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ghoulphile · 5 months

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janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | part 01

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 3.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | i'm so sorry this is later than it should be. i am unfortunately a corporate slave and this fic just did not want to cooperate 🫠 there are a lot more things planned and this fic is turning into a bit of a beast (20+ pages and counting rip lmao) so i've decided to split it into two parts to make it more manageable for myself mostly un-beta'd atm a special thanks to @corinthianism for all her lovely help ❤️!!

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

One of the ugliest things in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say. At least when he was a Marine, they told him where to point his gun, where to aim; nameless threats vanishing with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Here, these ‘enemies’ aren’t enemies — not really.

It’d be easier if they were.

Worse still, they have names he holds as dearly as his own. There’s Barb, whip smart and always so clever. Then Janey, the light of his life and so sweet his teeth ache.

Once upon a time, life was sweeter than apple pie on Sundays.

Then came the separation.

Afterwards, he finds it hard to look at what’s left of his family without losing breath like a horse kick to the chest. Their absence rips open a hole inside him ten miles wide, its edges jagged and wrong.

And when he can’t take the silence anymore, fingers of malt liquor help dull the ache, though it’ll never be enough to mend what’s broken.

See, war’s something he understands.

But these domestic battlefields where he sits across from his ex-wife while lawyers barter this weekend and that holiday?

How he struggles to meet his daughter’s eye every time she asks if he’s coming home?

When Barb keeps the house and the money while he keeps the scrapbooks and the dog?

He doesn’t — can't — refuses to comprehend.

Because in what world can you reconcile looking down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman you love staring back, finger on the trigger? Left out to hang as Vault-Tec orchestrates his downfall.

The true depth of their involvement is unknown, but it’s no coincidence his bank accounts dried up faster than the Mojave in June. The ink still wet when the media snapped up the story of his failed marriage.

Thus, his reputation (rather what’s left of it) unraveled faster than a spool of thread.

Knocked on his ass and kept there by a boot heel crushing his windpipe. Whose? He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

But whoever they are, they’re making sure he stays a washed up nobody who struggles to land a call back, much less pay his monthly alimony on time.

See what we can do? You were America’s favorite gunslinger - now look at you. Mind your place.

Hell, millions used to scream his name.

Nowadays people whisper it behind their hands like a dirty secret, “Oh, did you hear? Cooper Howard…” as they dissect pieces of his life into bite-sized Before’s and After’s. “Hah! Serves him right. Y’know, I never liked him much.”

While he grits his teeth and swallows his bitterness with a smile, he hates how he can’t protect Janey from snide reporters and nosy strangers. Juggling actor-father-divorcé with fumbling hands.

It’s only been six months; a heartbeat, a lifetime, and already he’s scraped thin like butter over too much bread.

Something’s gotta give.

After all, he’s only one man.

But just when it's bleakest, the clouds part.

A young woman moves in next door, the first bright thing that’s come his way in a long, long while.

At first, he kept his distance.

Exchanged vague hello’s and how-are-you’s. Then Janey took a shine; always so friendly and eager to talk about her latest books.

Any reservations he might’ve had died when he saw how enamored you are with her.

Only made sense that over time small pleasantries turned into playdates. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers.

Before long, you’re watching her when a gig runs late.

Rustling up grub and tucking her into bed more often than not these days. And when he slinks in through the door, knees aching and stripped to the bone, there you are with a shy smile and a warm meal.

So what if he takes himself in hand after you leave, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress?

Imagines the wide stretch of your ruby lips as you swallow him down, lipstick smeared an awful mess?

Cums hard to the fantasy of your teary eyes and hiccupy breaths as you choke?

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After all, he’s a gentleman... he promises to keep his hands to himself.

“All right, Sugar Bomb, it’s bedtime.”

Bundled in navy bedding up to her nose, Janey’s wide brown eyes peer up at you from beneath a riot of frizzy curls. Roosevelt, her ever faithful companion, plasters himself to her side. The tip of his tail swishes once, twice before falling limp.

“Ah, c’mon guys. Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh with a fond shake of the head, hip popping out to rest against the doorframe. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.”

A muffled response sounds from the lump of little girl, “Nmfhm.”

Squinting, you dip your head and tap the side of your ear, "Pardon?"

“Mnhfmmmm.”

“Ye—eah… Didn’t catch that, Mumbler.”

Janey tugs down the blanket, her mouth pursed in a moue of displeasure. “I said,” she crosses her arms with a huff, “not until Dad gets home.”

Shit.

“M’sorry, baby. He’s still gonna be a while.” Walking across the room, you stop beside the bed and motion your hand back and forth. “Scooch over.”

Gangly limbs fumble as Janey wiggles into the middle of the mattress, her feet tangling in the blankets. Roosevelt takes a toe to the nose during the transition, but flops across her knees all the same.

Together they settle with a bounce of springs.

In the open space, you slide in.

The bed sinks under your weight, a plume of rich cologne tickling your nose; mint-spiced citrus. Cooper. Your stomach swoops, and your heart trips.

“I didn’t see him at breakfast — or lunch!” A pout tugs at her mouth. “Not even dinner. I gotta go home tomorrow. So when am I gonna see him?”

“Oh, bug.” You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Your dad’s been real busy at work. And I know that’s been hard for you, but I promise to make sure he’s here for breakfast tomorrow.”

“D’you mean it?” Her cold nose digs into your skin. “Me and Roosevelt miss him so much.”

Cuddled into your chest, Janey tosses an arm around your back. Her fuzzy head rests in the crook of your arm, springy curls tickling your skin.

You squeeze her tight and trace your fingertips over her forehead.

“I can do you one better,” you say, bopping the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle - a soft sound that sits warm and gooey in your chest. “I pinkie-promise.”

Her finger loops around yours, so small and fragile.

“I’ll even make pancakes. How’s that sound for a promise?”

“Oh, yes, please! I think Dad will like that,” a wide yawn cuts her off mid-sentence. “He’s sad, but he always smiles when you make food.”

Janey’s words — unexpected as they are sudden — cut so deep it steals the breath from your lungs. You flounder, your heart a throbbing bruise in your chest.

“... Then pancakes it is.”

As if nothing happened at all, she asks, “Do I have to go to bed now?”

“Afraid so, little miss.” Your responding chuckle sounds stilted even to your own ears. “Just you wait. When you wake up, Dad’ll be home.”

“Fi—ine, but I want extra pancakes.” Janey pauses, considers you with narrow eyes, then adds, “With syrup!”

“Whatever you want,” you say with an indulgent smile. “Now... time to sleep. It’s really past your bedtime.”

She gives you one last squeeze then lets you tuck her in nice and tight, blankets pulled up to her chin. You drop a kiss on her forehead while Roosevelt re-settles on the pillow beside her after a quick scratch behind the ears.

Everything in order, you turn to go only for a little hand to stop you.

“Yes?” you reply, glancing at her from over your shoulder.

“... can you put on one of Dad's movies?”

The tremble in her voice - like she’s about to get scolded - breaks your heart clean down the middle. Stitching on a soft smile, you nod and walk to the darkened TV set in the room's corner.

After fiddling with the nobs, static flashes to life.

“The Man from Deadhorse okay?”

The holotape sliding into the track swallows the sound of her tiny “Yeah.” Starting up with a whirl of machinery, the second-hand Radiation King flickers to life in black-and-white.

A vast plain and bright sky stretches across the screen.

Then Sugarfoot creeps into frame with the one and only Cooper Howard sitting astride the noble steed. The sheriff’s badge on his chest glints in the sun.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, already half-way to sleep.

“Anything for you, baby. Sleep tight.”

Flicking off the lights, you leave the door cracked. Walk away pretending like hearing her whisper goodnight to the TV doesn’t lance through you like lightning.

The desire to whisk her into your arms and soothe all of her ails is almost impossible to ignore.

Somehow, you distract yourself by wiping up the table, then by fixing a plate of dinner for whenever Cooper rolls in. Though all the while, how brokenhearted Janey sounded sits in the back of your mind like a leaden weight.

When Cooper stumbles into the living room, it’s half past midnight.

You’d gotten up to greet him, curled as you were in an armchair reading, when something about the stern line of his mouth gave you pause.

Where the usual lighthearted greetings lingered, a pensive stillness trembled to life.

Tension crackles through the air; a held breath of agitation. By the faraway gaze and defeated slump of his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see the night didn’t go as intended. And no matter how much you long to soothe, you can’t.

After all, he’s not yours to touch.

Instead, you offer a sympathetic smile and ask, “Rough night, huh?”

Cooper ignores the prompt, squeezing past with a brief touch to your elbow as he makes a beeline for the dry bar. The heat of his body is there and gone in a flash, his cologne teasing your senses. He says, “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your heart flutters in your throat. “Ah,” you lick your lips, “well, I was going to finish my chapter first.”

Humming, he turns his back to you and fiddles with high balls and decanters. The tink of crystal glassware fills the air as he speculates which alcohol goes best with his mood.

“Thanks again for watching Janey.” He nods in approval and fixes his whiskey neat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Howard.” You shrug. “She’s a sweetheart.”

He shoots you a dry look from over his shoulder, stirring the dark amber of his drink with a forefinger. When he sucks his skin clean with a soft pop - a flash of a pink tongue taunting, teasing - your stomach swoops.

God, I wonder what else his mouth can do.

Flustered, you clear your throat and stare at a spot on the wall.

“How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Coop?” he says, digging through some drawers until he finds what he’s searching for: a lighter. “It must be a million and one by now.”

Flint sparks as flames jump, eating away at the end of a cigarette. Cooper inhales in short little puffs, pulling on the filter. His cheeks hollow, the shadows enhancing the cut of his jaw before the tip catches alight.

“Well,” he exhales, his gaze catching yours through a plume of smoke as he turns, brow raised. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you chuckle.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smirk. “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks back the last finger of whiskey before refilling with gin.

Springs groan in protest when he drops to the couch, settling in with an outstretched arm and wide spread thighs.

“It’s been a long fucking day,” he rasps.

Gulping, you try to ignore the space at his feet.

The stirrings of desire provoked by the urge to sink to your knees and fill it with your body, to ease tension from those shoulders with your hands, your mouth, your cunt — if he’d let you.

“You heading home?” Nursing the fresh drink, he swallows a mouthful, only to hiss low through his teeth at the chemical burn. His throat bobs, framed by the open collar of his shirt. “Whew! Goddamn, that’s strong.”

“No, I can stay for a while.” A bird on a wire, you perch on the cushion beside him. “Got nothing else planned for tonight, anyhow.”

Cooper snorts. “I doubt that very much. A sweet young thing like you,” he motions towards you with his glass, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fellas calling, especially on a Friday night. Don’t waste your time with me.”

“That’s not why I--” you stop yourself short.

Save for the bustling LA avenue right outside the complex, the apartment itself is stone silent for several heartbeats. Words hover on the back of your tongue, catching in the bend of your throat molasses thick.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to swirl the alcohol in his glass.

Maybe in a different life, you wouldn’t hesitate to express yourself.

But here — with him — you shouldn’t.

Christ sake, he’s a grieving divorcé, you chastise yourself. The last thing he needs is me trying to lay one on him.

When you speak, his name glides off your lips for the first time, clementine sweet, “... Cooper, I’m not wasting my time. I enjoy spending it with Janey - and you.”

“Well,” he husks, hooded eyes dragging down your visage in a slow once-over, “you’re the first one in a long while to feel that way, sweetheart.”

Dripping like honey whiskey from Cooper’s lips, the simple phrase burns its way down-down-down until it blooms like liquid fire in your belly. Warms you all the way to your toes as your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“I mean it.” Your knuckles twist in the pleats of your sundress, bolts of blue fabric bunched around your knees. “Everything I do is because I want to.”

The flash of red nails plucking at the sheer nylon of your stockings snaps up his attention, his gaze snagging - staying as he chases the curve of your exposed leg, hungry.

He wets his lips, and tenses his jaw when he spots how the soft fat of your thigh dimples in because of your garter. “That’s awful sweet of you to say.”

You tremble beneath the intensity of his attention.

Greedy.

Little kisses of awareness spark bright along the path his eyes carve like the caress of shy fingertips.

However, before you’re able to confront him about his interest, the heat leaches from his expression, grows mute and cold like a muzzled dog.

Readjusting the waistband of his slacks with a tug, he says, “I know you got better things to do than keep an old man company.”

Irritation sparks. “Cooper--”

“If this is about paying you for tonight,” his lips quirk into a sheepish smile, “I won’t be able to yet.” He scrubs a hand through the stubble peppered along his jaw. “The gig tonight didn’t… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, that’s not what I --”

He plows on, “Anyway, the one I’ve got tomorrow should be enough. How about I stop by around seven o’clock? I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology.”

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, antagonism thrumming through your veins. Your hands shake almost as much as your voice. “Cooper!”

“I… uh, yes?” He blinks.

Your brows furrow. “You don’t get it,” you say. “I mean, you truly don’t know?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t get. You’re gonna have to be more particular.”

Maybe not said in so many words (or at all) but actions speak far louder.

Otherwise, why else would you spend most of your time in his apartment, fill every spare moment with Janey, and reserve evenings for his company?

Hell, you even cook and clean!

Almost scream your interest from the rooftops, and it’s obvious to everyone but him, it seems.

Here you are thinking he was preserving your dignity whenever he ignored a passing comment or lingering touch when, in fact, he’d been oblivious to their existence to begin with.

How a man can be so obtuse when you’re throwing yourself at him is beyond you.

If he wasn’t so captivating…

“Are you kidding me,” you ask, mindful of your tone, “how could you not know?” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been — for months!”

“Well, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he snarks, setting his glass on the table. “Care to enlighten me?”

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play, let’s play.

When he moves to take another drag from his cigarette, you strike, fingers locking around his wrist mid-lift. And although his glassy eyes narrow, he keeps his hand still.

Waiting to see what you'll do.

Tucking your knee under you for balance, you bend forward and watch his face from beneath your lashes. When your lips wrap around the filter, a dark hunger bleeds into his expression, his pulse a steady thud against the pad of your thumb.

Inhaling, the cherry lights up, a flashbang in the dim overhead light.

Cooper’s breath hitches, and then you’re pulling away with a lungful of smoke; the taste of ash heavy on your tongue.

He tracks your movements with greed, gaze flicking for the briefest of moments past your chin before refocusing on the ring of red lipstick staining white paper.

“If you wanted one,” he chokes, gripping the back of the couch with white knuckles, “all you had to do was ask.”

With a coquettish grin, you exhale to the side and stare at him with hooded eyes. “Is that so?” Plucking the cigarette out of his limp hold, you stub it out in the ashtray. “What if I wanted to ask for something else, Mr. Howard?”

The next moment finds you deposited in his lap, his hands shooting out to grab at your waist only to freeze before they make contact.

“Woah! I--”

“Tell me something.”

Your lips caress the shell of his ear, sharing breath - sharing space as you plaster yourself to his front, arms looped over his shoulders. He jolts, body trembling with restraint.

“Would you give me what I wanted if I said please?”

The distance between you snaps taut with anticipation. “C-Coop,” he stutters. “Call me Coop.”

You hum. “Well, Coop, would you?”

“That depends almost entirely on what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

Red nails skate along the back of his neck, play in the downy soft hair of his nape just to feel him shiver. And then you’re leaning back with your hands braced on his knees, your legs falling open in invitation.

The hem of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the soft cotton of your underwear, and the darkened patch of slick soaking through.

“I think you know exactly what I want,” you purr. “Because you want it too. Don’t you?”

He bites down on a strangled moan when your hips arch forward, rocking the soft plush of your ass against the heavy weight of his thickening cock. The zipper digs into your skin as he tents the front of his slacks.

Mouth dropping open, his tongue flicks out to wet his lips - a slick circle of temptation that makes you clench. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Reaching between your splayed thighs, you hook a finger beneath your panties and pull the fabric aside. He jerks forward, exhaling hard at the flash of your soaked cunt and twitching clit.

“C’mon, be honest.”

With a sigh, you gather your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

Cooper’s gaze is a heavy weight pinning you in place as you pretend it’s him dragging his knuckles over the top of your mond. Him dragging calloused fingers up along sticky folds to play with your sensitive clit, ripping soft little mewls from your lips.

“Can’t you see what you do to me, Coop?” you say, pulling your hand away to show the webs of slick stretching between your fingers. “I’m so wet. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

His hips rock against your ass in an aborted thrust. “Shit - shit!” Eyes slamming shut, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise. “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

“Why not?” Your hand brushes over his groin. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“It isn’t right, that’s why.” He stutters, stumbles over his words, “Besides, Janey…”

“I can be quiet,” you say, lips trembling. “I promise.”

“Goddamnit, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to --” Cutting himself off, strong fingers seize your chin and tilt until you’re met with Cooper’s severe expression, his scorching gaze. “You need to tell me now: are you sure this is what you want?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

In what world would you refuse?

The words barely pass your lips before Cooper’s bowing his dark head, mouth ravenous as it captures yours in a slick glide of bruising lips and hungry tongues.

He steals your breath, licks into your mouth and traces along the sensitive inside of your lip.

Pulse jump starting, your toes curl over the edge of the cushion and your thighs squeeze the barrel of his chest, kneecaps digging into his ribs.

“Oh,” a moan punches itself out of your throat - a breathy little thing swallowed up by his lips. “That’s--”

Anticipation swells, simmers between you like a band before it snaps. A strong forearm locks around your waist, tugging you into the cradle of his chest until you’re plastered from stem to stern.

Too hungry for tenderness as his free hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers catching in the briar of your hair and tugging at the roots.

You claw at his shoulders while sparks of pain ricochet down your neck, sufficing into a prickly flush that heats your blood. “Hnn, Cooper,” you gasp.

He murmurs your name through languid flicks of his tongue and sharp little nips of skin that leave your mouth tender and swollen. When he pulls away to survey his handiwork, his eyes are dark. Fathomless.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to kiss you like this," he says, wicking his thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip. "You taste as good as I imagined."

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you plead, “No more teasing - I can't take it.”

"Well," he grunts, fingers twisting up in your dress, “If that’s how you feel, then you better put those hips to good use and work for it, sweetheart."

part 2 dropping soon

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #the ghoul smut

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dollgxtz · 2 months

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Ok a fic where reader and sylus are at a business meeting, she “offers” herself as payment (maybe as a joke or just to rile sylus idk) and he makes sure to remind her who she belongs to? Please???

Kindred Spirits

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, possessiveness, ownership, spanking, hitting, slight blood mention, pet names like kitten & sweetie, creampie, rough sex, crying, slight fluff at the end :3

AN: Anon ur a literal genius. This has Sylus written all over it. Im so happy to be back posting another story for you all! Also happy to announce my masterlist is now complete and can be found in my pinned! Ty all! Enjoy and remember, my asks are open for any character, Sylus is just my husband LOL. Remember to read my pinned before requesting please! This is a bit tamer than my other stories but trust I am cooking up some deviant content as soon as I publish this one :33

“Finally…”

You nearly collapse near your front door. A whole week of your life. Gone. To what you ask? Dealing with wanderers on a special aid mission. Sure sure, the job paid well but it had been weeks since your last off day. Every time it seemed like one was around the corner here they go with some emergency call and a spill about how some rich politician needed help or something.

You were starting to get tired of cleaning up other people’s mistakes.

You fumbled with your keys, fingers numb from the biting cold. The wind whipped around you, making you shiver as you tried to fit the right key into the lock. Your breath came out in visible puffs, and you could feel the frustration building with each failed attempt. Finally, with a relieved sigh, you heard the click of the lock turning.

The still warm air is such a welcoming contrast to the wind and biting cold outside. You quickly shut your door and melt to the floor, your feet aching with relief as the pressure you had been putting on them subsided. Peace at last. Time for a hot shower an-

Your peace was cut short with the distinct tone of your phone ringing. And not just any ring tone. The one you had set specifically for a certain white haired man that only ever brought trouble. Wondering if you should even pick up, you bring the phone to your face, knowing that you were going to answer regardless.

“Sylus…I’m really tired. Can we talk lat-"

“Long time no see kitten. You should stop by for a bit, hm?”

You roll your eyes, suppressing the urge to scoff out loud. Arrogant prick, you think, irritated by his inability to let you finish a sentence without interrupting. How did he even know you were home now?

You sigh deeply, feeling the tension building, and rub your temples to alleviate the mounting frustration. No, you tell yourself firmly. You wouldn’t put up with this today. Maybe another day, but definitely not today.

"Actually, no. I just returned from a week-long aid mission. Not today," you say firmly, aiming to be clear and resolute in your decision to stay put. Sylus however, seems to sense the cracks in your resolve and only responds with a chuckle.

“I want to see you. I’ll have Luke and Kieran come get you since you’re so tired”.

“Hu-”

“See you soon. They’re en route. Ciao”

The phone clicks, signaling the end of the call. For whatever reason, your ever growing frustration simply dissipates, defeat taking its place. You should be used to this by now. Sylus always gets what he wants. And you always let him. It goes without saying that it’s the same way for you as well. At least, Sylus always gives you what you want if it doesn’t interfere with his need to lay his eyes on you at least once in awhile. He knew that you wouldn’t push this though. You both knew.

Deep down, you wanted to see him too.

You asked Luke and Kieran to wait outside for a bit while you took a brisk shower and freshened up. Those two had always been very patient and understanding. You felt bad “bossing” them around, and yet they always insisted that you could. Though Luke had admitted on one occasion that he never expected to be helping a girl find hair ties or carrying shopping bags while working for Onychinus.

The statement had made you laugh a bit. You finally finish dressing in some plain sweats and rush to the car. Luke and Kieran are waiting outside of a dark colored jeep. Not too flashy as to not draw attention, but it was still clearly very expensive.

“Actually miss, Boss wanted you to wear these” Luke says, holding out an expensive looking dress. Clearly designed by hand and tailored to your measurements. Kieran follows his lead, holding out a box containing a pair of earrings and a lavish looking necklace.

“Huh? What’s this for? A date?”

“Business. That’s all he said” Kieran chimed in. Although you couldn’t see their faces, you knew they had no reason to lie to you about this.

“Ah. Dragging me into more trouble. Got it”.

When the three of you finally arrived to the location, the sun had already set for the day. You darted your eyes back and forth, squinting above at the bright neon sign of the establishment.

“We’re not going to the N109 Zone? This is a nightclub…” you mutter, taken aback by the unfamiliar surroundings. When did this even get here? There were plenty of clubs in Linkon of course, but you never seemed to notice this one. Not that you knew much about the night life to begin with. People were lined up at the entrance, chatting, fixing makeup, or texting.

“Boss wants you here. He’s waiting inside. Enjoy your time miss” Luke said, amusement written all over his tone. He gets out of the passenger seat to open the door and lend you a hand. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to appear shaken up by the situation. Sylus was always full of surprises. This was no different, act confident.

At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. After getting almost immediate entrance into the club with just a simple nod from the guard, you enter. As you walk inside the club, Luke and Kieran not far behind you, you can tell this was no ordinary night club. Everyone here was dressed lavishly and sharp, clearly possessing power and ulterior motives. A few eyes lay on you as you walk in, and you feel your hands start to sweat.

Keep cool. This isn’t the first time you’ve been around high ranking individuals. This is probably some test he set up…right? Or some kind of joke to get a laugh?

Clenching your fists, your eyes dart and search for a tall figure with white hair, feeling more nervous by the second that you don’t see him. You’re about to turn around and ask one of the twins, but at last your gaze settles on him, sipping on a glass of Gin Fizz. He’s sitting in a velvety booth by himself, people watching. He’s wearing his black button up with red streaks across it, coat hanging on his shoulders per usual. As if he felt you staring, his eyes shift to meet yours. He sets down his glass, giving you you a small smirk. His eyes narrow, sending a very clear message.

Come here.

As if you were suddenly possessed, your feet seem to start moving on their own. You weren’t sure if you were relieved to see him or if it was just the relief of seeing a familiar face in an unfamiliar place. You take a few deep breaths as you approach, readying your witful replies to any of his attempts to make fun of you. Without making any sound or looking at him, you quietly slide in next to him.

“You look nice. Seems I was right about this look on you” Sylus says, taking another sip of his drink. His eyes wander up and down behind the glass, seemingly devouring you. You squirm under his gaze.

“Hm. Thanks. This gift is the least you can do after dragging me to do whatever you want on a whim once again” you scoff, eyeing the full glass that sits on the table. It’s another glass of Gin Fizz, probably for Sylus. There’s three other very empty glasses on the table.

This man can definitely hold his alcohol.

He chuckles, taking a finger and pushing the glass of Gin closer to you.

“Don’t be like that sweetie. Loosen up a bit, you’ll need it”

“For what exactly? Business?” you mock, picking up the Gin. You didn’t exactly like the taste of this particular alcohol of choice but Sylus was right about one thing. Some liquid courage was definitely needed for whatever shenanigans he was dragging you into tonight.

“Yeah. Figured I could use Linkon’s darling Miss Hunter as backup” Sylus chuckles, watching you nearly choke as you take three big gulps of the drink. You squeeze your eyes in disgust as you finish the rest of the glass, shooting a death glare in his direction as you set it down.

“You’re perfectly capable. Don’t mock me Sylus”. You grit your teeth in irritation, almost ready to rip him to shreds with your words. Clearly your tone has no effect on him though, as all you get in return is a soft smile. Sylus places a hand on your upper leg, slowing sliding his fingers under your dress. You gasp, the coldness of his fingers making you twitch a bit. The warmness of your skin mixed with his cold touch makes the sensation feel like icy fire.

“Or what? You’ll use this on me?” he smirks, tugging on the concealed gun strapped under your dress. “I’m all for it honestly”

You slap his hand away, the woozy feeling from the Gin Fizz starting to kick in. What was in this drink? It was strong. Too strong.

“Pervert. Always touching me, making fun of me. Maybe I will shoot you. Again.” you growl, turning your head away from him. You attempt to scoot away as well, but are met with a strong grip around your waist as you’re pulled into closer proximity with him. Sylus grabs your chin and lifts it towards his face. He leans down a bit, the smell of alcohol and his bourbon vanilla cologne making you feel even more dizzy.

“You can put your claws away now kitten. Don’t make me have to melt your little tantrum away” he coos, gently caressing your face with his thumb.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, desperately searching your sluggish brain for a comeback but finding yourself too flustered to form any words. The look in Sylus’s eyes shifts from a smug expression to a much softer, almost tender gaze, and you wonder what his next move will be. Your face starts to burn as you feel heat rising in your core, your heart pounding in your chest. Panic sets in as you consider the possibilities, your mind racing with the fear of what might come next.

Don’t tell me he’s going to…?!

"You're so...confusing" you mutter.

You’re just about to try and squirm from his grip, when Luke and Kieran tap on the table, catching yalls attention.

“Boss man, Val says he’s ready for ya” Luke says, nonchalantly ignoring the scene that’s displayed in front of him. Sylus releases your face, his face going serious again. He gets up, reaching out a hand to help you out of the booth.

“Time for business, sweetie”

You’re guided by the twins and Sylus past the sweaty bodies on the dance floor to a somewhat hidden room located downstairs. The area the stairs led to was blocked off by a singular rope, clearly only meant for a select crowd.

In the room there’s a long black table, cards and chips all over it. There’s a few prominent figures already seated, along with a few bodyguards standing near the door. Sylus pulls a seat out for you, before taking his own. You study the figure that’s sitting at the head of the table as you sit. He’s short, a bit chubby, dark hair, smoking a cigar. A scar sits angrily on his forehead and you wonder what kinda grudges led to such an injury. He notices you looking at him, and gives you a devilish grin. Some of his teeth are crooked or missing.

All that money and he can't fix his smile?

You shudder. Sylus looks over at you, and back to the man at the head of the table. He’s reading you, clearly sensing your nervousness. He says nothing, simply reaching a hand over to rest on your thigh.

“Was starting to think you were going to keep me waiting Sylus. Seems you didn’t run after all” he laughs, wheezing a bit as he takes another puff of his cigar. You wrinkle your nose a bit as the potent smell hits your senses.

