go home, before you part forever again.

“How would you know?” Hobie tamps down a smile even though you won't be able to see it. “Maybe I've changed in those five years.”

“Oh you have.” You'd know. “But I can still see through you. I know you, Hobart Brown. Or did you also change your name too?”

“It's Larry now.”

“You serious?” Looking behind, you see him sporting a smirk. A smile spreads across your lips at his playfulness, a semblance of the Hobie you once knew.

“For example?” He asks, something he might regret. “What do you see through me?”

“Well, you put this big bad façade up because it's what everyone expects you to be. But in truth, it's so you could survive here. I bet it's working well since you're still here breathing.”

“I don't care what anybody thinks, Y/N.”

“I know that too. But you still do it because you don't want them talking to you, coming close to you. I remember how hard it was to even get you to speak to me.”

“I was a kid, we were children, and I was new in town.”

“I got you to talk though. Still proud of myself that I got to see the real you.” You puff out your chest. “This place is just like our old town, you know. Harsher, yes, but this time you don't bother to try, not like last time.” Your voice lowers into a murmur. He knows why he doesn't bother, because there's no one out here that could get him out of his walled up shell just like you did. There's no one like you. “I still know you, after all these years. Even if you think I don't, or at least the version of you that you left me with.” The sky gets darker, grey clouds floating next to white fluffy ones, and you still remember how he held you the first time you shared a bed. “You've changed and I confess that I barely know this side of you. I don't know what happened to you in those five years but could you let me try to get to know you again? Just like last time?”

The clouds above darken his green eyes, something passes by them, something that has his hands gripping tighter around the reins.

“It's goin’ to rain.” Is all he could say. “We should hurry and find shelter, there's a shortcut I know.”

You inhale the sharp familiar smell of petrichor, letting it settle in your lungs, letting it drown you, letting it seep through your skin so you can focus on it rather than the flatness of his voice that lacks what you're used to.

“Sure,” you swallow thickly, nails digging into your hemp bindings instead of your flesh.

Hobie clicks his tongue thrice, a sharp almost whistle, and out runs Bucky faster on the sandy lonesome road. Hooves thudding like the rumble of the heavens above, a lightning storm races behind you, sparks of light flashing and clashing on the mountainous rocks of the west.

“Hold on,” Hobie whispers close to the shell of your ear, goosebumps spreading through you like poison ivy on skin. He leans forward, leather clad body shielding you from the harsh howling winds that approaches quickly. “This storm's comin' in fast.”

Wind whips your cheeks, cool air making you narrow your eyes into slits to protect it from the dusty debris. A silhouette of a person appears at the end of the road, you feel Hobie stiffen up from the suspicious man. Arms cage you in, the mysterious man's shadow gets closer and closer as Bucky whines and halts to a stop. Hobie hides your hands with his own, a small act that brings your mind a minute of peace.

“State your business.” Hobie says in a practiced tone, commanding like the one he used with the man who snatched you.

The old man walks with a twisted cane, a makeshift one made from an old branch. His eyes are dull and almost silver, blue rings around his irises, eyebrows thick and white, beard bushy and hair almost gone. Right behind him lies a dip in the road, a chasm from where you sat, a deep gorge from what you surmise. Right next to the road sits a dingy solemn cabin, roof looking like it's about to collapse under its own weight, hinges creaking, window shutters opening and closing harshly from the wind. A border collie barks at you, mismatched eyes unwavering, warning you of something to come.

“Just ‘ere to warn you, son.” The old stranger trembles, either from the cold or from his bad leg. “Anyone who come ‘ver down that road doesn't come out unscathed.” He wipes his face with the sleeve of his yellowed shirt. “Just tryin' be a good samaritan.”

“Yeah? Penance for the war then?” You give Hobie a look. He glances over to you in return.

“I was on yer side, son. I won't be out ‘ere warnin’ you and the missus if I wasn't now eh?”

“Thank you for the warning.” You pipe up, the brief silence has made the whole situation more awkward. “We'll try another route then—”

“No,” Hobie stands his ground, “just like she said, thank you for the warnin’ but that's the closest route to Strawberry.”

The man takes his hat off even with the intense shaking of his hand. He then places it on his chest like he's already mourning you. “Safe travels. Don't say I didn't warn ya.” With a whistle, the dog runs over to him before helping him walk home.

“Wait!” The man stops in his tracks, even the dog turns around to face you. “A storm's coming, you'll be cold. Here.” Sliding your hands away from Hobie's, you take the blanket from your lap.

“My eyes are bad but do I see you givin' me your coat?” He smiles toothily.

“Y/N—” Hobie warns.

“Yes, but it's a blanket, not a coat.” The man chuckles deeply, cheeks red and warm.

He whistles again, and the dog walks over to you. “Give it ‘ere to ol' Nellie.” The dog wags her tail, tongue lolling.

“Hi, Nellie,” you giggle as you lean down to place the fabric in her mouth. “Take good care of it. Good girl.” Hobie's hand is holding your waist, single handedly preventing you from falling over.

He remembers your kindness, how you don't falter when you see someone you can help. You're unequivocally kindhearted, a stark contrast to himself, and what he has become in those five years he wasn't by your side. He remembers how much he loved and longed for you. He needs to know who sent the letter on his behalf, but it can wait, maybe he'll thank them when he does find them.

You don't notice him look at you with the same expression he had years ago.

With a happy wag of her tail, Nellie skips over to her owner, handing him your blanket. “Thank you, miss, you've got a kind soul.” There's warmth in your chest, nodding towards the man. “You take care now. And you.” He looks over your companion. “Better watch her back and protect her kind soul eh?”

“Get inside, don't want you gettin' my blanket drenched.”

A laugh billows out as he waves you away. Entering his humble abode with a loud bang of his door.

“I think we should listen to him.” You say above the winds.

“We'll be fine,” Hobie's voice is softer. “I've been ‘ere before. Just listen to me, yeah?” He kicks gently, and Bucky takes his cue to run in the same direction again.

“If I listened to you back there then the poor man would've shivered from the cold.”

“And now you'll be the one shivering from the cold.”

“He needed it more than I did.” You almost scoff as you hold on tighter around the horn of the saddle while Bucky trudges downward on the slope and into the gorge.

“Don't expect me to get you a new one.”

Now you scoff. “Then don't.” Yet, your chest clenches from his words.

Buckeye finally slows down halfway through the gorge. Hobie inhales deeply, jade eyes flicking above the rocks. The walls seem to close in on you, fifty foot tall walls of ancient stone looming over you. A stream runs along the path, murky brown water splashing with every movement.

“Why'd you slow down—?” Your eyes widen at the moving figures above. “There's people up there.” You whisper as you watch them observe you. The bows on their back gather your attention, eyes piercing through you than the sharpest of arrows. Hobie suddenly grabs your chin, still gentle but with a sense of urgency this time. He turns your head towards the road, rough leather sliding from your chin to your hands.

“Keep your eyes on the road. And keep your mouth shut.”

“Will they let us pass?”

“Yes.” He says immediately.

“Do you know them?”

“Yes, now keep quiet.” Tipping the brim of hat in respect, you do as you're told. “Or they'll be the one askin' me questions. And we don't have time for friendly banter.”

When he says those words, you hear a whisper of his name from above, then a bout of laughter echoing downwards. Subtly looking over your shoulder, you see him crack a small smile.

You turn back towards the road, a soft morose smile on your lips from how much you've missed from his life. You want to know what happened to him in those five years, to be told stories of his adventures under the campfire. To be part of those stories once more, not whatever you're in with him. An afterthought, a burden.

You're starting to feel all the love he once gave you was just from your mind. Made up by you, dreamt and imagined.

—

The cave you've found shelter in is perfect. It's big enough to house you and Hobie, even Bucky rests inside, dry and happy while his dark eyes follow you— as if trying to keep an eye out for you. The cave protects you from the hammering rain outside and from the lightning that pierces the clouds. You lean on the rocky mouth of the cave, hands reaching outside to cup the rain and feel the sharp water droplets drench your skin. Lifting your head up, you watch the sky. The storm has no end in sight, yet, there’s a bit of light passing through the grey, a ray of sunshine that brings hope, blue peeking in between the dark clouds.

Water splashes against your flesh, cleaning the tiny gashes and dried blood that you're not sure is all from your body. The rope that binds you is soaked, weighing heavy around your wrists like steel bracelets.

Wind howling, lightning cutting through the sky like a bullet through skin— You don't feel his heavy gaze on you.

The roaring fire behind you provides warmth just like the man tending to it. And like the fire he's tending, he realizes that his affection for you still burns him inside out no matter how he tries to snuff it out.

The fire crackles, you watch your shadow dance with the flame's movements. You still don't feel his heavy stare on your back.

