#she fucking gets on me about when i take breaks or lunch

[rougecreator1]

Hiiiiiiiiiii can I please request an imagine where yn is taking Gretchen out on a first date to the fair. It’s right after her and Jason broke up and Gretchen is assuming(worried) yn may be similar to how he treated her but after a bit she realizes Yn is the total opposite (winning her a prize and buying her treats) and they end up talking and having a sweet time at the fair.

Thank you!! Have a great day!

Miss Smooth Talker//

|| Gretchen Wieners x fem!reader

|| Warnings: underage drinking mention, hookup mention, swearing, Regina being Regina, Gretchen struggling with insecurities

|| Summary: first date, where Gretchen's worried that reader will be like Jason. But reader surprises her and they have a great time at a fair. Mostly fluff.

Requests open!

Started: April 23rd

Finished: April 26th

~~~

When Jason and Gretchen broke up you'd been there to comfort the girl. She told you all about it one night at one of Shane's house parties. You hated seeing her like that, she deserved better. So much better than a guy who only thinks of her when he's looking at her. She was your best friend and long time crush, so obviously you couldn't stand seeing her that upset.

One drink led to another and soon enough the two of you were wasted. Gretchen, in her very drunken state, had babbled on about how much she loved you and was grateful for a friend like you. You, without thinking twice (mainly because you couldn't think at all), kissed her. To your surprise she kissed back.

That's how you and Gretchen ended up having a one night stand.

It's been three weeks since then and Gretchen hasn't said a word to you, you could tell she was avoiding you you just didn't know why.

It was killing you not having your best friend.

Today you decided you would break the silence. Today would be the day you asked her out, because surely she wouldn't have kissed you if she didn't feel something too. Right?

Why else would she be avoiding you?

That lunch, you tracked her down and found her outside with her usual group. Karen, Regina and Cady. When Regina saw you she gave you an intense glare that sent shivers down your spine. You forced yourself to keep walking to Gretchen; having two cups of coffee in your hand. One was your favourite and the other was the order you knew was Gretchen's go to.

"Uh, no. Fuck off." Regina narrows her eyes at you once you stood next to Gretchen, you could see Gretchen tense up and you sighed. Crouching down to sit with her, catching Regina off guard because she wasn't used to people ignoring her. She tried saying more but you cut her off.

"Gretchen. Can we talk?" You looked at the girl, you looked away from Karen to look at you.

"We don't have anything to talk about, Y/N." You notice the slight tremble in her tone.

"Yes, we do. I know you've been avoiding me which if fine if you need the space but... a warning would have been nice at least." You ramble, wanting to get all your thoughts out before Gretchen could avoid you again. You quickly handed her her coffee," I.. um, got you this when I went out today. Maybe you could- I dunno, join me next time?"

Her eyes widened a little but she took the coffee, raising an eyebrow at you." Um... next time?"

"Like- a date- or not- we could just hang out-" Damn it. You had been so prepared for this. Here you were stuttering like an idiot.

Gretchen blushed when you said date and glanced at Regina, who scoffed and rolled her eyes. She looked back at you and smiled," a date?"

"I really like you, Gretchen. Sure we were both drunk but to me it was more than a hook up. Consider it at least?" You hoped she would hear you out at the very least, she nodded. You felt you could breathe a little easier now, you weren't as anxious as you had been.

"Oh! If you're going on a date there's a fall fair this weekend!" Karen piped up, you looked at Karen and smiled. A fair sounded perfect.

You looked back at Gretchen," Well. Wanna go to the fair with me?"

"Yes! I'd love to!" Gretchen grinned, feeling much more relaxed than she had been. She wanted her best friend back as much as you did, she was just scared of having a Jason repeat. In the back of her mind she knew you weren't like that. She knew you well enough to know that. But she couldn't help thinking it.

"Really?" You were almost surprised she'd agreed, especially with how much she had been avoiding you. You sighed quietly to yourself in relief and made a mental note to thank Karen later for the date suggestion." Alright! I'll pick you up at five on Saturday and we can head down?"

"Sounds perfect!"

And that's how you got a date with Gretchen Wieners.

The days leading up to Saturday were some of the happiest you've had in a while. You had your best friend back, if you could even call her that now. You were definitely more than friends, you just didn't know if you were girlfriend level or not.

You talked any chance you had, hanging out throughout the day (which unintentionally made you a plastic, Gretchen informed you of all their rules), at night you'd go over to each other's houses and on the nights where you couldn't you face timed. Just as you always had. Only, there was more. Holding hands as you walked through the halls, cuddling as you laid in bed together, doing each other's makeup in a more... well, it felt much more intimate now. Having her that close and seated in your lap...

Finally, it was Saturday. The two of you had been face timing each other all morning. Helping each other get ready from your own respective homes. You'd picked out a nice comfortable fall outfit, you can decide what it is. Gretchen wore an orange long sleeve with black jeans, she'd done her hair up in a ponytail and all that was left was the makeup.

(fall outfit I was thinking for Gretchen)

"Hey, Y/N?" She said suddenly, getting your attention as you were fixing up your own hair.

"Yeah, Gren?" You looked at your phone, which you had propped up next to you.

"I know you'd said you were going to pick me up at five but um could I come over now? And we do each other's makeup?" Gretchen rambled out, you could tell she was a little nervous asking.

"Absolutely!" You smiled at the thought, Gretchen doing your makeup was definitely one of your favourite little things in your guy's relationship.

You could see her smile and her shoulders relax as she grabbed her phone and started getting whatever she needed to come to yours.

"Alright, I'll be there soon!" She tells you.

Soon enough, Gretchen was now in your room. You sat at your makeup station with Gretchen sitting in your lap, working on your makeup. You could see the concentration on her face and you couldn't help but grin, your hands wrapped around her lower waist to keep her steady in your lap.

"Close your eyes for me." Gretchen said, her voice nearly a whisper. You did as told.

She worked on your makeup for a solid ten minutes, making sure everything was perfect and to the way you liked it. She'd come up with the idea of matching fall makeup, which you thought sounded adorable so you agreed to it.

Once she was satisfied with her work, she looked at you and smiled before giving your cheek a soft kiss.

"You're gorgeous." She whispered, earning a faint blush from you.

"If I'm gorgeous, then that must make you angelic." You replied, a bit of a flirty tone in your voice. Gretchen blushed deeper than you did and giggled, you were pretty damn proud of getting that reaction out of her.

"Yeah well if I'm angelic that makes you a Goddess." Gretchen one upped you, making your blush deepen. Your hand rested to the back of her neck as you pulled her closer to you, lips just inches apart.

Your eyes locked on hers.

"Okay Miss Smooth Talker." You teased her, she laughed a little and kissed you deeply. You kisses her back, getting lost in the moment with each other.

This had been the first time since the party you had properly kissed each other. Was that even a proper kiss? You both were drunk, so you weren't sure if it counted. Sober kisses were so much better than drunk kisses.

As the kiss broke, your eyes remained on each other. Both grinning like love sick idiots.

When you finally snapped out of it a minute later, the two of you finished getting ready. You helping Gretchen with her makeup.

Once all that was settled, you took a photo for instagram. Arm draped around Gretchen's shoulders as you kissed her cheek.

The caption reading:

First date ready! 🍁🍂🫶

You weren't insta famous by any means, so your post only got a few likes from your friends and mutuals. Though you noticed a like and comment from Karen.

@ karenshetty EEEE U GUYS R CUTETS! 💕

You laughed a little and showed the comment to Gretchen, who smiled and looked up at you.

"She meant cuties." Gretchen translated for you, noticing you were a little confused by the spelling. You nodded in understanding and looked at the time on your phone.

4:42pm.

"Well, shall we head down?" You looked at Gretchen, who smiled and took your hand in hers.

"Let's go!"

~~~

At the fair, you and Gretchen are having an absolute blast. Or at least, you were. Gretchen was overthinking and worried that you might be like Jason; but every time she thought that way you would instantly prove her wrong without her even having to ask. You were perfect to her.

"Gren! Let's go over here!" You grabbed her hand, pulling her through a crowd.

"Woah, Y/N/N slow down!" Gretchen laughed as you pulled her along, the amount of energy you had always surprised her. She wondered how you could be that energetic all the time.

"I'm gonna win you the best fucking prize!" You exclaimed, throwing your free hand into the air with excitement. You were ready to kill it at these games.

Gretchen laughed and smiled as she watched you, finding it absolutely adorable. She took a small video of you being all bouncy.

Your eyes landed on the balloon dart game and smirked, seeing all the different prizes around it. You were going to win the biggest one for Gretchen. Pulling her along with you, you stepped up to the stand and the stand host explained the game to you.

You were only partly paying attention. You knew how to play; three darts for three chances to hit the balloons. The top corner balloons were worth the most points. So you aimed for those as Gretchen cheered you on.

Your first shot; you missed the corner one you had been aiming for but you hit the one two balloons below it. Earning you 30 points.

There's five rows of balloons, the bottom being worth 10 points, second row 20, middle 30, fourth 40, and top 50. The top corners were 60.

"30 points!" The stand host announced as you hit the balloon, you rolled your eyes and huffed.

You were determined to get that 60.

You tilted your wrist a little more and tossed the next dart, eyes narrowed at the 60 balloon.

The dart landed right above it.

"Come on!" You groaned, having missed the balloons entirely. This game was so much easier than it looked.

Gretchen rested her hand to your shoulder and smiled at you, giving your cheek a kiss which made you blush as you looked at her.

"A good luck kiss." She explained, her blush matching yours. God, she was adorable.

You shot your finale dart, hitting the 60. You immediately threw your hands into the air and smiled wide, looking at Gretchen. Good luck kisses for the win.

"60 points! That will bring your total up to 90, dear! Pick a prize!" The stand host said in that over exaggerated carnival voice. Y'all know the one.

You kept your eyes focused on Gretchen and bent slightly, gesturing to the prizes in a dramatic way." Well, m'lady. Pick a prize, any prize!" You mocked the carnival voice, earning a laugh from Gretchen an annoyed stare from the stand host.

Gretchen kissed your cheek in thanks and picked out a prize, going with a decently sized teddy.

"Adorable choice!" You kept up the voice, she looked at you and smiled. Her hand draped around your waist as you stared into each other's eyes.

"I'm really enjoying today." She told you as you both walked away from the stand.

"Yeah?" You smiled at her, a faint blush on your cheeks.

"Yeah. I was... worried this would end up like my last relationship- I know you and Jason are nothing at all alike, I know that- it's just-" She rambled out, trying to explain. You sighed, knowing exactly what she meant. You didn't fault her for it.

"What he did stuck with you, it's only natural to be scared. I'll never treat you the way he did." You assured her, seeing her relax as she kept her eyes locked with yours.

You had an idea.

Looking away from Gretchen, you laughed a little at what you were about to say," See! I'm still thinking about you even while I'm not looking at you."

This earned a laugh from Gretchen as she jokingly shoved you, she knew exactly what you were referencing. She had told you about when Jason said he only thought of her when he looked at her.

"You're such an idiot." She teased you, though she meant none of what she said.

You looked at her and brought her close to your side," Mm, maybe. But I'm your idiot, aren't I?"

She blushed and nodded," Yeah... yeah you are."

The rest of the day went really well, you and Gretchen decided to do the ferris wheel as your last activity for the night.

You sat in the booth as it went to the top at a slow motion, arms wrapped around each other as you laughed and talked about anything and everything.

You'd been mid complaining about an upcoming test, that Gretchen had totally forgotten about so she was complaining right along with you, when the ferris wheel stopped as the two of you were at the top. You glanced behind Gretchen and admired the finale parts of the sunset, looking at Gretchen you saw how it almost made her glow with how she was positioned in front of it.

God, she was gorgeous.

"Hey, I wanna get a picture of us up here. Scoot closer." You told her, she blushed and did as you asked. You held her close to her side and took a photo of the two of you, sunset in the background and set it as your new lock screen.

Gretchen smiled and looked at you.

"If I'm already your lock screen, does that mean I'm getting a second date with you?" She asked.

"A second and then some." You assure her, your eyes went to her lips and hers went to yours.

You kissed her, deeply and passionately. She kissed you back with a similar energy.