“I couldn’t turn down a game of cards with my dear old friend” Sylus says, irritation coating the last word. “Let’s keep things civil this time, hm Valentino?”

Valentino bursts into laughter, clearly amused. Despite his laughter, you couldn’t ignore the murderous tension in the air. Something tells you this isn’t any regular game of cards. You gulp, trying to force yourself to look at everyone at the table and smile.

“Well hello little lady. Sylus, you didn’t tell me you kept such gorgeous company…” Val says, his eyes snaking all over your body. You feel Sylus squeeze your thigh, clearly irritated. He pulls out a coin from his coat pocket, seemingly trying to channel his frustrations into something else.

“You know I’m not really the type to share, Val. She’s all mine. Down to every single strand of hair”. Sylus ends, catching the coin and shooting a glare in the man’s direction. It was plain, but conveyed a message very well.

You feel your palms start to sweat. Was he being serious right now?? You side eye him, trying to piece out whether or not this was some kind of facade you’re supposed to play into. Valentino clearly takes Sylus’s words as a challenge.

“I’ll give you twenty million for her. Maybe fifty million if you make her give us a little strip show. What do ya say? She looks so soft. Probably makes cute noises too…~” he chuckles, likely enjoying the look of surprise that washes across your face.

Sylus remains quiet, his face unmoving, frozen in a pissed glare. You don’t know if it was the alcohol you drank earlier, or if it was some inkling of an attempt to dissipate the tension, but you clear your throat and begin to speak.

“Well Sylus? You can share can’t you? It’s quite the generous offer Mr. Valentino. I’m quite flattered actually.” you express, putting on your best smug look. Sylus stiffens, a somewhat shocked expression washing over him. Valentino erupts into yet another fit of laughter, seemingly unable to contain himself. Turning to look back at Sylus, you see it in his face briefly. An uncaged look of rage before it quickly dissipates.

Shit. Shouldn’t have said that.

Far too late to stop now though.

“You heard the lady Sylus. Why don’t you try sharing just this once? What I would give to taste that sweet little body of he-”

Sylus slams a revolver on the table, then calmly starts picking up cards from the deck.

"I'd suggest you stop talking and start playing the game, Mr. Valentino," Sylus snarls, his words dripping with venom. The fury in his voice is palpable, and it's clear he's reached the end of his patience.

You give Val a sly look, feigning pity. “Ah, sorry Valentino. Seems this one can’t quite let me go yet”. You don’t know what you were trying to achieve, but it’s certainly not working to dissipate any tension. Val doesn’t respond to you though, all his focus on Sylus now.

“My dear friend. You should know me by now. There’s something I’m much more interested in now than some money. Now I want the girl, or nothing”.

Valentino wears a shit eating grin on his face, soaking in the fact that he thinks he’s gained some control of the situation, unaffected by the gun on the table. Sylus simply sighs, rubbing his fingers against the temple of his forehead.

“I see where this is going then”.

You barely process what’s happening before everything and everyone starts moving. As soon as Sylus begins to stand, Valentinos guards start shooting. Sylus wastes no time flipping the large table, sending the cards and game chips flying everywhere. You yelp as he yanks you towards him using his body and the table to shield the oncoming attack of bullets. You hear Luke and Kieran joining in the frenzy, yelling obscenities as they begin shooting their own hidden weapons.

You swiftly reach for the weapon concealed beneath your dress, your fingers brushing against the cool metal as you draw it out. Turning to face Sylus, you ready yourself for his instructions, your body tense with anticipation. Instead of giving you orders, he locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing through you with an intensity that feels like it's reaching into your very soul. The silence is heavy, charged with unspoken tension as bullets whip past the both of you, and you can feel your heartbeat quicken in response.

“I need you alive for what’s coming sweetie. Pay attention, stay close”

You blink. Twice. Unable to process his words before he yanks you both up, one hand using his evol to send the table crashing into several bodyguards. The four of you fight your way through the onslaught of people coming into the door, before eventually dashing up the stairs. People are running in all directions, seemingly caught up in the chaos of everything. You all manage to make it out the door and into the brisk cold air, the twins quickly hopping into the car to whisk you away.

“Go on, I’ll catch up soon” Sylus states, hurriedly pushing you into the car and slamming the door before you could protest. He signals Kieran to drive off, and that he does.

“He’s…going to level the building. Isn’t he?” you sigh, sighing at the fact that Sylus seemed to conveniently forget that this was in fact not the lawless land of the N109 Zone. No doubt the Hunter’s Association would have to investigate for potential wanderer activity, and that would be a lot of paperwork.

"It's fine. He owned that place anyway. He'll just build another," Luke says, his voice calm and unbothered. Just as the words leave his mouth, a deafening boom erupts behind the car, shaking the ground beneath yall. The explosion's shockwave rattles the windows, and the sky lights up with a fiery glow, cutting off Luke's next sentence mid-breath.

You groan.

The twins did drive you to the N109 this time, swiftly helping you out the car and into Sylus’s private villa. When you entered the front door, a nightgown and lacy underwear were laid neatly out for you in his room, your arrival clearly anticipated.

It wasn’t more than an hour before Sylus waltzed in the front door, eyeing your slouching figure on the couch. You sit up as soon as you see him, still somewhat annoyed.

“What took you so damn long? Also do you have to level every building you come across?” you spat, glaring at him. He says nothing though, walking straight past you and into his room.

“Huh? Sylus?? What the hell…”

Not liking the feeling of being ignored, you hurriedly chased after him. You had never really been uncomfortable barging into his room. You had done it plenty of times at this point, the first time being when he had challenged you to steal the brooch from him. No point in being shy now. He’s fumbling with something in his drawer when you reach up to tap his shoulder.

“Sylus! Don’t ignore me, I know you ca-”

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist before you can touch him. His gaze is unreadable, cold even. You start to sweat, trying to take your arm back. But he only squeezes tighter.

"I was hoping you'd leave me be so I could calm down. But of course you're as petulant as ever" he says.

"Let go! What's wrong with you!?" You attempt to remove his hand from your wrist but he doesn't budge.

“Go to the bed. Place your hands on it” he says, face unchanging.

“Huh??”

“I don’t like to repeat myself”.

You freeze for only a moment before quickly moving to the bed. You meticulously put your hands where instructed, something deep in your core telling you that it’s likely best to listen for now. However, you can’t help to look over your should to quip at Sylus. You’re slightly bent at an angle, trying your best to keep your balance.

“What’s this about? I’m not that upset that you reduced the building to rubble”

Sylus snakes his way behind you, quietly, as if thinking of what to say. He reaches out a hand, grabbing the ends of your nightgown and moving the soft fabric around in his fingers. You feel the heat rise to your face, the skin of your ass feeling a slight gush of cold air.

“You like playing games with me, don’t you? Testing me” he says coldly, fingers trailing up the back of your legs slowly. You shiver, attempting to squirm away. His evol appears around you, its tight grip making you cry out.

Oh. This was about that.

“Huh?? No, I was just playing along. Just friendly banter yknow?” you say, voice wavering. You’ve clearly pissed him off. A part of you knows it’s a slight lie. You didn’t want to admit it out loud but it was kind of amusing to see Sylus get so riled up over something. Over you especially. But you hadn’t exactly done it fully on purpose. It was the alcohol.

But you knew he wasn’t buying it, as observant as he was.

“Sure. You were just pretending to act like a stray kitten trying to find a new owner?” he smirks, his fingers beginning to trace circles over the cloth of your panties. You let out a small whine, his touch just barely grazing your already wet cunt.

“Owner? I don’t belong to you. Or anyone” you scoff, the resolve in your voice wavering with every little circle he completes on your skin. You almost whine in disappointment when he pulls away.

“And yet…” Sylus trails off, leaving you with aching curiosity before you’re met with stinging pain on your ass. You cry out, unable to move with his evol still snaked around you. “You did exactly what I told you to do just now, wear the clothes I leave out for you, and practically melt everytime I even barely touch you”.

“Sylus?! What the hell was that…?!” you exclaim, trying your hardest to process his words and the situation at hand. He doesn’t respond, proceeding to gently caress the spot where he smacked you. The stinging pain gently eases away, and you feel yourself relaxing with his touch once again. He once again trails his fingers down to your clothed pussy, rubbing slow and meticulous circles around it. You start to whine, attempting to push yourself into his fingers for more friction. He pulls his hand away, making a disapproving sigh.

“Acting like you’re in heat per usual” he chuckles, watching as you wiggle around under the grip of his evol. “This is a punishment”.

“For what? Cause I let some sick and ugly looking crime boss think he had a chance with me?”

Sylus wastes no time bringing his hand to your ass again, earning another painful whine out of you. You feel tears forming in your eyes that you can’t wipe away. He’s certainly not holding back his strength, and yet you know this isn’t even a third of the force he could use on you.

“For entertaining him” he says plainly.

Another smack.

“Another for stupidly handing over your life, body and soul for a measly twenty million”

An even harder hit, this one fueled by rage.

“And lastly…”

You nearly choke as he delivers the final blow, your ass definitely bruising by now. Sylus offers no comfort this time, instead leaning down next to your crying face, breath hot against your ear.

“For forgetting that you belong to me, just as much as I belong to you. Kindred spirits remember?”

You have no chance to respond before he’s flipping you on your back, your nightgown flying up to reveal your wet panties.

“I-im sorry, Sy” you choke, tears blurring your vision.

“Show me then, sweetie. Spread your legs. Wide” he instructs, reaching up to brush your tears away. This isn’t done lovingly, more like calculated and cold.

This is far from over.

You silently but shakingly open your legs, your ass still painfully aching from his assault. You’re surprised when he doesn’t rip your underwear in two, choosing to rather peel them off your legs slowly. You notice the hunger in his eyes as he does so, as if savoring the view of your cunt at his fingertips. A small drop of arousal pools down your ass, and Sylus scoops it up with one finger.

You watch as he puts his finger in his mouth, savoring the drop of you with swiftness. His piercing gaze never leaves yours though, and you want to suddenly run away and hide. This is beyond thrilling, but you try your best to remain as still as possible, scared that he’ll think you’re enjoying it too much and punish you accordingly.

You suddenly can’t take the tension anymore, and close your eyes. You hear the sound of Sylus removing his belt from its loops, then the loud clang as it hits the floor. You feel the bed shift as he lowers himself over you, his face stopping just inches over yours, indicated by the sudden feel and warmth of his breath. He grabs your face in his hand and squeezes your jaw. Hard.

“Look at me kitten” he commands, his tone filled with unkempt rage and anger. Your eyes fly open, terrified.

“I’m the only one that will ever taste you. Repeat it” he says. Before you can get a word out, he’s pushing the fat tip of his cock in your entrance. You cry out in agony, nowhere near ready to have been penetrated. But he doesn’t stop filling you.

“Repeat it. Or I’ll hit you again. Do you want that?”

“You’re t-the…ah!” you whine, his cock halfway inside you at this point. Your poor cunt feels like it’s being impaled, splitting pain soaring through your core.

“Try again”

You let out a whimper, trying your best to push through the pain and put thoughts into words.

“You’re the oh-only one that gets to taste me” you choke out, voice wavering and your eyes teary. Sylus gives a hard thrust, pushing the rest of his length inside you. You cry out again, feeling like you’re on the verge of passing out. Sylus seems unmoved by your outbursts though.

“And?”

You stare at him, barely able to see his face through the tears. What? What does he mean and? He didn’t say anything else did he?

“Hu-what?”

You hear him sigh with disapproval, giving you yet another hard thrust. And another. And another. You’re clinging onto his back now, nails digging into his skin as the sound of the bed creaking and your pants fill the room. Blood has probably been drawn on his back, not that he’d even notice. You can hear him grunting in your ear, clearly enjoying the feeling of you tightening around him when you tense from the pain. Although it still hurts, you can feel yourself accumulating to the shape and size of his length, and the pain lessons a bit more with each thrust. He stops once again, tilting your face in his grip.

“What did I say you forgot? Or is this kitten filled with too much cock to think straight now?” he mocks. You can hear the smile on his face despite not being able to see him clearly. Heat creeps up on your cheeks as you wrack your brain for answers.

“I-you…we’re kindred spirits?”

“Before that sweetie”

You blink the tears on your face away, your vision becoming a bit more clear. Although he’s still gazing down at you, his expression is not as angry as before. Seems he’s gotten a bit of his pent up anger out now.

“I belong to you, Sylus” you say, voice small and whiny from crying. That’s definitely what he wanted to hear, as he began to pepper kisses on your neck, on your cheek, and eventually resting on your lips. You greedily return his affection, leaning into this feverish kiss, the both of you only periodically stopping to pant for air between kisses. He stops, resting his forehead with yours, gazing into your eyes once more.

“And I belong to you. What’s mine is yours. All of it”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s thrusting again, this time with a continuous and steady pace. You cling onto him, the exchange of flowery words and rigorous thrusting already bringing you on the verge of ecstasy. Sylus already noticed long before you did though, as he brought his hand between the two of you, circling your clit further your stimulation.

“Go ahead, come undone for me” he whispers, voice strained for nearly being at his end too. Your body obeys, unraveling and writhing with pleasure as Sylus continues to pound into you. You ride your orgasm to its end, till the touching of your clit becomes too much and you whine from overstimulation.

“Sylus…!” you moan, and he stops, already at the start of his own climax. You shudder as you feel him spill into you, his seed immediately beginning to pool down your cunt and to your ass. He pulls his heavy cock out of you, a feeling of emptiness taking its place. For a moment nothing is said, just the sound of the both of you catching your breath.

You decide to break the silence.

“Sylus…I’m really sorry” you start, looking up at him. He simply chuckles, placing a kiss on your cheek before getting up to grab a rag from the bathroom.

“You’ve taken your punishment quite well, why are you apologizing again sweetie?” he says from the bathroom, coming back to wipe you clean. You scoff, slightly tensing from the coldness of the cloth.

“Hmph. Fine, I take it back then. I’m holding a grudge anyways for how hard you hit me”

He simply sighs as he finishes wiping you up. “Back with the infamous wit already? Can’t a man catch a break?”

You sit up, feeling emboldened once more.

“Nope. Maybe don’t hit me with the strength of a thousand suns next time and we’ll see”

Sylus tosses the rag in a laundry basket, making his way back to your side. He pulls you into his arms, embracing you in his warmth. You can’t help but smile against his chest.

“Well, good thing I have all night to make it up to you”

You lightly pinch his side, giggling into his embrace. A question crosses your mind.

"Did you mean it Sylus? We belong to each other?"

Sylus took your face in his hand, giving you a slight smile.

"I don't say stuff I don't mean. You know this"

That's the furthest he was willing to explain it. At least for now. Who knows what kind of power trip would ensue if you truly knew how much you had the big bad leader of Onychinus wrapped around your finger.

#umi writes ♡︎#sylus x reader #love and deepspace #sylus #sylus x reader smut #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds smut #lads #lads smut #lads fic #lads scenarios #l&ds sylus #l&ds #love and deep space x reader #l&ds x reader #sylus x reader fic #love and deep space smut #lads sylus

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luveline · 3 months

Note

helloooo, how are you? i’ve been rewatching criminal minds and i finally got to the post-prison part, so i’m really missing shy!r and post prison spencer <33 if you’re felling up to writing something for them again, i would love to see it!! maybe when they kiss for the first time or something else (completely up to you, i would love anything that you write hahah) but if you’re not really feeling it at the moment, please don’t worry about it, it’s so understandable 🩷 have the best day!!

ty for your request I love first kisses <3

Spencer takes you for a walk and explains a couple of courting rituals. shy fem!reader, 1.5k

Profiling is still very hard, but seven months into your new job at the BAU, you’ve become proficient in Spencer Reid. You can tell when he’s eager to work, when he’s down about something, when he’s feeling good. He holds himself differently on his good days, he takes care to coil his hair and wears a clean pair of shoes.

In the bullpen, he’s sitting at his desk beside yours, craned over a desk covered in loose papers, books, and files. You attempt to hide your approach, lest he startle.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Good morning.” Can’t hide anything. He’s been an agent for ninety percent of his adult life. “What are you doing?”

“Just reading.”

You sit at your desk, clearing a space for your bag among your own mess of files and books. Your monitor turns on with a nudge of the mouse. Your screen is filled swiftly by notifications and Outlook, then the FBI messaging system, and then the ‘filing cabinet’ Garcia built to help you understand the insanity that is the BAU online system. It submerges you every morning regardless.

“What are you reading about?” you ask. Your emails can’t wait, but you don’t want to read them, so you won’t for another ten minutes.

He stumbles over a breath.

“Spencer?”

“It’s courtship rituals.”

You regret asking. Whenever you and Spencer talk about feelings, or love, or romance, you end up hot as a kettle on a stovetop, steam billowing from your ears. You choked on a mouthful of lukewarm tea a few days ago when he’d mentioned America's developing hook-up culture.

He doesn’t tell you any more, which is unlike him. Spencer Reid loves to talk, or loves to share what he’s learned. You looked it up —it’s called info-dumping, and it’s usually because the person telling you is so deeply fascinated by the topic they’re investigating that they can’t contain it. It’s a common symptom of ADHD, or autism, or both. Spencer’s done it since the day you met, which is nice. You feel like he trusts you.

And so you’re wondering now if you’ve done something to make him think he can’t do it today. Or maybe he’s not feeling well.

You prop your face in his hand and watch him.

He doesn’t look upset, only focused.

You hate quiet. You love not talking, but gaps of silence have you overthinking things. Maybe he’s mad. Maybe you’ve finally pissed him off.

It’s scary because he’s amazingly kind. Overwhelmingly nice. He’s lovely and good looking but it’s his heart that shocks you every time, how he’s looked after you, defended you.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you ask.

He blinks to attention. “What?”

“You’re not talking.”

He grins. “I’m thinking.”

His smile when he looks like he’s about to laugh is everything.

“Don’t think too much,” you say as you play with a button on your coat. “Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

“Don’t think too much because you think about things you don’t need to,” he amends. “You worry about everything.”

“Well, so do you.”

“Exactly. I’ll worry enough for you, too.” Spencer gives you a smile you don’t understand. “Will you come to the archive with me? I want to talk to you about something.”

“Spencer…” He just acknowledged that you worry about everything.

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Something with no pressure. I’ll explain it as we walk.”

You shed your coat and walk together out of the BAU offices down a long hallway. You take the elevator down to the ground level, spring air in the hallways, early morning sunshine lapping at your shoes where it’s settled golden against the marble floor. Spencer professes that it’s nothing to worry about again, but he doesn’t elaborate, and your heart begins to pulse too quickly.

You can’t look at him.

“I’ve been reading about these courtship rituals and… looking at which ones are the best. There are thousands of them, but contemporary courting isn’t easy. It confuses me. With my last, my only girlfriend, we wrote each other letters. But I wanted this time to be different, because– because love is different?” He grimaces.

“Love is different,” you agree. You’re not sure who he means, your chest panging in two different beats. Is he… talking about you? “It’s different every time.”

“I was looking for the more subtle rituals. I kept thinking I’d find the right one, and that I’d know it when I saw it, but I can’t find anything suitable and I might need your help. Um, if you even want to help me.”

“Of course I do.”

Spencer slows just outside of the archive’s door. “Everything I read about feels like it would just embarrass you. I picture buying you flowers and I feel like you’d just– just explode.” He says it with affection and apology alike. “I wrote you a poem. Emily told me not to give it to you, though.”

“You wrote me a poem?”

“I made you a love spoon, too, but I can’t whittle, and it looks terrible. I even cut my hand, and if you rejected me you’d have to give the spoon back and I think that would make it worse.”

You turn completely still. The last thing you expected that morning was for Spencer to confess. And he is confessing, a small smile on his face, patience, nervousness, close enough to feel the heat of him beside you. You short circuit in an attempt to compute the magnitude of it; Spencer wants to court you, and you can’t handle it.

Your exhale shudders out of you. Goosebumps attack your arms.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, “are you okay?”

“Spencer, I don’t think you could ever find a way to tell me that wouldn’t make me feel like this.”

“How do you feel?”

“How am I supposed to feel?”

Spencer’s smile fades a touch. “I don’t know. You can feel how you want to feel, it isn’t up to me. But I have feelings for you. I thought you knew.”

It’s like knowing that the lottery numbers were chosen specifically to match your ticket. The thing he’s talking about doesn’t make sense.

“Are you kidding around?” you ask.

“What? No.” He holds your wrist gently. “Of course not.”

You swallow a lump and try not to overreact, though you’re already doing that. This is a good thing, it is, but he’s him and you’re you and every time he touches you it’s like fireworks are bursting warm and tingly over your skin. You smile at his chest, cheeks dimpling from how wide it stretches.

“You don’t have to court me, um. Not in any way like that. I’m just like every other girl, you know? I like flowers. I,” —your cheek lists down toward your shoulder bashfully— “probably would feel a little embarrassed, but I like flowers. I can get you flowers.”

Spencer really laughs. “You want to get me flowers?”

“Maybe?”

He laughs again. His eyes lock onto you and his open hand closes on the opposite arm, putting you face to face. “It was my idea,” he says, playfully argumentative.

“Okay.”

“You want to hear the poem?” he asks, quietening again.

You nod slowly. “N’I wanna see the spoon.”

“Can I please kiss you?” He takes a breath, like he’s been running. “I know this isn’t the right place, but I didn’t expect to want it this badly.”

“I don’t think there’s a wrong place…”

“So I can?” he asks, lifting a hand to your cheek, to hold you with care.

You nod into his approach, find yourself kissed and held tightly in a split-second of warmth and warm smells. His nose touches yours in a kiss of their own, his lips part lightly before pressing in again. Two kisses lend to a third, but then he pulls away to look at you. As quickly as it started, it’s over.

“You're overheating already,” he says, thumb rubbing a sweet path under your cheek.

You don’t know what to say. He ducks his head just that little bit to make sure you’re okay. Understanding flows between you both. His hand falls behind your back to pull you in for a hug.

“I’ve never been the confident one in any of my relationships,” he admits.

“I usually am.”

Your deadpan lights him up. His hug turns strong armed, and he walks you back, giggling, arms a comforting vice around you. “You can be the shy one this time,” he says, seemingly unaware of how his using the word ‘relationship’ has thrown you for another loop.

You’re hot as a furnace all morning. Spencer makes excuses for you, but Emily’s amazing at her job.

“Jesus, Spence, you didn’t read her the poem? I told you it was too much.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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luludeluluramblings · 3 months

Text

Smalltown! Neglected! Meta! Reader x Yandere! Batfam

Part One

Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven

A/N: I’ve been hyper fixated on Batfam and DC in general for the past two months, and this is what my brain has been cooking. This is based on an fem!OC I made, but I converted it to GN!Reader. Or attempted to. Might write an official one with the oc. I don’t know. I’m new at this stuff and doing this on mobile to boot.

Warning(s): Yandere themes, Obsessive behavior

Reader grows up happy, healthy, a safe away from Gotham

Momma and Daddy (step-father) adore their darling reader

Daddy is kind and understanding; gives good advice, encourages reader, comforts reader after nasty break ups

Momma is sassy and a bit possessive of her baby reader

Momma never tells reader anything about their biological father (He was a big city playboy that missed the court date for custody is all she said)

Reader has a much younger half-brother from Momma and Daddy, who reader also adores

Little Brother’s are annoying, but you have so many interest in common

Suddenly Momma and Daddy are dead; (tragic accident or murdered)

Reader’s Bio Father, Bruce Wayne is called and flies into town via Private Jet and whisk you off to Gotham

Bruce can’t get custody over half-brother due to Reader’s step-grandparents fighting him.

(They tried to keep Reader too, but blood is thicker than water in the eyes of the court. And, Bruce has enough money to make that water run dry)

Bruce isn’t exactly like Momma described, he’s distant and a bit cold with reader. (Like he doesn’t know what to do.)

Bruce gets upset when Reader talks about missing Momma and Daddy, especially when Reader talks about Daddy.

Bruce doesn’t introduce Reader to the family right away.

Reader doesn’t see anyone, but Bruce and Alfred for the first week at the manor.

Bruce avoids reader, but gets upset when Reader ignores him

Reader starts researching their new family. Everything they can find in the media, even the company.

(Family Buisness funds the Justice League? Gotham gains a new Vigilante almost every time Bruce gains a new kid? Jason Todd’s death and reappearance. Suspicious…)

Reader finally meets the others.

First up Cassandra.

Quite, but watches reader like she knows all of reader’s secrets. (That’s terrifying.)

Reader’s instincts scream that she’s dangerous (Reader trusts those instincts.)

Reader is still nice, they get along. Cass rather be alone, but it’s cool. They’re cool.

Second up is Duke.

Duke is great. Official bro. Passes all the vibe checks. (Most normal one in this house.)

Reader’s meta abilities go haywire around him, so Reader needs to be careful. (Reader’s not sharing that secret yet. Not till they share what Reader suspects is their secret)

Third, Dick and Barbara.

Dick is a whirlwind, coddling and pitying, treating reader like a sweet helpless child then leaving. (He’s a busy popular man)

Barbara is polite, but a stranger.

Reader tries to be friendly, but can’t get past the stranger stage.

Fourth Stephanie.

Stephanie politely ignores reader, but reader genuinely wants to hang out. (Similar interest, close in age. Please, can we be friends? ……….)

Reader says they’ll keep trying (It happens… eventually….)

Fifth, Tim.

Tim just brushes Reader off with a blank look and disappears.

Reader can never find Tim. (Always in the cave, at work, on patrol. He’s a busy busy busy sleepy man that avoids even the mention of Reader)

(Stephanie hangs out with Tim though, but they still ignore reader. It’s fine. Reader is fine. It doesn’t hurt.)

Sixth is Jason.

Jason is mean.

Calls reader spoiled, says reader a an ignorant privileged princess, Daddy’s pet, a brat, etc.

But, then leaves when reader starts to snap back.

(He looks like he’s struggling not to strangle reader almost every time reader sees him.)

Seventh is the youngest and reader’s half brother.

Reader is excited to meet him, reader already has a younger half-brother. Having two sounds even better!

Damian is cruel

It breaks reader’s heart.

Damian either ignores reader, or mocks reader viscously. He’ll push and shove and throw things at reader. (Won’t draw a weaponed though, he’s past that.)

He brushes off all of Reader’s attempts at sibling bonding.

All this goes on for a few months.

Reader tries so hard to get close to everyone, but they’re either avoid her, ignore her, are cruel, or they just don’t have the time.

Reader’s life in Gotham is… different.

Reader’s a commodity, and, surprisingly enough, most people like Reader

School Friendships form, which reader worries are because they’re a Wayne child

(Which is true, but not in the way Reader thinks; hint: it involves other types of night avians)

Teacher’s appreciate a humble Wayne (Damian goes to the same school, Reader is a relief to teach)

Reader is quite talented, not a prodigy, not extraordinary. Just extremely approachable.

But, like all good things there is a downside.

Reader wants to spend time with their new friends.

They’re invited to Galas, lunches, brunches, vacations, shopping, etc.

And Reader WANTS to go

But, Bruce won’t let them

It’s not safe

(Which Reader understands, that’s why they never really explore Gotham, but still brunch couldn’t hurt, right?)

So Reader has no one to lean on or connect with. It’s isolating.

Instead Reader spends hours talking on the phone to their old friends and family back in their small town.

There’s a silver lining though: Things are going to get better before they get worse

So much worse

1K notes · View notes

imaginaryf1shots · 4 months

Text

Forced | Carlos Sainz Ver.

WC: 19K

Carlos x reader

Summery: When your fathers make a pact before you're born to marry their children, you and Carlos have to see it through.

Warning: cursing, forced marriage, bad parents, asshole-y Lando, cursing? misogyny, some other things I can't remember

A.N: There's a difference between arranged marriage and forced marriage. This is forced marriage ✌️

Masterlist

Carlos Masterlist

Charles vr.