With a forced smile, an idea pops in your head. You let the water on your palms fall, flicking away the droplets, making your own patch of rain.

“I've got a proposition.”

“Come eat, smelly” You both speak at the same time, amusement flashes behind his precious emerald eyes that's illuminated by the embers.

"I don't smell." You laugh in between, loving the fact that he seems to be in a better mood. Sniffing at yourself, you scrunch up your nose from the smell. "That much. You're not any better.”

Hobie shakes his head, hiding the curl of his lips with the brim of his hat. He places a can of peaches in your direction. “We'll be in Strawberry by late afternoon. There's an inn there where we can rest and bathe.”

Sitting down next to him but still giving him enough space, you tuck your legs under you, wiggling your hands in front of him.

“Can you untie me now? I'm not going to run, Hobie. Where will I go?”

“Tell me about your so-called proposition.” Hobie raises a brow, teeth biting down and clenched around the leather before fully yanking his glove off. You suddenly feel hot when he unties your hands without another word.

There's no identical ring around his finger. Your happiness is snatched away at the sight of his empty finger. What was once a promise is now gone from his flesh that you used to trace with your own hands.

Clearing your throat, you watch the shadows on the cave walls flicker behind him. “W–we take the scenic route. I want to see the sights the new world has to offer. Before returning.” You don't even want to call it home anymore.

“The new world? You sound like a grandma.”

“You saying ‘state your business’ wasn't any better, grandpa.”

Hobie's eyes meet your own, green eyes aglow. A remnant of the Hobie five years ago. You could get used to this, his warm gaze that soothes you from the inside out, something that you never took for granted before but never thought you'd miss dearly. You welcome it back with open arms. Even if it was brief.

A flash of bright lightning hits outside your cave, startling you, free hand placed on your quaking chest.

“It's just lightning, love.” A freudian slip, a term of endearment that travels you both back in time. Now that he said it once more, he finds that it still fits you like a warm hug on a cold winter's day, or a first kiss, one of many.

Slowly turning your head, your lips tremble, eyes watering from a silent cry. You try to reach for him, but he deflects your touch by twisting around on his seat, taking a swig from his canteen. The only one that he has.

Quietly eating, your insides are yelling for you to hold him close, to be near him, to hug him until the screaming stops. You can't satiate the feeling, it bites at your bones, chewing, eating at you, going hungry, starving. You stand up, leaving the can of peaches on the ground, returning to the mouth of the cave so the feeling will ravage you alone once again like it always has for the past five years. You've survived this long, but there's barely anything left of you now— a husk, barely a speck, so you cry and cry, sobs muffled by the rain.

You don't feel his gaze on you. He feels the same gnawing feeling in his belly, crawling up to his chest, eating what's left of his heart like a vulture that carries all his grief and guilt.

—

You're back on the road again, the ground is wet and muddy. Clay and grass sticking to Bucky's hooves as he trudges along the soil. You purposely don't remind him about the missing rope around your wrist. Loving the freedom the lack of it brings, you brush your fingers through Buckeye’s hair; dark wavy tresses that reminds you of fine silk.

“You take good care of him.”

“You said that already.”

“I know, I'm just saying it again for emphasis. I hope you're taking care of yourself too.”

You feel him shift in his seat, fatigue rattling his bones that's exacerbated by the rocking movement.

“Do you feel alright?” You ask, looking over your shoulder. His eyebrows are furrowed, sweat dribbling from his forehead.

“‘m fine.”

“You don't look fine. Riding bareback this long hurts, we can switch places—”

“It would be better if you had your own horse.” Hobie groans, stretching his shoulders. Buckeye seems to notice the conversation, huffing and staring back at his rider. “‘m not replacing you, Bucky. Not yet anyway.”

The dark horse neighs, a high pitched sound that makes you laugh. “He was not happy with that.”

“He's not happy with anythin'” Hobie shakes his head at the horse, you're amused by the whole situation. “Picky eater, always demanding sugar cubes instead of a carrot or an apple. Fuckin' spoiled.” Bucky neighs again, louder this time, clearly annoyed.

“Just like his rider.” You giggle, Hobie stifles a roll of his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his pierced lips. “Careful with your comments or he might buck you off and have me as his rider instead.”

Hobie's amusement fades, his eyes hardens, a sight that has your heart thrumming loudly, a sight that you're very familiar with back at home.

“I‘m sorry— I–I didn't mean to.” You frantically apologize, shaking your head, hand reaching for his own, palm hovering over his gloves.

“Look ahead.” He gestures forward. “Nothin' to apologize for, love.”

“Are you sure?” You can't seem to slow down your breathing.

Hobie notices, blinking, he tentatively takes your hand in his. Squeezing once, jade eyes searching your hurt face. Guilt passes through him.

He should've come back for you.

“Yes,” he swallows thickly, slowing down Bucky's steps. “Breathe for me, yeah?” You nod, inhaling and exhaling. “Good, keep doin' that.” Inhale, exhale, “atta girl. Now listen to me, I need you to hold on tight, and do what I say.”

“What's wrong?” Did you do something wrong again? You hold on tight just like he asked.

“Eyes up front, sweetheart.” The floodgates open, he can't stop himself from calling you those honeyed names. And you can't stop looking at him. With a gentle hold to your chin, he carefully moves it forward. You see five people waving you over further down the road. They're accompanied by a broken down carriage, three wheels missing, no oxen in sight, just a few horses hitched near them.

They call you over, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh thank God!” You hear them say, their forms getting closer and closer.

“They need help.” You say, Hobie's hand around the reins tightens.

“And we're not goin' to give it to ‘em.”

“What? Why?”

“That's bait, we're not fallin’ for it.” His eyes don't leave the strangers’ hands.

“Bait—? They genuinely look like they need help.”

“We're close to town, and they have horses. They could've gone over there instead of flagging down an armed stranger.”

“I'm not armed.”

“Yes, but I am.” With a swift kick, Hobie guides Buckeye to a mad dash. Your back hits his chest from the sudden momentum. A dull ache on your spine, a tingling sensation on his ribs.

Buckeye passes by the broken carriage, leaving dust in their eyes. “C’mon, Bucky! Get us out of ‘ere, boy!”

Wind in your eyes, you look behind, your heart falls in your stomach when you see them follow immediately on their horses, guns drawn, aiming at Hobie.

“Oh fuck!” A bullet whizzes past your head, missing you by just a few inches. You feel it's hot searing metal fly past, “they're shooting at us! Why the fuck—!”

Hobie twists, with one hand on the reins, and the other on his gun, he shoots down one man with precision. The bullet hits its mark, right in his heart. A fountain of crimson splashes from his wounded body, his feet still strapped in the stirrups, flinging the now lifeless body around like a window shutter in a storm.

Hobie shoots again, a horse falls, another bullet, and one gets iron in their gullet. And another and another, one on the leg and one on the shoulder, but they still ride on. Until Hobie's gun clicks, its chamber now empty, in slow motion, you see the remaining survivors use the opportunity to aim at Hobie's head. With quick thinking, you twist uncomfortably, body stretching behind to grab the hunting rifle strapped on Bucky's back. Within a second, you sit upright with the barrel pointing at them.

Hobie sees it all happen while he frantically reloads. His gun jams from carelessness, heart beating like a snare drum, fingers frantically trying to fix it. The sun is in his eyes as he sees you cock your head over his shoulder, the long barrel of the rifle is placed atop his leather jacket, finger itching to press the trigger.

“Duck.” Your voice is calm as Hobie follows through your command, the firing pin ignites, sparks fly, the smell of gunpowder permeates the air, bullet whizzing and hitting your mark— Right in between the eyes.

Gore explodes from what used to be a head, then a scream from the remaining target. Hobie steers Bucky, whilst you fight. Fight for him, and for yourself.

Pulling the bolt handle, without missing a beat you release the shell with a clink of metal. The remaining man looks at his dead companion in horror, still riding on next to him, now missing a head. Just like they did, you use the opportunity to reload, hand reaching for Hobie's gun belt, taking what you need, reloading with an expert hand. You pull the bolt to place the bullet, pushing it in, you aim once again. At the same time, the man screams, aiming at you. But you're faster.

Inhale. You shoot, hand steady, eyes focused.

A wet squelch can be heard, then a body thuds harshly on the ground as a horse neighs, crying and trotting wildly. You finally exhale. Hobie reins Bucky in, hooves digging in, he stops.

“Holy shit.” Hobie stares at you with a growing smile, cheeks aflame, not from the adrenaline nor the fight. “You can shoot.”

“You taught me.” Your eyes doesn't leave the violence you left behind.

“Yeah, but not like that!” He laughs in disbelief. His heart hammers in his chest, and he remembers all the times he held your hand in his while he teaches you the basics.