You couldn't wait to spend more time with Gretchen.

[harlowhockeystick]

9 and 18 with coach!sid please <3

"without ever touching him, how can i be guilty as sin?" & "i can tell when someone wants me" | poetic prompts | warnings: smut (18+ MDNI, i can redo if you don't want smut with these prompts!)

takes place after this fic.

"girl, quit eye fucking and leave some room for the rest of us. i can tell your fantasizing, but i don't blame you."

"i'm not touching him, so how can i be guilty of anything?" y/n co-workers words snap her out of her daze as she teases back. it was the beginning of an emergency staff meeting, the meaning was unknown and it was causing quite the buzz around the gymnasium. teachers, admin, and athletic staff alike were sitting together asking each other what they'd heard, known, or if they were getting fired. there was a heavy level of anxiety sitting in the room amongst them.

"sorry," y/n mumbled and sitting up straight. her friend chuckled beside her. but she couldn't help but stare, it had been a week since their dinner together, and it was all she could think about. she'd had trouble teaching, would zone out when talking to carter, their scandalous encounter was taking over her life.

"what do you think they're gonna talk about?" the other teacher asked sitting next to her, sipping coffee out of her tumbler and scrolling through emails looking for clues. "i think they're gonna talk about staff relationships."

her words made y/n's stomach drop. did it get out? did someone see her car at his house? did carter say something? did carter find out? it's amazing how many questions can run through the brain in just two seconds.

"i heard that the boys tennis coach, thomas, is having an affair with the girls tennis coach. i think one of the players caught them in the athletic offices but they did something to keep the kid quiet." y/n feels her nerves calm down, but not all that much. her eyes met with sidney's and she felt like he was trying to silently tell her something but she couldn't pick up on it. they weren't that connected.

yet.

moments later the superintendent gets on the mic and announces to faculty that in fact, both the girls and boys tennis coach were let go due to their actions. the boys coach resigned, and the girls coach was fired due to threatening the school district since she didn't do anything wrong and she was a single woman.

she felt a ball coil up inside her stomach as the staff were reminded of the policy: relationships among staff must be brought before the board if they occur within the school year. it was a district policy, to keep drama out of the way, and to keep relationships private to the parties benefit. at least, that was the way it was explained.

-

that meeting was bullshit. sent 10:45 am

y/n's phone pings signaling a text from sidney. she reads it as her students are taking their test. she feels butterflies and anxiety at the same time. her leg bouncing underneath her desk as she plans a reply.

...but what did he mean? was he against the rule, meaning he wanted a relationship? or was it just a waste of time? yes, it was a waste of time.

i know, it could have just been an email. sent 10:48

he never responds, but she gets too busy with other class periods. she gets lost back in time once more, fantasizing about that night. during lunch break spent in her darkened classroom, a bowl of warmed up soup in front of her as she grades papers until the next class comes through.

but she gets lost, in the deep trance of the memory of him. if she thinks really hard she can still feel his tongue sliding against her slick core, she can feel herself coming undone again at the force of his skilled and talented body.

she can feel his calloused but soft hands sliding down her body, grasping at her breasts while he sucks all of the sweet juice that flows out of her. she remembers her back arching off his wooden dinner table while he lapped at her for at least ten minutes straight, before he slid his thick cock inside of her for another ten.

she's taken out of her daydream by the sound of the school bell. she has three minutes to get herself back in order to teach again. she considers assigning today a reading and catch up day...so she can continue to reminisce.

dinner at my place? sent 1:23 pm

hell yes sent 1:24 pm

-

"you're bad at hiding your feelings, y/n." sidney stated, flipping over the steak on the grill and setting his wine glass down on the granite countertop. y/n sat on the barstool across from him, drinking a cocktail she made herself.

"what's that supposed to mean?" she took a bigger swig of the alcohol this time, holding eye contact with him as he leaned onto the countertop with his hands, making himself appear bigger in front of her. it worked.

"i can tell when someone wants me. half the women in that school want me, but you're the only one who went for it." she feels like a crook who was caught. "i know you act like last week didn't happen, but it's all i've been thinking about." now he's standing just inches from her on his back patio, the smell of grilled steak and vegetables filling her brain and the firm but agonizing touch making her go weak.

"it's all i can think about too." his thumb glides across her cheek, his whiskey colored eyes staring into her soul, what it feels like for hours. he bites his lip and she thinks she's gonna pass out.

"tell me what you thought about, maybe we'll reenact it after dinner. can't have you eating cold steak, can i?"

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 20

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings: None

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count: 1933

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

Chapter 20

The two-block walk from where Melody had met Steve for lunch was a nightmare.  Most of the press stopped following after a couple of blocks but as the Daily Bugle paparazzi were going to the same place as she was, they stuck with them the whole time.  Steve tried to shield her body from the cameras to try and make it so that none of the photos would be worth very much money, and to reduce the risk of people recognizing her.  Melody knew that it was too late to protect her identity.  People had already been speculating, and besides, the person taking their photo as she reached the Daily Bugle was named Phil Sheldon.  If she knew him, he knew her.

They reached the entrance to the building.  Melody wanted so badly to bury her face in Steve’s chest and hide there, but she wasn’t willing to even risk a kiss goodbye with Phil still taking photos of them.  She turned and looked up at Steve.  “Can you just fuck off, Phil?” she said.

“Just doing my job, Mel,” he said. “You know how it is?”

“Yeah, well, don’t forget what my job is,” she said.

“Oh yeah, like Jameson will let you do anything that makes the Bugle look like it lacks scruples,” he said.

Steve shook his head.  “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he said.  “I’ll call you when I get back to work.”

“Okay,” she said, giving him a nod.  He gently squeezed her hand before she went inside.

She went straight up to Jameson’s office.  She was fuming about the intrusion on her privacy by her workplace.  She even considered if it counted as workplace harassment and if she could sue over it.

She knocked on the door to Jameson’s office but didn’t wait for him to call her in.  He looked up from his computer but she was ranting before he had a chance to say a single word.  “How could you think it was okay to have photographers stalking me on my lunch?” she snapped.  “You know this is harassment?  I work here!  It’s bad enough that you think it’s okay to harass other people, but this is my job!  Do you know how absolutely toxic it is for me to have to come in here and work with the people stalking me!?  I could sue!”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Jameson said, getting up from his desk. “Let’s not go throwing the ‘s’ word around.  You know that this is what we do here.  And Captain America’s love life is going to sell papers.  Besides, you told us where you were going to be.”

“I absolutely did not!” she argued.  “Why the hell would I do that?  Why would I betray Steve like that?” 

“I don’t know,” he said, throwing his hands up over his head. “You sent it to all the tabloids.  I was a little miffed you weren’t giving me the exclusive, to be honest.  I assumed you wanted to get yourself a little fame and recognition.”

“Over my relationship?” she groaned. “Jonah?  Really?”

“How was I supposed to know?” he said, spinning his computer screen around and opening the email.  “Maybe you were having relationship troubles.”

She looked over the screen.  The email did have her return address, but it lacked her official DB! signature.  Someone had cloned her email address.  It was easy enough to do.  That didn’t explain how they knew where and when she was having lunch with Steve though.  They didn’t have a regular lunch date time, nor did they just go to the same few venues over and over again and she hadn’t written down where and when she was having lunch today.”

She scowled and pulled out her phone.  “Tell me the truth, Jonah.  Do you have someone spying on me?”

“I may be lacking in scruples, Danes, but I don’t stoop that low,” he said.

“So drop the story then,” she said. 

“No, no,” he said. “I can’t do that.  And what’s the point anyway?  It’ll be all over TMZ in an hour.” 

She sighed.  He was right.  It was out now and there wasn’t a hell of a lot she could do about it, except ride the wave.  She didn’t expect Steve’s fans to take it very well, but it was something she had been mentally preparing for for months.

“Fine,” she said. “You can run it, but I expect my workplace to be safe for me, Jonah.  I can’t come here just expecting to have to watch my back because you want to report on my boyfriend.  He and the other Avengers have been doing me a lot of favors to get your website up and profitable.  You could at least show them some respect in return for that generosity.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jameson said, waving his hand.  “I’m not going to smother a story just because someone did me a favor.  Where’s the ethics in that?”

“Oh so now you’re worried about ethics?” she snarked.  “Look, there’s a difference between taking our photo out because you happen to find us and stalking me to where we’re going.  I’m just asking that you respect the difference.”

Jameson huffed and sat back down in his chair.  “Fine.  No stalking.  But it wouldn’t hurt you to occasionally mention him in your pieces.”  She went to argue with him but he held up his hand.  “Nothing big.  Just the kind of stuff you already do in your column from time to time.  You know what I mean?  Talking about a coffee shop you tried with your boyfriend.  Or how nice it is to wake up with someone else there.  You don’t have to name him.  And you don’t have to talk about your sex lives.  Just teasers.  The people will eat it up.  If we get those exclusives, we won’t need the photos of you both together.  In fact, anytime someone else takes photos of you both together, it’ll just sell your work more.”

She sighed.  It sounded so sordid and dirty.  But the truth was, she had been writing about her life in the columns, and Steve had been slipping into those.  She didn’t name him, just the same as she never named anyone in those columns.  Anyone who knew she was dating Steve could go back and infer it was him she’d been talking about.  She also knew Steve knew she did it.  He read the columns daily and would talk to her about them.  It was natural to write it, and she wasn’t doing it to cash in on her relationship.

Now that it was out she was dating Steve, and Jameson was asking her to write about it, it felt dirty and exploitative.  She didn’t want to take advantage of Steve that way.  She didn’t want her relationship with him to be picked over by the public.

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

“Well, if that’s it,” Jameson said, waving her toward the door.  “We have papers to sell.” 

“I don’t work for the paper, Jonah,” she said as she headed out the door.

“Clicks, magazines.  Do your job,” he yelled after her.

She headed back to her office, still fairly agitated but no longer fuming.  She didn’t know what she was going to do about her column, and she didn’t like how she felt about her job in general.  Someone was spying on her and she had to go to work with the same people who were invading her personal space.

The dread she felt about what was going to happen to her social media when those photos came out, only compounded the feelings.  She didn’t think they’d have gotten wind of it yet.  As quickly as TMZ could move, she still didn’t think the photos would be up yet.  But she couldn’t help but pick up her phone to see if anyone had started to tweet her.

The phone rang in her hand and Steve’s photo showed up on her screen.  She leaned back in her chair and hit connect, putting her earbuds in.  “Hey, you,” she said.  “Are you okay?”

“Of course, honey,” he said.  “I wanted to check in on you.  I’ve been dealing with this since World War II.  You haven’t, and the only reason you’re dealing with it now, is because of me.”

Melody couldn’t help but laugh at that.  “See I was going to say that it was my fault they were there.”

“Oh are we playing that game are we?” Steve teased. “Go on, tell me how you think it’s your fault.”

“I’m serious, Steve!” she squealed.

“I’m sure you are, sweetheart,” he chuckled.  “Go on, tell me what you’re thinking, considering I’m the famous one.”

She bit back laughter.  It was good to know this whole situation hadn’t upset him, and that he was so worried about her own well-being.  “Steve!” she yelped.  “Listen okay?”

“I’m listening,” he laughed.

“So I went up to see Jameson when I got back here.  I was really pissed that he’d sent photographers out to follow us back to the office.  He said I’d sent him an email to tell him and the rest of the press I was going to be there,” she explained.

“Why would you do that?” Steve asked.

“I didn’t do that,” she said.  “But he had an email from my address.  You can fake return addresses.  But I don’t know how anyone would have known where we were even going. It’s not like I wrote it down anywhere and we don’t just go back to the same restaurant all the time.  I think someone overheard the phone call.  Which makes me feel really safe here at work.  And now Jameson wants me to talk about you more in my column.  I don’t know what to do, Steve.  We just moved into a new apartment.  We’re on a lease.  I can’t afford to quit my job.  And Bobbi works here too!  What if they do it to her as well.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve said quickly.  “If someone is listening in to your conversations, then they can hear you right now.”

“Right.  Right,” she said.  “Of course, they could be.”  This was where they were now.  She couldn’t trust her job or anyone around her.  She wanted to believe that the staff she’d selected were all trustworthy, but now she couldn’t be sure.