Carlos remembers the moment he found out very well. He was 11 years old. Back from holiday with the y/l/n’s. It was a fun summer, he had so much fun. He didn’t have any karting completions, and he loved spending time and playing with you. You’re just 4 years old, and even though you're just a toddler, a baby in his eyes, Carlos loved playing with you. He’s always been gentle and loves kids. He doesn’t remember a time when you weren't there.

His mum and dad sat him down a day after they came back to Spain and told him the truth.

“It’s good that you get on well with y/n.” His mum said, confusing him.

”Why?” He knows they got on well, and it makes the family get together less chaotic, but why was it so good that his mum had to comment on it.

“Carlos you’re growing older now, and we feel like it’s time for you to know that…” His mum trailed off suddenly feeling nervous, she looked at his dad, he took her hand in his and gave her a squeeze.

”y/n’s father and I are old friends, and we made an agreement years ago, and we decided that one of my children will marry one of his when they’re both old enough.” Carlos Sr watchers as his son tries to understand what’s being told to him right now. The young boy is shocked. He can’t comprehend what he’s being told. “With her mum being so sick during the pregnancy and how rough the birth was, they’re not having any more children so that leaves you and y/n, you’ll be married once she’s 21.”

”W-what! but-but she’s just a baby!” Carlos is outraged. He feels like his whole life just took a turn. He wonders if it’ll affect his karting or his future plans, all his dreams not taken into consideration.

“Amor, she won’t be a baby forever, she’ll grow older and so will you, look don’t overthink it, there's still 17 years before something happens, but we just wanted you to know.”

And so Carlos knew, he knew for years. Every time he saw you, that was all he could think about. Carlos went through all the stages, he hated it, he hated his parents and yours, and he hated you. He hated how attacked you are to him. How you’d smile every time you saw him, oblivious, in your childhood innocence. You called his name so incessantly, and he hated it all. Then he began denying it, he ignored his parents, he ignored you, he ignored everything and everyone and just focused on racing. He then accepted it. He didn’t go to any function you were attending, but he accepted it he just didn’t want to see you before he’d be stuck with you forever. He never had any long-term relationships, his family always making it obvious that they didn’t approve and like his girlfriends. You were none the wiser. Your family didn’t tell you. They just left you to grow up as you liked, living your life with no looming marriage over you.

Carlos has no idea what you are like now, what your personality is like. He had no idea how you even looked. He’s made it his mission to ignore everything about you, to block you when you were old enough to be on social media. He’ll live his life as he wants before he can’t anymore.

And the moment he got the card, he knew it was over. The time is finally here. In his hands is the invitation to your 21st birthday party. Your family is holding a big celebration. And the driver had no obligations that day, he couldn’t get out of it. There’s no ignoring you anymore. There’s no toning out his parents when they talk about you.

You weren’t particularly excited for your birthday, your mum chose the dress when she saw that you wouldn’t. It’s not like you're ungrateful for the effort your parents put into it. But it's way bigger than it needed to be, and it's not like you had a lot of friends to invite. Almost everyone they invited you barely knew. Why they made a big deal out of it is a mystery for you. The party is even bigger than your 18th birthday.

The day of the party arrived, and a glam team was booked by your mother. Your make-up and hair were done to perfection. Your dress was made especially for you. It fit where it needed to and was loose where it needed. You had to admit that it looked good on you. You wouldn't have chosen it, but your mum made a choice that wasn’t half bad.

The party was in full swing when you made it to the venue. You blasted a fake smile when you walked in, and everyone shouted happy birthday and clapped and cheered for you. You greeted everyone just like your parents would've liked you to, but you had a champagne glass in your hand that you sipped on. The moment one was empty, you had another one in your hand.

Carlos was standing in the corner watching you. You've grown so much since he last saw you. He asks himself how nobody could tell how fake your smile is, or maybe they did, but they simply didn't care. He has a glass of some alcoholic beverage in hand that he sips on. He watches as a young female pushes her way through the crowd to reach you. Your smile instantly turns genuine as you hug her closer and longer than everyone else so far.

You manage to sneak away from the fake people with your best friend, and you both find a corner away from everyone. You're giggling with your friend as you people watch, clearly talking about the attendants. The party goes on for a long time.

"I'm so hungry." Lisa, your friend groans, and you give her a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah, well, apparently, the reason the party is earlier in the day is because we're having a family dinner later." You complain and throw your head back, dreading the dinner, you're both now walking around the room in a slow circle, people have calmed and are now talking in groups, the dance floor is filled with older couples slow dancing. Some even left. They were only here to be able to say they came anyways.

"Oh my god! Isn't that ja- oomph!" You exclaim as you hit someone, you stumble, but a pair of hands stops you from making a scene and a big fool of yourself. You look up and meet a gorgeous pair of brown eyes.

You tilt your head to the side, and Carlos has to admit that you've grown so beautiful. Seeing you this close, he couldn't deny it.

"Sorry." You say and frown. "Do I know you?"

"I don't know, do you?" Carlos asks with a cheeky smile. He watches your eyes go wide. The accent is so familiar. You heard it for years from his father.

"Carlos?" You ask, and he smiles. It's him. You haven't seen him in so many years, you remember him vaguely from your childhood. You also remember following him on social media and trying to get to know him before you were blocked on everything. You take a step back and straighten yourself. "What are you doing here?"

This again confirms to him that you don't know about the agreement you both were robbed into before you were even born. "I was invited.”

"Huh, and you actually came." You state and Lisa gives you a questioning look. She doesn't know who Carlos is, you shake your head, and she knows you'll tell her later.

"It's your 21st, after all." Carlos says, and you roll your eyes.

"Good on you to remember, you don't come on holidays anymore." You tell him, and he just smiles.

"I heard you don't go anymore." Carlos fires back, and you nod. You haven't been going the last couple of years always finding an excuse not to go.

"I don't feel like it anymore." You shrug. "How long are you here for?"

"A week before I have to go back to work." Carlos puts his hands in his pockets, and you can't help but admire the man.

"Oh right, you race." You remember what your mother has been telling you, weirdly she's been trying to get you to go and watch Carlos race for a few years now, but you've been refusing

"I'll catch up with you later." Lisa whispers in your ears, you watch her go, and smile when you see the guys she's been watching all day by the bar.

"Do you watch the races?" Carlos asked you, bringing your attention back to him.

"No, I've never watched Formula 1, I only watch when your dad is racing." You have watched Carlos Sr. race a few times with your family, and you have to admit that growing up, you've been close to him, and you liked cars because of him. Not racing, but just you loved admiring cars and driving them.

"I should feel jealous then." You stand in silence for a moment, both looking at each other. There's an intensity to the looks Carlos is sending you. You don't know why.

"Oh good, you two have met." Your mum says, walking over to the two of you, Carlos's mum, Reyes, they're both smiling wide at the two of you.

"I was just about to go look for Lisa." You say and turn to leave before your mum takes hold of your arm and gives you a strained smile.

"Actually, y/n, the party is coming to an end, and we're about to head for dinner." Your mum says, and you frown looking at the Sainzs.

"Wait, they're coming with us?" You asked surprised, this is the first you've heard of it. No one told you this before.

"Yes, so be nice and come on." Your mum's voice is low, so only you could hear her.

"Then Lisa can come."

"No, and we're not going to talk about it." Your mum is getting agitated as she's been with you lately.

"But that doesn't make sense. Why can they come but not Lisa? She's my friend!" You don't care that they heard you, this is your birthday and the least they could do is let you invite your friend.

"y/n, listen to what I say, stop fighting with everything I say." She's not happy with you, and you know the threats that are about to come. "If you don't listen to me, you can kiss your house goodbye, your cards and everything you have will be gone."

You glare at her and turn to leave, you came alone with a driver. You don't bother saying goodbye to the last of the attendants, you just stop for Lisa, tell her a summary of what happened with your mum telling her to enjoy her night with the guy she's talking to before you leave.

On the way to the restaurant, you spot a shop you know well, an idea hits you, you tell the driver to park and hop out, still in your floor length gown and everything. The shop attendant looks at you wide-eyed as you head to the rack where the dress you have in mind is, your mum will kill you for this, but you don't care at the moment. If she wouldn't let you bring your friend then you're going to dress how you like.

You pay for the dress before you head to the changing room. The dress you choose is a better fit for a club, not a high-end restaurant that has been rented out for the night. It's short, just long enough so you wouldn't flash anyone when you sit down, and the neckline is dangerously low. A stark contrast to what you'd usually wear but who cares.

From the hostess to the waiters, they all looked at you with wide eyes, and you had a smile on your face walking through the restaurant.

Carlos is bored out of his mind, sitting at the table with his family and yours. They're all very comfortable with each other from spending years together, and he feels a little like an outsider. He's polite and answers when he's asked a question, but he's not engaging. He wants to know when you'd be informed of your predicament, but he doesn't want to bring it to their attention if they somehow miraculously forgot about it. From his place at the table and with an empty seat next to him, Carlos was the first person to spot you, his jaw dropped, if you looked beautiful and elegant in the first dress, you look HOT in this one. The dress left little to the imagination. He cleared his throat and readjusted himself in his seat, not taking his eyes off you.

"y/n y/n! what are you wearing?" Your mum screeched, making all eyes snap to look at you, Carlos heard one of his sisters choke on her drink and had to control the smirk from appearing on his face. He had a feeling from the look you gave your mum when she refused your friend that you'd do something, but he didn't expect this.

"A dress, dear mother." You reply with a dry tone and sit down in the seat next to him, Carlos's eyes drop to your legs for a second before he looks up and away from you.

"Just let her be for now." Your dad mutters to your mum, and she sighs, slumping in her chair. Slowly, the talking began again. Ana, Carlos's younger sister, leans over to start talking to you. Between all of you, you're the closest to her. Maybe it's because she's closer in age to you.

Carlos hasn't said a word to you since you sat down. He had to clench his fists when you crossed your legs, the already short dress moving upwards. "So y/n what F1 race do you want to go to, Carlos, can get you tickets to the one you like?"

"None, thank you." You say as politely as you can to Reyes, with a fake smile.

"I think going will be a good idea, you can get to know Carlos." You mum nudges, and you frown.

"No offence to Carlos, but why would I want to get to know him?" You ask, and the parents share a look. "Why are you all being so weird? Are you hiding something from me?"

This triggers something in you. They’ve been acting so weird for a long time now.

"No-y/n, it's just."

"Dad, what's happening?" You ask your dad, seeing how flustered your mum is, he'd lay it out to you. He's usually leaving all the problems with you for your mum to handle.

"You and Carlos are getting married." There it was said, the room went silent, Carlos's sisters didn't know where to look. You looked at your dad waiting for him to say he's joking, but he didn't. Carlos took a swing from his drink and sighed. He feels awkward right now. He hoped you'd be informed when he wasn't around and maybe in a gentler way.

"You're joking." You laugh trying to prompt them to say that they are, that this is all a prank and that they got you. None of that happens, and they're sitting there watching you. You throw the napkin on your lap on the table and stand up. "What the actual fuck is going on? How am I getting married to Carlos!"

"y/n sit down please." Your father begs and you glare at him.

"No! Someone better explain to me what is going on?" You looked at everyone, and it appeared like everyone knew about it but you. "Everyone knows? How can everyone know but me?"

"y/n, come here." Your dad is up and making his way to you. He has to pull you by your arm and to a private room in the restaurant. Your mum is following hot on your heels.

"Well, that went well." Carlos says and stands up. He walks to the balcony and leans on the railing, looking out at the night sky.

Your shouting could be heard from where Carlos stood, they're explaining the agreement, how it's legally binding, they're probably threatening you. Carlos is proud of your cursing and shouting and fighting back. He was scared you'd be raised to like and obey him, that you'd be timid and easily persuaded.

"I don't fucking care... daddy you can't make me do this.... I don't care, I don't care, I don't care... I will shout if I want to! You're not controlling my life!... I hate you, I hate you both so much!"

Carlos hears the door open and your heels clicking on the floor as you fast walk to the table where your phone sat. Carlos just makes it back when you've had them in your hands, your parents making it back as well.

"Lovely meeting you all, happy fucking birthday to me, I'll go die now." You say and walk off, pissed off and rightfully so.

"Go after her." Ana whispers to Carlos, and he looks at her with another nod of encouragement he follows you. He sees you standing outside clearly cold waiting for your car.

Carlos takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulder. You only spare him a glance. Carlos struggles to find words to say to you, he's known about this since he was 11 and he's come to accept it but here you are just finding out in front of him and his family.

"When did you find out?" You asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

"When I was 11." Carlos says and your face snapped to look at him, there's sympathy in your eyes, you have no idea what's better to find out when you're still a child and have everything robbed out of it, how can you continue being a child when you're told something like this, or is it worse being told in the same year, where you'd have no time to come to terms with it.

"This is fucked up." You say, shaking your head.

"Yeah." The car pulls up to a stop in front of you, but you don't make a move to get in. "They planned for us to meet again before I leave." You scoff at this, not believing how they have everything planned already before you were even told. "Give me your phone." You look at him and reluctantly hand him your phone, Carlos puts in his number and calls himself, so he'd have your number. "Go home, try to relax and think about everything, but just so you know, there's no getting out of this, legally, I've tried for years."

"It must've been hard for you." You say and give him a small smile. "Good night."

"Good night."

Carlos was right. Your mum sent you a text when you rejected her calls. She said that you have to come to this family function, you have to start being seen with Carlos. You half wanted to block her, but you knew that she'd just get a new number and then a new number and so on until you wouldn't ignore her anymore.

Carlos also texted you, but you only replied with one word answers, not feeling like replying to him. On the day of the function, you were sitting on the sofa in your home in a pair of shorts and a random t-shirt. Your doorbell rang in the silent apartment, making you sigh and reluctantly get up to see who it is. Opening the door, you see Carlos standing there. He's dressed in a white linen shirt with white shorts. Leaning on the door, you look at him but say nothing. You’re out of your heels, making Carlos realise how much shorter you are than him. The make-up is gone, and it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time. This is a contrast from the dolled up version he saw on your birthday. Both beautiful, both breathtaking.

"I see that you already decided not to come." Carlos states, and you sigh and turn and walk in your apartment, Carlos following you closing the door. Carlos takes a moment to look over the apartment. You plop down on the sofa in the same position as before. "I texted you."

"You and everyone else." You say and text Lisa, not looking at him.

"You do know that if you don't go, they'll come over, right?" You haven't thought of that. You sit up and look at Carlos, who is looking at the artwork you have on the walls. He turns to look at you with a grin. "I suggest you change before that happens."

"But I don't want to go." You whine and sigh.

"Who said anything about going, I said change." Carlos smirks, and your eyes light up at the thought of him helping you escape your family.

"You'll help me escape?" You ask him hope bubbling inside of you.

"Yes"

"Oh my god, thank you!" You run to your bedroom, closing the door and changing into a sundress, taking your bag with all your essentials. "Did you drive here?" You ask Carlos coming out of the bedroom. He's made himself comfortable on your sofa. Carlos looks up from his phone, his eyes giving you a once over.

"No, I don't have a car here." You nod. It makes sense. He lives in Spain, after all.

"Well, you're in luck. Which car do you want to take?" You ask him and nod to where you had your car keys hanging one next to each other, a Porch, a McLaren, a Mercedes, and then a Ferrari.

"Wow, hermosa, I didn't know you liked cars," Carlos says and stands beside you to look at the logos on the keys. You grin and look at him.

"There's so much you don't know about me." You say, and Carlos looks at you also smiling.

"Well, let's change that." He takes the Ferrari keys, and you both make your way to the garage, Carlos presses the key and sees the dark blue Ferrari lights up. He gives you a look, and you grin.

"Do you want to drive?" You ask him.

"Yes, if you're okay with it."

"Of course, if I don't trust a race car driver to drive, who would I trust?" You tease him and get into the passenger side of the car. The 488 Pista is your baby. You only ever let Lisa drive it, but you trust Carlos to be careful. "Do you have an idea about where we could go?"

"Yes, don't think I didn't come prepared." Carlos said, and you laughed, you look out the window as the scenes changed. Carlos was driving close to the river.

"Be honest, you don't know where we're going." You say realising he’s gone in a circle.

“I don’t know, but we can just drive around.” Carlos admits, but it doesn’t sway him. You hum and agree. You sit in silence for a while with so many questions and possibilities going through your head. “You can ask me anything you want, I can hear you thinking.”

”Okay, but don’t regret it.” You warn him, and he laughs. You find yourself smiling as you watch him. It takes you a moment to find the first question to ask. “Did you stop coming on holidays and our families' meetings so you wouldn’t see me?”

”Yes, every time I saw you, I remembered what’s going to happen.” Carlos decided that being honest with you is the best thing that could happen. You’ve been lied to (by omission) for long enough.

“I’m sorry.” You suddenly felt guilty, even though you only just found out about it.

“Nothing to be sorry about, hermosa.” Carlos glances at you and smiles. “We’re both robbed into an agreement that was made way before we were even born.”

”Right, you said that you tried to get out of it. What do you mean?” You ask him, the first thing that came to your mind while talking to your parents is getting out of the agreement.

”It means that the contracts were signed and that if one of us breaks the contract, the other will be cut off by the families, financially and everything, we’d be publicly disowned.”

”Surely they wouldn’t do that.” You have problems with your parents, yes, but you love them, and they wouldn’t just throw you on the streets despite the usual threats from your mother.

”I’m afraid they would. Our parents want this marriage more than anything else.” Carlos says, and you groan, wanting to cry, as the reality of it all sets in.

”So we’re stuck?” Your voice wavers, Carlos looks at you and sees the tears gathering in your eyes. Carlos sports a parking spot, and he doesn’t care when he ilegaly overtakes the car beside him and parks. Carlos takes your hand in both of his much bigger ones. You look up at him, and a tear leaves your eye. You wipe it away and bite your bottom lip.

”We are, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing.” Carlos tries to comfort you the best he can. He was young and alone when he found out. He doesn’t want you to go through the same things as he did. “I’m going to try to make this as easy as I can, I know that you don’t want to get married to me, and you’re beautiful and amazing but I don’t want to get married to you, there’s nothing for us to do but try and make it easier for ourself.”

Tears leave your eyes, and you nod in agreement. You try to smile, but your lips wouldn’t even quirk up a little. Carlos is sympathetic; he's the only person who understands you right now. You’re both in the same boat.

“Have you thought about marriage before your birthday?” Carlos asked, he was hesitant, he dated knowing that it’s going nowhere, he’s never put his all in a relationship before, hasn’t given his heart to anyone, it may have not been fair to the women he’s been with but he protected his heart by keeping it close. Since you didn’t know it means you could’ve loved someone, hell, you could be in a relationship right now, you could be in love with someone and he’s forced to take you away from that person. Carlos may not want this marriage, but it’s happening, and he’ll be damned if he let his wife be with someone else. Call it toxic masculinity, call it possiveness, call it whatever you want, but from now on, you’re his. He feels bad for you, but it changes nothing.

”No, I haven’t, haven’t even been in a proper relationship.” You mutter and wipe the last of your tears away. You take your hand out of Carlos’s and look in your phone to see the state you’re in.

”I find that hard to believe.” Carlos is a tad bit suspicious. You’re beautiful. There’s no way a man hasn’t caught your attention yet.

”Well you best believe it, I wasn’t allowed to date when I was living with my parents, and then after, every person I was interested in just dropped me before anything happened.” You shrug and fix your hair, not looking at Carlos. You miss the look on his face. He knew what that meant, even if you had no idea. Your parents must have had a hand in this. He’s relieved, he doesn’t comment on this, and pulls out of the parking spot he was still parked in.

”You know what I find unfair?” You mumble, your head resting on the window as you stare at the city moving past.

“What?”

”That I was the last to know, you all knew and had time to come to terms with it and I’m expected to be okay with everything and get married by the end of the year or early next year.”

“None of this is fair, y/n.” He has a point, but it doesn’t make it better. There’s rage bubbling inside of you. You’re hurt, angry, betrayed, and it’s all simmering inside of you. “Hasn’t your parents called you?”

”My phone is on silent.” You comment and don’t make a move to check. “Have they called you?”

”I texted Ana and told her I’m with you.” You hum, and Carlos continues driving.

By the time Carlos drives back to your house, you’re both hungry. You don’t invite him up for food or drink, not wanting to spend any more time with him for the day. Carlos is nice. He’s caring, a true gentleman. You’re stuck within for the rest of your life, and you’d love to be as free as you can before you’re forced to be glued to him.

“Thank you for today.” You tell Carlos with a smile.

”No worries.” Carlos makes a move to get out of the car.

”Wait! you can keep the car while you’re here.” You feel bad making him take a car wherever he’s going next, and you have plenty, him having one for a few days will not affect you.

”Are you sure?” Carlos asks, you nod in confirmation. “Alright thank you, hermosa. Good night.”

”Good night.”

When you get to your apartment, you can see that your mum was there. She certainly went through your things, probably trying to figure out where you went. If you ever want to hide anything you know where to hide it, it’s your apartment, after all.

Looking at your phone, you wince seeing the 20+ pissed calls mostly from your mum. but a few from your father and the Sainzs as well. Your mum probably made them call you. You contemplate for a moment before you decide to bite the bullet and call her before she makes her way back to your house.

”y/n y/l/n, where have you been? Do you know how much i’ve called? Why are you ignoring me? This is so embarrassing, I can’t believe we’ve come to this!” Your mum goes on and on, you pull the phone away from your ear, and you still hear her voice screaming. It takes her a couple of minutes before she’s silent.

”Mum, I know that you know, I was with Carlos.” You tell her your tone nonchalant, pissing her off more. “This is what you wanted anyways, I’m spending my time with my ‘betrothed’.”

”So why didn't you just come? The Sainzs are leaving in a couple of days! You have to spend time with them.” She screams again, and you pinch between your eyes, feeling a headache coming in.

”I know them, okay? It’s not like you married me off to a strange family, I know them pretty well. The only person I don’t know is Carlos, and I spent the day with him, so win, win.” You try to reason with her.

”It’s not a win win-“

”Look, you and dad basically sold me before I was even born, and I was just told about it, I can do whatever I want, I’ll marry him but I’m entitled to be pissed off and go with getting to know him the way I want, goodbye and dont try to call me before next week because I wont answer.” With that, you hang up on her, leaning back. You fall onto your bed and close your eyes. “What a mess.”

To her credit, your mum lets you have your days, and she doesn’t call, but come next Monday, she calls you early in the morning. The Sainzs were out of the country, and your car was back in your garage with the keys left inside for you to take and a text from Carlos letting you know.

“When I said to not call until next week, I didn’t mean to call me at 6 in the morning on Monday!” You say answering the phone, Lisa goans and pushes you away. She spent the night at your house, you glare and get out of the bed, and head to the living room, leaving your friend to sleep before she has to get ready to head out.

”Oh be grateful, y/n.”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

”I swear to god…” She mumbles a few things that aren’t that nice before she takes a deep breath to calm herself. You just have that effect on your mum. “Look, I just wanted to tell you that we decided the date for the engagement.”

”Wow, how nice of you to inform me of my engagement date.” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “Do tell when will I be officially spoken for?”

”I’m choosing to ignore your tone-“

”You’re not ignoring if you’re pointing it out.”

”It’s in five weeks, I’ll send you the details.” You continue as if you haven’t interrupted her. “Carlos will get you tickets for the Italian Grand Prix in Imola, so be nice.”

”Why do I have to go there? there’s nothing about me having to make an appearance or act all lovey dovey with him.” You whine not understanding why they couldn’t just let you get married without all the show around it.

“Because, he’s a public figure, and we have to make it as natural as we can.” She was talking to you like you were a child, something that always irked you about her.

”Didn’t think of that when you all decided to force us into this, did you?”

”You better go to this Grand Prix and any other he gives you tickets for, do you understand?”

”I’m taking Lisa.”

“No you’re not!” You never understand what your mum has for your best friend.

”Yes I am!”

”No you’re not, Carlos is only sending you one ticket.” She’s seething right now. “Bye.”

You take a cushion, press it to your face, and scream, you scream and scream.

”What’s wrong with you?” Lisa asked stumbling out of the bedroom, half asleep.

”I’m going to Italy to see my future husband.”

”Oh.”

”Yes, oh.”

y/n

Can you send me two tickets 👉👈

please

Carlos

why? are you bringing a bf or smth?

y/n

ha ha

no ☠️

for Lisa, my friend

Carlos

your mum told me not to give you an extra one

y/n

and do you always listen to my mum

Carlos

that’s why I’m sending you an extra one

also I’ll make sure she has a room in our hotel

y/n

thanks

Carlos

no worries

see you in 9 days

y/n

9days!!!!

i didn’t know it was in 9 days

Carlos

woops

the race is on sunday

we have to be there on Wednesday for media on Thursday

y/n

cool

see you then I guess

Carlos

Wow don’t sound so excited to see me

y/n

go die 💀

Carlos

good beiging to this marriage

y/n

🖕

You fly with Lisa despite your mum's words. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her anyway. You didn’t see Carlos before Thursday, having reached the hotel and changed and went out to explore with Lisa. You girls had so much fun, you’ve never been to this part of Italy before.

On Thursday morning, you wake up to a knock on the door, you’re sharing with Lisa.

“y/n open the door.” Lisa isn’t a morning person, and it shows, you groan and get up to open the door, and it’s, surprise, surprise, Carlos.

”Morning.” You greet the spanish man with a sheepish smile.

”Morning, you guys have fun yesterday?” Carlos asked with a smirk. He saw Lisa on her bed behind you. The room was messy, and you’ve been here less than 24 hours.

”You can say that.” You say looking at the room over your shoulder before turning back to look at him. “When are we leaving?”

”In half an hour, just text me when you’re done, I’m already ready to go.” Carlos says and you notice the red team kit he’s wearing.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit.”

You get ready first, thankfully you showered the night before, so you just had to get dressed and do your make-up. When you text Carlos once you’re both ready, he tells you to come downstairs. You see him standing with a few people from his team, waking over with a smile on your face.

”Good morning everyone, sorry we kept you waiting.” You say trying to sound as polite as you can.

”No worries, hermosa, you’re just on time.” Carlos says, he wraps an arm around your waist and introduces you to everyone. “… and this is y/n, my girlfriend.”

Your smile wavers at the word but you don’t say anything. Getting in the car you sit in between Carlos and Lisa.

”Girlfriend?” You whisper and glare at him.

”What was I supposed to say? We’re getting engaged in a month.” Carlos whispers back and you sigh, leaning back in your chair crossing your arms. “I don’t like this as much as you do, but we have to play our parts.”

”Could’ve fooled me.” You mutter but say nothing else.

With sunglasses on, and Lisa following behind. You walk in with Carlos, he doesn’t hold your hand, but it doesn’t matter, cameras are snapping away at the two of you. This is all new to you, you’ve never had people trying to take pictures of you before.

”Just relax and act like they’re not there.” Carlos tells you, seeing how nervous you are, maybe he should’ve talked to you before you made your paddock debut. “Once we’re inside you can go and explore with Lisa.”

True to his word, Carlos showed you both where the Ferrari motorhome was and let you guys loose to explore.

“Who is that cutie?” Lisa asks seeing a picture of one of the drivers in orange.

”Don’t know.” You tell her not paying him much attention. “I feel like we should’ve done our research before we came.”

“True, but we’ve been to rally races before, how different could it be?” You give her a look and she shrugs. “Completely different, okay, I got it. We can research today, ooh look we can get merch!”

”Why do you want merch, we don't know anything about anything!” You say but get pulled by Lisa anyways, you do end up browsing with her, the sun was killing you, so you looked at all the different coloured hats. You go to the Ferrari ones and debat choosing either the 55 one or just the team ones.

”Hey, y/n, I’m paying, are you coming?” Lisa calls, you pick a hat and go to the cashier with her. “Supporting the team I see.”

”Stop, it’s hot and the sun is bothering me.” You defend yourself looking at the plain Ferrari hat.