“What do you think I've been doing since you left?” You swallow thickly, nerves catching up, hands trembling around the rifle. “My books can only take me so far until I've read the entire library.”

Hobie holds your cheek, face concerned, thumb running along the tear you don't notice slide down your cheek. “Can you look at me, lovie?”

Slowly but surely, you turn your head. “We manufacture guns, Hobie, it's important for me to learn.”

“I know, but shootin’ it at people is different.” He would know, he worked at the same place. “Are you alright?”

“Now you ask me that?” You hand him the rifle, breath shuddering. “Can we go now, please?”

Hobie could only nod, hand itching to hold you again.

—

You finally reach Strawberry, it has a sweet sounding name but it's anything but sweet. The streets are thick with mud, the smell is much better than the other town but it still makes your nose itch. The place is situated on the foot of a mountain, the air is cooler with heavy winds persisting. Rows and rows of establishments lie along the road, a saloon with a balcony on your right, a doctor's office on your left. Convenient, you think.

A brothel sits next to the saloon, women gathered around on the porch, smiling and hollering at the people who pass by. Hobie garners their attention, (who wouldn't be?) despite riding with you on the same horse. He doesn't give them any attention, a disappointment on their part. His eyes are too busy looking over your profile and the inn that's situated on the hill.

You flick your eyes over to him, as if he has a sixth sense, he stares back. “What?”

“Nothing.” You whisper.

Hobie hides a small smile over your shoulder. He stops Buckeye at the front of the inn, hopping off, he hitches his horse first before giving you a hand, surprising you.

Without a second thought, you take his outstretched hand, bare against his leather clad one. You land carefully on the soft ground, cringing at the wet squelch of mud on your shoes.

“I need a bath,” you stomp over towards the porch and out of the mud. Hobie's hand finally leaves your side once you step foot on the steady planks. “And a nice bed.”

“That's why we're ‘ere.” He says while he takes his pack from Bucky's back. Giving the horse a pet and a much deserved sugarcube. He whispers something to the horse, to which Bucky neighs in reply. Stepping on the porch right next to you, the dark horse nods at his rider.

You laugh at them. “What'd you tell him?”

“I promised him a place at the stable so he could get a proper rest. ‘m gonna take him once you're inside.”

“Are you gonna leave me here?” Panic sets in your stomach.

Hobie furrows his brows, “no, ‘course not.” I'd never do that. He thinks, but he already did, years ago. “C’mon.”

Bucky neighs to you this time, tail swishing behind him. “G’night, Buck.” You give him a small wave. “You did a good job today.”

Entering the inn, the smell of pine and something fruity catches your nose. Its walls are all wooden, lined with old photos and animal furs. There's a fireplace in the common area where a couple of people sit and chat by the fire. The place is cozy, it's the first time you feel like you can finally have a nice comfortable place to sleep in since you landed in America.

Hobie knocks on the reception desk, leaning on the table, clearly tired and weary. Whilst you try not to think about what you did earlier, you roam your eyes everywhere in an attempt to push all the thoughts away, to kick the gore you saw, and the act that you've executed far far away from you. Your hand trembles at the sight of a deer head hanging on the wall. Then you remember the man whose head you blasted to pieces. Heart beating faster, breath stuck in your throat, Hobie suddenly takes your hand— squeezing, reminding you to breathe.

Before he could comfort you further, a middle aged man appears behind the desk. Shoulders broad, mustache well maintained and curled at the ends. Blue eyes wide and full of wisdom.

“Welcome to Strawberry inn.” He says in a comfortable yet deep tone. His eyes flick towards your intertwined hands, lips smiling faintly. “The name's Finn, room for one?”

Hobie clears his throat, taking his hand back on his side. “Yes, two beds.”

“Ah, a conservative couple eh?”

“Sure,” Hobie acts, nodding along.

“Name?”

“Larry Smith. And baths for the missus and I.”

Finn nods, showing him a sign on his desk. “three dollars for a regular one, five for a deluxe bath.”

“Deluxe?” You ask, curious.

Hobie beats Finn to the punch by explaining it himself. “It's when a woman helps you scrub down.”

You blink twice in quick succession. “Oh.” Cheeks warm, you awkwardly bounce on your feet. “A–are you going to take the deluxe one, Ho–Larry?”

“I might.” He says with a smirk, eyes shining.

“Okay.” You crane your neck towards Finn, “what's our room number?” Your tone inches towards something that has Hobie amused.

“Uh, three—” You're already snatching the keys from him and then quickly speed walking up the stairs. You turn to the right, Finn calls after you. “Left side, ma’am.” Frustrated, you walk the other way. He then turns towards Hobie with a shake of his head. “Happy wife, happy life, english. Don't tease her like that or you'll end up sleeping in the stables.”

Hobie bites his tongue so he couldn't laugh. “I know that now, thanks, mate.”

—

You feel nice, nicer than you should be after what you did. There's a pebble inside you that keeps growing and growing in the pit of your stomach right next to the boulder that has resided there for years. You have no idea what is, but you want it gone just like how you disappear under the tepid water of the tub.

Hobie has laid out clothes for you, it sits on the chair in the corner. A white work shirt that smells like him and a pair of clean socks. Your skirt hangs on the doorway, days worth of dirt and dust clinging to it. The walls are thin, you hear the hinges squeak in the next room, the arguing couple above; and a child's cry from below. The water laps at your chin, now cold and icy on your slowly freezing skin. Like muscle memory, you hold your hand up, the jagged long scar across the back of your hand has you tracing the remnants of the injury— what he used to do to remind you that he's there, that you're safe. But when he left, when he disappeared into the night, leaving you to the horrid predetermined life, you had to do it yourself. You had to carry yourself everyday with the heavy boulder in your heart, surviving each day without him, hurting, rotting in that damned empty mansion you never asked for.

You thought you could finally take the boulder out of you and place it down once and for all when you saw him. it's still there, weighing you down like a hundred ton steel of grief and longing. You don't resent him for what he did, running away, leaving you when the night before he promised you sweet words, words of freedom, words of an escape. No, you don't hate him. Yes, there's days where you would curse his name, but it never lasts. It never does, even now. You still love him even when he doesn't feel the same way anymore.

Your eyes prick from all the unshed tears, everything makes you cry nowadays, even the old lonesome man you met on the road brought a tear to your melancholy eyes. But you can't seem to find the courage to cry in front of him, to let him see your salty tears flow out of you like a raging river of sorrow. And moreso, you're afraid, afraid of home, afraid of what's waiting for you at the end of the road. Whether it be a coyote with its maw opening to lunge at your neck. Or a rattlesnake ready to strike silently at your open wound.

You're not afraid of him, you're afraid to lose him again to the coyotes and rattlesnakes.

Lifting both hands, you watch the blood that collects within the lines of your palms. Rubies ebbing into your life line, your love lines, and into your death— you'd carry the life you've taken until you're six feet underground, decaying, milky bones turning to dust, food for the worms. And yet, the blood in your hands would stay there, even when your hands are eaten by the soil, brought back to where you once came.

Hobie's right, this place changes you. Molds you into something that can survive its harsh environment, just like the plants you once read about. And just like the coiling vines, the flowers that wait and bite their prey; the leaves that kill when cut— you intend to survive the harshness of it all.

With a deep inhale, you leave the metal tub. Water splashes across the floor as you stand up, the even colder air leaves goosebumps in its wake. You dry yourself and dress like an automaton, movements rigid, eyes blank.

Opening the door with a creak, you're met with Hobie standing in the hallway, just across from you. His hand still lingers around the doorknob, viridescent eyes blinking slowly at you.

For a second that felt like hours, you watched each other. How his eyes flick over your form and over his work shirt that you wear. How water still clings to his chest, soaking parts of his white shirt. And how his finger twitches around the doorknob whilst steam escapes from the slits in the doorway. He observes you with vigilant eyes, how your lips are slightly parted, chest breathing heavily. And how much your legs are begging to run towards him, feet pointed in his direction, heels lifted up slightly, but you don't. You don't run to him, instead, you toss him the keys to the room before he could ask for it himself. He catches it with ease.

“You're closer to the room.” Walking closer, you rub your arms for warmth.

Hobie sniffs, hand wiping a stray droplet from his forehead, pack slung over his shoulder. He unlocks the door that's a few steps away, with a click, he opens it for you.

“You look like you're about to pass out.”

You push past him, trying to smile, but you fail. “I feel like I will in a second—” pausing by the doorway, you sharply inhale. “You asked for two beds right?”

“Yeah— fucker.” Hobie clicks his tongue at the sight of the single bed standing in the room. “I'll go get our rooms changed.”