“Can you come here after work?” Steve asked.  “I’d like to get Tony to check your phone for bugs.”

“Yeah, of course,” she said.  “I’ll come straight over.”

“I’ll get Bucky to invite Bobbi around too,” he said.  “We can talk this out.  All of it.  What you want to do with your job.  About how we keep our private lives private.  The column.  All of it.  Okay?”

“Yeah,” she said.  “Okay.  Thank you, Steve.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” Steve said.  “This isn’t your fault.  Someone is using you to get to me.  We just have to work out how to stop them.”

“Okay,” she said, letting out a deep breath.  She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve this man.  “I love you too.  I’ll see you tonight.”

She disconnected the call and sat back in her chair, staring at the phone which she was now fairly sure had betrayed her trust.  “Traitor,” she mumbled, tossing it onto her desk.  Closing her eyes she took a deep breath.  It was a lot to deal with but she knew Steve trusted her.  For now, that was the main thing.  She’d build everything else off that trust and together they’d figure this out.

// NEXT

[verstappen-cult]

I would LOVE a part two of the birthday drabble if ur open to that? maybe how max tries to ask for reader’s forgiveness? maybe asking Charles for help but he’s just like “no u gotta figure it out on ur own this time buddy” bc he’s mad at him too?

PART ONE. Max totally blanks on your birthday plans and it’s not pretty.

Max is pacing around the kitchen when you wake up the next morning. When his gaze snaps up to meet yours, you can see the bags under his eyes. You think about reaching for him when you remember what happened, so, you simply walk past him to make some coffee.

“Good morning, schat.” He whispers, looking down. You’re still very much hurt but seeing him like this breaks your heart. 

Maybe you’re being too mean, giving him the cold shoulder and not even meeting his eyes, but you also think about what your best friend said last night when you called her crying. He needs to sort out his priorities and give you what you deserve. And you also need to stand up for yourself, you’ve let Max get away with similar things in the past and it’s time for that to stop. 

“Good morning,” Charles says as he enters the kitchen. He looks at Max but doesn’t say anything when he sees his eyes filled with tears. You’re hurt but he’s angry. “Want me to drive to your appointment?” 

“Mmh.” You nod, taking your cup of coffee and going back to your room. 

Charles opens the fridge and tries to look busy waiting for Max to get the fuck out of the kitchen. But that doesn’t happen and he is forced to close the door and face his boyfriend. 

“Have you talked to her?” Max asks him, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Yea’,” Charles simply answers, trying to choose between an apple or banana for breakfast. You or Max are the ones always cooking because Charles just can’t do it, but you’re not in the mood to make breakfast and he’s definitely not gonna ask Max. “I’m not the one who fucked everything up.” 

“I’m sorry, okay? I just—I didn’t forget, but there were—”

“I don’t fucking care, Max. It was her birthday! It was supposed to be special but instead of enjoying the one day—the only day she really asks for our attention, she cried all the way home.”  

Max feels like crying again. He feels awful but doesn’t know what to do to make things better. 

The Dutchman opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Charles holds his palm up, shutting him up. 

“I won’t tell you what to do, you need to figure that out by yourself.” 

Charles storms out of the kitchen, leaving a sad Max behind. 

You don’t say goodbye when you leave but Charles, at least, tells him that they should be home by eight, to not wait for them because they will be having lunch together. He doesn’t ask Max if he wants to join. 

Max doesn’t know what to do. 

You’ve never been this angry before. Charles is a different story, they’ve been racing their whole lives together, so, he has seen parts of Charles you don’t even know. 

Max thinks about calling his mom to ask her for advice, God, even calling his sister, but rejects the idea because he knows what they will say. 

It’s all his fault. Stupid Max, stupid SimRacing—

Max gets up from the couch, he doesn’t know how much has passed since you left, but the sun is already sitting down. 

When Max enters his streaming room he wants to cry again. And he does. 

He cries as he disconnects everything. He cries when he smashes the camera onto the floor. He cries while throwing a chair across the room, crashing against the wall. He cries looking at the mess he made, the mess he is.

Max falls to the floor and cries, and cries, and cries, until he feels two strong arms around him and soft words spoken into his ear. 

“Max, breathe with me, please,” Charles begs, caressing his back and lifting his chin up with his free hand. Max’s gaze focuses on his face as he imitates his boyfriend, inhaling and exhaling slowly. It takes some time, but Max eventually stops shaking. “Oh, Max. What did you do?” Charles sounds so broken and disappointed, Max doesn’t want him to feel like that. He’s done so much already. 

Max starts crying again. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Charles wipes his tears and kisses his eyelids. 

Max doesn’t deserve this. 

“Hey, love.” Max turns his head around at the sound of your voice. You crouch down next to him, a soft smile dancing on your lips. “Would you drink this, please? For me?” He doesn’t need to be asked twice. You guide the glass to his lips and he drinks the water — with a little bit of sugar you always add when you’re not feeling okay. 

Max wants to talk, he wants to apologize again, he wants to scream at you and Charles for being so attentive with him when he doesn’t deserve it. But he feels so tired, all he can do is lean into your touch when you cradle his face with both your hands, palms comfortable against the stubble on his cheeks. 

“We’re gonna buy new things and me and Charles will help you set everything up, okay?”

Max wants to scream. Instead, he barely has the voice to say, “I don’t want any of this. I fucked up because of this stupid shit.”

“Max,” Charles calls his name, moving around so he’s sitting next to you. “You love it.”

“I love you more.” He simply says, looking between you and Charles. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…” He lets silent tears fall down his cheeks. 

“I know you’re sorry.” You lean to leave a kiss on his forehead, then, you look directly into his eyes. “I’m still hurt, Max. I won’t lie. We need to have a long conversation, the three of us, but I don’t want you to quit something that you love and enjoy so much. I just,” You notice you’re crying when Max wipes the tears with his thumb. “I want to be a priority in your life.”

“And you are!” He wants to smash his head onto the floor. “God you,” He takes your hand, lips quivering. “and you,” He takes Charles’s hand then. He guides them to his chest, just where his heart is. “are the most important people in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

There’s still so much to say but, for right now, you just want to be as close as possible. You’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to go from here.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

yandere!emo boy x reader 🖤

a/n: first scenario! reader is mentioned to be cutesy and wears pink, while this dude is going through a hormonal rampage. All characters are depicted as sophomores! 18+!

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He hated this fucking school. Hated it so fucking much. He hated the other students, the snobby teachers, the shitty teaching. All of it. Everything except for you.

Sweet funny little you. Just sitting next to him playing on your phone. He was sitting in his chair, feet propped against the desk with the teacher not even bothering. She was done with his bullshit too.

Taking a quick glance at you, he still remembered how you stared up at him while you were collecting your purse's things. you bumped into him by accident and the purse fell due to you not really holding it.

He was planning on screaming at you, maybe give a punch in the nose but he froze when he looked at your face. Stared into your eyes. So pretty and innocent.. it was decided. He didn't need to know anything, you were his right then and there. Ignoring how you tried running away as he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to sit with him at he lunch table.

that's how you got stuck with your new best friend, Riley sandserson. The schools goth and biggest asshole. Always bitching about something or being an overall insult to nature. Sassily flicking his hair away from his face, sometimes even managing to smack somebody with it.

Most avoided you because if they wanted to talk to you, they had to talk to Riley first. And Riley thrived on it. Getting to have you all to himself was an amazing feeling. Clinging to you like a barnacle onto a ship, kissing your neck sometimes or giving it a little nip. Letting out a loud laugh when you'd swat him away. He wanted to stuff that pretty cunt full of his seed..

But back to present matters, he watched you play your game, smiling a bit with how focused you were. Admiring the new ruffle skirt and pink cardigan you were wearing. Oh god, he loved you alright. "Hey, doll face" you looked up from your phone. Staring into his green eyes.

Fuck he could feel another boner coming on. "Gotcha somethin" he quietly passed a hello kitty doll towards you "saw it 'n thought you might like it" "thanks Riley.. I love it" you smiled and hugged your new friend, he was definitely stealing it back later when he'd break into your house again. He tapped his cheek, you seemed hesitant before placing a kiss on it like he demanded.

'i give you something? Thank me for it by giving me a big kiss.' you took it seriously and you're glad you did, because who knows what would happen if you didn't. Spotting his bloody knuckles as you pulled away, you fretted over him. Going into your bag to whip out some pink bandaids.

"Goddamnit what did I say about getting into fights? You'll get your shit rocked one of these days Riley I swear to god. you should be more.." he let your voice drone on, not even Paying attention as he grinned stupidly. He let you place them on with a blush on his pale acne covered face.

God you really wanted to punch him sometimes, to teach him a lesson. But hey, Atleast he stopped bragging about his latest fight and how he dislocated his opponents shoulder and broke their fingers..

What were you going to do with him?

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[moneymasnn]

Right Timing | Charles Leclerc

Notes: 11k words of Charles and y/n pinning for each other…your all (hopefully) going to love it xx

this is my first post in about 6 months and I'm so happy to be back! thank you all for the continuous love and support I fucking love this app. this fic hasn't been proof read but oh well, ignore some spelling mistakes, sorry. anyways... ENJOY!!!

Blurb: One where you have a huge crush on your best friend's brother, the one and only charles leclerc, since you were a teenager, with him continuously telling you he was too old for you and you had no chance. You eventually gave up hope and moved on. But did charles? (Best friends brother troop/ slight enemy’s to lovers troop/ Older boy and younger girl)

Warnings: lots of angst, crying, sad y/n and sad Charles. lots of arguments and slight nsfw? but not really. Small age gap.

11.1k words

Arthur leclerc, your best friend since nursery… Your favourite partner in crime, your favourite laugh on a bad day, your favourite person in the whole wide world. Best to be described as home, your comfort person. He was the voice within reason, all that was right in the world. 

He's your best friend.

Y/n y/l/n, she was truly and utterly his favourite thing about the world. He counts his lucky stars he has her to help him carry his weight. Y/n was the only person Arthur let visit him when his dad died, and in his books, that made her alright. Sure she would make him want to scream and cry and punch walls, especially with her choice in men. But Arthur was always there for her, when she needed to laugh or to cry he knew what it was she needed at any given moment, he could read her like she was his favourite book. 

She was his best friend. 

—

How it started:

A little girl with puffy red cheeks sat at the bottom of the nursery playground. Her legs crossed on the green summer time grass as she sniffled again, gently plucking a daisy for the ground before adding it to the daisy chain she was making. She liked to say she enjoyed her own presence, but truly she was distracting herself from the lack of company. With the other young girls teasing her for her wild curly hair, she willingly chose to be sat on the grass of the playground alone.

“Hey! Can you teach me how you did that? I wanna make one for my mum!”

And with no regard for her personal space he sat down next to her on the grass, squashing half of her daisy chain, but she didn't tell him that.

He didn't care that she was crying or that she had poofy hair or that she was even a girl, he was eager to learn her talents and carry on with his lunch break.

But when Arthur noticed the signs that the girl was rather shy and sad he thought he would stay with her for the rest of lunch, keep her company.

Little did she know this company wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

And at age five, the pair promised to be friends for life.

It didn't take long for them to get their mothers talking, and after that it was set in stone, playdate after playdate. Arthur's mum became your mum's hairdresser, so there were many nostalgic memories for the two in the salon, especially when y/n would accompany her mother to her appointments. The pair's best memory is y/n letting Arthur cut her hair in the storage cupboard of his mum's shop. The horror on both parents' faces when one of y/n's pig tails were held in the hand of the young boy.

Their friendship only bloomed from there…

After spending almost every weekend watching Arthur and his older brother race in karts in the rain, to spending most afternoons around the leclerc residence playing with Arthur on his xbox, the girl felt like family.

When she was young she always found herself drawn to the middle leclerc. He was away a lot of the time, karting. He was slightly older so no doubt he found the pair childish and would always moan when he was made to spend time with them.

Charles' mother was the first to figure out your little crush on the boy. She first noticed it when you joined the family on a winter skiing trip, you were around thirteen. It was your first time up in the mountains, so when your arms started to wave and you felt your body lean way too far back Charles did the only morally right thing, dropping the glove he was putting on and outstretching his body to catch you in time.