”Whatever you say.” You gently push her away, making your friend fall into a fit of giggles. You couldn’t help but laugh with her.

You get ice cream and spend your time just entertaining yourselves. Carlos was busy filming for Ferrari and doing his interviews so you only saw him at lunch. Where he spent next to you but speaking with his trainer while you and Lisa were gossiping.

The ride back to the hotel saw you and Lisa tired, and silent.

“Looks like you tired yourselves out.” Carlos said and you just hummed. “I forgot to tell you at lunch, you know there’s hats with my number on them right?”

”I know.” You say and give him a playful smile. “It was right next to this one.”

The next day you spend more in the garage watching FP1 and FP2, you and Lisa tried to familiarise yourselves with everything that you researched the day before. Lisa did spend more time familiarising herself with the drivers. Watching the garage function, really made you appreciate everything more, it cemented how amazing this sport is.

At the end of of FP1 and FP2 Ferrari did better than they expected, the cameras flashed to the garage a few times, showing Alex, Charles girlfriend and they flashed to you at one point, but there was no name or anything under you.

The ride back to the hotel was more lively this time around, you’ve done your homework when it came to Formula 1 but you still have so many questions, so taking that time you ask Carlos about whatever came to your mind, and it seems that there’s still so much that you don’t know about.

”…drivers in the simulator at the factory overnight, going over all the data and all the possibilities.” Carlos was explaining, you were listening and nodding to his words as you’re starting to understand just the magnitude of the sport.

“Girl, check Twitter.” Lisa says interrupting your conversation, you lean over to look at her phone, and on her feed are pictures taken from your Instagram, with your name and age written for everyone to see.

”Looks like the online detective found my Instagram.” You comment and roll your eyes, not even wanting to know what they’re saying about you.

“That’s faster than I expected.” Carlos, thought that it would take them more time, since you’re not a public figure in any way.

“You underestimate the power of the fans.” You say and sigh. “It wouldn’t have been that hard, my family is linked to yours, and if anyone did any simple digging they’d find me on your sisters' Instagrams.”

”I guess that’s true.” Carlos took out his phone and opened Instagram. “What’s your username?”

”y/insta/n, but you’d have to unblock me first before you drop a follow.” Carlos freezes at your words, you let out a laugh and bump your shoulder with his teasingly. You watch as he types it in and unblocks you, only to find himself blocked, he turns to look at you with raised eyebrows. “What? You blocked me first.”

You take out your phone and see the amount of notification on Instagram, will have to turn them off for sure. You unblock Carlos and follow him, and he does the same.

”You guys just confirmed to everyone that you’re dating.” Lisa informed you and you gave her a sarcastic smile and a thumbs up. “So Carlos… are you friends with Lando?”

This makes you burst out laughing, only your friend would ask something like that to a guys she barely knows.

”Yeah, I’m having dinner with him today.” Carlos says and Lisa looks at you with wide eyes and pouting lips. You grimace and look at Carlos who was smirking.

“y/nnnnn.” Lisa whines and takes your hand in hers, you look at her and sigh. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She hugs you before turning to Carlos. “When are you meeting him?”

“At 7.”

“We'll be ready before that.”

And so Lisa robbed you into a dinner with your future husband and one of his friends, you were not in the mood for acting all lovey-dovey with Carlos. Nonetheless, you get dressed in one of your dresses, fix your hair and touch up your make-up. Carlos does text you and say that you’re all going to a nearby restaurant, that’s private.

Carlos was waiting for you guys downstairs when you were done. His eyes ran from your hair down to your feet, taking you in. He noticed how much you liked dresses and how good they look on you. You’re always in some type of heels or chunky sneakers, giving your height a boost. But his mind goes back to when he was in our apartment and how short you are compared to him, he has to clear his throat and look away for a second to stop his mind from wandering too much.

Carlos leads you to the car, you sit in the passenger seat with Lisa in the back and of course Carlos is driving. The music is turned on low and a small chatter is happening between the three of you.

The three of you get out of the car once Carlos parks, he finds his place by your side even though Lisa is talking to you. You don’t notice his hand in the air behind your back before it drops to his side clenching. Carlos did not expect the possessiveness that’s ignited in him each time he sees you, you’re doing something in him unknowingly and it frustrates him how unbothered and unaffected you are.

The hostess lead you to a table at the back, Carlos pulls your chair for you and takes the one next to you after you’ve sat down. Lando arrives a few minutes later, he quickly greets Carlos warmly, before he turns to you.

”And you’re y/n?” Lando asks you smile and nod.

”Yes, it’s lovely to meet you.” You say, Lando gives a small and not all there smile before he turns to Lisa and greets her, he sits across from Carlos and next to your friend.

”So Carlos told me he was your first teammate, how was he like?” Lisa asked trying to start a conversation.

”Uh, he was great, couldn’t ask for a better teammate to have at the start of my Formula 1 journey.” You could tell how close the two are, how much love and respect they have for each other. “Yeah, Carlos is super nice to those he’s not forced to be with.” You know then that he knows about what’s going on between you and Carlos, for one you don’t have to act which is a good thing for you. Carlos gives Lando a look. “What? I said nothing.”

The waiter comes and takes your orders, before leaving.

”So, y/n, what do you do?” Lando asked, it looked like had his sights on you for the day.

”I’m still studying.” You say and give Lando the fakest smile you could master.

“And what do you plan after that?” Lando may have seemed slick and just interested in what his friends 'girlfriend' is like but it's not working on you, or the other two on the table.

“Don't know, still have time to decide.” You shrug and look at Lisa who didn't may have just lost all her interest in Lando.

“How does a housewife or gold digger soun-”

“Oh my god!” Lisa exclaimed and leaned away from Lando as if he'll contaminate her if she stayed close.

“Get off it Lando.” Carlos was not happy, he told Lando not for him to torment you, but to share his worries with a friend.

“Its okay Carlos.” You say with a sickly sweet smile and pat his hand on the table where it clenched, before you turned to Lando. “Since we're all adults here, and we all know what's going on, why don't you say whatever you want to say to me Lando.”

“Hermosa.”

“Honestly Carlos, it's fine, we don't know each other that well, but best assured I can take care of myself and I'm not easily bothered.” You tell him and he sighs and leans back in his chair in defeat. You gesture for Lando to go on.

“Look, Carlos is my friend, and I don't like him being forced into this by your family.” Lando starts, he's moving his hand as he speaks. “I don't understand why you're going along with it! Why can't you look for a way out? Carlos has dreams and he's on top of his career right now he doesn't need this.”

“I understand that you care for your friend Lando, I truly do, which is why I'm not taking any of those to heart.” You tell him and tap your fingers on the table as you pause for a second your eyes giving him a once over, noticing his blazing eyes wanting to just erase you from existence. “But while you were thinking about Carlos, Lisa was also thinking about me, asking why did his family make this happen? Why couldn't he find a way out of this?” You see him opening his mouth to reply. “No, you had your turn now it's my turn. I also have dreams, I also want to do things and I don't want to be stuck in a loveless marriage for the rest of my life. Me and Carlos, we're like pawns in this, we have no say, so don't you dare judge me, you have no idea what's it to be in my position.”

“This whole thing is just a big fat lie!” Lando exclaimed, and your eyes are no longer kind, they're no longer brought and light. You're angry, you're agitated.

“Well this big fat lie is my life! It's my reality!” This takes Lando by surprise, it looks like for the first time Lando sees you and he takes you in. The intensity of his gaze softening as he watched you. His shoulders slumped slightly, the anger draining from his face, replaced by a weary sadness.

“Look, I’m sorry.” He said quietly, his voice now devoid of its earlier harshness. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I just... I care about Carlos. He’s like an older brother to me. I want him to be happy.”

You blink, taken aback by his sudden change in tone you take a deep breath, the tension in your body easing slightly. “I understand, Lando. I want him to be happy too. But this is bigger than both of us. We’re all caught in this web, and there’s no way out. The only things we can do, is try to make the best of this situation we found ourselves in.”

You give Lando an olive branch smile, he returns it with one of his own although it was tinged with sadness. “I just... I don’t want to see my friend miserable.”

“Neither do I,” you replied softly. “Neither do I.”

As the tension between you eased, Lisa smiled.

“Well, that was intense.” Lisa said giving you a look of encouragement, you just give her a nod. “Looks like my choice in men hasn't gotten better.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Lando asked her confusedly, clearly Carlos hadn't told him that Lisa was interested in him.

“You do know that the reason we're having dinner with you is because I told Carlos I wanted to meet you, right?”

Those two biker and speak sarcastically to each other as they begin to get to know each other.

Carlos takes your hand under the table and gives it a squeeze, you look at him, only to find him already looking at you.

“Every time I see you, you surprise me.” Carlos mutters and you smile teasingly.

“Have to keep you on your toes somehow.”

“Then please don't stop.”

The night ends on a good note and a new number in Lisa's phone.

You go to a few races after that, always seen with Carlos, your relationship already confirmed to the public and it became well known that you've known each other since you were kids. Carlos ‘accidently’ said that you've been together for over a year, so when the engagement is announced it wouldn't be a big shock. Otherwise your life hasn't changed much, something that is bound to happen the moment there's a ring on your finger.

The fans thankfully fell in love with the story of young, childhood friends, losing contact then meeting years later and falling in love. And you were real in all the ways you could with the fans and cameras, that rebellious streak you have, has been noticed and noted by fans. And they love you all the more for it.

The Spanish Grand Prix is where you’re headed to next. Your family was also in Spain for the event, and it’s the last Grand Prix you’ll be attending before your engagement is announced.

You were staying at the Sainzs’ house, where you always stay when you’re in Spain. Eating breakfast there before heading out to the paddock, it became a family affaire, you have no idea how his team managed to get him this many passes, but home races are different after all.

”My mum has been hounding me those last few days.” You complain to Carlos as you walk through the paddock together, him in Ferrari Kit and you in a red dress and a red Ferrari hat, no number still.

“She’s just stressed about the engagement.” Carlos tells you and slows down just enough so you could walk in front of him through the crowd of people, his hand makes it way to the small of your back. His hand is big and hot on your back, it has you suppressing a shiver.

“Highly doubt this is the reason.” You tell the Spanish man now by your side, his hand not moving from the small of your back as he leads you around the paddock, you’re not even focusing on your destination just letting him take you wherever he wants.

”My mum has also been stressed.” Carlos forever trying not to make your mum a bad person in your eyes, but you know her well enough to know how she is.

”Carlos, your mum and my mum may be friend but they’re completely different.” You tell him and meet his eyes for a second, in that second Carlos thought he saw some sadness in your eyes, but he can’t be sure. “There’s a reason I always spend time with Anna at your family house and not mine.”

”And here I thought you just like the Spanish heat.” Carlos teased and you bump your shoulder with his. “But don’t mind her too much, in a few days she’ll be back home and you’ll be free from her.”

”True.” You mutter and take a deep breath, slowly releasing it. You reach the Ferrari garage from the back, and Carlos leads you through the hospitality and to his driver’s room, the one that has his bed. You walk in and see a beautiful bouquet of flowers, tulips to be precise. “Ohh look someone got you flowers.”

You walk over to the tulips admiring them, they’re your favourite kind. You touch the petals and take in a whiff of the scent, Carlos stands by the door smiling, the sun coming in from the windows leaving you glowing.

”They’re for you.” Carlos leans on the door and shameless stares at you, your head snaps to look at him.

”What?” You want to make sure you heard him correctly.

”I got them for you, Anna said they’re your favourite.” Carlos watched as the smile on your face grew bigger and he saw a side to you that he never did before, a blush dusts your cheeks and you look… shy. It makes him proud of his decision to get you flowers.

”They are? What’s the occasion?” You ask him, holding the flowers in your arms.

”No occasion, just wanted to give you something that will lift your spirits.” Carlos’s gaze didn’t waver from your form, but the smile on your face made him smile.

”Well, consider them lifted.” You look at Carlos and walk up to him. “Thank you.”

You wrap an arm around his neck careful of the bouquet in between you. Carlos hugs you loosely, he takes in your scent. The smell of your shampoo and perfume filling his nose, you’re in feels making your reach that bit easier. You both stand there for a moment before you pull back still smiling. You don’t think you’ve ever gotten flowers from anyone before.

So you best believe you’ve taken a million pictures of them, some made their way onto your Instagram story. With those flowers Carlos made you happier than any jewellery your family got you, it’s something so simple but makes you the happiest.

After the end of the Grand Prix and before your parents have to leave, they’re sticking around for two days. For the engagement of course.

You were with Anna in her room, laying on her bed as she did something on her desk. She was telling you about a new drama happening in her friend group.

”y/n.” Carlos calls your name coming in the room, you sit up and look at him.

”What?” You ask him tilting your head to the side slightly.

”Let’s go.” Carlos said simply and that confused you even more.

”Where?”

”Just come, or your mum will be all over us in a few minutes.” Carlos knew exactly what to say, you were off the bed and out of the room in seconds, just stopping in yours long enough to take your purse. Carlos lead your to his matt grey Ferrari, you get in the passenger seat and it doesn’t take long before Carlos drives off.

”Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” You ask the Spaniard besides you. “Or are you going to tell me you know where we’re going, but in fact you’ll be lost and we’ll just drive around?”

”Hey, it was only one time.” Carlos defends himself, you smile and look out the window trying to see where you’re going. “I’m just taking us to my house, we can have a moment alone before…”

Carlos trails off but you know what he means, before the engagement is out for everyone to know about. It’s your first time at his house, the house is big and as you walk in, it screams Carlos. A bit man cave-y, but still him.

”Do you want anything to drink?” Carlos asked, walking into the kitchen, leaving you to look around as you like.

”No thank you, I’m sure we’ll be drinking enough once we’re back.” You tell him and look at the few pictures he has up on the walls. You’re looking at a painted F1 Ferrari on the wall when Carlos comes back to you. “I always wonder what it's like driving that fast.”

“Very thrilling and adrenaline pumping.” Carlos says and you turn to look at him, there’ a glint in your eyes that he’s familiar with nowadays.

”You’re lucky my parents didn’t let me get into karting, or you’d have some serious competition.” You tease and walk around him to the sofa, you plop down and it just sucks you in. “This sofa is so comfy.”

”I bet you’d be , would have my money on you anyways.” Carlos joins you on the sofa and looks at your relaxed state, he likes seeing you here, in his house. He hates what he’ll say next seeing how comfy you are right now, but this talk has been long overdue. “I think we need to talk about a few things.”

“I guessed so.” You say and sit straighter, pulling your legs up on the sofa and to your chest, your hands around your legs, head on your knees as you look at Carlos.

”With the engagement things will become different, more media will be all over you, a lot of things will be said, a lot of speculation.” Carlos wants you to be as ready as you could, he’s heard and seen what it does to wags and he doesn’t want you to be affected by it. “I know you’re strong and can take care of yourself but just be ready.”

”I will, don't worry.” You can tell there’s more to come, Carlos is just taking it easy to start. “Now tell me what you really wanted to talk about.”

”We live in different countries, and I don’t want to make you come live in Spain if you don’t want to, but for this to work, I think it’s best you stay here, whenever I’m here, You still have another two years at university, so I wouldn't want you to move in right away, but just when you can.”

”I’ve been thinking about that, and uh after the wedding, I can switch to online school.” You tell him meeting his eyes, Carlos looks surprised, you chuckle and shake your head lightly. “It’s getting boring anyways, people keep asking me about you when I go. Plus there’s so many countries I haven’t been to yet, that you travel to for racing.”

”I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” Carlos promises and you grin.

”You know, I’m a trust fund baby right?” Carlos raises his arms in defeat and you smile. “You can pay for my cars to be shipped here.”

”Okay, wow, I see how it is.” The tone turns serious once more. “I never said I was sorry about all this.”

”You most definitely don’t have to, this wasn’t in our hands, there’s nothing we can do about it.” You move closer to Carlos and pat his hand in comfort. “And if it’s of any comfort, I’m glad it’s you and not some asshole.”

”I’m glad it’s you too.”

”See, we only have to look at the bright side of things.” You both stay silent for a moment, your hands right next to each other. “Have you chosen the ring yet?

”Yeah, yeah, I have it.” This gets Carlos moving, he disappears to a different room, before he comes back with a velvet box in hand. Carlos sits next to you, your knees almost touching and angles himself to you. He opens the box and there’s a beautiful three stones ring all round cut, with small diamonds on the band.

”It’s beautiful.” You say smiling, it doesn’t feel like your ring, you’ve never been engaged before but you know this is not the feeling you were supposed to have. This isn’t how you’d always imagined your engagement to go. It’s all real now.

”Do you want me to…” Carlos wants to ask before he trails off, he takes in the look on your face, a tight lip smile and teary eyes, you bite your lips and scrunch your nose for a moment, trying to keep them at bay.

”No it’s alright.” You mumble and take the rings out the box and slip it on to your ring finger, it fits you perfectly, a few tears slip from your eyes, and unlike many it’s not from happiness, it’s sadness, you were robbed of a proposal, of dating, of loving, or choosing.

”I’m so sorry, y/n, truly, I wish I had found a way out of this.” Carlos tells you sincerely, you take a deep breath brushing your tears away and you lean over and hug him, Carlos doesn’t hesitate before he hugs you back, you both need this. This hug means a lot to the both of you.

“Stop apologising, please.” Your voice is muffled as you hide your face in his shoulder, he holds you tighter. You don’t know how long you’ve sat there for before you pull back with a fake and weak smile. “I should take a few pictures for Instagram, before we have to head back.”

Carlos watches you as you go through the motions with no real emotion behind your action. It’s something you have to do.

The drive back is silent as you try to control all your emotions, there’s still more pictures you have to take, more smiling, more laughter. When you walk in, your mum is the first to notice the new addition on your finger, she squeals s if she had no idea it will happen today. They all congratulate you like this has been your choice all along. You just say thank you and smile. They pose you and Carlos for pictures, they take turns standing in and having group pictures taken, you and Carlos just go along with everything.

Wine bottles have been popped and drinks were passed around, Carlos didn’t drink knowing he’d drive back to his house. He’s made to sit next to you and Anna takes your other side. He’s happy talking with you both and not stuck with the others. His older sister and husband are not here for the occasion.

Your parents seemed to have drunk more than they could handle as you can see your mum getting tipsy and then drunk. You pay them no attention until something is said that has all your attention on them.

“-I mean we worked so hard to push them away from her, my y/n so beautiful.” Your mum says and you stare at her in horror, Reyes tipsy but still more sober tries to gets your mum to stop, but once she began there was no stopping her. “All those boys we paired off to stay away from her, and we tried to get her to go to a race for so long, but she’s just so stubborn, oh god, I’m so happy, can’t wait for her to get married, who knew who’d bring if we didn’t do that, always rebellious-“

”I’m glad you’re happy.” You mutter glaring at your parents, before you get up and storm out of the room, your mood changing so much throughout the day. So many ups and downs, more downs though.

“y/n, wait!” A few people shout after you, you don’t stop, you know someone is following you out of the house but you don’t even glance to see who it is.

”Hermosa, wait!” Carlos calls for you, you don’t stop but slow down as he reaches you. “I won’t try to defend her this time, but do you want to stay at my house tonight?”

You just nod, unable to gather your strengths to speak. Once more you get in Carlos's car and he drives you to his house in complete silence. Carlos knew about the agreement long before you did, he was allowed to date and explore meanwhile, you were watched and robbed of those experiences. Feeling as if though none likes you, that you're unlikable, unattractive.

Carlos leads you through the house to his bedroom. “I'll get you some clothes and you can shower if you want, the bathroom is right there.”

You just nod and go into the bathroom, Carlos brings you a shirt and a pair of shorts. “thanks.” You mumble. Carlos stands at the door for a sword debating what to say if anything, before he leaves you.

You strip out of your clothes, and hop in the shower, the water is hot on your skin but you don't care, you just stand there and the tears start leaving your eyes. They disappear with the water down the drain leaving no trace of them.

Carlos is texting his sister, on his bed when he hears your sobs. He feels so bad for you, your family has gone about everything so wrong. They've so set on reaching their end goal, and didn't care about what it would do to you in the process. His family isn't that much better, but between the two of you, he's had it much better.

And all he can do now is sit and hear you cry, there's nothing he can do to make it better.

The water stops, and you're no longer crying, but you don't come out for a while. Carlos gets a notification that you posted on Instagram, yes he has your post notification on. He opens it to see a picture of the two of you at his family’s house. your hand on his chest with the ring visible for everyone to see, his hands are on your waist as you both smile at the camera. You also post a story of the engagement ring, with fake words that mean nothing to him.

He looks up once he hears the bathroom door open, and even if you were just crying, seeing you in his clothes has him wanting to pull you closer. The clothes are big on you, the shirt hiding most of the shorts, that you must've pulled the string off so much to get them to fit your waist.

“You don't have any conditioner.” You tell him acting as if you haven't just spent half an hour crying in the bathroom.

“Yea, uh, sorry, I don't use conditioner.” Carlos says and blinks a few times, you're busy towel drying your hair to notice his eyes on you.

“You don't use conditioner? How is your hair always so… Soft and fluffy then?” You finish with the towel and look at him.

“Good genes I guess.” You nod to his words. “You can sleep here, I'll take the guest bedroom.”

“No way, this is your room, I'm not taking it from you.” Carlos walks Closer and places his hand on your shoulders, from this close he couldn't see how red your eyes are.

“Just please, take it, the bed is comfier here.”

“But-”

“For me, please.” Your eyes don't stray from his, and you see the sincerity in them, so you reluctantly nod.

“Okay, yeah, thank you.” You mumble and look down.

“No worries, hermosa.” Carlos kisses your cheek softly, and leaves you standing there. Your eyes has gone wide, his lips leaving a tingling feeling in their wake. Your cheeks are red and your heart is beating fast in your chest.

“What are you doing to me?” You ask yourself, before you shake your head and head to bed.

Laying in his bed, under his covers on his pillows leaves you feeling as if you're being hugged by him. He's all you can smell, as if he's right there next to you, and maybe that's why you fell asleep so easily.

The next morning you wake up to the scent of pancakes, making your way to the kitchen you see a shirtless Carlos moving around. He doesn’t notice straight away, so you take the time to appreciate his physique. You know he’s fit, he’s an F1 driver for goodness sake. Seeing him there in front of you, with no fireproofs or anything is another things. His shoulders, strong arms, thick neck and chest down to his abs and then the v line leading into his pants, it all got you feeling hot.

”Morning.” You eventually manage to say and walk closer to see what he’s doing and not stare him to death.

”Good morning, did you sleep well?” Carlos asked turning to look at you.

”Yeah, slept like a baby.” You tell the taller man, rounding the counter to see if there’s anything. you can do to help. “Do you need help with anything?”

”No, I got it, almost done.” Carlos says and waves you to the other side of the counter to sit on one of the island chairs. “Have you seen your phone yet today?”

”No, it died, I need to charge it.” You tell him. “Why? Is the internet on fire yet?”

”Just about, best not check your social media or maybe restrict your comments for a while.” Carlos doesn’t meet your eye, which has you chuckling, he looks at you confused.

”I won’t be doing any of that, I don’t care, it doesn't matter how real our relationship is, no one has a right to say anything about who you're with.” You say and thank him for the food he placed in front of you.

“Still I don’t want you to be subjected to any of that.” You shrug and take a bite of the fluffy pancakes.

“These are so good.” You tell the diver and take another bite, Carlos is proud of himself, he loves cooking and what he loves more is cooking for other people.

“Eat as much as you want.”

”Oh, I will.”

You don’t log onto your social media until you’re back i your home with Lisa, she’s been telling you what people have been saying about you and you’ve both have been laughing about it.

”There’s a lot of baby trapping allegations going around.” Lisa says and you look over her shoulder and scoff.

”As if I’ll ever do that.” You say before you suddenly get an idea. “I have an idea.”

“Ohh, talk dirty to me.” Lisa of course was all for it, she raided your skin care drawer, getting face masks for you both to put on. You get a Ferrari wine bottle out and you both head to the bathroom, putting on the face masks before you pose in front of the mirror with the bottle clearly opened.

”beating the allegations one at a time.” Lisa says as she looks over the picture you take a sip of the wine. “I love this for us.”

In the months after the engagement a lot has happened, you’ve made more appearances at the paddock always with the ring on your finger. Lisa always came with or Anna and you’d spend the night with one of them, keeping the appearance that you're staying with Carlos to everyone else. The fans have been in uproar about everything for a couple months, but things have calmed down, Lisa and you have found ways to always prove the rumors wrong. And maybe Lisa had other reasons to attend races now, that didn't have to do anything with you.

Meanwhile wedding plans have commenced, the parents decided on a winter wedding in Spain, it'll be at the beginning of Carlos's winter break, you left everything for the Sainzs to plan with the help of your family, the only thing you refused is them choosing your wedding dress, or even seeing it. You've been to so many wedding dresses shops, which ever country you find yourself in you'd go to the shops. You've tried on so many dresses in so many styles. Trying to find the perfect one for you.

It took time but you did find the one, standing in front of the mirror alone. You felt it. You may have not given much thought to your wedding before you knew about the arrangement but this is your dream dress. It was just perfect. Everything you wanted and more. It needed little alterations, you just need to do a couple fittings, which you will fly to do before it'll be delivered to Carlos's house in Spain.

Things with Carlos have remained the same, you didn't spend a lot of time alone, which may be in part to you always dragging someone with you, even Lando has accompanied you both on a couple occasions, the Briton has warmed up to you and was one of the few invited to the wedding. You always trash talk your parents with Lando, Carlos always looking disappointed at the two of you whenever you did that, but you did it anyways.

It all went by too fast, it was the day of your wedding, despite the winter air, the sun was out it was a little warmer than most of Europe. You tried on your dress a couple of weeks back at Carlos's house and from the gasps his sisters and Lisa had done, he almost barged in to see the dress for himself. It did take a lot for him to not go into the guest bedroom where you kept it for him to see. He told himself he'll see it soon enough.

And soon became very soon, when he stood in his tux at the end of the alter, no groomsmen, no bridesmaids. A choice you fought your mum on, but in the end you had what you wanted. You had no one but Lisa, and even if Carlos had many friends he could choose form, he respected every decision you made and choose for the wedding.

The music started playing and everyone turned to look and there you were, an angle, lights coming from behind you illuminating you. Oh how beautiful you looked, with a simple make-up look, hair up in a beautiful updo, minimal jewelry all to accentuate the beauty of your dress. The lace, the vale, how the dress hugged your figure, it was all perfect. Soft gasps sounded around the hall as you became in full view.

A soft but timid smile on your face, your hand clutching your dad's as he led you down the aisle, it was all happening now, there's no going back. This is it. You saw Carlos and he looked amazing in his tux, his hair pushed back but not jelled, he definitely refused any products be put in his hair. He looked handsome, his eyes were on you the whole walk and even after you were standing in front of him, he still didn't stray his gaze from you. You're all he can see.

The ceremony goes by, and your smile falters when you have to say I do. You looked up at Carlos with tear filled eyes, as he leaned in and pecked your lips, it only lasted a couple seconds, as everyone clapped and cheered, well almost everyone. Both your friends that knew how you both didn't want to, only clapped halfheartedly.

Carlos pulled you in for a hug, you returned it closing your eyes to keep the tears at bay.

"I promise I'll be good to you, and I'll be loyal." Carlos whispered in your ear and you clutched his suit harder. "I know how hard this is for you, and I'll try to be a good husband to be everything you ever wished for, I don't want you to feel stuck and unhappy."

"Thank you, I promise I'll do the same, we're in this together." You were grateful for his words, he's said it in a way that made you feel heard and felt, something that your family failed to make you feel.

The reception was wild, if you say so yourself, you changed into another dress with no train and easier to move around in. You had a first dance with Carlos, you were surprised with how good he is at dancing.

"Didn't know you could dance so well." You told him after he twirled you around and then pulled you back in.

"I'm a smooth operator after all." You giggle at his words and that makes him smile, he's succeeded in getting a smile out of you that was genuine. Lando and Lisa were watching the two of you from their table.