“I'm fucking tired, Hobs.” You lumber your way towards the inviting bed, too tired to even check the room and its sparse décor. “Complain tomorrow. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before.”

“That was different—”

“How is it any different?” Shucking off your shoes, you blink at him through tired eyes. “It's just sleeping next to each other. We were doing anything but that back then.”

He curses breathlessly under his breath. “Fine, don't hog the blanket.”

“Don't kick in your sleep.” You smile for the first time since you pulled the trigger. Slithering inside the warm covers, you lay your head on the lumpy pillows. Heaven to you after sleeping but nothing on the ground or hay for the past few weeks.

“I don't kick in my sleep.” Hobie does the same, laying next to you, giving you enough space in between. “You're the one who kicks in your sleep. Like a fuckin' donkey.”

You lay on your side, inching closer to him. “Please, I'm more of a mustang, not a donkey.”

“Back then you were more like the rider than a horse.” He jokes with a smug smile across his lips.

Your cheeks are aflame, laugh creeping up your throat. The heaviness in your chest subsides, the blood in your hands thins. “You wanna bet?”

Hobie's joking expression is replaced by something else. Flustered, amused, and a mix of an emotion that he has only felt for you. “Fuckin' hell, love.” He turns away from you, lest he lets his thoughts get to him. “Good night, you fuckin' minx.” He hears you laugh, immediately he wants to turn back around and meet you face to face, just like before. But he doesn't.

You're met with his back. The feeling comes back, like a cockroach that wouldn't die even with how much you try to stomp on it. It was foolish to think that he'd love you forever. It was foolish to think that he'd greet you with open arms after years of being apart. How foolish, they'd always whisper to you, naive, and stupid, always standing on the edge of the crowd, eyes always looking for something, someone. Someone that lays before you now.

“Good night, Hobie.” He mouths your next words like clockwork. “Only dream of good things.” You refrain from doing the next thing, a kiss for sweet dreams, a whisper of the three words to remind him of you in the dreamworld.

Hobie silently wishes you did.

Soon enough, soft snores can be heard from behind him. Peeking over his shoulder, he makes sure you're asleep before quietly standing up. Sheets rustling, he tiptoes over the noisy planks, breathing silent. Hobie takes a chair from the corner, propping it under the doorknob, shaking the chair, he makes sure that it's locked up tightly. He can never be sure with the simple singular lock on the door.

Once he's sure that it will hold up, he takes his gun from the hanging gun belt, checking the chamber, he keeps it on the waistband of his trousers. After checking all the windows and the fireplace, he finally joins you back in bed. Gun placed on the bedside, ready to be used just in case. Laying on his side, he faces you, observing how the moon shines just across your face. You look peaceful, relaxed, and he remembers how much he has missed you. Like an impossible itch. A craving that cannot be satiated. Incurable, until you're within reach.

His tired eyes stare at the glaring scar across the back of your hand. Hobie remembers how you got the scar on your hand, it was warm that day, searing hot whilst you ran into the woods frantically to meet him. As a result of your unmindful actions, a sharp branch takes a chunk of your skin; leaving him to sew it close for you. He reminisces of how your face contorts to pain with every suture, and how you grip his shoulder to tamp down your screams. He wasn't careful, or even thinking about how it would scar, he just wanted to get it over with so you'd stop hurting. He held you for hours after, held you more after your great aunt saw the damage. She called you broken that day.

He blinks and he's back to the present. He can never go back. You can never go back. So he inches his hand closer to yours, pinky brushing along your skin. Finally, he curls his pinky finger around your ring finger. Linking his life line to yours. Just like he always does to the identical hidden ring around his neck. Your scar peers from the side, a reminder that everything that happened before was real. That all those saccharin touches and words were flesh and blood. He wishes he could go back, to take you away the moment she called you broken.

In his sleep he dreams of you.

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russellsppttemplates · 4 months

Text

We don't know anything about girls! (Oscar Piastri)

Lucas and Jack take the job of protecting their sister very seriously

Note: english is not my first language. Another Oscar piece, and this time it's dad!Oscar 🥹✨️🤍

my masterlist

Cw: reader is pregnant, childbirth, postpartum

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Daddy, we have a question for you", Lucas said as he and Jack sat at the table, ready to have lunch.

"Sure, what is it you want to ask me?", Oscar offered as he served up their plates with some broccoli, pasta and salmon.

"Mummy is the one that had us, right? We were both on her tummy - not at the same time though - and then she had us", Lucas wondered.

"Yes, mummy was the one that grew you in her tummy", Oscar smiled as he remembered both of your pregnancies. He knew it wasn't comfortable all the time, and there were many instances where you didn't feel so good, but he would spend the whole time in awe at you and what your body was doing for your family.

"Okay, so we have to talk to mummy", Jack reasoned with Lucas, who nodded back at him.

"Why do you need mummy, was my answer not enough?", Oscar wondered.

"It was enough, daddy, don't worry! But if we want a baby brother or sister, we have to talk to mummy first", Lucas stated as if he was saying they were going to ask you to change their bedroom curtains.

"You want a sibling?", Oscar questioned them both, wondering if they had been eavesdropping on you and him.

When one of Oscar's sisters had her baby a couple of months ago, you and Oscar both felt like adding another one to your flock, discussing it in bed that night. It wouldn't be so bad, especially now that both your and Oscar's careers were settled and your schedules were far more predictable. The boys seemed to think the same.

"Yes, do you think mummy will like the idea? She always said her feet hurt a little when it was towards the end", Lucas tsked, "and you, daddy? Would you like to have a another baby?", he wondered.

"Yes, I would - I'll tell you what, when mummy gets home from work, we can ask her about it, okay?", Oscar suggested, seeing the boys agree before eating the food in their plates, smiling to himself at the possibility of your growing family.

By the time you got home, you were just about to catch Oscar putting the boys down for the night, "night night, boys, I hope you have sweet dreams", you kissed both of their foreheads.

"We need to talk to you tomorrow, mummy, we have something to ask you", Lucas offered.

"Okay, it can wait until tomorrow, buddy - sleep tight!", you combed his hair with your fingers.

Closing the door behind you, you walked up to your bedroom, starting to get rid of your work clothes, "Osc? Can you help me with these buttons, please? I can't even lift my arms", you groaned, "I'm so tired".

Your heard your husband's feet pad out of the ensuite bathroom and approach you, his fingers undoing the buttons at the nape of your neck so you could take the shirt off.

"There you go, love", he offered, leaving a kiss in there.

"Thank you - both for this and for doing the nightime routine with the boys, I'm sorry I couldn't be home earlier, but the last lady had this nasty contracture that wouldn't go anywhere no matter how much I pulled and worked every trick of the book", you sighed as you grabbed your pyjamas from under your pillow so you could put them on.

"Don't worry - it was all fine", Oscar assured, "you did miss the quesion they wany to ask you tomorrow though".

"Is it something for school?", you wondered, getting up from the bed with only one leg of your pyjama pants on.

"No, it's not - you can't do anything about it, not now anyway", your husband chuckled as he watched you quirk your eyebrow.

"Do I want to know what it is about? You're scaring me a little", you mused.

"The boys want to ask you for a little brother or sister", Oscar stated, "they checked with me to know if you were the point person they should go to".

"Because I'm the only one?", you giggled, adjusting the sleeves on your shirt so you could wash your face and brush your teeth.

"You grew them in your tummy, and Lucas remembered how much your feet hurt so they want to know if you would be comfortable with having another one", Oscar offered, getting in the bed and pulling the comforter up to his waist.

"You're saying that as if it only takes me to make a baby", you spoke after spitting the toothpaste on the sink, wiping your mouth on the towell to get rid of the remnants.

"They said it like that, not me - but to be fair, they did ask if I would like to have another baby", he added.

Rubbing the cream on your cheeks, you walked back to the bedroom area, turning the light off with your elbow before you sat down next to Oscar, "it's cute, though, that they don't want to just go and ask for a sibling because they understand it's not like that", you said as you snapped your fingers.

"Would you? We talked about it a while ago, but then you had the check-ups and the doctor advised us to not go for it yet until we knew for sure you were all good", Oscar mused, grabbing your hand and playing with your fingers on his lap.

"Yes, I think I would. We know I'm all good and all my parts are working just fine, so I'm in if you are", you replied back.

"I'm in too, I miss having a little baby and the sight of you carrying our baby", he smirked, "and the process of making a baby is very fun".

"Oscar!", you swatted his chest.

"We're always telling the boys they should always tell the truth - was I supposed to lie?", he defended himself.

"Don't fall asleep, Jack, okay?", you said as you noticed your son nearly falling asleep on his car seat, "we're almost home, love!".