He didn't catch you in time. 

Instead his heroic act to save you turned into humiliation when he realised you had taken him down with you.

Pascal carefully watched as you turned around, her eyes glued to yours that were glued to her sons. She watched your tinted red cheeks as Charles scoffed and begged you to get off of him as his bare hands were now engulfed in the thick snow, causing him to suffer with a cold for the rest of the holiday.

Your eyes widened and sparked at the sight of him. You would gaze up at him like he hung the moon and the stars, an expression his mother would soon get used to as she watched you fall for her son over the next few years. 

Charles was older, and very uninterested. He didn't find your little crush as cute as everyone else did, the thought it made him look uncool. He would roll his eyes when you would grab his arm or duck when you would try to kiss his cheek. He hated when your families would go out for meals and you would sit next to him, or how you would call him after a race to congratulate him, no matter his result.

Charles always saw you as his little brother's best friend, nothing more and nothing less.

That was until your first boyfriend. A three year age gap wasn't that big of a deal as they all grew older. Charles found himself having mutual friends with his brother and would occasionally bump into Arthur and you at a party.

You were 16, you thought you had met the love of your life, an older boy, he was 18, around charles age who was now 19 and worming his way into f2. 

Arthur didn't approve of Joao. He knew you were trying to prove to charles that the age gap isn't that big of a deal after his brother had repetitively told you you were to young for him, but somewhere down the line you found yourself mesmerised by Joaos eyes and that was it for you, charles no longer rented the forefront of your mind.

Joao was great, at first. You knew he wasn't the love of your life, but for the moment he looked to play the role quite well, and you were happy. You just didn't expect it to end like it did, maybe age gaps do matter?

You were at some house party in the hills of monaco, some friend of Joaos. You were downstairs in the kitchen with Arthur as he watched you drink your body weight in alcohol. He could tell something was bothering you but he chose not to mention it. In all your years of friendship he knew you would come to him eventually. 

“Where is the lover boy anyway?” he spoke up.

Your lack of response is when Arthur clocked onto your boyfriend being the reason for your excessive drinking. Him ditching you, yet again.

You slammed down your empty red cup, wiping the dribble from your chin as you decided enough was enough and you looked for the presence of your boyfriend. 

Arthur bid you good luck on your travels as his attention was now turned to the girl he had been eyeing up across the room.

And with your liquid courage you stumbled around the party. The house was huge. Gigantic windows that draped around the whole house. Everywhere you looked was so picturesque, making you fall in love with Monaco more and more. From the kitchen window you could see the river of lights leading down to the beach front. From the other end you could see continuous hills leading up into the stary sky, tiny specs of light from homes probably just as big and fancy as the one you were currently standing in swarmed your vision, a far cry from the apartment you and your mother shared where your view was a brick wall to another apartment complex.

Your heels were rubbing the back of your ankles as your hands gripped the bottom of your dress pulling it down as it was miles too short as you made your way out to the garden.

And there he sat, on the steps leading to the lit up outdoor pool, your boyfriend. A skinny little blonde girl sat on his knee. She was older than you, clearly. She took the cigarette from his lips and placed it on her own as her other arm draped over his shoulder. It was like this week after week, it was like you were a ghost.

This isn't the young love you put out for, and you decided enough was enough.

You always forgave him, but tonight was different. This night changed everything.

Tears welled in your eyes as you turned back into the house, you were going home. Joao caught a glimpse of this as he jumped up and followed you back into the house, why he would always chase after you you still don't know.

“Y/n, baby stop.” you ignored the sound of his voice as you pushed through the crowds of people to get back to the kitchen in hopes that Arthur was still there. He wasn't.

You made it to the kitchen before he grabbed the back of your arm pushing you against the kitchen island. His hand came up to wipe away a fallen strand of hair as he tucked it behind your ear.

“Come on y/n i didn't even do anything-”

“She was on your lap.” your voice crooked, you so desperately didn't want to be the little girl everyone thought you was and cry, not in front of everyone anyway. 

“It's not that big of a deal-”

“It is that big of a deal! I'm humiliated!” you shouted back, creating a scene you so desperately wanted to avoid.

“I just- I just want to go home.” you said in between sniffles.

“Baby, don't cry, let's just go back to mine, okay? I'll call a taxi-”

“No, I want to go home, my home.” you begged, the tears were falling now.

His grip tightened around your arm as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

“I need to find Arthur, and I need to go home.” you said, pushing his arm as he still had you pinned against the counter.

“Oh come on y/n, drop the act you know you want to come back to mine.”

You threw your head back dodging his fingers that were trying to touch your hair again, avoiding his eyes.

“Joao let go, you're hurting me.”

That only made his grip tighten around your arms, pushing you against the counter even harder than before. As he leant down to your ear-

“She said let go mate.”

Your vision was too blurry to focus on what happened next, but you felt joao grip loosen as he stood back.

“Yeah and what are you gonna do about it, leclerc?”

That's when punches were thrown and Joao was hunched over holding his busted lip. Joao was grabbed by another person before he could lunge back at who you assumed was Arthur, but as you turned your head you saw a different leclerc shaking his hand. His knuckles were red, and his eyes were darker than the ones you were used to, charles.

“y/n get in the car.” he said, you stood up, sniffing and nodding your head. But then you remembered your missing friend.

“Arthur-”

“I'll get him. Get in the car.” his tone was strong, not what you were used to from the middle leclerc. 

You waited by his car in the cold for a few moments just before Charles came out the house, a stumbling tipsy Arthur under his arm. There was pink lip gloss smeared over his cheeks and lips, and at that moment you felt a small smile creep on your face. 

However, the car ride home was silent, you sat in the front with Charles, as Arthur passed out in the back seat. Faint french music played from the radio as charles eyes were firmly gripped on the road.

As you rounded the street to your home Charles finally spoke up, “You really know how to pick them.”

You sniffled again, unable to reply to him mainly because he was right and you were embarrassed. As the car came to a stop Charles undid his seat belt mumbling that he would walk you to your door.

He balanced on the back of his heels as he watched the moonlight highlight your tear stained cheeks. Charles thought you looked beautiful that night even though you had been crying for the last half an hour, your hair hadn't been brushed and you were rummaging through your purse like a mad woman, he still thought you were pretty. He would never tell you that though.

“Don't tell me you've lost-”

“Got them!” You giggled, shaking your keys in the air before whipping your nose for what felt like the fifth time that night. You stalled as you pushed the key in the door, turning to look Charles in his eye for the first time since the party.

“Thank you-” but he cut you off, not wanting to hear it. You were his brother's best friend, Arthur wouldn't forgive him if he ever watched you in a position like the one that night and didn't do anything.

“Dont.”

“No really, thank you, charles.” You smiled, Charles smiled too, mainly because it was probably the first time you had called him Charles and not charlie.

After a moment you dropped your bag on the floor and wrapped your arms around the boy's waist, your head rested on his chest as he hastily moved his hand and rubbed your back.

“Just make sure the next one isn't a total dick, okay?” he whispered, his chin placed on the top of your head.

He didn't know how much that sentence broke your little 16 year old heart.

You smiled and entered the house, Charles didn’t drive off that street before you waved at him out your window.

On the drive home we looked back at his younger brother, drooling on the back seat of his car. 

It was that night where he realised the both of you weren't all that different, but so far apart.

The first time Charles saw you after that night was a couple months later, a family day at the beach. You had turned seventeen in that time and joao was old news. But charles eyes were stuck on your body as he watched you sat in the sand on your own. Sipping from a bottle of beer that you most likely stole from his crate, your toes were dipped in the wet sand as you watched the sun set on your own.

Arthur had brought his new girlfriend with him and even though you were still as close as ever, Arthur's attention was stuck on the pretty blonde that was talking to his nan.

The rest of your families were distracted too, or so Charles thought. His mum watched him intently as he walked back to the car park, grabbing a spare jumper from his car before making way down the beach front to join you.

He spent so much of his life avoiding you, but after the night of the party he just wanted to make sure you were okay. 

He crouched down in the sand next to you, aware of how your eyes were on him. He placed the jumper on your legs,

“You're going to get a cold.”

You scoffed but complied. Putting the jumper over your head and pulling at the sleeves, it smelled like him.

“How are you?” you asked charles, he could feel your eyes staring into his side profile, but he stared at the sun setting over the monegasque sea.

“I'm okay.”

The boys lost their dad a little under a year ago now, you hadn't really seen Charles since. But he knew you hadn't left Arthur's side for them few months.

“How you holding up, really?” you nudged his shoulder with yours, he did his little signature smile before looking down at his lap. Avoiding the question.

“Thank you. For looking after Arthur I mean, he's lucky to have you.” 

“Charlie…”

He looked in your eyes this time, he looked so sad, so broken. So desperate for a hug. You didn't pressure him to answer your question, insted you gently placed your head on his shoulder looking along the coastline in silence.

Charles appreciated the silence and the way you didn't push him, moments like these he understood why Arthur loved you so much.

“It will be alright you know.” you hummed on his shoulder.

“I know.” Charles whispered back.

“Really, i can already see Charles leclerc, ferrari formula one driver. Your face will be all over Monaco, and we're all so proud. He'll be so proud.” 

Charles hated how much you believed him, because in that moment a nineteen year old boy with dreams bigger than the world itself everything felt impossible. 

“Don't forget about me when you're all big and famous, yeah?” you smiled up at him.

Charles looked down at you, his eyes were glossy but the smile on his lips was enough to melt your heart, he threw his head back in a laugh. 

“I dont think I'm ever getting rid of you.”

Now it was your turn to laugh, “at least your self aware charlie.”

After all the laughing he noticed how your eyes shifted from his own to his lips, and then he remembered why he was avoiding you in the first place.

“y/n..” he whispered, oh how he whispered your name in his little broken accent, your heart melted as he backed away.

“I know, I know.”

You smiled and placed your head back on his shoulders looking at the sun that was nearly gone.

“You know I'm too old for you, right?” Charles whispered as he leaned his head on yours that was resting on his arm.

“I'm in it for the long game leclerc.” Charles giggled as he let his cheek get comfy on your head, pushing his side into you as you fully watched the sun disappear over the sea.

On the night of your 18th birthday Arthur had taken you out to your first club, you drank, alot…

Charles happened to be at the same club, so when your drunk body collided with his you couldn't help but wrap your arm around his torso, clinging onto him.

He gently placed hand on the small of your back smiling as you leaned on him.

Charles was 20 now, soon to turn 21 and had just signed a contract with alfa romeo, he was officially in formula one. Even Though you were proud of him you missed having him around. 

You stood on your heels, leaning up to his ear as Charles met your movements and bent down to hear you better in the loud club and your heart fluttered at the small action of his ear hovering near your face.

“I'm eighteen now charlie.” he could hear the smile in your voice.

“I know, happy birthday mon amour.” kissing your forehead, this was the closest you had ever been to him before, and you craved more. He had never called you the nickname before, he was teasing you.

“I'm officially an adult nowwwww.” you longed out his ear before you hand palmed his cheek. You so desperately wanted to kiss him.

“Y/n.” His tone was serious as he caught onto your intentions.

“Y/nnn.” You teased him back, imitating his serious tone and rolling your eyes as you do so.

“I know you want to Charlie, come on…” you giggled at him, but you were drunk and a mess, so the arm around your waist was to stop you from falling flat on your arse not because he just wanted to touch you, you thought. You pushed his hand off you and stood up straight, Charles sighed as he placed his hand back on the small of your back, you looked up at him. The stupid little puppy dog eyes that he refused to listen to.

“I'm too old for you, love.” Charles' hand once again held you close as you started to lose your balance again, “and you're too drunk.”

“Drunk on love.” you exclaimed, Charles laughed, like really laughed and you couldn't help but admire the creases around his eyes. He moved your arm over his shoulder so he could hold you up.

“Let's find Arthur and get you home, okay?” but as Charles pulled away you pulled him back.

“I've waited eighteen years, Charlie, I'm sure I have the patience to wait a bit longer.”

Charles thought maybe you had forgotten that night, but you remembered the way his hand was filmy stuck to the small of your back most of the night, and how he lent down to hear you and how his stubble felt in the palm of your hand, and the butterflies only got worse. 