"You know, this may have all been a bad agreement, but I think they'll be alright." Lando told Lisa and she hummed looking at you both.

"Yeah, I think so, bad beginning but good ending." She only hoped. "You know what I think?"

"What?" Lando looked away form his friend and his new wife, and at Lisa.

"I think if the parents hadn't arranged this whole thing, they would've been dating for a long time and that they would've ended together anyways." Lisa observed and Lando thought about it for a moment, before he too agreed with her. If only they did nothing.

The celebration went through the night, a lot of dancing and drinking happening all around. Too much had happened but it didn't seem that long before you and Carlos got in the back of a car heading for his house where you'd be spending the night before heading to your honeymoon. You were so tired from the day and you haven't been sleeping well the days leading up to the wedding.

"You look tired." Carlos said in the nicest tone ever, you turn your head over the headrest not even wanting to left your own head, and look at him with the most tired smile he has ever seen.

"Yeah, I haven't been sleeping well, and the day has been so long." You tell him and he agrees with you.

Once you're at the house you open the door and there's Carlos already on your side with his hand out to help you out of the car. You walk into his house and kick your heels off sighing at the feeling, finally having them flat on the ground.

"You wear heels way too much." Carlos says seeing how relieved you look with them off.

"Excuse me, Mr. 178 cm, but not all of us are blessed with height." You say and take the glass of water

Carlos had for you. "Thank you."

"No worries." You both stand there in the kitchen for a couple minutes. "I think we should head to bed, we're leaving in a few hours."

"Yeah, good idea."

You went to the guest bedroom, where you had your clothes and everything set up. A suite case set to the side for the honeymoon.

Now you were zipped in your dress by Lisa, what you didn't take in mind is how hard it is to unzip it yourself. Try as you can, you couldn't unzip the first part. It took you 15 minutes to finally decide to go and ask Carlos for help. You stand in front of his bedroom door and debate knowing before you do it, you can't sleep in your dress and you're in a desperate need of a shower. You don't wait long before the door is opened and a naked Carlos with a towel wrapped around his lower half meets your eyes. Your eyes trail over his still wet torso all the way to his face where water drops from his hair.

"Is everything okay, hermosa?" Carlos asks feeling happy with your eyes on him.

"Uh-wh-yeah, yes." You manage together yourself to ask. "I can't unzip my uh, my dress, I need help."

"Just give me a second to wear some pants." Carlos gets into his closet and closes that door, you walk in

a little and look at yourself in the full length mirror he has in his room, your makeup has lasted the whole day, but you can start to see the dark circles under them, you can't help but take in your look, your hair no longer in an updo, it's loose around your head.

Carlos opens the door and comes out in a pair of shorts, you glance at him through the mirror and he walks right up behind you. He gently moves your hair to the side over your shoulder, you're playing with your fingers a little, as the tension rose in the room. As delicate as he could, Carlos took a hold of the small zipper and pulled down. You held your breath as you watched his focused face, he was looking at your skin as more of it came in view, drinking you in. After he's done, his hands fall by his side and he meets your eyes in the mirror.

"All done." He breathed out, you nod and say a timid thank you before you leave the room, his eyes not leaving your back. Closing the door behind you, you lean on it for a second breathing in. Before you head back to your room.

You manage to get a few hours of sleep, before you have to get up to get ready to head to the airport.

Your dad gave you a jet as a wedding present, something you rolled your eyes at when he did, but you're thankful for now, the privacy is something you're grateful for. You're dressed in a white sweat set with the hood up covering your hair and part of your face, no make-up on and nothing done to your hair.

You made small talk with Carlos during the plane, talking about your wedding and how stupid some people were, the dresses some women wore and just gossiping. There was something so domestic about it, you and Carlos interact like any friends would... mostly. Because for you, you've come to enjoy his company, you've come to look for him in a crowed. He gives you the best hugs, and he's always so attentive to your wants and needs before you even verbalise them. In the few months you've gotten to know each other he's understood you in a way no one else did.

Arriving in the Bali, there’s a car waiting for you at the airport, the pick up and drop off were good. Carlos was the one responsible for booking the honeymoon, so besides the destination you have no idea what you will be doing. The resort has a few cabins out on the water, and that’s what Carlos booked for the two of you. He quickly handles check in and gets the keys, before you’re lead to the cabin with someone brining the bags for you.

Carlos opens the door, you see the water out the windows, the cabin is in the middle of the clear water, and there are windows all around the back. It looked like you’d be sleeping in the middle of the sea. You walk straight to the back opening the floor to ceiling glass door to the terrace.

“This looks amazing.” You tell Carlos and a gust of wind comes over you and you smile.

“I’m glad you like it.” It was hard for Carlos to choose a destination, his mum insisted that you two go on a honeymoon, she said it’ll do you some good, you wouldn’t be able to escape from each other so you’ll get to know the other person well. She said it’ll be a good start to the marriage. “There’s only one problem.”

”What?” You ask and turn to look at Carlos and see where he’s looking. “Oh.” There’s one bed. ”It’s alright I guess, we’re not strangers.” You weren’t confident in your words but there’s nothing you can do now.

”I guess, I don’t have anything planned for today.” Carlos tells you and takes a broader look at the cabin. “Thought we might be tired, we can go explore or get into the water.”

”Exploring sounds fun, we can get in the water early tomorrow or something.”

You both change from the airport clothes, into something you’d be comfortable to walk in, so no heels for you.

The island sounded and looked so peaceful, you really commend Carlos on his choice. Your phone was out as you snapped pictures of the lovely scenes, the animals moving in the trees once you reached the forested area of the island you’re in. You managed to find a small restaurant to have a late lunch in.

”When do you have to start dieting and working out for the next season?” You asked Carlos curiously.

”I keep training through the break, but it gets intense two weeks or so before the season starts.” Carlos says and you nod, taking a bite of your food.

”That’s good, what do you have planned for the next four days?” You ask curious.

”We’re going snorkelling tomorrow, and we can go for a swim in some waterfalls.” Carlos starts listing the things he’s planned out for you both to do. “The next day we can go surfing and diving, third day we can go nicking and there’s a hot air balloon we can take, the fourth day we can cycle through the rice fields and around the island, and there’s a lot of clubs we can go to any day once it’s dark.”

”Sounds like fun.” You say and close your eyes relaxing for a moment.

After lunch you and Carlos continue on your little exploration trip before you decide to head back to the cabin. Carlos calls dibs on showering first, so you face the plant on the bed and before you realise it you’re asleep.

Carlos comes out of the bathroom and chuckles once he sees the state you’re in, you’re laying across the bed, your feet in the air, you look so out of it. Carlos looks for an extra blanket and sets it aside, before he moves to the bed and contemplates how to move you without waking you up. He didn’t have to worry though, you were so tired you didn’t feel him moving you so you’d be lying on the bed right, with your head on the pillow before he threw the blanket on top of you.

It takes you around an hour before you wake up, it takes you a second to realise where you are, sitting up you see the last rays of the sun in the distance, and Carlos sitting on the terrace with his legs hanging down touching the water. His back facing you. You get up and make your way to him. You sit beside him and give him a sleepy smile.

”Why didn’t you wake me?” You ask him taking the breathtaking view in front of you.

”It looked like you needed all the sleep you could get.” Carlos hummed, you sat there in silence, both not knowing what to say. “You want to shower before we head out for dinner?”

”Yeah, I’ll go now.”

Dinner had been a delightful yet slightly awkward affair. The resort's open-air restaurant overlooked the ocean, offering a stunning view that momentarily distracted them from their nerves. They had chosen a table near the edge, where they could watch the waves crash against the shore. The food was good and they both had a few glasses of alcohol. The walk back was peaceful with the night air, the wind and the distant sound of the waves crashing.

You and Carlos stood in the doorway to the cabin. The sound of the ocean created a soothing background melody. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. you glanced at Carlos, who seemed just as hesitant as she felt. You had been through a whirlwind of events that led you here, to your honeymoon in Bali, sharing a bed for the first time.

“Well, I guess this is it,” You said, your voice tinged with nervousness. “Our first night here.”

Carlos looked at you, then at the bed that dominated the centre of the room.

“Yeah, it is. Bali is beautiful, isn’t it?” You allowed yourself a small smile.

“It really is. I’ve always wanted to come here.”

“Same here,” Carlos replied, trying to ease the tension. “I never thought it would be on a honeymoon, though.”

You laughed softly, a sound that made Carlos’s heart feel lighter.

“Yeah, life has a way of surprising us.” Carlos glanced at the bed again, then back at you.

“So, um, the bed. It’s... big enough, right?”

You blushed slightly, your cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. “Yeah, it looks comfortable. I guess we can... just stay on our own sides?”

“Sure, that sounds good.” Carlos nodded. “I mean, unless you’d want to have it and I can sleep on the floor, I don’t mind.”

”No, no, we’re adults, we can share a bed.” You say shaking your head no. “Can’t let the Formula 1 driver have back pain.”

”A few nights wouldn't hurt me.” You give Carlos a look and he laughs. “But I’ll happily sleep on the bed.”

“So much has happened in the last few months.” You say and sit on the edge of the bed, despite telling him it’s okay to sleep in the same bed, you still feel awkward about it. “We’ve come a long way in these few months.”

“Yeah, we have.” Carlos joined you, sitting down next to you on the bed. “I’ve enjoyed our conversations and... your company.”

“Me too.” You smile, a genuine warmth in your eyes. “You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be.”

“High praise!” Carlos laughed, a sound that made you feel more at ease, as he’s grown to make you feel lately. Peaceful. Comfortable. “Seriously, though, I think we’ve done well considering the circumstances.”

Emma looked at him, her expression softening. “Carlos, do you... ever think about what it would be like if we had met differently?”

“Sometimes.” It takes Carlos a moment to answer as he thinks about it. “I think we would have been good friends regardless. Maybe even more, given time.”

“Maybe,” You said softly, also thinking that if you were given the option and the freedom things may have turned the same in the end.

Carlos sighed, breaking the brief silence that had settled between them.

“Well, we’re here now. Might as well make the best of it. Do you need anything before we turn in?”

“No, I’m good. Just... a bit nervous.” You shook you head.

“Me too,” Carlos admitted, his voice gentle. “But hey, it’s just a few nights. We’ll figure it out together.”

You smiled, a feeling of comfort washing over her. “Together. That sounds nice.”

Carlos stood up and walked to his side of the bed. “Goodnight, Hermosa.”

“Goodnight, Carlos,” You replied, getting under the covers. You both lay down, the silence filled with the rhythmic sound of the waves. After a few moments, Yout voice broke the quiet.

“Carlos?”

“Yeah?” Carlos turned to face her, his eyes soft in the dim light.

“Thanks for being understanding. It means a lot,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper, it was something you had to say, you had to put out.

Carlos smiled, a reassuring warmth in his gaze. “Anytime, y/n. We’re in this together, remember?”

You relaxed, the tension easing from your body. “Right. Together.”

You both lay quietly, gradually relaxing into the comfort of the bed and each other's presence. The initial awkwardness began to fade, as the sense of connection they’ve built over the last few months replaced it.

And so the honeymoon came and went. Each day you’d be out all day doing what Carlos had planned for the two of you before you go to the beach, a club, but you’d just fill the day with activities. When it came to the bed situation, besides the first day there was no awkwardness. Maybe it was the tiredness but you’ve found it so much easier to sleep next to Carlos every day. And every day you’d wake up a bit closer, finding comfort in his presence.

The first rays of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains of their bungalow, casting a soft, golden light across the room. The gentle sound of the ocean waves provided a calming backdrop, as if nature itself were cradling them in a tranquil embrace.

You stirred first, your consciousness slowly pulling you from the depths of a peaceful sleep. As your eyes fluttered open, you became aware of a warmth pressed against your back. It took you a moment to realise that Carlos’ arm was draped over your waist, their bodies nestled closely together. Your initial reaction was a mix of surprise and confusion, quickly followed by a strange sense of comfort.

You lay still, your mind racing. Over the past few days, sharing a bed has gradually become less awkward. You had grown accustomed to each other's presence, finding solace in your nightly routine. But this was different—intimate in a way that left your heart fluttering.

You turned your head slightly, careful not to wake Carlos. You could feel his steady breath against the back of your neck, his presence reassuring and oddly soothing. For a moment, you allowed herself to relax into his embrace, savouring the unexpected closeness.

Carlos began to stir, his grip on your waist tightening momentarily before his eyes opened. Realising the position you’re in, he blinked in surprise but didn’t pull away. Instead, he hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.

“Good morning,” You whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Good morning,” Carlos replied, his voice still heavy with sleep. He moved slightly, his arm shifting but not withdrawing. “I, uh, didn’t mean to...”

You turn to face him, a shy smile playing on your lips. “It’s okay.”

Carlos’s expression softened, relief washing over him. You lay there for a moment, neither wanting to break the spell of the morning. The initial awkwardness gave way to a quiet understanding, a mutual acknowledgment of the growing bond between you.

“I guess we’ve gotten used to each other,” You said, your tone light but tinged with something deeper.

Carlos nodded, his eyes meeting yours. “I think so.”

Carlos’s hand moved to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. “So, what do you want to do before we have to leave?”

“How about we start with breakfast?”

“Sounds perfect,” Carlos said, smiling.

When your bags were packed and ready by the door, you decided to take one last walk on the beach. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over everything. You walked in comfortable silence, your hands brushing occasionally, sending sparks of awareness through both of you. When you both found a good spot you stopped and turned to look at the ocean.

“I have to thank you Carlos.” You said softly and looked at him over your shoulder, he looked confused. “This …trip has been different than I expected.”

“Yeah, different.” Carlos nodded, his expression tinged with worry. “But in a good way, right?.”

You turned to look at him fully and he does the same. “Of course.”

There was a moment of silence, the air thick with anticipation. You were close, closer than you had ever been, conscious that is. Carlos reached out, his hand brushing against yours. Your faces were inches apart, your breaths mingling in the space between you. Carlos’s eyes flicked to your lips, and he leaned in, his heart pounding.

Your eyes fluttered closed, your pulse racing. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the electricity of the moment. It was as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you, the beach, and the waves.

Just as your lips were about to meet, the sudden sound of a ringing phone shattered the silence. You both jerked back, startled, and Carlos fumbled to answer his phone. It was the resort’s reception, calling to remind them of their checkout time.

Once Carlos told you, you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension breaking. You head back in silence. The moment had passed, but something had shifted between you. There was an unspoken understanding, a promise of something more, maybe not now, or soon, but one day.

Once you were back in Spain, you had gotten busy. You were still technically in the middle of moving, you had to fly a few times back and forth to finish getting whatever you needed and getting rid of everything else. You’re officially an online student, with just a few mandatory classes once or twice a term that you have to go in for. Lisa was crying on the last trip, but knowing the two of you, you’d just fly to see her or she’ll fly to see you. Besides since her and Lando started dating it means that if all goes well, you’d be seeing more of her in the paddock.

Your mum decided that she hasn’t heard form you enough so she flies to Spain and comes to your house one random day, Carlos is out golfing with Lando who he invited over for the week, the McLaren driver was staying with the two of you. You planned to use the time to catch up on some unpacking you still have to do, it’s taking you longer than you expected. And you still have to work with Carlos’s things as well. And you just began, since Carlos and Lando didn’t leave until recently before the doorbell rang.

You opened the door to find your mother standing there, her expression as critical as ever.

“Hi, Mom.” You said, forcing a smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Y/n.” Your mother greeted, ignoring your question, she stepped inside and immediately surveyed the house. “Where are Carlos and Lando? I hope you’ve been taking care of them.”

“They’re out golfing, Mom.” Your smile falters, before it falls. ”I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me you were coming?” You ask her again as you watch her look around the house, no doubt looking for something to critique you over.

”You wouldn't have answered.” She tries to excuse herself, you frown.

”I always reply to your messages.” You feel exasperated already, and she’s been here for all of 10 minutes.

”What are you cooking today?” Your eyebrows raise at the question, it takes you a moment to answer.

”Nothing? Carlos is cooking for us tonight.” You tell her and turn to leave her to inspect the kitchen.

“And does Carlos usually cook?” You have no idea where she’s going with those questions so you answer her honestly.

”Well, out of the two of us he cooks more, but don’t worry I always help.” You blob down on the sofa.

“Why is it so messy here?” She asks, coming to the living room, looking over the few boxes still set to the side waiting to be unpacked, the blankets you have sat in the living room used by you three yesterday as you watched a movie after a long day yesterday.

“The house isn’t messy. I’ve just been busy, and I haven’t finished unpacking.”

“Busy? What about cooking and cleaning?” Your mum’s eyes narrowed. “A good wife takes care of her home and her husband’s friends. It’s your responsibility, y/n.”

“Mom, it’s not the 1950s.” You felt your frustration rising. “Carlos and I share responsibilities. He’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and Lando is our guest, not my responsibility.”

“y/n y/l/n! I don’t know where I went wrong with you, I did not raise you to be this kind of wife!” Your mum scoffed, shaking her head. You look up at her startled, where the heck did this come from. “A wife should always put her husband first. Look at this place! And you didn’t even cook anything for them? Carlos is working so hard year around, the least you could is cook him meals and take care of him, what man would like a woman that doesn’t take care of him and his friends.”

“I don’t need to cook for them every day, Mom. Carlos and I are a team. We support each other.” You clenched your fists, trying to keep your composure. “And they're grown adults as well, they’ve lived alone for years.”

Your mother ignored you, continuing to inspect the house and muttering under her breath about your lack of domestic skills. The barrage of criticism was relentless, each comment cutting deeper. You tried to defend yourself, but the words stuck in your throat, overwhelmed by your mother’s disapproval.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “I need some air,” you said abruptly, storming to your room. You quickly changed into a golf skirt and a polo shirt, grabbed your clubs(a gift from Carlos, that you have yet to use), and headed out the door.

Your mother’s voice followed you, laden with disappointment. “Running away doesn’t solve anything, y/n!”

“It’s y/n Sainz by the way! We don’t share the last name anymore.” Was all you said ignoring the sting of her words, You drove to the golf course.

You found Carlos and Lando on the ninth hole, chatting and laughing as they waited their turn. The sight of their relaxed camaraderie only fueled your frustration. Carlos noticed you approaching, surprise evident on his face.

“y/n? What are you doing here?”

You didn’t answer right away, instead setting up your club and taking a swing at the ball. It flew farther than you expected, the physical exertion providing a small relief to your pent-up anger. Lando raised an eyebrow but wisely kept quiet. Carlos walked over to her, concern in his eyes.

“y/n, what happened?”

“My mom happened.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady your vice. “She came over and started berating me for not taking care of the house and you two. Said a lot of misogynistic things. I couldn’t deal with it, so I came here.”

Carlos exchanged a glance with Lando, who nodded in understanding and took a few steps back to give you some privacy. “y/n, I’m sorry. She had no right to say those things.”

“I know that, Carlos.” You felt your frustration bubbling over. “But it’s just so exhausting. I feel like I’m constantly trying to prove myself, and nothing I do is ever good enough for her.”

Carlos stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “

You don’t have to prove anything to her. You’re amazing just the way you are. We’re a team, remember?”

“I just needed to get out and clear my head.” You nod, leaning into his embrace. “Thanks for letting me crash your golf game.”

“Anytime.” Carlos smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Why don’t you join us? Maybe hitting a few more balls will help.”

“Yeah, y/n. Show us what you’ve got.” Lando, who had been listening from a respectful distance, chimed in.

You manage a small smile, appreciating their support. You took another swing, feeling a little lighter with each hit. The repetitive motion and the open air helped to calm your nerves. As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the course, you felt the weight of your mother’s words slowly lifting.

After a few more swings and a lot of supportive banter from Carlos and Lando, you began to feel more like yourself. You knew the challenges with your mother wouldn’t disappear overnight, but having Carlos by your side made it easier to face them.

As you finished the game and headed back to the clubhouse, CArlos took your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“We’ll figure this out, y/n. Together.”

“I know we will. Thanks for being my rock.” You looked up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection.

“Always.” Carlos smiled, his eyes full of warmth.

As you walked back to the car, the events of the day began to fade into the background, replaced by a sense of peace and solidarity. You knew that with Carlos by your side, you could handle whatever challenges came your way. And maybe, just maybe, one day you would find a way to make your mother understand.

The new Formula 1 season begins, and it’s a good start for Ferrari, they’ve been doing good. The testing and the first race already over and a big improvement from last year is already noticed. By the time Saudi Arabia came around, no one had noticed or pointed out the new ring on Carlos’s finger. Or yours for that matter. Your marriage, although not a secret, wasn't announced.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” You ask Carlos, he’s been in pain the last couple of days, he had a fever and wasn’t looking too good.

”Yes, don’t worry.” Carlos was trying to calm your nerves but it wasn’t helping in this situation.

“FP1 has already been hard, Carlos, I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard!” You say and follow him out of his driver’s room and to the garage, a worried look on your face for everyone to see.

”I won't, I promise.” You stop at where you can’t go any further and Carlos turns to look at you, his balaclava in his hands. You look so cute worried for him, eyes wide and sat expression on your face, lips turned down slightly and pouting. “Please, amour I promise I’ll be fine.”

You don’t get to realise how he called you amour for the first time, before his lips are pressed to yours in a quick kiss and he’s turned and heading to get his helmet on. You just blink and look at him, but he doesn’t look your way in the slightest.

“What just happened?” You whisper to yourself.

“I believe your husband just kissed you.” Carlos sr., who came out of nowhere said in your ear. You spare him a look and just turn and go to the nearest bathroom, having to splash some water on your face to calm the heat down.

You manage to compose yourself for the rest of Free Practice, as you watch Carlos put in the times, listening to his team radio, you could tell he was getting a bit tired. But they were looking at his vitals and they seemed okay, he wasn’t called in either so that calmed you a little. After the practice however, you saw him come out of the car, and he looked as if he was struggling a little.

He takes off his helmet and balaclava and his face is flushed red, Free Practices are hard, but they’re not as hard as a race is, so why is his face flushed more than normal.

“He’s fine, don’t worry.” Carlos sr. tells you and you aren’t convinced, he doesn’t sound like he’s convinced.

There was nothing you could do, but walk around as Carlos had to head in for debrief. You skipped lunch in favour of staying with Carlos earlier today, so you decided to grab a bite before you head back to the Ferrari garage.

Your phone rings a while later, seeing Carlos sr.’s name on your screen you pick up.

”Hey, I’m just-“

”It was bad, we’re taking Carlos to the hospital.” He cuts you off rushing.

“What? What happened? Just tell me which hospital!” You leave your half eaten food and rush back to Ferrari, where someone on Carlos’s team was waiting to take you to the hospital. Your knee was bouncing up and down in worry, you couldn’t get there fast enough.

By the time you go there, Carlos is already in for surgery. Carlos sr. pulls you in for a hug as you tear up. “He’s okay, a minor surgery, it’s his appendicitis.”

”I told him something was wrong, but he didn't listen.” You cry as worry eats you up, you’ve just come to realise how much Carlos actually means to you. He’s become such an important part of your life and you didn’t even realise it. Hearing that he was taken to the hospital, made your mind race with possibilities you don't want to think about.

”I didn’t know you cared so much about my son.” Carlos says after you’ve calmed down, you’re both sitting down waiting for the surgery to end.

“I didn’t either.” You say and sigh, Carlos sr. pats your knee in comfort.

Once the surgery ends and the doctors come out, they tell you that everything went smoothly and it won’t take long for Carlos to wake up, and he was moved to another floor. Both you and Senior along with Carlos’s trainer.

“I’m sorry, but for the next hour or so, only family members are allowed.” A nurse stops you three from walking into Carlos’s room. Both you and Carlos’s dad move to enter before you’re stopped again, she gives you a pointed look.

”I’m family.” You tell her, but she doesn’t budge.

”She’s family.”

”I’m sorry, but dating or even engagement doesn’t count.” You scoff and get your passport out, all your papers have been changed after the wedding.

”I’m y/n Sainz, that man inside is my husband, now step aside.” She stands there shocked before she lets you pass. Carlos sr. laughs and follows you inside.

“Hey, Mrs Sainz.” Once more Carlos leaves your heart beating faster than it should, with your face red. He clearly heard what happened outside, and he’s clearly heavy on pain meds.

“You’re an asshole, Carlos Sainz.” You mutter and sit down at the chair next to his bed, apparently you’re super funny, because he laughs as if you said the funniest joke ever. “I don’t get your son sometimes.”

”Me neither.”

It takes a few hours for Carlos to be completely coherent, they’ll keep him overnight to make sure he’s alright before he can leave. With only one person that can stay the night and Carlos Sr. needing to stay next to his only son, you let him stay and head back to the hotel with Carlos’s trainer, with the promise of being back early the next day.

Sleeping in the bed alone feels weird now, after the honeymoon you’ve gone back to sleeping alone, and you’ve missed having Carlos next to you. But since you’ve started trailing again, you’ve shared the same bed. How weird it is for you to miss his presence so much after so little time.

After a sleepless night you get Carlos a change of clothes before you head to the hotel. When you walk into his room, he’s alone.

”Where’s your dad?” You ask him, placing the bag on the chair.

”Went to get some coffee.” You nod at his words, you stand there for a moment and Carlos pats the side to the bed, you sit next to him and sigh.

”You really scared me, Carlos.” Your voice lowered, tinged with sadness.

“I’m so sorry, mi amor.” Your eyes trail up until you meet his eyes, Carlos takes your hand in his. “I thought it was just food poisoning.”

“What are you doing to me?” You ask him your voice filled with emotion, your eyes filled with tears, as all the frustrations, the worry and the love you have for him is just too much for you to handle.

”Wh-what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Carlos sits up slowly, and he’s so close to you, just like he was on that day on the beach.

“You know you kissed me, right?” WAs it the fever, did he not mean it.

”Yea, I’m sorry, if this is why you’re crying I’ll never kiss you aga-“

”No!” You almost shout startling the man in front of you, tears leaver your eyes and you close them for a moment.

”No?” His accent is thick and it leaves you shivering.

”I want you to kiss me.” You open your eyes lips trembling and your eyes meet his. “Don’t you understand? I don’t know when, or how. Carlos sleeping without yesterday kept me up all night. I've become so used to you, I’ve become so attached to you without even realising it. Carlos I love you and I’m scared that you don’t love me, that you don’t feel the same. That thought terrifies me.”

Carlos sits in silence and you think that maybe he was just being nice, he didn’t mean it. It was definitely the fever. You go to stand up, but his hand that still held yours stop you. You look from your hands to his face once more.

”If I had known this is how you felt, mi amor, I would’ve kissed you sooner, would’ve slept next to you every night.” Carlos’s voice is soft, it’s so soft and loving. “I would’ve wished to get sick sooner.”

”Don’t say that!” You punch his shoulder so softly he couldn’t help but smile, Carlos lets go of your hand, only to cup your face in his hands.

”I love you so much y/n Sainz, and I’m so glad that fate brought us together.” Carlos leans closer, his words whispered on your lips. “You’ve made me so much happier than I thought possible.”

With that Carlos closes the distance between your lips, your eyes flutter shut. As you finally feel his lips on yours, electricity runs through your body. Once Carlos got a taste of your lips, he wanted more, he needed more.

“Carlos-“

You both pull apart and look at the door where Carlos Sr. stood with a grin on his face, looking amused.

”You can leave it to the hotel room, this is a hospital.” He’s joking, but no one else was laughing. Your face was so red and you were so embarrassed by being caught kissing… your husband? Why are you embarrassed? He’s your husband. The thought makes you smile to yourself as you go through the bag and show Carlos what you got for him.

Walking in the paddock the next day wasn’t on your agenda, you did try to convince your husband to just rest but he just wouldn't listen. You walk in hand in hand, and it seemed like the nurse at the hospital let it slip to everyone as it seemed like the news of your marriage was laced with the news of the surgery and all over social media. Carlos the cheeky bastard used his left hand for everything that didn’t require the usage of his right hand, showing everyone his wedding band. You had a Carlos Sainz hat on your head, finally with his number and everything.