"I wasn't falling asleep", he admitted, blushing at having been caught with his eyes closed and his cheek on his shoulder.

"I know you weren't, but I just wanted to check anyway", you winked through the rearview mirror, playing along with him.

On the days Lucas had violin practice, Oscar was the one to take him there from school and then back home, which meant you only had to pick Jack up from pre-school before going home, which also allowed each of the boys to have one on one time with you.

Encouraging Jack to stick to his routine, you watched him hang his jacket and leave his shoes on the wardrobe by the door before he took hi backpack to the kitchen so he could empty the snack box.

"Are you not feeling better, mummy?", Jack asked you as he walked inside the kitchen, noticing the bag from the pharmacy on the counter, "did the doctor give you medicine to take?".

"I'm feeling so and so, but the doctor at the pharmacy told me something else", you crouched down so you could be at the same level as your son, "can you keep a secret?".

Jack nodded eagerly, showing you his ear so you could only tell him the secret before he realise you two were alone, "Oh, we don't need to whisper, and this way you won't tickle my ear", he admitted with a blush, "tell me, mummy!".

"Mummy hasn't been feeling well, and when I spoke to the doctor at the pharmacy, she seemed to think that maybe I have a baby in my tummy", you smiled, "I need to take a test to know for sure".

"A baby? The one me and Lucas asked you and daddy for?", he beamed.

"Yes, that one - should I take the tests now?", you grabbed the boxes from the bag.

"Yes, mummy, yes! How do you do it?", he wondered.

"Mummy needs to go to the bathroom", you tapped his nose, "I'll open the door as soon as I'm done, okay?", you offered before stepping inside the service bathroom by the stairs.

"Are you okay, mummy? Do you want help?", Jack asked as you could hear him walk along the corridor.

"I'm nearly done, Jack, just need to clean a little mess up I did here", you offered, doing what you needed to do and complying with all the instructions.

"It's okay, mummy, I also make a mess sometimes and you always tell me that as long as I clean up after myself, it's okay", he comforted you.

Giggling to yourself at his words, you washed your hands again before opening the door, revealing Jack waiting for you.

"When do we know?", your son asked as he looked at the plastic tests by the sink.

"In a few minutes", you answered.

"Will you be sad if it says you're just sick?", Jack muttered.

"Well, you and Lucas asked for a sibling some time ago and it would be nice if it was actually the case, right?", you tested the waters, now wondering if it was the right move to tell Jack what you were doing. You felt like you could deal with the negative result should it be the one to come up, but maybe your little boy wouldn't.

"I really want a baby brother or sister, and I know Lucas also wants one a lot, but we can wait", he offered, almost sounding like a grown up while he grabbed your hand.

Once the timer on your watch beeped, you turned the tests around checking for their validity before looking at the result.

"Are you pregnant or are you sick, mummy?", Jack questioned, looking at the tests on your hands, "what does it mean?".

"This means I'm pregnant, Jack", you smiled before setting the tests down once he jumped on your arms.

"I'm going to be a big brother!", he squealed, hugging you tightly.

"You are, buddy - are you excited?", you mused.

"I am! I can't wait to tell daddy and Lucas!", Jack smiled back at you.

Setting him back down on the floor, you grabbed the tests, "we could surprise them with something funny - what do you think?", you suggested, heading with him to the playroom so you could get started on it.

Oscar and Lucas arrived just as you were finishing the last touches of the surprise, calling your names.

"We're upstairs in the playroom!", you called back before turning to Jack, "you have to wait for Lucas or daddy to read your t-shirt, okay?".

Lucas was the first to get to the room, coming up to you to hug you and kiss your cheek, "and the teacher said I did really well!".

"That's amazing, buddy!", you congratulated after he told you all about his day.

"Hello, guys!", Oscar greeted, and judging by the bottle of water on his hands, he has stopped by the kitchen before he joined you, "how was your day?", kissing Jack's cheek.

"We didn't do anything special - it was like every day that mummy picked me up while Lucas was at his lessons", Jack told in a nonchalant way, earning a wondering expression on your husband's face as he looked you.

You shrugged your shoulders and kissed Oscar's lips, letting him press his lips on your forehead right after.

"Do you feel better? You don't look so bad anymore", he reasoned as he rubbed your cheeks with his thumbs.

"Geez, thank you, Oscar", you chuckled, "but I feel good now", you smiled.

Lucas looked intrigued as he looked at Jack, "why does his t-shirt say he has an expiring date? What's an expiring date, daddy?", he asked as he pointed.

"I'm no longer the little one!", Jack yelled excitedly, leaving Oscar and Lucas a little lost.

"We know you're grown up, buddy - It's when something is not good anymore or when it has an end date...", Oscar offered.

"No, daddy, you're not getting it! I'm no longer the little brother of the family because mummy has one inside her tummy!", he clarified.

Lucas gasped before he ran to you, hugging your legs and resting his cheek on your tummy, "is it true?".

"Yes, love - we're going to have another baby in the family!", you smiled, brushing his hair with your fingers before you felt Jack hug your side.

"I guess there's only me left then", Oscar gestured, hugging you from your back and resting his hands on your tummy, "we're having another baby, Y/N, I love you", he kissed your cheek, hugging you tightly.

Once Jack pulled away, Oscar finally got a proper glimpse of the t-shirt that stated the announcement, reading at the "Little brother: expiring date in some months!" t-shirt the little boy wore.

"Did you do this just now? Since when do you know?", Oscar mused, now finally getting ti hug you properly since the boys had let you go.

"Mummy took the tests when he got home, and then we came here to cut the print and iron letters", Jack offered.

"Yes, not long, I'm not sure it has settled in yet", you mumbled, "another little one, Osc, I love you", you kissed his lips.

"Boys, remember what we told you, okay? People are healing and resting, so we have to be quiet and be on our best behaviour, okay?", you checked with them as they got out of the car.

"We will, mummy", Lucas assured you while he held his hand with Jack's, keeping him close as he held Oscar's hand with the other one.

You registered yourself in and then were led to the right exam room, following the orders to lay on the bed and lift your top.

"The bump is bigger, isn't it?", Jack asked as his curious hands touched your skin, stroking it and taking the opportunity to leave a few kisses there.

"It is, little one is growing very well!", Oscar offered.

A knock on the door alerted you to it, seeing the technician step inside the room, "Good morning! How is everyone feeling today?", she asked.

"Hello! We're here to see if we're getting a baby sister or a baby brother!", Lucas offered as he swung his legs on the chair.

"That's right! Are you ready, Y/N?", she asked you with a rub on your shoulder before pulling the kart with the ultrasound machine and laptop with her and sitting on the stool next to your bed.

"Yes, very ready and very excited", you smiled.

"Which one do you think they are, baby brother or baby sister?", the technician asked your boys while squeezing the gel on your tummy.

"Come here, sit on daddy's leg instead of mummy's lap so we can see the baby on the screen there", Oscar explained to Jack.

"I don't know, we're both boys, what is that thing that nana always says? It's like there's always a third", Lucas tapped Oscar's arm as he sat next to them.

"Nana always says that there isn't a second without a third", Oscar clarified, "usually means that when there is a second one, there's always a third one".

"So you think it's a boy?", the technician hummed, moving the wand around, "well, your mummy will still be outnumbered by you guys, but she'll have a little friend to help her! You're having a babygirl!", she smiled, showing you the screen.

"A baby sister?", Jack looked at the screen, "wow, she's so tiny - is that her nose?", he pointed.

"Yes, that's her nose, then these are her legs - they look really strong!", she showed him while Oscar winked at you with a big smile on his face.

"Woah", Lucas mused as he looked at the screen, "how long until she comes out of mummy's belly?".

"That is still many weeks away, Lucas - she needs to stay inside to grow healthy and happy!", the technician explained as she wiped the gel from your belly, "I just sent the scans to the printer down the hall - if you'll excuse me, I'm just going to get them".

After she closed the door behind her, the boys jumped on the bed, hugging your sat up body.

"Can you believe we're having a little girl? A mini you?", Oscar stated as he followed your kids, standing up in front of you so he could kiss your lips.

"These two look like you - I deserve a mini me", you giggled, "Oh My Goodness, a little Piastri girl".

"Uh oh", Lucas said, making you look for any issue or trouble.

"What is it, Lucas?", you wondered.

"We don't know anything about girls!!", he said in a concerned tone.

"We're both boys!", Jack followed in agreement.

"You know Tilly and Lottie pretty well, it's not like you haven't been around girls", Oscar reasoned, not wanting them to feel dismissed as you tried your best to contain your laughter.

"We have to ask Fraser the next time we are all at a race - he definitely knows what to do!", Lucas pointed out.

"At least she's comfy - one of us is, anyway", you sighed as Oscar's hands helped you settle in a better position on the examination bed.