You were falling harder everyday and you hated yourself for it, he didn't like you back.

Charles carried on with his f1 career with alfa romeo that year and you took up a journalism degree, following around arthur as he navigated the world of f3. You would occasionally bump into Charles when the boys had races at the same circuit. 

But with his first Monaco race you obviously had to be there to support him.

Charles hated how his heart beat boomed in his ear when he saw you standing in his garage with your old ferrari cap on and an alfa romeo shirt with the number 16 on the back hugging your chest. 

You truly had blossomed into a beautiful young woman and Charles found it harder to stay away. Your hair isn't frizzy anymore and you had for sure gone through puberty, he didn't like to stare but he found it hard not to sometimes. Especially on family boat trips when you would wear a bikini in front of him.

The worst part is you hadn't even openly flirted with him in a while, and he couldn't seem to figure out why, and that bothered him so much more than he liked. 

The small little y/n that used to follow him everywhere, always latched to his arm, looking up at him with heart eyes. I mean, you weren't sixteen anymore that was sure, but Charles couldn't help but feel a sense of abandonment that you weren't head over heels for him anymore. 

Charles needed to snake off that weird feelling in his stomach.

You were now 19 about to turn 20, it was the off season and you couldn't wait to soak up some sun on the leclerc yacht. Your favourite summer getaway.

You drove up to the small paddock on a little beach and climbed onto the grey boat, it was charles’, of course. The whole family was there, you were talking to pascal as arthur pulled you around the side of the boat, nearly causing you to break an ankle.

“Erm hello? Watch it.” you scolded him for pulling you so ruffly.

“You're over the whole in love with my older brother thing, right?” he asked, his hand running through his hair.

“I- i why?” you said, clocking your head to the side at Arthurs panicked manor. He knew you had been doing great this year, and he also knew why you declined every single boy that had attempted to ask you out on a date this year. 

“Okay, erm,'' Arthur stood up straight and scratched the back of his head.

“Forget your stuff, let's just get off this boat. And er, don't turn around okay?” he tried to nonchalantly say, his hands gripping your shoulders were a dead give away something was wrong though.

You nodded your head and followed Arthur down the steps of the boat before stopping in your tracks.

“Since when have I ever listened to you? I going to read my book on the sun-”

Your mouth fell open as you turned around to be met with Charles, your Charles with a girl.

A pretty girl, beautiful actually, she was slim and perfect and her smile was enough to make you want to crumble in a ball. 

She was leaning on him, grabbing his bicep as her hand brushed through his hair, he was laughing like really and truly laughing at whatever it was she had to say and you had never felt emotions like the ones you felt in that moment.

You felt like he had personally ripped your heart out himself, no remorse, and had just served it back to you on a silver platter.

He really didn't want you. 

“y/n, i didn't even know he was bringing her i-”

“You knew?”

Arthur sighed before running his hands through his hair, “it's been around four months, mum really likes her, she's nice. I mean she's not you, but he's happy so i can't complain.'' Arthur shrugged his shoulders, not sure how to console you in that moment.

You turned away from the happy couple and sat on the small steps that lead down to the bottom of the yacht. Arthur sat down next to you, pulling your body into his as he wrapped his arm around you.

“What about me? When will I be happy?”

You hadn't realised you were crying until Arthur grabbed your arm and pulled you straight off the boat.

That was your wake up call, you had spent too much of your life waiting for someone that never wanted you. 19 years to be exact, a sad sad story to anyone that knew you. You were embarrassed and angry at yourself. 

You needed to actually move on. 

So that's what you did.

And that's when you met him, a young british boy, he was around your age and drove for a papaya team that shared the f1 grid with charles.

Lando norris.

He was 20, awkward, way too cocky for only his second year, and when you bumped into him in Bahrain of 2020 you chose him to be the one to make you move on.

He asked for your number a few races later and the two of you used to text all the time. He took you on cute picnic dates, asked if he could kiss you before he did, and overall was the kindest most respectful boyfriend a girl could ask for. You were actually happy, and it only took nineteen years.

It was imola when you bumped into Charles in the paddock, his brother wasn't here so he was confused as to why you were here, but then he saw the McLaren hat on your head and his eyebrows furred evenmore.

“y/n?”

“Hello, charles.” you gave him a tight lip smile before moving past him but he chased after you why you walked down the paddock strip. Past the ferrari garage.

“You're a McLaren fan now, huh?” 

“Yep.”

Charles' heart hurt at your bluntness, he grabbed your arm so you would stop walking and talk to him. 

“y/n.” serious charles. That stupid tone that usually made you freeze and obey whatever he had to say.

But this time you rolled your eyes and pulled your arm from his grip.

“Charles, I really have to be somewhere.” you lied, checking your watch.

“Like a journalism thing? Why didn't you tell me you were going to be here, you could have flown with me and Joris?” and Charlotte, but he didn't mention that.

You really tried to pull your eyes from the red drivers suit that was wrapped around his hips, he was a ferrari driver now and you had never been more happy for him. You just wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him how proud you were of him. 

But right at this moment, you had never wanted to create more distance between you both.

“y/n?” 

Both of your heads snapped as Lando ran up to you, you coughed and took a step back from charles.

Landos arm wrapped around your shoulder as he put out a fist for Charles to spud. Charles' eyes were glued to landos arm resting on your shoulder and he could feel the blood pumping in his heart speeding up.

Lando kissed your temple and Charles' eyes were glued to yours. 

“Charles.” Lando smiled nodding his head.

“Lando.'' Charles' voice was laced with venom, not that Lando noticed. 

“So you guys are?” Charles' eyebrows furred pointing between you both.

“We havent you know, labelled it yet. It's still kind of new” you smiled, it had been months.

“But I'm happy, really happy.” Charles knew that was a message to him, you were happy and he needed to leave you be. But with Lando of all people, Charles couldn't seem to shake this one off.

Charles mumbled something about needing to be somewhere and walked away from you both. Lando again oblivious to the interaction as his arm stayed secured around you and he balabbed on about the race as you walked to the McLaren motorhome.

Charles hated him. 

Charles hated himself for his feelings.

He didn't know why he was so bothered, he had never been this bothered, nothing gotten to him like you and Lando just did. Joris told him maybe it was because he had a soft spot for you deep down, he joked that maybe Charles liked you back and Charles ignored him for the rest of the weekend at that accusation. But that didn't mean he didnt ignore his words. 

It was over, you grew up and he should feel relieved you've moved on, right?

He broke up with Charlotte a month later.

Charles scoffed when you first bought lando along to family night, he hated how your mum loved his accent and how arthur laughed at all his jokes. He hated that he hadn't caught your eye all night, instead your eyes were glued on the stupid little british boys. Charles hated it, he sat there like a toddler that hadn't gotten their own way all night. He knew it was wrong but he hated his feelings more than he hated lando being sat at his table.

Charles was in the kitchen, he was picking at the leftover pie on the table top as everyone else was outside fawning over one of landos stories, he had really charmed the family.

His mother walked into the kitchen as he was taking a bite of cherry pie looking like a caught child, she laughed at the cherry stains in the corner of his mouth and passed him a tissue.

The pair stood in silence for a moment before Pascal spoke up.

“That's definitely not allowed in your diet, my sweet.” she smirked knowing the driver's strict diet.

“But you won't tell on me maman.” Charles flashed his puppy dog eyes as his mum laughed at his actions. She sighed and moved closer to him as he stood up straight. 

“You have a lot on your mind my boy, and don't tell me you don't because I gave birth to you, I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Maman.” Charles sighed.

“This is about her isn't it?” Charles' eyes refused to look at his mother at her words.

“I don't even need to say her name, it's her, it will always be her.” she smiled as she walked over to her son and placed a hand on his cheek.

“She's happy, Charles.'' he heard the sternness in his mothers voice.

“So everyone keeps telling me.” Charles scoffed again.

“So then you know you're being an ass, right?”

Charles' eyes widened at his mothers language but she just laughed and waved him off.

“After all the years she spent pining after you, Charles, it would be cruel for you to not let her be happy.”

“But what if I'm not happy?” he asked his mum, she just sent him a sympathetic smile and grazed his cheek once more.

“Do you love her?”

“I dont know.” Charles shrugged.

“See, it would be cruel to break her heart over this kind of uncertainty. Either you love her or you're just jealous. You have a lot of thinking to do my boy, but don't do anything until you're really sure. She's fragile when it comes to you.”

Charles nodded his head.

His mum was right, he really did have a lot of thinking to do. 

And as if on queue there she was, walking into the kitchen, the widest smile on her face as she grabbed another beer from the fridge. She had started to let her curls rome free recently and it was sending charles’ heart into a spiral, with her stupid little shorts and crocs and no doubt she had conned lando into giving her his jumper. 

She used to do that to him, Charles thought, remembering all the times you had tricked him into stealing his hoodies. 

She smiled at Charles mum and told her again that the food was lovely, nodding at Charles, and she left just as quick as she came in.

“Maman, I'm so in love with her it physically hurts me.”

And there it was, the words you had so desperately wanted to hear your whole life, but you didn't hear a sound as Charles vowed to never say it again out loud. Your happiness came before his.

Charle suffered for a year, he knew he loved you, he had said it out loud once and the vulnerability he felt in that moment knowing you were stood just 15 feet away with the boy you were in love with was enough to make him swear to never voice his feelings again, he was embarrassed and wanted the world to swallow him whole. The worst part was the guilt, he could only feel like he had let one of the best things go, slip straight from his grasp all for a bit of pride. He didn't want to be seen with the young naive girl that had a crush on him, but now he just felt stupid. Stupid that he didn't recognise your love for him sooner, he had always thought you were one of the most amazing humans he had ever met, he found himself looking for you in other people when he didn't even know it. He was stupid, and he knew that for sure.

Charles dedicated the rest of the year to focusing on his f1 seat, with ferrari fucking him and sebastian over and over and after his wins at spa and monza he felt hungry for more and felt that the true love of his life should be formula one.

But his heart hurt when he didn't hear from you after his win in spa, and then it crushed him again when you didn't contact him after his result at monza.

No call.

Not even a text.

He had fully let you slip from his grasp.

It was a long year for Charles that year, and as summer break quickly approached he found girls and training were his favourite pastime. He stopped turning up to family events when he knew lando would be there and you were in love and happy. After a while it was a rarity he would even stay at an event for an hour.

He was 22 and as a new season started the only thing he was talking from lando was his teammate, not that charles was complaining. He liked Carlos, and he was ready to step up and take that 1st driver's seat. He was ready to make everyone proud just like you had promised him that night on the beach.

After a while charles mothers birthday rolled around, one he would definitely not miss as his mother requested a small family meal. Everyone was sitting, looking over the menu when Charles undoubtedly noticed the missing presence of you.

“Where's y/n?” Charles asked Lorenzo, who was sitting next to him.

Lorenzo just shrugged and turned his attention back to his menu, was it normal for you to not attend family outings? Charles hadn't been around for so long he didn't even think to consider that maybe she didn't turn up to these things anymore either.

“With Lando I suppose.” Charles murmured, he tried not to sound jealous but the older brother just laughed.

“Lando?” as he turned to his younger brother.

“Why would she- you really haven't spoken to her have you?” Lorenzo asked, his eyes widening at the thought of his brother being so dumb.

Charles just shrugged his shoulders as he urged his brother to continue.

“They broke up, a while ago actually.”

Charles didnt know why his shoulders felt lighter but he chose to ignore it and try to press some more information out of his brother.

“So? First break up, we've all been there, doesn't mean she can't be here for mamans birthday.'' Charles rolled his eyes as he tried to act like he didn't care.

“She's not even in the country charles.”

Charles' head snapped towards his brothers, “She's taking a gap year, last I heard she was staying in Australia for a while.”

Lorenzo could see the gears turning in charles’ head; he knew he wanted to ask more so he answered for him.

“Hey Arthur, where's y/n these days?” Lorenzo asked his other brother who was at the other end of the table with his girlfriend.

Arthur shrugged before answering, “Still in australia at the moment, she really likes it there, but i told her she cant like it to much because there's no way i'm sitting on a plane for twelve hours every time i want to actually see her face and not on a phone screen.” arthur joked, everyone else laughed along with him for a moment until charles countered up the courage to speak up.