”Looks like the news is out, Mr and Mrs Sainz.” Lando says once he came over to check on Carlos.

”Looks like it.” Carlos says and pulls you closer to his side, you look up at him and smile.

”I feel like I owe Lisa some money.” Your head snaps to Lando’s.

”You bet on us?”

“Of course.”

“How much?”

”I can’t tell you that?”

”Lando, how much?”

”I promised Lisa I wouldn't say.”

”She’s my friend.”

”Well, she’s my girlfriend.”

”You’re stealing her from me!”

”You stole my friend first!”

”Is this payback?”

”Are you sure they’re on good terms?” Carlos Sr, asked his son seeing how his daughter in law is bickering with the McLaren driver.

”I promise you they do.”

Taglist:

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life

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inkdrinkerworld · 4 months

Note

can i request a girl flirting with spencer but he is too oblivious to understand she is flirting (bc of course he doesnt) so he keeps talking to her, and reader (they are dating) is FURIOUS and he is sooooo confused. i think it could be funny 🤭

post prison!spencer x sunshine!reader are out with the team when spencer gets sidetracked, you don't like that he is. 1.2k

You’re frowning into your long island iced tea. The entire team can see it and Luke is itching to make a comment. He also knows that despite your sunny disposition you might kick his shin under the table.

“You could always just go bring him back here,” Matt says, sipping his beer as he watches you burn holes into Spencer’s back.

You’re not jealous, no matter what any of them might imply.

“He’s a big boy. If he doesn’t want her flirting with him, he can just leave.”

JJ laughs into her drink, Penelope rolls her eyes as she chews her cherry and Emily shakes her head at you.

Spencer likely will remove himself from the girl if he doesn’t want to be flirted with- but since he’s been there for the last twenty minutes you suspect he isn’t as into you as they’ve all suggested.

It was silly of you to let your heart be captured by a man fresh out of prison you suppose. Your frown worsens at your thoughts, Spencer isn’t the ‘lead a girl on,’ type. Still you feel the hot and heavy sting of jealousy and something bitter settle in your chest.

“He’s still a bit awkward about this,” You roll your eyes this time. They all talk of Spencer like he’s a thirty three year old virgin. He isn’t. You know he isn’t because Penelope had informed you that he’d been in serious relationships before.

Not that you’d wanted to know.

When Spencer comes back, you’re itching for a game of cards and the rest of your team is itching for some sort of reaction from either of you.

It’s been clear over the ten months you’ve been working at the BAU, that you and Spencer have begun to orbit each other. You’re like Pluto and Charon. You bring each other breakfast, make each other’s coffee, you were even almost halfway in his lap on the jet the other day ‘doing crosswords.’ You really were doing crosswords.

They suspect you’re both just too oblivious (you) and frightened (Spencer) to do anything about the feelings everyone can see you have.

“Sorry I took so long,” though he says the words loud enough for the entire group to hear, his eyes are on you.

“Did you at least get her number?” You kick Luke in the shin then, earning a smirk from the man across from you. Maybe if you put salt in his protein powder he’ll relent.

“What?” Spencer asks, sipping his rum and coke. He brushes a curl of hair from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.

You reach into your bag and pull out your sparkly deck of cards and shuffle them. “Oh are we doing readings?” Penelope asks, you don’t trust the peachiness of her tone.

“The girl from the bar.” Matt clarifies for Spencer, whose eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“Why would I get her number?” JJ looks at you with a, ‘do you see what we’re saying,’ look but you only shake your head.

You don’t care if Spencer did get her number or if he’d been flirting back with her. You’re not dating. You don’t care. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

“She was flirting with you man.” Luke says and Spencer shrugs, leaning into you as Penelope takes the cards from you. They’re only playing cards, but she’s been trying to get you to read them as well as she reads tarot.

“Are you okay?” Spencer whispers in favour of a reply to Luke, eyebrows knitted together when you shrug him out of your space.

“Fine.” Emily chuckles which only worsens Spencer’s frown.

“Hey, what about this song?” JJ says, the entire group dispersing. Penelope is the last to go, leaving the ace of hearts face up on the table.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asks, hand reaching for your chin. You shake your head from his hand. Spencer feels burned.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. I’m just enjoying a night out with my friends.” You make it a point to stress the word friends and Spencer almost flinches.

“I don’t believe you.” he says the words plainly. “Are you upset with me?” You turn to face him then, face stony, an expression on your face Spencer has never seen. Other than that day you were on the phone with your brother.

“Why would I be upset with you? You’re just the clueless thirty three year old everyone thinks can’t tell when a pretty girl at the bar is flirting with him.” Your words are hushed and low, your eyes dark in the poorly lit booth.

Spencer sighs, his shoulders reaching his ears before falling. “You’re jealous?”

You grumble, no point in hiding what is so very clear. “You flirt with me for ten months, and then you spend almost thirty minutes letting a stranger put their hands all over you and come back here like you didn’t know she was flirting? If you just wanted the attention you could’ve said so from the beginning, Spencer Reid.”

There’s no ‘Doctor,’ before his name that lets him know you’re being playful or funny. No, your words and your expression are the iciest thing he thinks he’s ever witnessed. You sound hurt more than anything and that makes Spencer’s heart crack right down the middle.

His hand reaches for your chin, turning you to face him. “I didn’t just want attention, you know that,”

You roll your eyes, “Oh do I?” Spencer likes this attitude on you, he can’t even pretend to lie to himself. He just doesn’t like the way you doubt him.

“I like you. You know I like you. Yes, the woman at the bar was flirting with me, but the conversation was being redirected. She was flirting with me till I told her I wasn’t interested and that I had someone waiting for me.”

You don’t believe him, “Took you twenty eight minutes to do that?”

Spencer smiles then, pressing his forehead into yours. “You’re worked up, sweet girl.” The nickname settles you a little. “It took me a little to catch on. I’ll admit it takes some getting used to from total strangers. But I didn’t enjoy her flirting with me if that’s what you’re really asking.”

Spencer’s thumb presses into the slight divot in your chin, your eyes stuck on his as he refuses to break eye contact. “I only want you to flirt with me.”

Your breath hitches, Spencer smiles. “You let her touch you.” He laughs at how petulant you sound, he knows your grip on your anger is slipping.

“Am I supposed to push her hands off me?” You nod and Spencer lets his nose run along your jaw. “You’re too much.”

Spencer doesn’t leave your side the rest of the night.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x black reader #spencer reid x sunshine!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid

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fefern · 4 months

Note

How about some jealous headcannons for jiyan, calcaro and scar? Do they even get jealous at all? I just think about how I would flirt with them all, Rover is stronger than me. Anyway, have a lovely day ❣️

✧˖° when they're jealous. | jiyan, calcharo, and scar headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: jealousy, jealousy...or whatever that oliva rodrigo song is. what's it like when these wuwa men are feeling a bit jealous?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved (separate): jiyan, calcharo, scar, and gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none!

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: hi sweet anon!! thank you for requesting! hope you enjoy these jealousy hcs, i hope i did you justice since i'm not a very jealous person myself > <;;!! requests are open, and all nsfw asks can be sent to @jiayouqi!

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ jiyan ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

the general of the midnight rangers is a pretty tough guy; he understands that you’re a sight for sore eyes, so of course people are going to look at you.

i don’t imagine him getting very jealous, he knows that you can handle your own and trusts that you wouldn’t flirt back with any of the people that try to hit on you.

but, if someone’s flirting with you for longer than a few minutes, or you’re looking uncomfortable, he’s quick to stir into action.

after all, you’re his partner, no one gets to flirt with or dote on you except him.

will smoothly slip a hand around your waist, give a quick glance at whoever’s hitting on you, and usually one look is enough to drive anyone away since he’s in a position of power in jinzhou.

if for some reason they’re stupid enough to fight back on him, that’s when he’s quick to snap back, mentioning how you’re his beloved and to back off.

jiyan will always turn to you and ask if you’re okay after anyone flirts with you, wanting to make sure you’re not uncomfortable.

he’s kind of like a dragon in that sense, guarding his lovely treasure with a level of protectiveness.

he sometimes gets jealous also when you’re gone for long period of time or vice versa, because he loves spending quality time with you and being unable to do so makes him jealous of those who can spend more time with you.

after he’s done being jealous, the feelings subside quickly and he quietly will hold your hand for a while, as if to let people know to back off.

overall jealousy score: 4/10, not easy to stir to jealousy but will be protective and stand up for you if you need him to. knows you can handle your own and that you’re strong enough to deal with the situation.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ scar ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

very vocal about when he’s jealous, the opposite of jiyan.

“BABEEEEE come on pay attention to me please please please,” puppy vibes

he loves having your attention, so when you’re getting flirted with or your attention is elsewhere, he gets very pouty very fast.

you’re meant to only have eyes on him! how can you be talking to someone else?

“love why were you talking with them and not me? :c” “scar that was a child-”

if someone has the guts to flirt with you while he’s around, he’s there in a flash and stands behind you protectively like a bodyguard.

very confrontational. he’ll tell them that you’re taken and that you have the best boyfriend in the world so he suggests they piss off.

will not hesitate to get physical and fight someone if it means protecting you and getting someone to lay off the flirting.

the only way his jealousy will subside is if you give him the attention he wants or tell him to stop getting upset before anything escalates.

he’ll immediately comply, even if he’s resistant or grumbling about it.

scar just wants to make sure no one else makes a move on his beloved, and even the simple idea of someone taking you away is enough to make him see red.

gets clingy when he’s jealous too, always wants to reassure himself that you’re his and his for life.

overall jealousy score: 10/10, it doesn’t take much to rile him up, and he gets very snappy when anyone even dares to look in your direction. you’re his and his only. some kisses and sweet words of affirmation will calm him down fast though.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ calcharo ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

in the middle of the pack when it comes to being jealous.

the main reason he gets jealous is because of possessiveness, but he’s almost never vocal about it. a silent guardian of you.

he can control his temper well, but his whole aura changes when someone even gets close to you, and it’s enough for most people to turn away from even flirting with you.

however, one touch from someone other than him and he’s ticked.

quickly grabs their wrist with a strong grip and gives them a deadly look.

“leave.”

his voice is deep and drips of venom, and if looks could kill, they’d be dead in an instant.

afterwards, he silently will just give you a nod and the two of you will go back to whatever you were doing.

he gets on the defensive though after someone flirts with you once during an outing, and he’s almost hyper aware of everything going on around him now.

is also the type of person where, if someone’s persistent with their flirting with you, or if you tell him that you’re uncomfortable with the other person, he’ll simply nod his head in acknowledgement.

the next day, they’re either dead or seriously injured, and it’s the talk of the town; you know he was the cause of it.

he won’t mention anything about it unless you say something, and if you do, he’ll huff.

“no one makes my lover uncomfortable.”

overall jealousy score: 7/10, not very vocal about it and is level headed, but if someone dares to try and flirt with you, he’ll turn the scene dark fast.

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monstersflashlight · 4 months

Note

Hi :) Uhmm ... I like how you write, these past few days it become my obsession and joy. ( I am so sorry, I am so bad at giving compliments!)

Uhmmm .... If I may be so bold I would like to share an idea? I just thought about absolutely cocky and arogant male, womanizer Cerberos. The reader has love/hate relationship towards him. Well and after one wild party, he would corner reader and showed them his true form. And holding onto his word to rock reader´s world (quite literally)

Hi! I'm so glad you enjoy my content, it means the world. Sorry for the long wait, adult life sucks so bad. Also, I added the anon question, hope you don’t mind. The idea that Cerberus is the one you hit on when tipsy sounds so cute to let it pass. I took the liberty to make cerberus a type of monster, so they’re just one of them and not THE cerberus, you know. I imagine they’re like a werewolf but with three heads, and like not human form, just a wolfy-guy with three heads. Each head talks separately, but in this there’s no difference between them to not make it hard to follow, but I think it’s quite good. Hope you enjoy! <3

Three heads are better than one

Cerberus (they/them) x fem!reader || fingering, public sex, dirty talk

When a cerberus started to work on your law firm, you two hit it the wrong way from the start. You were a top tier lawyer and they couldn’t understand that a human could be better than them. Three heads think better than one, how could a puny human like you be better than them? But you were, and it infuriated them. But it also fueled your banter with so much sexual tension you could taste it. But you didn’t do anything about it because everyone at the office knew they were a womanizer, they had a new girl every few days and never dated anyone. They were just there for the sex. Or that’s what everyone at the office said. But dang you wanted to hit it off with them so bad, you needed to know what their three mouths tasted like, how would it be to have three brains focused on your pleasure… That sounded delicious in the best possible way.

So when you catch them and their friends in a bar, after a few drinks, you think it’s time. You approach them and their friends at the end of the bar, ready to do something about your pent up sexual tension. You two have been dancing around each other for what feels like ages, and your tipsy brain thinks the best moment to do something about it is right now, right there. When you get closer, you can hear their friends making fun of them and elbowing them as they all giggle, pointing at you. You add a little bit of movement to your hips and hope it doesn’t look too ridiculous.

“Hi darling, how’s your night going?” You touch their pecs as all three of their heads focus on you. You blush, but keep caressing their torso over their shirt, you squeeze a bit and they slap your hand softly.

“Human, get lost.” You can’t understand how their voice can sound so harsh and so sexy at the same time, you can feel your panties melting. Maybe the alcohol has a part to blame, drinking always made you horny, and today is not different.

You pout, bating your lashes in your best puppy look. “Why are you always so mean?” Their three heads blink slowly at you, almost took out balance by your question.

“What? We’re not mean, you are just too soft,” they answer. You scoff, if they want to play that game you can give as better as receive. Uh, receiving… That’s exactly what you want. In a sexy way, against a wall if possible. They look like they can lift you up and fuck you.

“I’m not soft. I’m human. And you are mean.” You think you heard him say something about how they’re already aware that you are human, but you aren’t sure, the bar is really loud and the world is spinning around you.

“You need to go away before we do something all of us would regret.” Their central head is the one doing the talking, but the other two nod along.

“I don’t want to.” You know you sound bratty and entitled, but you are horny and everyone says they’re a womanizer, why are they not womanizing you? “You don’t like humans, is that it?”

“Trust me, they like humans. They like them reeeeeal good.” One of their friends says behind them. All of them laugh, but your coworkers are looking at you like they are going to dig a hole through your body just with their eyes.

“Come with me.” They sound fed up, like they are going to scold you and it’s going to feel awful. But your tipsy brain doesn’t process it fully, so you follow them without questioning. They lead you to the back of the bar, the hallway that leads to the bathroom. The music is softer there, you can listen to your own brain better.

They push you against the wall, they body pressing against your front. You shiver, anticipation filling your guts and their low growl making you whimper. “We can smell how wet you are, we can almost taste your desire. You are too tempting for your own good, honey.” You think the pet name was condescending every time they used it before, but at that moment, it sounds like a caress.

Their hands found the edge of your skirt as they grab your leg and position it against their hip. You are open and exposed, your skirt riding up and your soaked panties in the open. You whine again. You never felt as dirty and naughty as you do now, it’s maddening. They cress the outside of your thigh as they rock their hips against you, letting you feel their cock through your panties. You moan loudly.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please.” You know you’d be embarrassed beyond belief about it the next morning, but right now you don’t care. You can only think about how good their finger feels inside of you, and how much you wish that was their cock. When they move your panties to the side and push one finger inside your needy pussy, you cry out.

“Not here, little human.” They press against your G-spot, making your knees buckle under you. They grab your waist and holds you pressed against the wall as you pant. “If tomorrow you feel like this again, then we can talk.” They said, their fingers slowly thrusting into you.

“What?” You ask, trying to focus on their words and not the wonders they’re doing on your pussy. Their thumb rolls over your clit and you have to bite on your tongue to stop yourself from screaming. It feels so good. You start to move your hips at the rhythm of their thrusts.

“We’ve been waiting forever to get your attention, We’re not wasting it on a quick fuck on a bar.” Their voice sounds serious and you feel confused as fuck. What are they talking about? They hate you, they always pick stupid fights with you over the silliest things.

“What?” You ask, trying to grab their hand but holding onto their shoulders, moving your hips faster. The rational part of you is not present, only your whore-ish part.

“We’ve been waiting to ask you out but we thought you wouldn’t want us.” They mutter that under their breath, you barely catch it.

“What?” You ask, once more. Are they saying they like you? They wanted to ask you out? But… But the gossip. They said they didn’t date, you never saw them with anybody, just random hookups. “What?” You ask again.

“You… We… We have a bit of a human kink with you, okay? You are so soft and so pretty. We can’t stop thinking about you. And then you get up in front of the judge and good lord do you look good. You look magnificent.” Their voice sounds amazed, like they are telling the truth and they truly like you. What the fuck?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your question is lost when their thumb starts rubbing against your clit. You think they answer something, but your brain is fuzzy with pleasure. “Stop touching my clit I can’t focus.” You whisper, trying to look at them and see if they aren’t lying. There’s no way they want you, is it?

“What if we don’t want you to focus? What if we want you coming around our fingers until you are crying out how much you love it? How much you like being stretched in public by us?” You moan so loud they have to cover your mouth with their unoccupied hand. “Shhh, be quiet. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” Your pussy involuntarily clenches around their fingers. “Oh, naughty girl, you do want to get caught. Does that excite you? Do you want everyone to see how improper you really are? You are such a good lawyer but then you part your legs for us in the back of the bar… Such a dirty, dirty woman.” You shiver, your juices flowing around their fingers. You’ve never been as turned on as you are right there, their fingers feel divine and you are so fucking close.

“Please…” Your plea sounds pathetic and you blush, but they just smirk at you, two of their heads attacking your neck at the same time. Feeling the two sets of mouths against your neck combined with the feel of their fingers moving inside of you is getting you so wet their hand is making filthy sounds.

“You are so wet for us, so soft. I bet you taste amazing. We are going to spend so much time licking you. Do you know what they say about cerberus?” You shake your head. “We give the best head because we have three of them. Do you want to feel three tongues against your pussy, honey? Do you want to be worshiped by three heads?” The image they are painting in your head is so good you want to open your legs and ask them to do it right there. But you are so close already, their fingers feel so fantastic inside of you.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, rolling your hips. They accompany your movement, getting you almost to the edge.

“Are you going to come for us? Are you going to be a good woman and come around our fingers? We can’t wait to feel you around our dicks, bet you are going to feel better than any pussy we ever had. Our first human. Our only human. What are you gonna do, honey? Do you want to suck us off?” You nod eagerly, so close. “Of course you want to, you want to be a good little human for us.” You get the feeling them calling you human is doing more for them than for you. Their human kink is playing in your favor. “Come for us, human.” They whisper against your ear as the other two heads suck on your neck.

The combination of fingers and mouths makes your body shake uncontrollably against theirs, your orgasm so good you almost fall down. You can feel your juices dripping down and soaking your panties and their fingers. They take their fingers away and you watch in amazement as they raise their hand to lick it, all three of their heads getting some. You moan as aftershocks rock your body.

They put your panties back in place and slowly lower your leg. Your legs are shaky and you grab onto their arm. Three heads smile down at you, one of them looking specially smug. They pass an arm over your shoulders and help you walk out of the hallway. “Let us take you home.” They whisper, their hold on you so hard it feels wonderful. It feels so good you could fall asleep right there. They gave you the orgasm of your life and on top of it, they are sweet about it. You judged them so bad you feel like shit. You can always make it up to them at some point. You add it to your mental list of things to do in the morning, even though you know you won’t remember.

“There’s no need.” You try to argue, without any force behind your words. You really want to spend more time with them.

“We want to.” Their voice is final, you know that tone. That’s the tone they use in court, and you know you can’t win against it.

They drive you home as you fidget with your rings, nervous after what happened, after what they said. You want to run, to break the silence, but you are speechless. You don’t know what to say and the alcohol you had is kicking you really hard. You feel sleepy and tired, more than ready to go to bed.

They follow you to your house, opening your door and leading you to your bedroom where they help you get undressed. You think they are going to do something more, but they barely touch your naked body as they cover you with a blanket.

You feel three soft forehead kisses before they say: “We aren’t playing games with you, honey. We want to play with your pussy, yes, but not with your heart. We hope you give us a chance.” You nod, and try to answer, but your eyes are so heavy that you can’t keep them open, your brain shutting down.

When you wake up the next morning with a text saying: “We can’t wait to have you sucking our cock. And then we can go to dinner, we booked the fancy restaurant you like.” You giggle on your pillow and kick your legs. Yeah… That sounds like the start of a very fun game.

#cerberus #cerberus x reader #cerberus x human #monster #monster fucker #monster imagine #monster x human #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #terato #request #fem!human #banter

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demonicbaby666 · 6 months

Note

Dom Emily prentiss x intern fem reader is all i ask!! Smutty ofc, a lil bit of a humiliation kink if you’re comfortable!!! Thank yewww

Packing Heat

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 4.8k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, strap-ons (r!receiving), semi-public sex (office sex, again…), praise, degradation, mommy kink, kind of dub-con at one point, top!Emily, bottom!reader

Summary: Interning at the BAU means you don’t interact with the person in charge a lot. Of course, this doesn’t mean you haven’t seen the section chief in passing or exchanged pleasantries; it's that they’re simple, short-lived and often anti-climatic. However one evening, you find yourself in the desolate office with no chance of going home, work to be done, but no one to sit with you through the process. With only one other soul residing on the sixth floor, it seems Emily may be your best bet for company.

A/n: Listen, could she be more dom? Yes. Is there any humiliation? Not really... But I got lost while writing, so please don't be mad at me... Hope you still enjoy!

When you'd first started at the BAU, it was safe to say you hadn't seen much of the woman calling the shots. There were always updates about when the team were taken out of state, what their cases would entail, the steady progress being made, and the brief comical encounters Garcia spewed around the office. When they were back, everyone made an effort to small talk. They welcomed you well and continued to appreciate the little things you did for them daily. Emily, however, was constantly on the go, meaning every encounter you'd had with her consisted of one-way glances and hopeful smiles in the event she decided to notice her surroundings and the human lifeform less than two metres away.

She never did, though, until one uneventful evening.

Almost everyone had vacated the building. The only remaining souls left on the sixth floor were you, Emily, and a one-person cleaning crew—whom you watched exit through glass doors before approaching the brunette's office with shaky knees. Peeking through the window, you saw her attention dart to and from the bright computer screen to the mountains of bureaucratic paperwork lying atop her desk. It was easy to get lost in the little creases between her eyebrows, brought out by the deep scowl she wore, the delicate way her fingers were woven together, and the pads of her thumbs skirting against one another as she pondered in deep thought.

It was nearing eight, and you were struggling to understand how someone could appear so put together at this late hour, given that their day was most certainly jam-packed with non-stop slog.

Emily's eyes suddenly flashed up. She squinted toward her door, trying to figure out who'd be here this late other than herself. When she appeared to have worked it out, she leaned back victoriously in her chair, a smug smile on her face, when she called out, "Are you going to stand out there all night?"

You could have done two things: scurried off like a teenager caught peeping or held your chin up high and walked into the older woman's office with little to no shame. Somehow, you managed to do a mix of both, scurrying in with sagging shoulders, a guilty smile plastered on your face and trembling hands clasping your laptop over your chest.

"Well, it's eerily quiet out there, and I would go home to write this paper. It's just that my roommate and her boyfriend have an awful tendency to forget about volume control when they're—" You cut yourself off, realising it probably wasn't appropriate to talk to your boss about your roommate's over-the-top borderline pornographic soundscape. "I was wondering if I could, you know."

Emily, satirising as ever, waited with a raised eyebrow and a relaxed smile for you to continue your purposefully unfinished question.

"Sorry, I should let you work." You surrendered to your weak resolve with flushed cheeks and began to turn around.

"Sit," she ordered before you had fully turned back around to the door, nodding to the available chair on the other side of her desk. Her eyes followed your journey to the seat, watching as you placed your laptop down and opened it with shaky fingers. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to her work. "I could do with some company."

The following silence, starting as unsettling and stagnant, blossomed into something warm and comfortable. There were occasional glances thrown your way and vice versa. Their acknowledgement and appreciation were shown in the form of timid smiles on your end and double takes followed by teasing smirks on Emily's.

When half an hour had passed, your shoulders had finally relaxed, your fingers had stopped their infernal twitching, and your paper neared its completion. There was a proud smile cresting, and you were trying to prevent it from forming, knowing how dorkish it made you look. But you knew there was no hope when your cheeks ached and your jaw locked. You granted yourself the freedom to display your gloating smile.

Just as expected, Emily had a questioning look on her face when you dared to look up from the document. There was a playfulness to the upward quirk of her lips - the superiority of a predator knowing the power they have over their prey, ready to prove it at any given moment.

"I've almost finished," you timidly admitted, feeling obligated to explain as heat infiltrated your jutted-out cheeks.

Without a second thought, the ravenette stood up and made her way around the desk. She could have easily chosen to turn the laptop around. Instead, she took the far more intimate route.

Soft curves grazed your shoulder blades, causing you to shiver. The weight finally settled, soft padding pressed flat against your back as Emily read your paper, and suddenly, your stomach had worked itself into looping knots, and your heart was racing.

The struggle continued as you fought not to fidget, if only to alleviate the growing tension mounting between your thighs. This was only made worse when Emily's right hand left the back of your chair to drop down over your shoulder and land comfortably on your thigh.

"Such a smart girl," she whispered sultrily into the shell of your ear, squeezing generous flesh between her fingers.

With a scrambled brain, there was little fight to be put up against the meek whimper that crackled against the constricted lining of your throat. Subconsciously, your thighs tensed, and your pussy fluttered as you were reminded how close Emily's hand was to where you could only dream she'd touch.

You'd thought you imagined it—the subtle shift in the room from breezy and light to torrid and all-consuming, but with Emily's fingers veering off course, inching higher and higher, reality came crashing down.

"Thank you," you struggled to get the words out, and when they did come out, they were tremulous and feeble.

Turning to look at her may have, in hindsight, been a mistake because where her gaze should have been fixed on the laptop screen, it was glued to your lips. Unexpectedly, your stomach flipped, and you felt dizzy. She was still superbly perfect up close, skin smooth like silk, cheekbones sharp as a razor, and lips cut from velvet. It was too close, dangerously so, you had to look away. Outside the window, you spotted a swarm of birds barely visible against the night sky. You ignored the clanking of your heart as you focussed on their synchronicity, watching them circle each other until they became one big blur of messy movements.

The hand resting on the leather backing of your chair rose, skirting up and over your neck, until a firm grip was established around your dangling ponytail. She was gentle when she tugged, aware that though she wanted to educate you in the art of being owned, you were delicate.

"I think a pretty thing like you deserves a reward," she baited. "Don't you?"

Her grip on you may have been physical. However, a stronger pull was coming from deep within you, an unimportant piece of scrap metal drawn in by a powerful magnet. It was useless to deny her. The mesmerising glow of her chocolate eyes and the promise of being made to feel special was too powerful. So, you nodded slowly but eagerly, desire painting your eyes dark shades of lust.

"That's a good girl."

Emily didn't miss how you preened at the praise and safely stored that information away for further use. She shifted to your side, hands migrating to the small of your waist, guiding you to your feet. The act of it was far gentler than you'd expected, like a gentleman asking a maiden to dance, sweeping her off her feet to whisk her away into a fairytale land filled with magic and romance.

Certain the benign treatment would be short-lived, you granted yourself the leniency to enjoy it whilst it lasted, refusing to get too caught up in the dull ache between your legs that craved the form of savagery Emily displayed in the field.

There was nothing short of passion in how she worked. It drove you crazy. As wrong as it felt, you couldn't help but envy the dirtbag the team was working to catch because you saw how badly the brunette wanted them. The look in her eyes, gratification and disgust all at once, when she'd achieved what she set out to do and was staring the devil right in the face - it made your heart race, your palms sweat and your cunt throb.