"I know we've discussed this with you before, so you probably know that this is the time we talked about. Little one is fully developed now, and she seems like a big girl from our calculations and scans, so I think that now, more than ever you should really think about inducing", your doctor stated.

With Lucas and Jack, the birth was pretty straight forward. The waters broke at home, you went to the hospital when the contractions were closer together and after some pushes, you were happily holding your baby boys.

Your baby girl seemed to have other ideas.

"We wanted to wait for her in her timing, but we understand that that option is no longer viable", Oscar nodded. The team had gone over your exams and they all agreed that induction was looking like the best option so both you and baby Piastri could be happy, safe and healthy.

Squeezing your hand in his, Oscar gave you a reassuring look before you spoke, "we've talked about it, but at the end of the day what matters is that we are both okay, so we'll do the induction. When can we do it?", you asked.

"Well, since it's early and you've only had breakfast, if you go up now, we can settle you in and start the process while your husband gets your things from home if you'd like - your baby is in a good position and we don't foresee any issues to a vaginal delivery", she smiled soflty as she signed a few papers, before handing them to you to sign too.

"Might as well get this show on the road, hm?", you looked at Oscar, "I'll call my parents to let them know".

"Okay, sweetheart", Oscar said before he kissed your forehead, "I'll meet you upstairs, okay? And you, little miss, don't show up before I'm back, okay?", he left a kiss on your baby bump.

"I think it's established that she isn't in any sort of rush", you chuckled, kissing his lips one last time before you parted ways.

While Oscar went home to grab the hospital bags you had prepared, you went up to the labour ward with your midwife Lisa, who happened to be on shift that day.

Checking you in your room, she helped you get comfortable before starting the induction process, "like we talked about, for some women this is a quick process and for some it is a long one. Any way this goes, though, we are all here to help you", she smiled soflty.

Someone knocked on the door, making Lisa look at all the supplies she had and checking if anything was missing until she noticed it was Oscar.

"Hi Lisa, how are you?", he greeted her with a hug before he came to check on you, leaving the bags in their designated area.

"Hello! I'm good, excited to help your little girl come into the world", Lisa smiled.

"And you, my love, are you doing okay?", he asked, looking at the monitor on your bump.

"I'm good, so far so good, and better now that you're here", you pointed a finger on his chest as he approached you.

Chuckling, Oscar kissed your forehead before sitting in the room you made for him, mindful of all the wires connected to you, "did everything get sorted out with your parents?".

"Yes, they'll pick the boys up and look after them - dad told me not to worry about anyone else but me and little princess", you smiled. In the last two births, the first person your father looked for when he stepped into the room was you, claiming that he looked for the person that was already there from before and that he needed to know his daughter was okay.

"I can't believe that this is happening soon, that we're going to have our baby girl in our arms", he said as he did his best to rub your bump despite the wires and monitors that were ensuring you were both doing well.

"Seems like it was yesterday that I was taking a test with Jack on the other side of the door asking me if I needed help", you giggled, "but I'm very excited to have our baby and see who she takes after - I may be too hopeful, but I have a feeling that she might look a little bit more like me", you snickered, "I did all the hard work for nine months and a bit - three times now! I think it's about time this baby comes out looking a little more Y/L/N-y and a little less Piastri-y".

"My genetics have proved to be quite strong, if we are being honest, but I'm also hoping for a little you", Oscar offered as he felt your tightening taut skin under his hand, "was that a contraction?", he said looking at you.

"I think this is the water breaking, do you remember that prickle feeling I told you about in Lucas'? It's like that - oh!", you gasped, "there it goes".

Oscar helped you get up from the bed so you could dry yourself before removing the disposable liner Lisa had laid down for that purpose.

Helping you change into the hospital gown, your husband called the midwife like she had asked you to do, "the waters have broken already? This is good news, means everything is going like it's supposed to, especially ", she said when she looked at the graphs for the CTG machine, checking your vitals too before she left the room again once everything was fine.

When contractions started picking up, Oscar was quick to tend to your every need, walking with you when you felt like movement would do you good before you settled in swaying your hips, your back against his chest while you almost danced around the room, "this is like that time Lando made us dance at the McLaren party", you muttered in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"We're much better now, I think - and you look even more beautiful", he mused, kissing the top of your head.

"Oh, there's another one", you said as you felt the tension on your bump, making you stop and somehow turn around before it got too bad, the new position allowing you to face Oscar as your arm stretched around his neck, your hands lacing at the nape of his neck so you could drop your hips to relieve the pressure from the intense feeling on your torso as you waited for it to pass, your husband's kisses and words of encouragement doing a good job at distracting you from it.

"Do you feel comfortable here or do you want to move to the bed, love? I don't want you to tire yourself more than you are", he expressed his concern as he held you.

"Can I stay here? I like being on your hold and standing up helps, I think", you looked for his approval as you felt his arms ease some of your weight on his neck.

Oscar nodded his head as he kept swaying you around, "Of course, I'm here for you, whatever you need I'll help", he prompted as your neck stretched slightly so you could kiss his jaw, mumbling an I love you to him before concentrating on your breathing again.

Knocking on the door, Lisa excused herself inside and asked how you were doing before checking your dilation, "You're doing really well, Y/N, you're 6 centimetres dilated already! This is going quite quickly I must say", she said and you smiled.

Oscar placed a proud kiss on your forehead while you heard Lisa tell you what to expect in the next few hours, "Do you want an epidural?", she asked.

"I think I'm doing fine without it, but I'll call if it gets too bad", you replied before she nodded and left to tend to the other birthing patients.

Hours later, Oscar had now turned to apply pressure on your lower back with his hands when it started getting a bit harder for you, your elbows on the mattress as you rocked your hips side to side, the interval between contractions now so short you barely had time to rest between them, "I feel like I need to push, my body is telling me to push", you said to Lisa and the nurse that were checking you.

"Why don't you sit on the bed so we can see how things are progressing?", one of them offered as your husband helped you lay down, his hand never leaving yours, "You're crowing, Y/N! It's time to meet your baby!", Lisa announced as she got in position.

"All good, Y/N? I know it hurts, but I also know you have got this", your husband whispered as he positioned himself so he could be right by your side.

"Y/N, when you feel the urge to push, do it okay?", the health professional urged you as you nodded, "your babygirl is ready to come out and everything looks good for her!".

Holding Oscar's hand and squeezing it, you cried and grunted slightly, hearing Lisa announce that the head was out and you needed to do a big push for the shoulders, "this could be a good sign for mini me - my mum always said I had a big head", you groaned.

"C'mon, Y/N, big push", the nurse encouraged as you felt Oscar's lips by your ear, "I know you can do this darling, just two more pushes and our baby girl is here", he said and you did what your body told you, pushing and breathing until your baby was out in the world.

Sitting back against the pillows, the nurses lifted the little girl and after a few taps on her pink cheek, she let out a high pitch scream both you and Oscar were sure to remember for the rest of your lives.

"She's here, Y/N, congratulations mummy and daddy", Lisa said as she placed the baby on your chest.

The baby girl your's and Oscar's love, along with the one from your family, produced was finally here. Pushing your gown to the side, you uncovered your chest as they placed her down, the skin to skin contact soothing her cries immediately, "Hello my love, I'm your mummy", you said as tears gathered in your eyes, your finger coming to stroke her pink chubby cheek as you admired her.

"She looks a lot like you, I think we've nailed the mini you, love", Oscar said between tears.

"That is daddy, I'm sure you recognise his voice too", you cooed, "we've been waiting for you for so long, and you're finally here".

Oscar kissed the top of your head before kissing the top of the little girl's head.

"Hi princess Isabella, we're so happy you're finally here", he said tearfully as he stretched his finger so your daughter could grab it between hee much smaller ones.

"Now we're gonna need to take little Isabella - such a beautiful name - to check everything while you deliver the rest, okay?", one of the nurses said and you extended your arms so she could grab her.

Oscar looked over to the nurses' station as they measured and weighed the baby before he looked down to you on the bed, "Thank you for making me a father again, I love you both so much, my love", he said with loving and still a bit teary eyes, grabbing your hand in his and kissing them before touching your forehead lovingly.

"I love you so much, Oscar", you whispered and you kissed his hand that was caressing your cheek, "there's no one else I'd be a parent with".

After delivering the placenta and having your baby girl back in your chest, Oscar couldn't stop the overwhelming surge of feelings in his chest. He was so happy and grateful for you and at the prospect of the life he had yet to fill with memories with your family.

When you were finally able to bring Isabella home, the boys were the best behaved you had ever seen them. They weren't troublemakers, and from what you heard the other parents share whenever you waited for the kids outside the school gate, they definitely were a breeze compared to the stories you heard, but this was new.