“Why didn't she just travel with formula one? She wanted to be an F1 journalist anyway.”

Arthur's eyes narrowed at his brother. 

You definitely hadn't meant to cause it, but there was a small crack in between the brothers' relationship within the last year. Arthur definitely blamed Charles and his stupid effects on you for you running away.

“She wanted to be away from f1 for a while.'' Arthur told his brother like it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world, hoping to squash this table subject, not really wanting to talk about his run away best friend.

“I mean I don't blame her, especially when her Lando ended like it did. She's living her best life.” Carla, Arthurs girlfriend chimed in. Arthur slightly winced at his girlfriend's words not wanting this to be the dinner conversation tonight, especially when Charles clearly knew nothing about y/n's life within the last year.

“What?'' Charles asked the table, but no one answered him, instead everyone's heads were down dead planted down at the table, everyone except for Carla who had no idea what she had just started.

“Why did no one tell me what's been going on?” charles raised his voice slightly, catching the attention from everyone else on the table.

Charles mother intervened knowing where this was going, “charles, not right now-”

“No, she's been going through something and no one even thought to mention it? What the fuck.”

Arthur was visibly turning red, Charles noticed as Lorenzo's head was shaking telling his little brother now wasn't the time, pleading Arthur to just bite his tongue.

“Say it arthur.”

The flame was lit.

“And who do you think upset her in the first place, charles?” Arthur tutted, picking up his menu pretending to scan it so he didn't have to pay attention to the conversation anymore.

“Drop it, arthur.” Lorenzo sternly interrupted.

“Considering no ones told me anything how the fuck am i supposed to answer that question?” Charles spat back at his brother.

Arthurs cheeks were a visible red now, he was about to blow up. Something he had been holding in for a while. He slammed his menu down and turned to look at his older brother.

“You know what Charles, you have no right! No fucking right, sorry maman for the language-” charles mum just put her hands up in defence as she let her youngest son get it all off his chest. 

“She loved you, and you constantly broke her heart and told her no and then when she was finally happy in a relationship you had to go tell the world you love her so much that ‘it physically hurts you!” Arthur mugged his brother's words.

Charles was shocked, he had no idea what was happening. 

No one knew of his feelings towards you, no one except- charles head snapped towards his mother who pulled a tight lip smile and just shaked her head in a no. Charles was about to deny deny deny when-

“Yeah, she heard it. And it fucking broke her charles. It was mean and it was selfish, and I've never despised someone more than you for what you did to MY best friend.”

“Arthur-”

“I'm not finished. Then you have the decency to finally come to a family meal for the first time in nearly a year, nearly a year charles! And ask about her like you didn't completely cut her and us out of your life? You're selfish, completely and utterly selfish charles.”

Charles sat at the table pale, he felt the colour drain from his face as he scrambled to find the words to say but his mouth didn't open.

“You really do pick and choose your moments brother, I don't know why I even came tonight, I'm sorry maman but I told you I wouldn't be able to sit in a room with him.”

Arthur stood up, he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and took Carla's hand in the other.

“I'm really sorry maman, and everyone else, happy birthday, i guess.” Arthur gave his mother a hug and walked out of the restaurant with carla. Leaving everyone else at the table in pure shock.

Especially Charles, he had know idea what to say, he looked up at his mother opposite him who looked at him with sympathy.

“My sweet boy, I'm sorry to say it but there was some truth to your brother's words. I told you she was fragile.”

Charles felt awful.

Charles felt like he was going to cry at the table.

It had been a long year for Charles, he had groveld for the most of it, thinking you were happy somewhere while Lando flew you anywhere and everywhere around the world. Now he came to think of it, maybe there was a better reason for the young mclaren driver avoiding him.

He wasn't really friends with Lando, but his teammate, Carlos was close with the boy and whenever there was an offer for the three of them to hang out Lando magically had something come up and couldn't attend. 

It all made sense now. Even the fact he hadn't seen you in the paddock, he thought maybe you were caught up in your studies, oh how he was wrong.

He sat at the table for the rest of the meal, and with every passing comment he didn't think he could sink more into his chair.

He was an awful person, he thought.

When the family were leaving the restaurant Charles hugged his family members, swallowing the anxiety and embarrassment down.

He looked over at Lorenzo who sent him a sympathetic smile, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Tonight wasn't supposed to go like that, i told arthur to just drop it i-”

“No, it's okay. I deserved it.”

“I dont know, you fucked up, but you didnt need to run, nether did she.'' Lorenzo, his older brother shrugged.

“What happened? With her and lando." Charles pushed.

“alot .” lorezono chucked.

“I don't know if it's my place to-” enzo sighed at that stupid little puppy dog face his younger brother was pulling.

“I'm pretty sure she cheated on him, Arthur said as she fell into a bit of a hole. So the only thing she really could do was just leave Monaco for a while. She seems good, Charles, healthy and happy." Lorenzo shrugged, watching as Charles' eyes widened and he latched onto every word. 

“If it's any closure she's not mad at you, Arthur, well I'm sure he would be he loves y/n like a twin sister, but she's not mad at you. She was just confused and hurt.”

“If i call her-'' Charles started but his voice flattened as he realised it would ne dumb to contact you.

“Call her Charles, I'm sure she would be happy to hear from you.”

You knew what today was, arthur's molthers birthday. You had called her in the morning sending her your love and wishes, she told you that Charles was attending the meal and Arthur would be on his best behaviour, little did you know.

You wondered if Charles knew what you were up to, if pascal or lorenzo had been keeping him in the loop.

You were at the beach, cocktail in hand and book in the other, your earphones were in as you hummed to the faint sound of the music and read, but you were disturbed when the rigging was a call from your phone echoing through your earphones, charles.

Pick it up.

Pick it up.

You couldn't do it.

Your body froze in place, you pulled your airpods out, throwing down your book, not caring that you lost the page you were on. You took in a deep breath and picked up your phone, and just as your thumb hovered over the answer button, the ringing stopped.

He had called you?

You needed a moment to think about what you were going to say to him, what he would say.

You so desperately wanted to hear his voice, it had been a year, and you wondered if that was enough time for feelings to vanish.

You looked out at the calm seas for a moment, did you really want to fall back into a loop of pining for him like a puppy. You loved him, loved, past tense. You were a grown woman now, so you opened your phone and called him back.

Ringing.

“Hello?” his voice echoed through the phone.

“Charles?”

You heard his sigh of relief over the phone, and your heart melted all over again, he hadn't even spoken yet, but the closeness of his presence made it all too real.

“I'm sorry.”

He's sorry?

“Charles-”

“I'm sorry, okay. Arthurs right, I was mean and I was selfish and you deserved so much more than what I did to you. From the bottom of my heart y/n/n, I'm so so incredibly sorry.”

“It's- it's okay.” 

You forgave him.

“It's not.”

There was a silence that lingered for a moment.

“What I said, what you heard, it wasn't supposed to happen like that. I really didn't want it to happen that way.” he pleaded over the phone, his breathy voice echoing through the speaker.

“I want to see you.”

More silence.

“Please, y/n.”

“Okay.”

More silence.

“Soon, okay.” There was promise to your words.

“Soon.” he repeated, as though it was something for him to hold onto. 

Soon.

“When I'm ready Charles I'll come home, I'm just not ready yet.” you winced at your own words because you so desperately wanted to see him too.

“Then don't come home- i'll come to you, i'll catch the next plane if i have too just tell me where you are-”

“Charles, I'm not ready yet.” you interrupted him. 

Silence.

Charles wanted to cry, hearing your voice and knowing you were just within reach he wanted to see you, hold you, apologise as much as you would allow him to. He wanted to kiss you and hug you and love you forever, but you weren't ready.

“I'll wait for you, okay? Soon or not.” his voice cracked, and god did it melt your heart.

“I'll see you soon charlie.”

This was feeling a little too much like a goodbye for charles.

“y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I too late?’

“Time doesn't apply when it comes to you.” and Charles had hope. He hadn't fully let you slip, yet.

Charles would now spend every waking moment wondering how soon was soon?

But after a while he figured ‘soon’ was a little long, three more months to be precise.

You had left Australia, travelled around more like you wanted to, and you came back to Monaco just before the end of the f1 season.

Charles was already in Abu Dhabi by the time you landed back in monaco.You had asked everyone to not tell him of your arrival.

You were sitting with Arthur in his mothers living room, just like the old days. You told him about your travels while he updated you on his love life and gossip in the paddock.

You had missed this.

And it wasn't until pascal passed you a warm cup of tea and sat with the two of you, sharing her own gossip from the hair salon you realised how much you were ready to be home again.

Arthur had run to his room quickly to grab his trophies to show you and as he walked out of the room your eyes lingered on the suitcases by the door.

“You're going to Abu dhabi?” you asked pascal.

“Tomorrow.” she smiled at you.

Pascal could visibly see the gears turning in your head, she placed a hand on your knee and smiled up at you.

“I don't want to pressure you y/n, and i know you just got back but you should consider it.”

You knew what she meant and you nodded at her with a small smile, and Arthur came back.

You went home a few hours later and sat in your room, if you go you'll see him, but you're going to see him at some point regardless. 

You felt vulnerable.

So completely scared, but that didn't stop you from texting Arthur that night telling him you were going to join him and his family tomorrow.

You were going to see him.

Your time was up.

You were ready.

You meet up with the leclerc family at the airport in the early hours of the morning, your suitcase gripped in your hand as you were mentally preparing yourself to sit on the plane and go over any and every possible outcome this weekend could have.

Arthur sat with Carla at the front, and Pascal was fast asleep. But the chair next to you suddenly became occupied when you looked up and saw the eldest leclerc.

“You look well, y/n.” he smiled down at you.

“Thank you.” you smiled back at lorenzo.

“I think the time away did you good, no?”

“yeah, i really needed some space, but now i'm back and just feeling a little..” you stumbled on your words, struggling to describe your emotions.

“Overwhelmed?”

“Yeah, exactly that.”

“Does he know you're coming?” you knew the ‘he’ lorenzo was referring too.

“I dont think so.”

“He's going to be happy to see you.” lorenzo nudged your shoulder.

“I hope so.” you nervously chucked.

You took in a deep breath and looked back at the eldest leclerc brother, “I'm just anxious, I have no idea how this weekend will pan out. The next time I'll be back on this plane going home I could be happy, sad, crying or planning to run away again. I just feel so lost.”

“Lost isn't a bad thing.'' Lorenzo shrugged.

“He's just as lost as you y/n, trust me. I just hope you both figure it out, you both deserve the peace of mind. And if this all goes to shit, you still got on this plane today and tried.”

“I just don't want to get my hopes up.”

“Then don't, sometimes things aren't just meant to be.”

That's what was worrying, you had loved this man for years, and now was the deciding day if he loved you back or not and you don't know if you were ready to give up the fantasy of him

being the love of your life up yet.

You weren't mentally prepared for the shit outcome of this story, you didn't know if you could handle Charles breaking your heart another time.

When the plane landed and the warm air hit your skin you took in a deep breath. Time to face the music.

You went straight to your hotel, it was a Friday so Charles was about to participate in fp1 by the time you turned up to the track.

The smell of burnt rubber and the sound of happy fans filled your ears, you had missed being in the paddock more than you knew. This place was your home.

You were walking with Arthur and Carla when your name was called, judging by the accent you knew it wasn't the monegasque, it was the papaya coloured boy running up to you.

You told Arthur and Carla you would catch up with them as you stopped and smiled at lando who had now reached you. 

“Hey.” he smiled.

“Hey.” you smiled back awkwardly.

“Listen lando, you deserve an explanation-”

“It's okay y/n, we were young, it was a while ago you’re forgiven.” Lando chuckled as he poked your shoulder.

“But that doesn't mean what I did was okay, you deserve more than what I gave you.” 

Lando gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Consider it done with, okay? No hard feelings.”

You smiled up at the British boy, he looked good, he seemed well and that made your guilt feel a little less painful.

“I erm, I have a girlfriend actually, she's great, her names luisa.”

You watched as he lips upturned at the mention of his girlfriend, he was smitten.

“I'm happy for you landini.”