The memory kickstarted what could only be described as a brutal attack upon the older woman's lips. To her credit, Emily indulged the outburst for a lot longer than you'd have thought. As if she'd expected it, she quickly responded, pulling you into her body and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss. The lead was stolen promptly from your grasp when Emily wedged a leg between your thighs, backed you up against her desk and tactically slid her tongue into your gaped mouth. You would have gasped if not for the fact you were immediately indulged in the minty taste of your boss's tongue skirting over the roof of your mouth. So much so that you scarcely noticed the pressure coming from your core was no longer just a phantom need manifested but taut clothed muscle pressing you further and further into the sharp wooden edge of the desk.

"Emily," you breathily moaned, pulling back and separating your kiss-swollen lips from the brunette's. Ordinarily, you wouldn't have allowed what happened next to occur, but this was Emily, after all, the BAU section chief, and if you were to let anyone order you about, it would be her.

She backed away from you with a final nip to your bottom lip, letting it go with a pop, and you fought the urge to reach out and pull her back to you. You knew you'd already tried to take things into your own hands once, and doing so again may undermine any chances you had of keeping the ball rolling on tonight's affairs.

You could feel the tight pull of your ponytail and all the places where hair had been lead array from the confines of your hairband, and it truly dawned on you how out of sorts you must have appeared. Tracing your fingers over your lips, you could make out how swollen they were - puffy and hot, yet desperate and pouted, begging for more. Your breathing was laboured, filling the room's silence, and your shirt suddenly felt too tight as your chest expanded with each intake of oxygen. It almost came as a relief when Emily opened her mouth to finally speak until you heard what she'd said.

"Take your clothes off," she mindlessly ordered, walking around to her chair and sitting back in it. Her eager eyes trained over your body with the faintest shimmer of mirth.

Initially, it was a shock. Of course, it was. You were in an official government building, personnel still sparsely spread throughout, and a goddess of a woman was asking you to bare yourself to her.

For the longest time, revealing your body to someone always felt like giving up something. Perhaps some kind of purity. The moment you gave it up, it bred only guilt and shame that twisted and pulled at the pit of your stomach until you felt sick. You stood there, waiting for that feeling to come. It never did.

Remaining still, your body pulsed not with nerves but with exhilaration and anticipation. It took a few seconds to realise this was precisely what you wanted. You wanted to give this false sense of purity away. There was not a sudden influx of courage soaring through every living cell of your body. However, there was enough for you to put on a front and do as you were told.

"Slowly." Emily sat further back and placed her elbows neatly over the arms of her chair. She laced her fingers together, offered you an encouraging nod, and then was back to watching you raptly.

Feeling like a glutton, you followed a path of desire and heeded Emily's request, fingers increasingly fumbling over each button of your shirt.

"So obedient." And in no way was it said negatively; the adulatory smile she gave you only sought to prove that further.

The way she looked at you made you feel as though you were already naked. Maybe that was why it was so easy to get lost in the subtlety of undressing. It was art, and you were a performer. That's what you told yourself. And for the most part, it worked.

With closed eyes, you trailed your fingers over your shoulders, letting your shirt drop to the floor. The AC raised goosebumps over your chest, pebbled your nipples under your plain bra, and you smiled. You smiled because this was the most alive you had felt in months. The thrill of moving on to your slacks and deftly unclasping your belt felt like being on a rollercoaster, like missing a step and laughing fear in the face afterwards. You felt utterly fearless.

In the back of your mind, you could sense Emily's eyes still on you. You could hear her moving around but didn't think to check her reaction. You were in your element, and far be it for a look of appraisal, or lack of, to stop you. That was until your trousers hit the carpet with a soft thud, and a sharp breath was heard from across you.

Your eyes snapped open, and you found Emily's smile was absent. The brunette now had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked you up and down, knuckles white from her deadly grip over the armrests.

She lifted a hand, palm facing the ceiling as her index and middle finger crooked. "Come here so I can get a proper look at you," she said, slightly breathless.

The desk had conveniently covered the lower half of Emily's body, which meant that when you circled around and came to stand next to her, you could see exactly what the earlier ruffling had been about.

"Is that?" You froze, both shocked and utterly intrigued by the thick black dildo jutting out from the older woman's opened slacks.

She didn't need you to finish the question, already nodding as she followed your line of sight. Leaning forward with an outstretched arm, Emily coiled her fingers around your wrist and pulled you forward, causing you to almost stumble over your own feet. At this closer distance, you could tell the faux cock would give you a run for your money. It was thicker than anything you had taken before, though that was not a hard trophy to earn, given that the most you had let anyone put inside you was three fingers.

"Do you want to come sit on mommy's lap?" Emily asked with a tilt of her head.

She didn't miss how your breath caught in your throat, how you seemed to stop blinking, stop moving, stop existing.

"Are you scared?" the lioness asked, sights set on her prized fawn.

You shook your head and placed one foot in front of the other, eyes downcast as you took in the size of Emily's additional appendage. The shake of your jaw gave you away.

"I don't like being lied to," she snapped, eyes dimming to an even darker shade of brown.

She pulled you in by your waist and sat you on her lap, cock brushing over the thin material of your underwear. Instinctively, you wedged your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet yourself. But Emily wasn't having any of it. Her thumb came to your captive lip, where she helped release it with a soft flick.

The smooth texture of Emily's cock through your sodden panties was a needed relief. Its head purposefully pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves evoked a flurry of shivers to run down your spine. And with nothing holding you back, you moaned in gratitude.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Emily smirked, watching you rut against her.

"Yes," you uttered, breath caught in your throat.

Happy to watch, Emily relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, enjoying the show you were putting on for her. Only when she recognised the tell-tell signs of frustration wash over your features, from your creased brow to the bite of your lip between your teeth, did a sick smirk lick the edges of her lips. With a mischievous glint shining in her eyes, the older woman shifted her position, pointedly ignoring the sound it pulled from you.

"Something wrong?" she asked with a hitch of one eyebrow, adamant to appear oblivious.

You gave no reply, only held tight to her shoulders in defiance and continually ground down on her, trying so hard to pleasure yourself to no avail that your eyes began to sting with the emergence of tears.

With sweat threatening to spill down the side of your face, the tension between your legs starting to ache, and your release nowhere near in sight, you threw your head back with a sigh and whispered a quiet 'please' to the ceiling.

"Please what?" Came the dull reply, tone bored, unamused, unimpressed.

You tried to impale yourself, failing as strong hands held you down. It was driving you crazy—pleasure being so close yet so far.

With one hand removed from your hip, Emily gripped your jaw and turned your attention solely to her stern gaze, "Are you going to stop being a brat and tell me what you want?"

When no answer came, she let go, jerking your head back as if disgusted with the lack of compliance.

"Get up."

Ice, you were made of ice. Sat still, shocked, speechless and slightly mortified.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Emily's voice was no longer flat; it was not roaring either. Instead, it was layered, resembling the same barbed tone a teacher might use with a disobedient student. It was enough of a motivator to get you to rise to your feet.

Following you closely, the older woman, too, rose to her full height, hands meticulously reaching behind your back to expertly relieve you of your bra. Never once did she look you in the eye.

With the same callous approach, you were turned and pressed against the desk, papers sticking to your heated chest. Emily was quick to loop her fingers through the hem of your underwear and slip them down your thighs, allowing gravity to do the rest.

The full-bodied presence behind you lessened, and you took it as the opportune moment to glance back.

The brunette had let her trousers drop to the floor, allowing you to see how her porcelain skin was directly contrasted by the black leather of her strap-on. Unlike yourself, she did not appear nervous or afraid. As she kicked the tailored pants aside and met your gaze, you realised how in control she was.

Her gaze moved down your body, hands running down your back, until finally, she pressed herself against you and lowered her body atop yours.

"I can feel how wet you are," she teased, running two fingers through the mess between your legs. "Are you always this wet?"

"Emily, please," you begged.

"I asked before, please what?" She raked five fingers down your side, moving them back up till they wound tightly in your hair and gripped your neck to an uncomfortable arch. Two fingers pushed inside you but did no more than that, remaining still as stone. "If you're going to be a baby and refuse to tell me what you want, you'll get nothing."

"Fuck me!" You no longer had the sound of mind to acknowledge shouting something vulgar could attract attention. Logic had evaded you, allowing you to play right into your boss's hands. "Please just fuck me."

Sliding her slick fingers out of you, she proudly stated, "That wasn't hard, was it?"

If the older woman wanted an answer, she did not allow for one. In one fluid motion, she rose from over you and snapped her hips forward, sheathing the entire length of her cock into your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, resulting in a strained groan tumbling out of your open mouth. The pit of your stomach dropped, and try as you might have not to clench around the toy inside you, you did precisely that.

It was new, the foreign feeling of being filled so fully that one slight move would summon pleasure that sent shivers through your whole body. It wasn't unwelcome, especially when Emily started to move, and heat engulfed your entire body. Her pace was languid, allowing you to feel each slide of her cock along your slick walls, how each push of her hips ended in the tip hitting the spot within you to cause the furling in your stomach to expand tenfold. It was all you could do not to scream when the push and pull and Emily's hips moved with more purpose, jerking your body into the edge of her desk.

"I've barely started, and you're already dripping down your thighs." Her voice was laced with mirth, finger smearing your mess as if to prove an unnecessary point that had your cheeks burning up. "How long have you been thinking about this?" Emily finished her question with an arduous thrust. "How many times have you sunk your fingers into your pussy and thought of me?"

The questions continued, each hitting the nail right on the head. Your cheeks were scorched with the embarrassment that comes with having your desires known and exposed, but it did not take hold of your conscience as the event of falling in front of a large crowd might have. It was comparable to how a blushing maiden may feel when caught by a suitor in only their undergarments. It excited that small part of you that gave in to demoralisation and encouraged you enough to meet Emily halfway as she thrust into you.

As your pleasure mounted, the need for more grew. Your clit, swollen and needy, begged for relief, and you beckoned to its call, sliding one hand from above your head to the juncture between your legs. It was when the tips of your fingers brushed against your sensitive pearl and you gained the briefest taste of the euphoria that Emily removed her hand from your thigh and snatched your hand away, halting all movement.

You could have cried, having everything, then nothing, so quickly.

"Did I say you could do that?"

Abruptly pulling out, Emily stood tall and proud, staring down at you with curiosity and disappointment lining the brown of her eyes. She heard you whimper and acknowledged your sniffle.

"There's no need to cry," she tutted, flipping you onto your back and lifting you by your shoulders. "You're going to listen to me from now on."

You nodded, and she once again lined her cock to your opening, only now she waited, taunting you with possibilities.

"Beg," she instructed.

And you heeded.

"Please. I need you."

"You can do better." She sounded bored, and this struck a nerve within you, one that begged you to impress her, show her you could be a good little girl, and beg as though your life depended on it.

You took a heaving breath and looked into Emily's eyes, sporting your best puppy eyes. "I need you. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me with your big cock, mommy. Make me scream out your name. I need it."

"There's a good pet," she cooed, mesmerising you with the bating of her lashes as she looked down to where your bodies were so close to touching.

It all happened in a blur. The next thing you knew, your nails were digging into muscled shoulders, legs wrapping around a slim waist as the brunette filled you, wasting no time in picking up a brutal tempo. You barely recognised the sound of your voice as high-pitched obscenities spilt past your lips. You felt your whole body light up, heard blood pulse in your ears, and saw in real-time just how easy it was to aid Emily in calling upon your impending orgasm.

Your vulgar mouth, luckily, seemed to amuse Emily enough for her to let you continue rutting your hips against her. The corners of her lips curled, and her smirk lasted only so long for you to see before she inched forward and kissed you with passion and hunger. It was easy, so easy, to melt into the brief moment of intimacy. The butterflies felt tangible, and the sparks crackled in your ears; it felt so fucking good you'd almost forgotten just where you were. Of course, bubbles eventually popped, and this one was demolished by rustling outside Emily's office.

What little movement Emily allowed, her hands holding you firmly against the desk by your waist, was not enough to wriggle free and glance behind to see what was happening. Instead, the possibility of being caught weighed heavier with each drawled-out second.

"Emily," You tried but were cut off by a tongue sliding into your mouth. "Emily, stop."

With a bite to your lip, the older woman backed off, confusion marking her features, "What is it?" she punctuated her question with a hard thrust.

"Someone's o-" another hard thrust. "Someone's outside."

Emily smiled, picking up her pace, forcing you to breathe so deep you felt your lungs expand.

"You'd better be quiet then."

Whatever protest you were about to give died in your throat when nails skirted up to your chest and dug painfully into your breast, and Emily pushed herself so deep within you that you felt her hitting your cervix. A strangled cry was briefly heard before you managed to clasp your hand over your lips and silence your own mewls. She was fucking you as if her life depended on getting a reaction out of you that would draw attention. Nevertheless, you held firm and stayed as quiet as your muffled sobs would allow you to be.

"Emily, please," you were pleading for release and for the brutal fucking stop because you knew there would be no chance you could keep a lid on your volume; there would also be no chance you would survive not cumming.

Taking note of this, the older woman took the route of giving you your release, dragging a thumb down over your clit and applying the right amount of pressure to have your tense legs turn into a shaky mess of tremors. She didn't stop there; with a brief slide, she ran your slick over your bundle of nerves and started to circle steadily.

"Fuck!" You screamed out, missing the way the ruffling outside suddenly stopped. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming."

"That's it," the brunette encouraged, her fingers coming up to crook and tangle through the mussed mess of your hair, nails slowly working against your scalp. "Let everyone hear what a slut you are, letting me fuck you over my desk."

She didn't stop, though, not when your clit felt raw and your pussy tender, not when you begged and not even when you reached out and tried to grab her wrist. Emily only yanked you down by your hair, relishing the thud the brutal move made. She fucked you harder till stationary fell to the floor from your thrashing arms, and by then, her lips were already wrapped around a nipple, sucking firm whilst you cried through a second orgasm.

When you finally felt empty, you didn't even try to open your eyes. You knew your vision would be blurred if not blacked out. Instead, you focussed on coming back down to earth, steading your breath and not thinking about how you strangely missed being filled by Emily despite being so fucking sore.

"Are you still alive?" a smug voice asked from above, and you pried your bleary eyes open to weakly smile.

"I think so," you whispered, peeling your sweat-slick back from the desk. That was when you remembered the unknown personnel outside and shot a look at the door.

"They're gone," Emily said, cupping your chin and turning you back to her. Again, you were greeted by that conniving smirk. "After your commentary, I think they understood we didn't want to be disturbed."

"But-"

"Uh-uh." she silenced you with a finger to your lips, the smell of yourself still narrowly fragrant. You took the digit into your mouth, patting yourself on the back as you watched Emily's eyes turn dark. "You want to make Mommy feel good now, don't you?" She knew the answer, but oh, how she loved to watch you sink to your knees and eagerly nod anyway. You helped unclasp the straps of her harness, then set to pealing the last barrier keeping you from her heat down her legs.

"My good little pet," she said, smiling down at you and happily watching you beam. Her hand cupped your jaw before moving to the back of your neck, where she pulled you to her core and began singing a melody of moans.

Tags: @ssa-sapphic @aws-l @babygirlscout @red1culous @7thavenger @sapphicprentiss @five-bi-five-mind @jenna-ortega-is-pretty17177 @supercorpstan97 @kenyakimble34 @12fluffybunny12 @asensitivecookie @summoned-lust-demon @maxinehufflepuffprincess @whosprentiss @asolitaryrose3 @imlike-so-gaydude @maybe-a-humanbean @taylorswiftsboyfriend @bossofcriminalminds @asphodelvamp @jareguiromanoff @lilfartbox1 @lovelyy-moonlight @patronagrona @lostenby @storiesofsvu @mrs-prentiss @romanoffsho @paulilvsremus @waitaminutebaby @jarexuslover @lesbodietcoke @homo-oddity @milfsincrime @noahrex @pnsteblnme @asolitaryrose3 | click here to be added to my taglist

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds #emily prentiss x y/n #lgbt #Emily Prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #cm

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eternally-racing · 9 months

Text

keep her safe | lando norris

pairing: dad! lando x wife! reader (+ their teenage daughter!)

genre: fluff & angst-ish

warnings: racing crash, reader/lando's kid is in the hospital, some swearing

wc: 1.4k

summary: Nothing prepares you for the feeling of watching your daughter's first crash in formula 3.

note: this fic can be read as part of the racer girl series or as a stand alone as well!

----

Lando always hated pulling the “I’m a celebrity” card when you two were out in public. He's never wanted the special treatment that companies wanted to give him before, but the minute he sees his daughter crash in her first Formula 3 race, he’s trying to pull out every trump card he has to get his way into the medical tent.

“That’s my fucking daughter in there, you can’t keep her from me! This is absolutely insane! I’m Lando fucking Norris, don’t you know who I am?” Lando is yelling and yelling and you hold him back by the wrist because otherwise you think he might actually charge at the door to try and get through it.

He more than anyone here knows what a bad crash looks like, and from the minute he saw your daughter, Piper, go into the barriers he knew that it was a rough one. There’s cameras swarming around you both but he doesn’t care (It’s not like he was a PR team’s dream when he was a driver himself). That’s his little girl in there and she’s hurt. There’s now a full commotion in front of the medical area and Lando admits defeat as he sinks back into the wall behind him and crumbles to the floor with you following suit.

“She’s afraid of needles, Y/N.” Lando says no louder than a whisper towards the shut doors “Who’s gonna tell them that she’s afraid of needles if I’m not there?”

You know that if she’s in a state where they’re not letting you see her and she’s being transferred to the hospital that she likely has already gotten a lot of needles and wasn’t conscious enough to feel them, but you keep that information to yourself once you see the worried look on Lando’s face. This exact moment is something you two had worried about ever since your little girl first stepped in a kart, and somehow it was worse than you had ever imagined it would be.

By the time you and Lando make it to the hospital it feels like hours have gone by, even though in reality it hadn’t been more than a handful of minutes. Lando’s never been more grateful for his success when a nurse recognizes him and immediately guides you both in the direction of Piper’s room. He’s not sure he would’ve been able to make it through a conversation right now anyways.

The scene inside is every parent’s worst nightmare. There are lines going in and out of Piper’s arms and bags of fluid are hung next to her bed; there are too many machines beeping and showing numbers and graphs that you just can’t understand. You feel Lando’s knees buckle beside yours and you keep an arm around his waist to keep him steady. You both need each other right now, there’s no doubt about that.

When Piper cries out for her daddy from the hospital bed it brings a fresh set of tears to your eyes. You can’t remember the last time Piper actually called Lando daddy, it had been “dad” for the most part or “Mr.Norris” if she felt like being cheeky, but hearing those words from her mouth brought you right back to when she was a little girl, your little girl.

Lando rushes to her side and has both hands caressing her face. He knows that she’s been checked over by the doctors, but he needs to see for himself that she’s really okay. He presses his forehead against hers as they cry together. You’ll never fully understand what Piper’s just been through, but the man standing in front of her does all too well.

You hang back a bit to talk to the doctors, who try to give you a comprehensive update on her status, but as soon as you hear the words “she’s fine and on track to make a complete recovery” you zone out as you finally let out the breath that it feels like you’ve been holding this whole time. You’re about to go rejoin your family once you hear the next words out of your daughter’s mouth.

“I’m sorry dad, I know this meant a lot to you.” Piper sighs as she pulls the hospital sheets up to her chin. “Did I at least make it around a lap? Am I the youngest ever female formula 3 driver to complete a lap in a grand prix?”

This is when Lando has to face the music - he got so excited about his daughter dreaming of Formula 1 that he may have pushed her a little too far if his daughter is more worried about beating records than she is about her own health. Lando tries to calm his own breathing as he grabs both of Piper’s hands to lay on his own to get her full attention. He wants to make sure she fully understands what he’s about to say.

“You’re always going to be my little girl, Pipes. Racing or not, I am always proud of you. I never want you to feel like you have to impress me.” Lando doesn’t even answer Piper’s question about the record because frankly he has no idea. He’s never once cared about awards and prizes and all of the fancy shit. All he’s ever wanted is for her to be happy, and he tells her exactly that.

Piper stops crying long before Lando does, and you’re amazed by the maturity your daughter shows as she starts wiping the tears from your husband’s eyes. You all just need a little family cuddle so you do exactly that, and take a moment to appreciate the lives that the three of you have and how precious that is. The sentimental moment is only broken by your daughter, who says that she has a little request for the two of you.

“Do you think you can ask the doctors if they can give me the good stuff that you got back in Vegas all those years ago, dad?”

Moments like this remind you that Piper is her father’s daughter and it earns a laugh from you both.

“Not a chance, kid, but good try.”

For the first time in what feels like years, the 3 of you sleep in one bed together. It’s one teeny tiny hospital bed made for a teenager, so you both wake up with extremely sore backs but very full hearts. Piper’s the first to fall asleep, understandably spent from the day she’s been through, but you notice Lando’s eyes never leave her, as if he’s worried she’ll disappear if he looks away. You reach over to grab his hand, you get it. Call it parental instinct, but that feeling of anxiety after something bad happens to your child is just something you can’t push away, and you want him to know that you’re here for him. You both wordlessly take turns watching over Piper throughout the night, holding her hand through blood draws and med deliveries.

Lando spends all day and night at Piper’s side while she’s recovering, and it’s only when you and your daughter tell him that he smells absolutely horrendous and needs to go shower do you finally get him to take a beat for himself. He still calls 3 times on the drive home from the hospital alone to check how Piper’s doing, and you have to threaten to not pick up the next time he calls before he finally takes a bit of a break. So often it feels like children drift away from their parents in their teenage years, but Piper’s recovery has given you both the opportunity to spend some much needed time with her as she grows up.

The minute Piper is cleared by the medical team she’s instantly back in the simulator. She’s a little daredevil like her daddy after all. Lando of course asks over and over again if she’s doing this for herself and not him, the fear of making the same mistakes as earlier weighing heavy on his mind. Your daughter is nothing if not honest, so she tells him about how she loves the sport itself but also loves the way she’s able to connect to her dad through it. Lando makes her pinky promise that she’ll let her know if she ever changes her mind on the subject, and lucky for you both, she never does.

---

author's note: this was based on a lovely request from a reader! if you have any requests feel free to drop them in my ask box :) If you liked this piece and haven't read racer girl yet, give it a read because I'm sure you'll love that one too!

Until next time! - Em <;3

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nereidprinc3ss · 6 months

Note

Ok but I think you hit on something in “in the dead of night” about how Spencer leans into his mammalian instincts. Imagine him angry and tense after a rough day and needing that and then talking you through the motions of it and why it makes him feel better because of the science and chemicals behind it all

i absolutely love this!! thank you for requesting:)

also experimenting with a new short and sweet format for blurbs/request! feedback is always appreciated<3

wc 800

warnings: fem!reader, very suggestive, d/s dynamics

“I don’t—Spencer—”

Something in your mouth keeps you from finishing the sentence. Namely: your boyfriend’s tongue. You gasp into him as he tugs your jacket off, arching your back against the wall he’s pressed you to so that the fabric can hit the ground with a thick thud.

“Spence, please,” you manage, barely, as his hand cups your jaw and his thumb presses under your chin, encouraging you to angle your head up and make room for his lips. It’s not that you don’t want this—you told him he could be rough with you and you meant it—but you’re slightly overwhelmed by this uncharacteristic display of nearing aggressive passion.

“What, baby?” he breathes, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck while his hands snake under your shirt. Focused on the feeling of his hand pressed against your waist, you allow your eyes to flutter shut.

“You’re acting… different.”

A pause—his head drops against your shoulder as he reigns himself in.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No—you don’t need to stop, I just… it might make me feel better if I knew what this was about.”

He sucks in a breath.

“You want to hear about my day?”

The way his fingers trail downward over your skin is so gentle it feels almost dangerous.

“… Yeah.” But you don’t at all sound sure of yourself. A hum from him seems to rattle your skull as he drags his lips up your neck and over your jaw, kissing you with a softness that is almost certainly deceptive.

“You know what, angel? I don’t actually really feel like talking about that right now. Does that tell you—” he bites your lip, and it doesn’t really hurt, but you whine anyway, “what kind of day I had?”

No words are forming for you anymore, so you make do with an airy “mhm.”

The first button at the bottom of your shirt is undone before you even realize he was unbuttoning it.

“Have you ever heard of the ventrolateral ventromedial hypothalamus?” Spencer murmurs, undoing the buttons on your shirt with a practiced expertise that is hard to keep up with—especially when he keeps teasing your lips with his like this. It doesn’t even matter if you’ve heard of that or not; all the information you’ve ever retained is gone from the stores of your brain. If it doesn’t have anything to do with Spencer, it feels deeply unimportant. You shake your head no. “The hypothalamus does a lot. It regulates our appetites, our body temperatures, hormones…”

Why is this so sexy.

“It also has a lot to do with how we express our emotions. And that tiny part of the hypothalamus—the one I just mentioned—it’s where we process two really big feelings.” He undoes the last button, gently pushing your open shirt from your shoulders. “Anger.” Hands creep around your hips, blindly unzipping your skirt. “And arousal.”

Oh!

“In a disregulated brain, that can be a dangerous combination. But,” he tugs the straps of your bra down, “if you understand it, you can use it to your advantage.”

Your breath is bated as you do the work of kicking off your shoes, and he unclasps your bra.

“The human brain is fallible in so many ways. At the end of the day, we’re delicate, and vulnerable, and convoluted—but we’re also pretty simple creatures, motivated by a few basic instincts. Anger and sex are intrinsic to who we are as animals. For most of history, they’ve defined us. And they’re so closely related. Do you follow?”

Your response comes as a gasp when you realize you haven’t been breathing for a long moment now.

“Yes.” Does it matter if you understand? You just want him to touch you.

“Good.” His lowered voice gets even quieter as he continues, brushing hair behind your ear carefully. “You know I would never, ever hurt you, right?”

“I know.”

You don’t remember how all your clothes ended up on the kitchen floor, but they’re certainly not on you anymore as he presses flush against your bare skin.

“I will always take care of you and keep you safe. That being said—sometimes the best thing you can do when you’re having a really big feeling is to follow that basic animal instinct. It’s why sprinting can help when you’re having a panic attack. Your body is in fight or flight and it will relax if you follow the instinct to run.”

Spencer’s fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear.

“I’ve been having some of those really big feelings today. Do you know what’s going to make me feel better?”

You whimper. Fabric slips past your hips and falls to the ground as Spencer begins closing the small distance between your mouths—but not before uttering a word that has your heart racing.

“You.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert

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lost-inthe-v0id · 7 months

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Someone PLEASE needs to do this

Like something about zuko and fire bending reader being engaged. Like she’s a royal and they’re being “forced to get married” but they actually fall in love. They support each other through everything and they’re literally stuck at the hip. They sneak out to see each other and whenever they have to go to formal events they can’t wait to see each other and they goof around all night. She knows all of his secrets and how he feels about his father and mother.

Reader somewhat gets along with Azula. Reader doesn’t like the way she treats zuko sometimes but she acknowledges she is only a product of the adults around her so she has a soft spot for her.

Then when zuko get exiled he’s so caught up on getting his fathers approval. He promises to her he’ll be back before she knows it. He knows how hard it is for her in the palace. She tries to go with him just as his ship is leaving, pleading with him one last time; insisting she can be of help. He declines her kinda harsh but she understands and bids him farewell. She walks away but remembers she has to give him something. A token of good luck. When she runs back to give it to him she over hears Zuko talking to someone telling them he didn’t want reader to come because she’d be baggage, a burden, dead weight. Reader is hurt and goes back to her room in the palace and cries her sorrows away. She really thought he thought more of her, he always complimented her when she firebent, she was taught by the best and he still thought of her as deadweight?

In Reality Zuko only said that because he knew he wasn’t going to come back for a while, he knew it would inevitably she would fall for someone else during the time he was away. What if he came back with his hopes up only to find her in the arms of someone else, someone who was there for her, who would care and love her then and there. He wasn’t good for her. And the faster he convinced himself he could move on, the less he would cling to her when he inevitably saw her again.