"I'll fill this up for you, mummy", Lucas stated, grabbing the water bottle you kept near you ti make sure you were drinking enough and helping your milk supply.

"Thank you, buddy", you smiled, adjusting Isabella's head so she could have a better latch.

"Here are the nappies for Isa", Jack offered as he carried the unopened packet he offered to get from the nursery so you could refill the caddy you kept in the living room.

"Thank you, Jack, that's very helpful", you smiled as Oscar sat next to you, "they're being so helpful, it's so cute", you mused.

"Before you came home, they helped me and your parents tidy up and they promise your dad they would be on their best behaviour", your husband mused, kissing your shoulder and looking at your daughter as she suckled on your nipple, never getting tired of watching her beautiful face.

"At what time did Lando say he was coming to visit?", you asked, squinting to look at the time on the TV.

"He said he'd be here in an hour or so, and then his wife and the kids would come later after she got them from school", Oscar mused, "here, let me burp her", he said.

Wiping the corners of Isabella's lips, you kissed her forehead before letting her go to Oscar's arms, watching his tap her back to get all the wind out before she looked ready to fall asleep.

"Mummy is going to have a shower, so you two be good, okay?", you told the boys before you headed up.

Oscar was resting his eyes when his phone alerted to who the car he heard outside belonged to, making him get up and open the door to find Lando.

"Well, hello there, Oscar, and little Isabella, hello darling", he cooed, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

"Uncle Lando!", the boys cheered quietly, hugging his legs and letting him ruffle their hair.

"Where's your mummy?", Lando asked, "I brought this goodie bag with all things for postpartum fun! We got one of these from my sisters when we had Lottie and it helped a lot".

"She's upstairs, she said she was going to have a shower and my bet is that she's taking a nap", Oscar added, letting Lando sit before he could pass the little bundle of joy to his arms.

"Hello, little princess, aren't you a cutie", Lando said as he looked at the youngest Piastri.

"You have to support her head, like this", Lucas advised the father of three - soon to be four.

"I know, buddy, thank you for your help", Lando smiled at his protectiveness, letting the boys sit on either side of him.

"She doesn't like when her hands aren't covered - let me fix it", Jack offered before he pulled on the blanket around his sister's hands.

"They're both like this all the time?", Lando wondered as Oscar nodded.

"They don't let anyone else touch her without them being near - only me and Y/N get to keep her to ourselves", Oscar chuckled.

"Oh, she's fussing, daddy!", Jack alerted him.

As if on cue, you walked downstairs and into the living room as Lando was up, trying to soothe the little girl, "it's alright, uncle Lando is here, Isabella", you heard him tell her gently.

"Hello", you greeted as all eyes landed on you.

"Yeah, that's your mummy, babygirl", Lando assured, "and you want her, don't you? I can't compete with your mummy, can I?", he said as he walked closer to you, giving your daughter back so she could cuddle into your chest before he squeezed your arm.

"Thank you", you smiled, "you met uncle Lala, babygirl?", you mused, stroking her cheek and feeling her cries soothe down.

"Just about, yes - your boys surely have the protective older brother thing down", the british driver giggled.

"They're already the best big brothers and she has only been with us for a couple of days", you smiled.

#oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

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miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 3 months

Text

the king of sex

pairing: javi x reader

cws/tags: p in v, m! receiving oral, unprotected sex, handcuffs, coworkers, sex as stress relief, pwp, not beta read

summary: almost no plot, literally javi is just grouchy so reader offers him sex (but handcuffs him) ... in the office... they really just kinda give up on the case at the end lmao

a/n: i like to imagine the voiceover of steve going "in case you were wondering, this is the asshole..." at the beginning of this fic

wc: 3k

You're at your wits end with Javier Peña. He's known to be (at the very least) kind of a dick. You're fairly sure it's unintentional, just his natural demeanor, but he's also made no efforts to remedy his behavior. He's an asshole because he's grumpy and he's grumpy because he's stressed. And he becomes more stressed and more grumpy and more of an asshole when you provoke him. You have the practiced self-restraint to bite back your snide remarks until he's out of earshot.

It hits you one day when he's particularly irritated as there's a huge roadblock in the case against Escobar that he can't seem to charm his way past - he's tried a wad of cash, a gun to the head, and of course, sex. He's grumbling about whatever-the-fuck when he slams his hands down on his desk with a loud, "Goddamnit!" He's lucky he works with you and not someone over 50 who would've certainly had a heart attack with how startling it was.

You could say 'no harm, no foul', but enough is enough. Javier Peña is inching his way towards 40 and needs to learn a thing or two about civil and professional behavior.

"Look, I get that you're upset right now, but it's not necessary or appropriate-"

"I don't need a lecture from you," he snaps.

"I wasn't lecturing you. I was being nice."

You were being nice, but your tone quickly takes on the bitterness that's been building inside you for weeks.

"If you were nice, you would let it go." His words are slightly muffled by the cigarette he holds between his lips.

"Are you even hearing yourself? I was being sympathetic and diplomatic. I could've said way worse things to you."

"Go ahead. Maybe I'd appreciate your honesty."

The smoke blown in your direction when he fully turns to face you is the final straw.

"Okay," you say, taking the deep breath you need to form the next string of words that leave your mouth. "Would you shut the fuck up for one fucking second?! I don't know if all the whores you fuck have been telling you that your voice is sexy but you should know that I'm tired of fucking hearing it."

"Wow, chica. You've got a mouth on you. Could be of better use but-"

"No," you cut him off with an accusatory finger pointed in his direction. "I'm not just going to sit here and twirl my hair and giggle at your sexual harrassment. Sorry if that's what you're used to."

"I don't think it's harassment since you didn't even wait to hear the full sentence. You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I don't care. You should get used to women not stroking your ego because someday soon your good looks will be gone and you'll have nothing but your shitty personality."

"So you think I'm good-looking?"

"That's what you took from that statement? It doesn't matter if you're good-looking because everything else about you is terrible."

"What do you want me to do? Cry? Grovel? Because I don't care that much about your opinion, and I'm done having this conversation."

You don't speak for the rest of the day, but you're in the office well-past daytime. You're on a time crunch, so you cooperate in silence so as not to get your asses handed to you by the ambassador or your heads put on a stick by the cartel. Sometime after everyone else has gone home - which makes Javi particularly pissed - he gets a phone call. You do not know what the person on the other line is saying, and Javi only speaks in Spanish, and says very few words before he slams the handset down so hard the phone falls off his desk.

He looks like he's about to have a psychotic break when he notices that the phone is broken.

"You need to calm down."

"I'm trying to calm down. I'm always trying to calm down."

"Maybe you need a Valium prescription or something because it's not working."

"Are you not stressed? Do you not care about catching Escobar?"

"Of course I am, and of course I do, but I know how to take care of my stress."

"Fine. Then, tell me how you do it."

"First off, you need to take a break, step away from your work. Stand up, take a walk, sit down somewhere else where you can't look through those folders anymore."

He stands up, maintaining a level of eye-contact that says he's determined to disprove your methods.

You motion for him to sit in a different chair and he does with the same permanent scowl plastered across his face.

"Now what? What else do you suggest?"

"I usually put on a movie or take a hot bath or…" You stop yourself before saying it.

"We don't have a VCR in here or a bathtub, so tell me what the third option is before I lose my mind."

"You know…" You make a motion that's supposed to indicate masturbation.

"You're saying I should jerk off? Right now? In this office?"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you've never done it before."

"Not while you're here."

"Do you care if I'm here?"

"You would care. You just asked me to stop making sexual remarks about you earlier."

"Because your remarks were insulting and uncalled for and you were using them to deflect from the problem at hand."

"I don't get it. Are you saying you want to watch me jerk off?"

Truth be told, you wouldn't mind watching him get off. It’s not like you haven’t thought of it before. Seeing him finally vulnerable, undressed. Hearing his breath hitch, the choked out moans he struggles to hold back. His eyes closed, head thrown back, the sweat beading on his forehead, his lips parted -

"If that's what you want. But, I can do you one better."

At this point, you're just satisfying your own fantasy. You're more selfish than Javi, but he doesn’t need to know that.

For the first time in weeks his lips curve into a smile. "Yeah? You want to?"

"If it'll make you calm down and you swear on your life that you will never tell anyone that we did this."

"Deal."

"It better be. Or I will hand your ass over to Escobar."

"You're gonna make me go soft if you talk about him."

You're hard? Already? you think but don't say. Instead, you take a not-so-subtle glance at the front of his jeans.

"What? You offered me sexual favors. Of course I'm hard."