You both laughed for a moment, the free air was nice. Seeing lando meant there was a weight lifted off your shoulders.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing, I didn't want things to be awkward.” he said.

“I don't think I could ever be awkward around you.” Lando smiled at your words.

“Are you still thinking about becoming an F1 journalist?” he asked, remembering how it was your dream, he had also hoped your disappearance in the paddock for the last year wasn't his doing, stopping you from reaching your dream.

You smiled as he remembered, “I'm working on it.”

“Well i hope i see you around more often then, you deserve it y/n, really.”

Lando was getting called from the other end of the paddock as he had to be in his car within the next 10 minutes, you both shared a hug and it felt nice to feel comfortable with him.

His hands squeezed your back before saying a quick bye and skipping down the paddock. 

As he pulled away and walked past, your eyes connected with them all to familiar grey ones you were so nervous to see.

Charles.

He didn't seem too happy though.

He had just watched you smile and laugh with your ex in the middle of the paddock and then hug him bye, even though you thought nothing of it, Charles' mind was spinning.

There he was, a tight lipped smile right opposite you. He had grown out his stubble and he looked tired. You knew he hadn't had the best of seasons with Ferrari, you didn't keep up with it too much, it upset you that his childhood team had failed him massively. 

He nodded his head and followed his press officer in the opposite direction, but you weren't going to let him go just yet.

“Charles, wait!”

And before you could process it you were running, sprinting down the paddock after him, but he had already disappeared into ferrari hospitality.

“Shit.” you mumbled as you jogged down to the garages in hopes of catching up with him.

You scanned your pass and walked into the back of the garage Pascal had walked up to you and grabbed your hand.

“You need to put some headphones on dear, it gets loud in -”

“Pascal, where did he go?” you asked her frantically, like a mad woman out of breath.

“Charles?”

“yes!”

A slight smile just appeared on her face as she turned around, “Be quick dear, I think I can see him putting his balaclava on.” She pushed your shoulder and you walked around the red barrer that clearly said ‘no public entry’.

“You can't be back here, ma'am.” a security officer grabbed the back of your bicep.

“No, I need to get through, it's an emergency.” you whined, pulling your arm from his grip.

“I'm sorry ma’am, it's a safety hazard.” the man's grip tightened on your arm as he pulled you away from the back of the garage. You pushed off him but his grip only improved as he swept you off the floor, lifting you up at your attempt to run. You kicked your legs like a child learning to swim and kicked arms that trapped you.

“If you refuse to cooperate, I'll have no choice but to remove you from the garage.” he said, trying to dodge your feisty little kicks.

“And If you don't get your slimy huge hands off me right now i'm going to-”

“y/n?!”

Your head snapped at the sound of your name, Jorris, Charles' best friend.

“Jorris, oh thank god!”

“She's okay, she can come in.” Jorris grabbed your other hand and wiggled you away from the huge security man's grip as he dropped you back to the floor. You brushed off your dress and gave the security man a dirty look before turning to Charles' best mate.

“Jorris, where is he?” your breathing was rapid and your heart beat feeling like it was thumping out your chest.

“y/n you really shouldn't.” he sent you a sympathetic smile.

“Please.” you pleaded with him. After seeing you try to fight a six foot five security man Joris really didn't want to feel the wrath of you right now, so he complied.

“You have five minutes, follow me.” he led you through the back of the garage.

Whenever Charles got in the car he liked to be left alone to his own devices, it was his switch off time, but you knew on some occasions he didn't mind the company, you just needed to talk to him, tell him you were here for him. You didn't want him getting in the car overthinking that you were here for lando.

And before you knew it, there he was, standing in front of you, you were painting out of breath with your hands on your knees as you looked up at him.

Charles giggled as you held up a finger to let him know you were still getting your breath back. He pulled his ear pieces out of his ear and zipped up the rest of his race suit.

“I hate to rush you, but I have to be in the car in four minutes.” Charles frowned, “and four minutes aren't enough for what I have to say to you, y/n.”

“Let's keep it short and sweet then.” you stood up straight and smiled at the boy.

“Im sor-” he started but you cut him off.

“That's not what I meant by sweet.”

Charles squeezed his eyes and winced at his name being called behind him, he opened his eyes and saw you beaming up at him and he knew he was in love, he just wasn't going to tell you yet, especially not if he had just witnessed you make up with lando. Lando made you happy, Lando didn't break your heart on multiple occasions like he had. Charles wouldn't blame you if you went back to the British driver.

You tilted your head to the left and smiled at Chris, Charles' manager. He was pointing at his watch and tapping his foot.

You looked back at Charles and took in a deep breath, you stood on your tip toes and placed your arms on his shoulders, gently placing a kiss to his cheek.

Your soft lips connecting with his ruff stubble is something Charles cherished, he couldn't wipe the Cheshire cat grin off his face.

“I know it's only a practice session, but good luck out there charlie.”

“Thank you.” he smiled, trying to hide his blush. He couldn't believe he was blushing and how the roles had reversed between the two of you.

“What about lando?” he had to ask, it was on his mind.

“I'm not standing next to Lando wishing him good luck right now, am i?” you smirked at him.

Charles smiled before looking back at his manager, he bent down and kissed your forehead like he had done a thousand times, but this time it felt different, electric, it felt like love. It was love.

“I'll be waiting for you, okay?” you told him.

Charles smiled to himself, he wasn't too late.

If anything was on Charles' side that day it wasnt timing. Charles finished fp2 with a few flying laps and a heavy heart, his first plan was to find you but his press officer had forced him to do interviews, and then he had a meeting and then he had checked his watch and it was way past nine and he knew you were probably back at the hotel by now.

He huffeed as he left his meeting, grabbing his jumper and keys and saying goodbye to the engineers that were going to work on the car overnight.

He had it all planned in his head, he was going to get some flowers on the way home, knock on your hotel door and ask you on a date.

“Charles!” called out his manager, he really hoped he didn't have to stay in this hell hole any longer, he just wanted to leave the track and get his girl.

“What?” he huffed.

“She waited.”

“What?” Charles repeated, his manager now having his full attention. 

Charles caught the way his manager's lips turned into a devilish smirk, but he wasn't looking at Charles, yet something behind him. When he whipped his head around there you were, his heart thumped at the massively oversized ferrari jacket one of the staff must have given you to keep you warm while you waited.

You just smiled at him and waited for him to walk to you, but charles sprinted, he was a man on a mission and when he got to you his hands slipped around your waist, pulling you up in the air for a moment before he dropped you back down, his hands still remaining tightly wrapped around your torso.

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear before placing his forehead on yours.

“Take what's yours charlie.” you smiled. 

Charles' thumb gently traced over your plump bottom lip before he placed his hand on your cheek, smiling like an idiot. 

He slowly grazed his lips on your before gently adding pressure and connecting your soft lips with his in a quick kiss. A kiss that was full of smiles as Charles pulled you as close to him as possible. Towering over you as he kissed you unlike he had kissed anyone ever. The way your lips moved in sync with his was magic to him, it had never felt like this before.

He pulled back letting you get some air, before using that as leverage to stick his tongue in your mouth, he put all his power and passion into the kiss and it was just as you imagined him to be with you. Sensual and passionate. 

Your hands ran along his shoulders and up to his head where you gently tucked on his hair. Charles groned on your lips and eventually pulled back, he giggled as he placed his forehead on yours again. 

“All mine, finally.” He said through a wide smile.

“I've always been yours…”

Thank you for reading!! Here’s a gif of baby Charles because this is how i imagined him when y/n had her teenage crush. Bare faced and spiky hair🥹

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 2. (read part 1 here) tags: dubcon

-

There’s a photo of you taped up on the inside of his locker. 

The glimpse you catch of it is quick. Not like you aren’t meant to see it, but more like Johnny’s so unconcerned with whether you see it or not that he doesn’t bother to make a show of it. Just reaches into his locker to grab his lunch and shuts it while you’re still gaping at the polaroid of someone that looks suspiciously like you in your store uniform. You hear someone clear their throat and you glance up, flinching when you meet Johnny’s eyes.

“Missing me already?” he teases, winking. “I’ll be back on the floor as soon as possible. ‘Promise, hen.”

“It’s not—” 

He’s already out the door and on the way to the lunchroom before you’re able to get the rest of your sentence out. 

Johnny seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re about to spurn his advances. Any other day he would have stuck around to listen to the rest of your sentence, but when he has an inkling that those words will be tinged by the flavour of rejection, he’s quick to book it. You privately have to admit it’s not a terrible strategy. It’s not often that you’re able to get the words out. 

It’s one of those rare shifts where you’re clocking in later than Johnny, missing his lunch break. Small mercies. It doesn’t mean much because your schedules still overlap a significant amount, but it does mean that you won’t be forced to choke down your lunch while Johnny sits opposite you at the lunch table and stares you down the entire half hour. 

“Wait, that was so fucking cute,” someone says from behind you. You turn on your heel to find a coworker staring at Johnny’s locker, properly enchanted by whatever she saw. Practically swooning. 

“What is?”

“Didn’t you see the picture he has of you? In his locker?” She says it with emphasis, giving you a significant look. 

“Yeah…I…don’t you think it’s a bit…like, weird?” you ask her, making sure to keep your voice low in case Johnny is still around the corner. You can’t help the way you glance down the hallway.

She frowns. “It’s cute. He’s like, smitten with you. I’ve never seen him with a crush on anyone before and I’ve worked with him for over a year. I think it’s kind of nice. Do you not like him or something?”

“Well, I just…we aren’t even dating and I think…I think he even has a photo of me as his lock screen—”

“Because if you aren’t interested in him, you should let him down now. It’s not fair of you to just string him along, you know. He’s a really good guy.”

You’re not sure about the whole good guy thing. Johnny acts like a nice guy most of the time, but you’ve had the unfortunate luck in getting to experience the other side of him.

The problem lies in the fact that Johnny is, you think, a genuinely likeable guy to everyone else. It’s not like your coworkers are all collectively wrong in their opinion of him—he really is an excellent coworker. A good sport, a funny guy; he lends a hand whenever someone needs help. He helped Jeff move two weeks ago, drove Daryl to the airport last Saturday, and looked after Sonya’s cat while she was away on vacation that one time. 

It’s with you that his good-time nature evaporates; his lazy, drawled predilection for joking around and indulging himself and others in a good ribbing replaced by a weird, manufactured kindness. Almost sickly sweet. He lays it on so thick around others that they think you experience the same friendship with Johnny that the rest of them get to enjoy. 

Not so.

None of them catch the way he’s always hovering, always staring at you. Eyes half-lidded; bedroom eyes in the middle of your shift, in the middle of the workplace. 

None of your coworkers are around when you’re at the register one day and Johnny takes his break to make a couple purchases, coming to your cash with a basket full of chocolate, wine, condoms, body butter, and batteries. No one except him notices the way you pause at the last item.

“Dinnae ken if your vibrator was rechargeable or not,” he says when you look at him funny, a big grin stretched across his face. Blue eyes gleaming almost feverishly. “Thought I’d be prepared either way.”

You scan his items in silence. When you hand him his bag, you try not to shudder when he purposefully glances his hand over yours. 

Worse are the days when Johnny comes in as a customer, the days when he’s off the schedule. When he shouldn’t even be at the store at all. No one notices the way he pesters you the entire time he’s in the store, insisting on you helping him with his purchases. If a coworker does happen to notice his presence (and how could they not when he’s such a formidable presence in any room, when he almost glows from the energy stockpiled in his body with nowhere else to go), he’ll make polite conversation, just long enough to not seem rude, before shifting his attention back to you. 

His conversation borders on interrogation. He asks you about your childhood and your friends and whether you have a partner or any previous partners. He makes you follow him to the bed section where he tries out all the mattresses and then asks you increasingly inappropriate questions like what mattress you have, what it feels like, how you sleep at night, what you wear to bed. 

When you rebuff him one too many times, he’s not shy about telling you off. 

“Ye just need a good fuck ta sort ye out,” Johnny snarls when you brush off another invite out to lunch one day. It’s not often that he loses his temper with you, so his anger makes your eyes widen, your pulse pick up. During morning shift assignments, he’d corralled your manager into pairing the two of you up on curbside pick-up orders, meaning that you’ve been stuck with him for hours, nowhere else to go. 