Time passes by and reader comes to the conclusion from the help of overthinking, that he never loved her. It was all a facade to win the approval of his father. If he really cared for her , he would know how awful it was in the palace without him. He abandoned her. And for what to find some kid?

She joins azula. She’s really good at fire bending and she hates to see azula practically destroy herself and the people around her for some approval. So she decided if no one will properly take care of her, she will. Over time Reader has disconnected her feelings from the actions she takes under Azula. Her only concern right now is Azula. She realizes Azula at her core is a wounded little girl and she takes care of her as her own.

IDK when or where reader and zuko reconnects or see glimpses of each other again but when he sees how she cares for Azula he melts away. You’re so scary to people around you but soft and nurturing towards his sister. He wants that. He needs it. At one point when you challenge him to fight due to anger from maybe hurting Azula in some type of way or jealousy due to his kindness towards katara. When you firebent in the past you made sure your flames wouldn’t hurt him but now they’re coming at him full force and he doesn’t know what to do.

@ me if u do plz give credit 👉👈🥺 I can’t write like that

#prince zuko #atla zuko #angst #x reader #zuko x reader #the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #princess azula #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #fire lord zuko #atla azula #atla angst #atla prompt #atla mai #atla live action

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supercutszns · 8 months

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bitter to the taste; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc + pairing: 5.5k, luke castellan x f!reader

synopsis: a sharp blade, a black eye, and (more than) two kisses.

warnings: this is even sluttier than the last one, language, sword fighting, sharp objects, blood/injuries, reader is still a horrible person and so is luke but he's also a loooser, making out, allusions/mentions of sex but no super explicit descriptions, kind of fluffy at the end

notes: i’m starting to hate this bc i think i’ve been staring at it too long sorry if this is not as good as pt.1 but i have plans for this series ok. also READER AND LUKE ARE NOT GOOD PEOPLE!!! THEIR RELATIONSHIP WILL NOT ALWAYS BE GOOD!!! THEY SUCK!! they are also not real but keep that in mind :) synopsis inspired by crush by ethel cain; designated song for this fic is unpunishable by ethel cain (i’ve got a whole chronological playlist for these freaks like it’s serious)

You’ve always had a taste for violence. And an equally powerful penchant for sloth.

You prefer to watch the carnage, not participate. It satisfies something inside you that you know, if it wasn’t for your laziness, could cause something irrevocable. Who the hell has time for that?. You’d rather lie back and watch instead.

This flaw of yours is the only reason you haven’t stirred more trouble, you think. It’s the reason you never attend camp games or sparring lessons. Sometimes, when you do, a dark muscle flexes inside your heart to curl out of its slumber, forming a hunger you don’t have otherwise. The second it starts to pry you have to rear yourself back and tuck the monster in. Banish the need for something more.

You don’t want to feed it. You don’t know what happens if you do. So you let other people do the feeding for you.

Luke cuts through two dummy heads in one swoop. It’s fucking gorgeous. The moon reflects off his sword, a silver sheen casting his face when he’s in the right spot. His brows are set, eyes so dark they blend with the night. Every motion is ruthless. Satisfying.

You don’t know how many times you’ve watched him like this. He called you out for it last night, but you’re sure he doesn’t know the half of it. The shadows are a sacred cloak to you, and you wait inside them until you want your presence known.

Meet me tomorrow.

It runs through your head like a broken record. You can still feel his breath on your lips and your neck is still tender—had to wear a sweater in the blazing heat to hide the marks. Since you were created you’ve accepted a universal truth about yourself: you don’t harbour affection for anyone or anything. There’s not a single thing you’ve felt drawn to or protective over but yourself. It’s solitary, yes, and lonely, yes, but that’s the way you’re supposed to be.

But you think about last night. You think about the moments between the kisses and the rush. When he teased you against your ear. When his hand brushed a certain spot on your back and something much lighter fluttered inside of you. When you crawled into sleep and thought about him, those were the moments that struck you the strangest.

His gaze pans over the treeline every once in a while, the anger diluted. Then it comes back twice as hard as he shreds another dummy to pieces.

He’s waiting for you. Oh, this is rich! A better person would probably turn around and go spoon their offerings into the bonfire the second they understand what they’re doing is incredibly destructive. But who are we kidding? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.

So you take a step forward, slip out of the comfort of the dark, and the next time he looks to the treeline he knows you’re there. He can’t see you, but he knows.

You wait. His strikes are less tenuous, much smoother. It almost makes you laugh. Some fucking showman he is.

Eventually, he buries his blade in the dirt and wipes his brow. “Are you gonna come talk to me or are you gonna stare at me all night like an owl?”

You relish in the feeling of shedding the darkness, coming into the light of the moon. “Hi,” you say flatly, but there’s a tiny smile on his face when he sees you that almost puts you off.

“Hello, rotten.” He tries to lean on the hilt of his sword but it isn’t quite tall enough so he stumbles. It’s so pathetic it almost makes you laugh.

“Don’t call me that,” you grimace.

“Okay, back to heathen?”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Well, you don’t seem too happy when people call you by your name so pick your poison here.”

You don’t say anything, your mouth set in a scowl. “All right, both it is,” Luke shrugs.

He’s different from last night. Less impatient. You hope it’s not because he thinks he has you now—he’s got another thing coming. “I almost thought you weren’t gonna come,” he says with a crooked grin, neither bashful nor ashamed.

You’ve made your way closer to him, the soft grass turning to dusty earth. “Don’t know why I did,” you mutter crassly.

Having abandoned his sword, Luke chuckles wryly. “Yes, you do.”

That bitterness he hides from everyone else pierces through. He tilts your face up like he did yesterday, the press of his fingers beneath your chin almost burning you. You know he’s peering at the marks on your neck.

“If you made me come here just to hook up with me you’re delusional,” you glare.

“What, like that’s not why you’re here?” He pushes your face up a little higher, grinning a little when you add resistance. “I’m a gentleman, you know. I can be patient.”

This guy is full of fucking shit.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you snipe. The only point of contact you have is his hand on your chin, but you’re a hair’s breadth away from having everything else. The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you.

He keeps your face still. He’s studying you, and you’re suddenly curious about what he sees. You remember all those looks you’d share at the dinner tables that made this happen in the first place. What did he see then?

“You wanna fight?”

It takes you a second to react. “What?”

“You want to fight. Pick up a sword, let’s go.” He smiles as he finally lets you go, waltzing away from you to unbury his sword from the dirt. His touch permeates through your skin and you hate it.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I can’t fight.”

“Sure you can,” he replies, grabbing another sword from the training rack. “You need to burn off a little steam.”

You laugh sharply. “And you think me waving a sword around is gonna do that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he grins. “It’s the method that lets us keep the most clothes on.”

You glare at him. His smirk is a mile wide. The way your stomach is simmering almost makes you sick; it’s like gorging yourself on candy except this time the candy has a sword and maybe wants to fuck you.

You just watch as he hands you his sword, and the moonlight glinting off the metal has you believing it’s not the kind used for training. “I’ll use the dull one,” he assures. “C’mon, heathen. I know you’ve used a sword before, they force us to.”

“I usually skip those classes.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if it’s at you or with you. “Of course you do.”

You don’t like following orders, but oh, what the hell. Luke knows something about you, just like you know something about him. You’re only a little curious about it.

“Straighten your back,” is the first thing he says once you’ve taken your stance across from him. The blunt of his sword reaches out to tap your hip.

You begrudgingly do as you’re told. He watches you mirthfully, and the press of his sword against you starts to feel like a substitute for his hand. All the closeness you’re hungry for, dampened by cold steel. It still makes you buzz.

He gives you the barebones—the right grip, how to maneuver, the proper balance. But long gone is his easy disposition. The motor inside him that powered all those dummy beheadings and disembowelments is running again, except this time it’s for you. He wants a fight. This is his battlefield. All right, you’ll bite.

You start to spar with the skill of an overgrown toddler. The sword feels like an unnatural ligament hanging off your body. Luke is precise, convicting, far more enthusiastic than you. “You can do better than that,” he prods after your swords clash lazily for the billionth time. “Stop going easy.”

“You’re going easy,” you shoot back.

“Yeah, but I’d really rather not. Come on.”

There’s a moment of hesitation. You think about that dark thing you keep harboured. A muscle aching to be used.

“Come on,” he says again, and he almost sounds pissed. “All of a sudden you’re playing nice? What are you afraid of?”

Something flares inside you. “Nothing!”

“Then pick up the sword and fight me.”

You huff and roll your eyes, but your next swing is far more inspired. Luke blocks it easily, but you don’t care. “There we go,” he nods. “Again.”

This is more than you bargained for when you decided to come see him. All you want is to make out with this hot, awful person and have him tell you hot, awful things about yourself you probably already know. Why do you have to fight to get it?

He keeps provoking you no matter how hard you try. Your temper picks up the more you swing, discordant clangs bruising the air, but it’s still not enough. Luke doesn’t let up. Of course the one time you try to be nice, you’re not allowed to. On second thought, why are you reigning yourself in for Luke? The only other person in camp with a real, consuming viciousness? If anything you should hit him twice as hard, since he’s so sure he can take it.

“No wonder you’re so angry all the time,” Luke heaves out, and it gives you a swell of satisfaction. “You don’t have a proper outlet. Maybe you’d be nicer if you didn’t sit around and complain all day.”

“Shut up,” you gnash your teeth.

“Just saying, maybe you should do something about it.”

You’re getting lost in the rhythm of the swords, the adrenaline, the sweat passing the scar on his cheek. Every swing you think less and less, and that dark muscle flexes more and more. It feels like home to you. Like a good meal. Your bones ache and the world has darkened, but that rotten pit inside you cracks open in full bloom.

Luke keeps egging you on but you can’t hear him. Not like he still needs to. You think you’re smiling, or huffing furiously, or both. The sharpness of the sword intrigues you. A million terrible things reflect off its blade and you imagine them, all at once, until you are out of your body and the black hole inside you has properly wedged itself open.

Luke jabs at you and you bring your sword down with a vengeance. But it’s a little too low. You only notice when he drops his weapon to the side and staggers back.

The fog of violence falters. It fades almost completely when he hisses long and hard, eyes screwed shut, and you see the tear in his shirt. In his skin.

“Shit,” you say. “Fuck.”

You don’t sound sorry, you don’t think you are sorry, especially when he laughs. It’s a wheezy one through his teeth as you come up to him, but a laugh nonetheless. “Knew you were going easy,” he remarks through a wince.

You ignore him, looking down at the injury. A gash across his abdomen. It’s bleeding a little, but not enough for it to drip. You did that. Just looking at the blood, you feel the bitter taste of it in your mouth, the reward a temporary hunger for carnage brought you. This is why you don’t play camp games.

“I’ve got thick skin. I’m fine,” Luke says casually. “I’ve got a medical kit under that tree over there in case I beat myself up too bad.” He’s no longer scrunched in pain, and you’ve got a feeling he’s telling the truth. So you go fetch the kit where he said it was. You need to wrap that slash. Not because you’re sorry for him, but because looking at it makes you angry.

You kneel and pop the lid of the small tin kit, covered in dirt. It’s mostly gauze and bandages. Rubbing alcohol too. “Just give me the gauze, that’s all I need,” Luke gestures.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m doing it myself.” You’ve already torn off some gauze, sitting all the way up on your knees.

“Most people just say sorry.”

“You pushed me,” you spit back, surprisingly forceful. Luke’s smile drops. You take a deep breath, adjusting yourself to get eye level with the injury. “I told you I don’t fight.”

You’re not sure what makes Luke give in, but he doesn’t say a word as you lift the hem of his torn shirt and he holds it up. There’s no proud remark about your eyes lingering on his stomach, or the hesitation in your hands. You stare at the wound. It really is shallow. Your thumb presses at the skin around it and he winces. “My bad,” you mutter.

As you sterilize the cut and wrap the gauze around his torso, you try not to let your fingertips cling to the warmth on his skin. You try not to notice the other scars littered there, most faded to the point they should be impossible to pick up even in the sun. It’s obvious he’s staring at you. Your neck is crawling with warmth. But you don’t engage, you just wrap the gauze a few times and do your best not to notice the rise and fall beneath his muscles as he breathes. Then you fasten things neatly and put everything away so you can get up. Any second. Come on.

“Good?” You ask instead, exhaling.

“Good,” he affirms. He slides a hand under your forearm and gets you up. It stays there once you’re standing. The night stills.

“I’m guessing you’re adding ‘attempted killer’ to your list of horrible qualities,” you go on to break the silence.

He holds your gaze unyieldingly. “I’d consider that a pro, actually.”

You are entirely fed up with this drawn out evening, but you can’t bring yourself to speed anything up any more than stepping closer so your chests brush. “I will give you one, though,” he continues, craning down to your ear. You smell his skin and it sends you back to the position you were in yesterday.

He finally kisses your jaw, just once, then your neck. You shiver. “You’re too tense.” Another kiss behind your ear. It’s not enough. “Do you even know how to have fun?”

“I don’t want to have fun,” you reply bitterly. I just want to make out with you, asshat.

Luke’s breath frosts over your face when he chuckles, but before he can get any further away you catch his mouth with yours. Almost instinctively his arm winds around you to pull you in closer, your hand looping through his curls. It's a relief, knowing last night wasn't some freak accident. This does feel good, actually, and it can happen. Everything you felt yesterday is only more urgent now, hungrier, and you're pretty sure the way you kiss him gives that away.

He indulges you, squeezing the base of your hips as his other hand thumbs across the marks on your neck. This is so fucking embarassing—you think you whine when he bites down on your bottom lip. You’ve never needed something this bad, you’ve never needed anything. But you press yourself as close to him as you can manage and his hand runs lower, slips against your inner thighs, and it’s difficult to worry about anything else.

Until he pulls away. Like a dick.

He doesn’t go far, his forehead pressed to yours, but you feel like pulling out all his hair. It’s a muddling mix of frustration and longing you’re starting to associate with him. “Dude,” you groan, an inner coil only starting to unwind begrudgingly compressing.

“Let’s go for a swim,” he says. The enthusiasm is almost alarming. Almost makes him look younger.

You’re homicidal. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes, heathen. Let’s go for a swim, come on.”

He’s rubbing circles on your thigh, which only makes you want to strangle him. “But I—I don’t have my bathing suit,” you string out.

The smile gets more boyish. “Wow, whatever shall we do?”

It’s another challenge. Another dare. And he knows what you want, fucking jerk. You’re going to kill him.

“Fine,” you grunt, and the second the words leave your lips you’re pulled to the lake.

It’s a warm, sticky evening, only made worse with the sweat and the half-assed kissing, so the water doesn’t seem all that bad. Unfortunately, you don’t like giving into demands. So you stare ghoulishly at your fingernails as Luke tosses off his ripped shirt and his shorts so he can plunge into the lake. “Aren’t you going to at least come in?” He asks, but you don’t look at him.

“I don’t like swimming,” you lie.

“At least your feet. It’s nice, I swear!”

A splash, like smoke moving through wind chimes. You look up and Luke has completely submerged, popping his head up closer to the mouth of the dock. “Please,” he says with such conviction your resolve turns to butter. Gods, what is happening to you? You still need that lobotomy!

You sigh, roll your eyes, turn your back to him. “Fuck this,” you mutter under your breath. You undress to your undergarments and you’re not sure if you want Luke to be watching or not. The moon touches your bare skin and a chill trickles through you.

You take a seat at the edge of the dock, knees tucked to your chest. Luke swims over for you right away. His hair is dripping against his skin, and you hate how beautiful it looks. The waterline is high tonight, almost ridiculously so, so he props his elbows up on the dock with no problem. “Come in,” he urges.

“No.”

“Just your legs?”

“No.”

“Gods, I’ll make it worth it, just throw your damn legs in!”

Your eyebrows shoot up. His face is stubbornly pink. Oh, so now he wants something. You take your time uncurling yourself and Luke wades away from the dock so you can put your feet in. The water goes up to your calves, and you shiver. “So fucking difficult,” he mutters, and your pulse flickers.

“Sorry, what was that?” You let yourself grin for the first time all night.

“Nothing,” he hums. This time when he comes to the dock, he wraps his hands around your calves. You’re pretty sure he can stand here because he stops treading. The warmth of the water seems to spread further, long past the threshold of your knees.

He rests his chin just above your knee, water pooling on your skin. “Stop dripping on me,” you complain.

“Sorry.” He fake pouts when he kisses the damp spot. You see, ever so faintly, a diabolic shift in his expression. He nudges your leg with the point of his nose, then kisses it, then starts to move it aside. “Feel bad about teasing you all night,” he murmurs, still with an edge. He presses more kisses on your legs. “I really did want to see you.”

The irony that he’s still teasing is not lost on you. You’re not loving how desperately warm you’re starting to feel. “Why’s that?” You lean back on your palms.

“You’re a very interesting person,” he quips innocently. His hands are cupping the backs of your calves. He’s pulled you a lot closer to the water, and somehow you’ve just noticed. Another blistering kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“You’re fucking evil,” you scathe.

He looks up at you from between your legs. “You have literally done nothing but berate and injure me this whole evening.”

“Yeah, and right after I patch you up you jump in the water for shits. You’re playing infection roulette, Castellan.”

“See? You’re so mean.” He sighs, and in a move that almost surprises you to death, he hoists both your legs over his shoulders and they dangle into the river behind him. “And here I am anyway, making it up to you.”

You are suddenly illuminated on the purpose of this situation. Why Luke is between your legs. Your heart jolts. “Luke, you can’t be serious.”

“Mmhm.” He leans forward to kiss right under your navel.

You hate how much you want him to do it again, how your body burns, but you avert your eyes. “Someone’s gonna—someone’s gonna hear us.”

He snorts, “No they won’t. Either this or you come in the water with me. Or both. We’ll see.”

A huge smile cracks across your face before you push it back down. You’re going to spend a lot of time coming back to this moment, this night, wondering why. “What is wrong with you.”

It comes out like a compliment when it leaves you. You want to vanish. Luke chuckles, and something foreign to the both of you buzzes through the air.

“Are you going to be nice?” He asks against your skin.

“Are you going to be quick?”

His mouth finds your hip bones and yeah, why the hell would you say no to this? He nods, “Swear.”

That’s all you need. You let your eyes slide shut and your head tilts towards the sky. Luke takes your permission and runs with it, pries you open with his mouth until the stars soak through the black of your eyelids.

You discover pretty quickly neither of you are good at keeping promises.

The next time you need Luke’s med kit, he’s already awake.

It’s been happening more and more often. You lurking around camp past moonrise and finding Luke outside his cabin, going for a walk or a stretch or a … something with you.

“Do you ever sleep?” You ask him sometimes between flurries of kisses with your back against a tree.

“Could ask you the same thing, heathen,” he squeezes your hips and nips at your neck, but never answers the question. And neither do you, so you’re both okay with it. You’d hate to give up this feeling, but he doesn’t need to know that.

This is the first time in your punitive life you have felt alive. Like a person, with bones and flesh and soul, a real presence. Not a ghost of smoke and shadow. You are real.

Fooling around makes you feel like an actual teenager. You’re young, you remember when Luke joins you in the dark. You’re having fun. His hands under your shirt and his mouth on your collarbone, the way he bites down and winces when you do something a little too well, when you string out his name and he rewards you for it. You’re both greedy, insatiable people, so there’s a push and pull only the two of you would ever be able to handle. And nobody has to know. Despite all the bruises, the sleepless nights, the swollen lips, all you and Luke share in the daylight are noxious looks, and that's only if he can find you. A perfect crime. Camp Half-Blood’s angel and the vice that lives in the shadows. But in the dark, it’s hard to tell which is which.

“Luke,” you whisper. “Luke.”

“I’m up,” he grumbles, peering up at you. “You shouldn’t sneak into my cabin.” He was already sitting up in his bed when you slipped in, and he didn’t notice you were there till you were right in front of him.

“Worried someone will catch me? You should know better.”

He follows you outside so you don’t wake the other campers. There’s a thrill knowing just one interaction between the two of you could ruin both your reputations forever.

“What is it, heathen?” He asks as the door closes behind him. It’s so dark and your back is turned to him, but his voice is drenched in smugness. “You don’t usually want to put up with me more than once a night.”

“Don’t have a choice,” you mutter, staring out at the camp. You go to chew on your bottom lip, but you wince immediately. “Where’s your kit thingy? The one we used after I impaled you.”

“You mean after you lightly grazed me?”

“Just tell me where it is, Luke.”

Your sharpness could cut through any sleepy daze he possibly has. He’s silent behind you for a second. “Why?” He asks.

“Because I need it.”

His hand curls around your shoulder and before you can think to submerge yourself in darkness, he turns you around. When he sees you, his face breaks from something proud to something … you’re not sure you like. “Oh, heathen,” he murmurs. “What happened to you?”

You guess it’s a semi-appropriate reaction, although you expected at least a grimace. To put it lightly, your face looks gnarly as fuck. There’s a bruise on your cheekbone and your lip is split. But what really draws attention is the half-formed, garish black eye swelling up your right side.

“Just the usual. Pissed someone off.” It hurts the skin on your lip that’s caked with blood.

He rests his thumb on your unbruised cheek, but somehow it still stings. You know he can’t see much of you in the dark but he tries. The prolonged eye contact without the imminent promise of a kiss feels foreign. “You need to go to the Apollo cabin,” he concludes, brows pushed together.

A laugh slips past your broken lips. “No fucking shot. They would not help me.”

“Why not?”

“Because one of their shit-eaters did this!”

The words take a moment to register. You see them filtering through Luke’s brain. He blinks absurdly. “An Apollo guy beat you up?”

“Not beat up. Just … tussled.”

“How much tussling earns you a black eye, exactly? From Apollo kids.”

“Gods, just tell me where your kit is so you can go back to fucking sleep.”

His fingertips inch around the back of your neck, thumb still against your face. “Already wasn’t sleeping. I might as well help you,” he shrugs. “I move the kit every once in a while so some other campers don’t ravage it.”

“I don’t need help.”

Luke opens his mouth, then sighs deeply. He takes a firm hold of your arm and starts to tug you along. “Hey, what—” you swat at his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. “Come on.”

It’s strange. Luke’s never done you a favour before. At least not one like this. You’re disgruntled enough that you had to go ask him in the first place and now he’s dragging you around? “This isn’t such a big deal, Luke,” you badger. “I’m fine.”

“Sure, whatever. Wait right here.” He lets go of you and only then you realize you’re in front of the Apollo cabin. You grimace, and Luke must have noticed because he says, “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna go inside and grab some things. No one’s gonna jump you.”

You scowl at him, and he just laughs. A part of you hopes he hits his head on the way in. You hide anyway.

It’s a few minutes of waiting in the oppressive summer heat, until Luke emerges from the cabin with his hands full. He looks around, hesitantly calling, “Heathen?” Then again. You move out of your hiding spot and he jogs over to greet you.

“Nice haul,” you comment. There’s an ice pack, cotton pads, a few miscellaneous items. “How’d you get them?”

He smiles widely. “Everyone loves me, heathen. It’s not hard.”

“…So you stole them.”

“Yes, but only because I’m too tired to talk to people and I’m protesting for your sake,” he rattles off. “Now hold this ice pack before it gives me frostbite.”

The two of you make your way down to the docks again. It’s morphed into your usual meeting place, since the waves lapping at the shore mask when Luke gets a little too noisy just to piss you off. (At least that’s what he tells you.)

He’s stashed his little tin in a different tree this time. After he retrieves it he sets everything out like a chef preparing to make a meal out of gauze and rubbing alcohol.

Your head has been throbbing for the past few hours. You’re not proud that you antagonized the wrong Apollo kid and got a shiner for it. You’re less proud that you came to Luke for help. Just like everyone else does.

“Come,” he gestures, tugging at the waistband of your pants. You scoot closer to him and swallow the weight of your pulse when he touches you.

Luke slowly presses the ice pack to your black eye, letting you hold it. “What did you do to earn this, anyway?” He asks, head tilted to the side.

You’re hissing because of the ice, half-consciously shifting into him. “The usual. Spat at him. Made fun of his daddy a little too much. Tripped him so he landed face-first in his offerings.”

“You did not,” Luke laments as he dots alcohol onto a cotton pad.

“You’re allowed to say you’re proud of me, Saint Castellan. I won’t tell. You can be mean.” Your voice drips with irony, and you hope it bothers him. The flex in his jaw gives it away.

“You’re always gonna be meaner,” is all he says back. “This is gonna hurt.”

It’s all the warning he gives before he presses the pad against your lip. The sting envelops you immediately, and your good eye squeezes shut. “Shit, ow!”

“Stop moving your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you swear anyway. Your lip burns so hard you can feel it in your teeth.

Luke holds your jaw with his other hand so you can’t shy away. “I’ll kiss it better,” he teases. “Almost done.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke takes the pad off a few moments later. “Serious question. How are you so awful to people all the time?”

A groan tears through your throat with such force your head tilts back. “Not you too! I don’t need a fucking reason, there is no reason. Why doesn’t anyone get that?”

“I’m not asking why. I’m asking how.”

He’s oddly serious, the caress of his thumb on your cheek far slower. You hate it when people want a reason why you’re like this, just to help them sleep at night. But from the bags lining Luke’s eyes, sleep doesn’t seem to be on his radar.

“I just don’t care,” you admit, shrugging. “I don’t care about any of them. I don’t care about what they can do to me. I don’t care about anything.”

“…What about the Gods?”

It makes you cock your head. “Huh?”

“You wouldn’t care about them, either?”

You think, but only about which words to use. “No,” you decide, “They don’t scare me. They’re nothing. What are they gonna do to me?”

Luke snorts, almost nervously. “Uh, punish you for saying that, for one.”

You turn back to him, ice pack leaving your eye as you gesture. “How? By killing me? Pecking out my eyeballs? Burning me alive? I’m telling you, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. It’s all just nothing to me. I’m fucking unpunishable, I’d like to see them try.”

Huffing, you look back up at the firmament of stars. Luke says nothing.

The grass rustles as he shifts, and his mouth ghosts over the bruise on your eye. “Unpunishable,” he murmurs, like he’s testing it out. Then he places an uncharacteristically gentle kiss just beneath your eye. And another just above. “We’ll see about that.”

You get that feeling again, the unbearable lightness in a place it shouldn’t be. Mixed with the poison lodged in your heart.

Luke kisses you, still so delicate that you wonder if he’s been body-snatched. If anything, your bleeding lip feels soothed against his. His hands cradle your face with no ferocity at all. It seems wrong.

“How do you feel?” He asks after pulling away, dark eyes nebulous and wide. The night usually sharpens his features. Now, they’ve been hushed.

“Um, better,” you reply.

He hums, laying a slow trail of kisses on your jaw. “Did you at least get the other guy?” He asks between kisses. “Like, did you hurt him?”

“Not really,” you divulge, wondering if you should feel shame.

“Why?” He’s made his way to your neck now, nudging your jaw up so he can kiss behind your ear.

“I’m not a fighter.” And, without warning, for a reason you will never, ever be able to explain, your tongue adds, “I’m a killer.”

Your own brows furrow. Luke pauses for a moment, but knocks his nose against your neck. “Guess one of us has to be.”

There’s no more fooling around. No snappy insults, no feverish kisses, no hunger to be satiated. Luke just checks you over a few more times, hides his med kit, and you both get up to sleep. But his hand wraps around your wrist, far less firm than when he dragged you here. “Stay in my bunk, heathen,” he offers. “Leave in the morning.”

You think you’re making a mistake when you agree, but it doesn’t feel like one.

The next day, after you’ve left Luke’s bunk, rumours float around camp that Luke Castellan accidentally butted some Apollo kid in the face with his sword during training. Caused a bloody, broken nose. Luke was very sorry, apologized profusely.

But you know, by the way he takes you behind the stables that night, that he didn’t mean a single damn word.

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