You approach him and he waits for you to slide into his lap and kiss him. It's sloppy, wet, tongue-tangled, teeth mashing together. You pull back nearly panting, and you begin to understand why women let him get away with things.

"I have one more condition."

"Lay it on me."

"I'm in charge."

"You've been in charge, cariño."

He hasn't called you that in at least a month - after you begged him to stop. You insisted he call you by your name because ‘this is a work environment’. And nicknames make you weak in the knees. But you can't tell him that being on a first name basis with him is almost worse. Every time he says your name it goes straight to that debauched part of your brain that you try to suppress.

You nod and stand up, and he says, mildly offended but mostly desperate, "Does 'in charge' mean you're leaving me high and dry?"

"No, I'm getting something." You walk to his desk. "Where are your handcuffs?"

You have handcuffs too, but there's something more enticing about restraining him with his own.

"Top right hand drawer. Why? Which one of us is getting handcuffed?"

"Take a guess," you say walking back towards him with the cuffs in hand.

"It's me, isn't it?"

"You're so smart, Javi," you tease. Even though you’re joking, you swear you hear his breathing change. You rarely praise him because he rarely deserves it. Maybe you should do it more often, you think.

"Take off your shirt first and put your hands behind your back."

He does as he's asked. Javi is suddenly more obedient when your tits are eye-level with him. "I can't believe I'm doing this. It better not be some sort of trap."

"It's not. I just think it'll be fun for both of us if I do this to you." The handcuffs click as you attach them to his wrists. It’s the only sound that fills the rare silence in the office.

"Do you hear that?" you ask with a serene smile.

"No, what?"

"Nothing. It's quiet in here for the first time ever."

"Not for long if you're any good."

"I am very good, I'll have you know."

"Have me know."

You straddle his lap and run your hands along the smooth skin of his broad chest. You lock eyes with him, tilt your head slightly and part your lips like you're going to kiss him, but when he leans in, you pull back.

You stifle a laugh when he leans forward, trying to reach your lips. It’s his only option as his handcuffs prevent him from grabbing your cheeks and pulling you towards him.

"That's fucked up," he says.

You're not cruel so you kiss him for real. Your tongue brushes against him and you arch your body towards him. You kiss him until you need to come up for air.

"You're not gonna pull back and leave me hanging this time, are you?"

"No, not unless you do something to deserve it."

"Like this?" he asks before biting your bottom lip gently.

"No, not like that," you whisper against his lips. You place featherlight kisses from his jaw to his collarbone, lips ghosting along his skin, teasing.

"You're making me more stressed, chica."

You hum, ignoring him, and then making your way up to the nape of his neck where you lightly suck and nip at his skin.

"Oh, fuck me," he groans.

"Be patient," you say softly as you place your hand on his hard cock, still covered by his jeans.

You palm him slowly, looking up into his eyes when you begin to unbuckle his belt. You wonder what kind of underwear he's wearing - is he a boxers type of guy? Briefs? Boxer-briefs? Every guess is incorrect, you find, as you unzip his jeans - he's gone commando.

"I knew you were a slut, Peña, but no underwear with jeans? That's bold."

"Easy access."

"Easy, that's for sure," you say, as you work together to get his pants down to his ankles. "And yet, very hard," you remark, taking his cock in your hand.

His hips twitch and you can tell he's trying not to fuck your fist, knowing you won't take kindly to it. You're in charge - that's the deal. You spit into your hand and watch as a bead of pre-cum forms at the tip of his dick. His breath hitches when you run your finger over it before you stroke him, increasing the speed of your hand gradually.

You dare to get on your knees and lap at the head, reveling in the way his head lolls back. Dying to get his eyes back on you, you take his cock as far as you can into your mouth - though you hadn't initially planned on sucking him off as he doesn't deserve it. His eyes fly open and he stares at you slack-jawed, his mouth slowly forming an 'o'. When he gets close, you stop, pull back, and stand up.

"Huh?" he asks in an uncharacteristically pathetic voice.

"You were enjoying yourself a little too much." You shrug.

"Yeah, I was enjoying myself. I was gonna cum soon." He pouts, lower lip jutting out and making him look boyish despite the mustache on his upper lip.

"I know."

"Are you not gonna let me cum? Is that what this is? A plan to torture me?"

"No, you'll get to cum eventually. This is an exercise in patience."

"I thought this was supposed to be stress-relief."

"Correct me if I'm wrong but it doesn't seem like you're thinking about work at all right now."

"I'm not."

"What are you thinking about?"

"What do you think?"

"I think, I want you to tell me." You sit down atop the desk across from the one he's sitting at and spread your legs. You watch his eyes as he figures out what you're doing.

"I'm thinking about what you'd look like without that skirt on. I'd rip it off you."

"I'm glad your hands are tied then," you say as you unzip it and let it fall to the floor. "Because it was expensive."

Javi doesn't say much about your black lace panties but his eyes are fixated on them. You begin to unbutton your top and his eyes follow your fingers as you slowly reveal your bra, and then your tits. This is the most he's paid attention to you in your entire time working here.

"God, I wish I could touch you," he says. "You're so fuckin' hot."

"I'm actually quite chilly," you say with a coy grin as you walk over to him and grab his shirt from the desk in front of him. You put it on, but don't button it up so your tits still peek through.

"It looks so much better on you."

"Thanks," you say with a genuine smile. "I expected it to smell like cigarettes but it smells nice."

He half-laughs. "What does it smell like?"

"You." You slide your panties to the side and begin to touch yourself nonchalantly.

"This is so unfair. You get to touch yourself, but I don't."

"I thought you would like watching me."

"I do, you have no idea how much I do."

You intended to tease him, but you find yourself going further, even slipping a finger inside yourself. When you add another, you moan, "Javi."

It's barely a tease anymore. His name slips out just as it does when you're alone in your bedroom with your hands in the same position. But now, you're watching Javi who’s watching you with his pink cheeks and leaking cock - all for you, because of you.

"Yeah? Feels good?"

"Uh-huh." You wish it was him, so much so that you get up from the desk and walk towards him. You sit in his lap, wearing nothing but his shirt, letting your skin touch his.

"You're so wet, cariño."

The way his voice rasps does something to you, grinding on him isn't enough. You need him inside you.

As you position yourself so that his tip is at your entrance, you ask, "promise you won't come inside me?"

"Promise. I'll let you know when I'm close."

You believe him because you have to, because you're going to fuck him anyway. You need him. So, you nod and sink down on his cock. You figured he'd be big - his tight jeans don't hide very much though you try not to stare, lest he catch you doing so, but you still whimper at the stretch.

"You're doing great, cariño."

You don't expect it to feel as good as it does, nor do you expect it to drain your stamina the way that it does. Your legs are shaking by the time you get close to the edge.

"You're struggling, querida," Javi says. "I can help, but you have to let me out of these."

"Yeah," you say, standing up to grab the key. He sighs at the loss of your wetness surrounding him.

You uncuff him and he grabs your hips gently, helping you back into the position you were in previously.

"I've got you," he says, and you trust that he does.

You let your head rest upon his shoulder, and when you moan, he can feel your breath on his skin - he can barely hear you over the sound of your skin meeting his over and over, the slick sounds of your arousal adding another layer to the pornographic chorus of your noises.

Your names are traded back and forth, both of your voices getting progressively needier. One of his hands slides under your - his - shirt to stroke the bare skin of your back as the other remains steady on your ass. You bite into his shoulder despite the fact that no one is in the office to hear you. You get a groan in response and you can tell his orgasm is approaching too.

"Gonna cum," he says. "Where do you want it?"

"Inside," you say because it's the truth.

It's like you've cast a spell on him or rewired his brain. He should not cum inside you but he does. His whole body jolts as euphoria washes over him.

Your walls clamp down around him and your fingernails dig into his flesh, and you've never been high but there's no way cocaine feels this good. If you could crush an orgasm up into a powder, you'd be rich.

When you come back to reality, you're faced with Javi's beautiful brown eyes and a smile.

"Thank you," he says. "I feel a lot better."

You're beginning to envision your happily ever after when you stand up and you hear Javi say, "Oh fuck."

"What?" You say, looking down and watching your mistake drip out of you.

"I think we just created another problem to be stressed about."

"I'm on the pill. We'll be fine. And, if you're stressed, we can always do it again."

"You're right. I think we need to give it another shot. You said baths are relaxing, right? We could try it in a bathtub, maybe even in the shower."

You shake your head. "Uh-huh," you say sarcastically. "And since movies are relaxing, we should do it in the theater."

"That's a great idea, actually."

"Yeah? You think risking an arrest would help your stress?"

"I don't know, baby. I guess we'll have to find out."

Maybe you have yet to catch the King of Cocaine, but tonight, you feel satisfied as you climb into bed with the King of Sex.

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