“Excuse me?” you say, voice going up a decibel. 

He leans across the front of the cart loaded with flowerpots and gardening tools. “I get it, hen. No one at home ta play with your pussy, huh? No choice but ta come into work all pent up and frustrated—”

“This is in like, the outer Hebrides of ‘none of your business’—”

“—clit’s probably all swollen too. Fuck.” He breathes out heavily through his nose, eyes darkening. “No wonder you’re always pissed off. I’d be too if I dinnae have a little replacement pussy at home.”

“You’re the reason I’m upset in the first place, Johnny.”

“Aw, I ken, bonnie,” he says with a pout, eyebrows slanting down like he really, truly pities you, the gesture immediately contradicted by his next words. “Promise I’ll make it better. Wanna meet outside my truck in a half hour?” 

You storm off before it comes to blows. Not that it’d ever be a fair fight. Johnny would probably hold you away with his palm against your head while you swung at him uselessly. You try not to think of that too often. Of him toying with you. Most of your interactions feel like that these days. Like he’s a big cat holding your tail down when you try to scramble away. 

When you beg your manager to switch shift assignments, the look you get could wilt flowers. It’s not completely your fault, even if your request is a bit inconveniencing. Johnny has your coworkers and management so wrapped around his finger that no one can even hazard a guess as to why you might be uncomfortable around him. 

It’s the only reason you haven’t complained to HR yet. There are channels and protocols for dealing with his behaviour, but watching people practically trip over themselves to please him reminds you that the likeliest outcome would be them transferring you to another store. It just doesn’t seem worth it.

You don’t think about how frazzled his words leave you for the rest of your shift. You don’t think about it because there’s nothing to think about. 

You know from the second that your manager reassigns you to women’s apparel that you’ve probably made a mistake. Customers buzz around you like gnats, like swarms of flies, and it’s only natural that you’d be compelled to swat a few. You hold on to the fraying edges of your patience with little finesse. About halfway through your shift, you get a stern talking to from your floor supervisor and put on an extra long break. You’re no less irritated when you get back though, somehow still agitated and snappy. 

Big hands clamp over your shoulders and squeeze like he’s giving you a massage, thumbs digging into the grooves of your upper back. He ignores the way you tense up.

“Hen, you’re making the customers uncomfortable with all your huffin’ and puffin’,” he whispers into your ear, a light chuckle falling out with his words. Amused by your attitude this time instead of ticked off. “If ye want, I could take ye ta the back room ta loosen ye up a bit. Make your day a little better. Dinnae think anybody will even notice if we dip away for a bit—’sides management will probably send me a gift basket if ye come back perky after a good shag.”

You shrug him off to go clock out, ignoring the way he chuckles as you storm off. No one knows if you go home and wear out the battery in your vibrator while thinking about Johnny’s words. Thinking about Johnny guiding you to his truck with a palm flat on your low back, pinkie teasing just under the waistband of your pants, before laying you out across the backseat and climbing on top of you.

You come when you think about how he’d have to keep the door open to fuck you in his car.

Unfortunately, you’re more than familiar with his sweet side as well. 

On your birthday, he comes in early with a sheet cake and organizes the employees so that the breakroom is dark when you come in. The entire staff is there when you switch on the lights, shouting your name and happy birthday, decked out in party hats and blowing into noisemakers.

It catches you off guard. Hits you right in the solar plexus and leaves you winded. You stand in the middle of the room like you’re under a spotlight and that spotlight is Johnny’s stare burning a hole in your head. For once, it doesn’t rankle. It leaves you feeling light, feathery, like floating down to earth. A coworker hands you a noisemaker and you smile until your eyes crinkle when you blow into it. 

You’re in a good enough mood that you don’t argue when he insists on sitting beside you. He got you the cake after all. Maybe it’s the least he deserves. Your goodwill lasts until Johnny tries to feed you a piece of cake with his fork; he winds up getting cake smushed all over your cheek when you turn your head away. 

“Johnny, ‘m not a baby,” you complain, wrinkling your nose when cake and icing slide down your face. “I can feed myself. This is so gross.”

“Shucks, hen, lemme get that. Shouldnae have turned your head,” Johnny curses, leaning over to scoop it off with his fingers. He holds them out to you, an offering. “Here ye go, kitty.”

You stare, horrified, until he shrugs like ‘suit yourself’ and pops them into his own mouth. Then drags the same spit covered fingers over your cheek again to keep cleaning you up. 

You can tell that it’s hopeless to complain by the way your coworkers giggle and gossip, eyes drawn to the two of you. Maybe it would be better if you were transferred. You only have so many ‘I’m not his work wife’s left in you. Something’s bound to give. You have a sneaking suspicion that it’s going to be you. 

On the walk to your car after your shift, which Johnny insists on doing like he does every time the two of you work a closing shift together, he jokingly asks if you’ve gotten your birthday spanks. He says it in that same awkward joking tone, just a bit too excited, staring at you too eagerly. Unblinking. Tuts his tongue when you tell him you’ve never heard of that before. 

You jolt and squeak at the pop on your ass when he insists on opening the door to your car and helping you in. The betrayed look you shoot him hardly penetrates through his shit-eating grin. 

“See ye tomorrow, kitty,” Johnny calls out, walking backwards away from you to where his truck is parked just a few spots away from yours. You think he would’ve parked right next to you if you hadn’t chosen a spot conveniently between two other cars. “More where that came from.”

Your hands shake against the steering wheel your whole drive home. Dreading tomorrow’s shift.

[c-nstantine]

Bruce Wayne and his Controversially Young GF

nsfw under the cut,bimbo reader

Bruce's age always varies but let's say he's 55-60 so his gf is about 25-28. He doesn't date teenagers because that's gross and weird and half of his kids are teens. *Cough* Di Caprio *Cough*

They meet purely by accident. Bruce's assistant forgot his coffee so Bruce decides to get himself because it's actually sunny in Gotham. He just happens to bump into her and use his classic billionaire charm on her.

The kids are a bit concerned because she's a bit of a bimbo, but she means well. Damian is the only who really gets to know her because he's the only one who still lives in the manor.

"Doesn't it bother you that Bruce is with someone like thirty years younger than him?"

"Not really she picks me up from school earlier if I ask nicely and she buys me vegan juice boxes,"

Bruce thinks she's a breath of fresh air. Her outlook on life is so strikingly different than his that he's even more intrigued.

Her skirts that are a little too short, her crop tops that are a little too low scooped, her heels that are a little too tall but all the more makes him more attracted to her.

She knows that their relationship is more fun than serious but she does genuinely care about him.

Enjoys paying for her things, literally took care of her student debt after one date

The sex is also really really good. Like insanely good. There's days where the two of them barely make it out of bed.

His stamina finally has another use.

Back to her clothing, he likes how he has access to her body but would never force her to dress like that but while she does, he takes the opportunity to bend her over all over the manor when no one is around.

He likes taking his time and teasing her because the younger guys she used to fuck only were it in it for a quick nut.

He's so observant of her reactions and learns quickly what makes her tick.

They may or may not have their sex tape leak

Enjoys giving head as much as receiving head.

Will spend hours between her thighs (he ate her out on his lunch break once) and he claims that it helps him think

However, seeing her struggle to take him fully in his mouth with tears coming from her thighs does something to her

[taylormarieee]

Dollar bills and love Billionaire!Miguel O'Hara

🎶I'ma take her bougie ass to Rodeo and then let her pick up whatever she want. CC, Gucci, hit Bottega, whatever she want She piss me off, somehow she still get whatever she want🎶

Summary: You were bratty all day, no matter what Miguel tried to do, take you shopping, buy you food, he even bought you puppies, you were still bratty so he decided maybe fucking it out of you would do the trick.

Pairing: Husband!Billionaire!Miguel x Fem!Entrepreneur!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Dom!Miguel, sub!reader, annoyed Miguel, bratty reader, PiV sex, oral(f), rough sex, mentions of arguing, Miguel being considerate, Miguel being slightly mean, degrading kink, praise kink, pussy whipped Miggy, mentions of height difference (reader is 5'7 Miguel is a 6'9 kingggg!), established relationship(there married), kinda angst/sadness, animal awareness(please be kind to animals, there so precious and adorable, especially puppies.)

A/N: I'm in the writing mood lol, ENJOY!

Miguel was the best husband you honestly could ever ask for. He was kind and so loving and caring. He was the opposite of what you thought about him when you first saw him.

You own your own business called Size Flows. It's a business for making clothes for plus sized people. Many plus sized people don't get to have clothes like that.

They have to fit in clothes that don't define their curves and beauty properly because the clothes are made for skinnier people. So one day when you decided to throw a party for the celebration of your business being a success you didn't expect much.

Yes, you did send flyers out but you didn't think they were going to reach the higher-higher staff and people in the world. So when famous billionaires and Multi-billionaires and millionaires started showing up into your building, you were shocked,

One of those billionaires happened to be, Lord and Behold, Miguel O'Hara. You were intimidated by him for quite some time at the party. He was tall! That was a fact. He also looked annoyed and mean.

Not really engaging in a lot of conversation like the others did. I mean yeah, the party was at night but it wasn't that late and the party didn't go on for too long so people didn't start getting bored of each other in there.

Eventually you decided to make conversation with him because why not (though you did notice most people cowered and scurried away from him when walking by). So when you arrived at his feet it took about 3 looks to finally meet his eyesight.

He was staring down at you with a tight lipped smile and you looked at him with a wide, happy, inviting one. Your signature smile at most, as that's what your assistant Alexandria says.

"Hello! You must be Miguel! I've heard a lot about you and your work and I must say, I'm intrigued to know just a little at how your mind works.

Miguel had a completely different company from yours, obviously. Yours was about clothes, he built his own museum. It was about like history and about Aerodynamics. The museum was impressive and it was large. I'm talking like, really LARGE!

You honestly couldn't help yourself. You visited the museum about 13 times. A couple with your friends who were into that stuff and like twice with your family and other times with your co-workers who wanted to go on their lunch break. You introduced yourself by saying your name or at least trying to before he cut you off.

"I'm very pleased to meet you Miguel, my name is-" you start off.

"I know who you are hermosa. I've seen your face on the cameras at my museum every time you go." He says.

Your eyes widen. You were so shocked by the cameras bit you didn't even register the intimate name he gave you. 'He's in charge of the cameras. And he's seen me over and over again!?' you thought in shock.

"Your honestly probably one of my most frequent visitors besides a bunch of college boys." he says with a polite smile on his face that makes you feel the need to laugh. He chuckles and laughs with you.

"wow, so you're frequent with the cameras huh?" you ask in a playful tone. He chuckles as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

"Yea, if you say so. I like to make sure my museum is safe and the guests are happy." he responds with a seriousness in his tone.

"Well, I mean coming from number one guest, I must say... I'm extremely happy every time I see the front of the building. Just so eager to go inside."

He laughs again and for the first time, you see a twinkle in his eyes. You guys talk for the rest of the night to the point you're the only two left in the building.

He kindly walks you to your car, which you were forever grateful for and that night ended and more frequent ones with him in it began until you two finally got married.

You were more happy in your life now than you have ever been before. You have the hottest man in the world to wake up to every morning and to say goodnight to every night.

That was three years ago and now, your here dragging Miguel everywhere, looking and searching for stuff you don't need.

Miguel was pissed at you because you were being a bit bratty today. You weren't satisfied and you constantly gave him attitude and sass. He was slowly loosing his patience and his temper the more and more bratty you got.

It got to the point he yelled at you and told you to get in the car both of you arguing for a good 20 minutes on why you were being so bratty and why he was being so annoying and grumpy.

He took you to a pet store. He bought you a tiny little bedazzled blue collar and then told you, "Pick." he said just standing in front of the dog pen with a bunch of puppies running around your legs.

"w-what?" you ask quietly, some forms of your attitude gone. "Pick. One." he says sternly with his jaw clenched. You feel slight fear but get filled with excitement when you see the two puppies you've been wanting forever!

A Corgi and a Yorkshire terrier! They were the cutest puppies to you, well that's a lie, you wanted every puppy in this store but it's not that Miguel wouldn't buy them all, it's the responsibility and care you have to have for them.

The hours you work make it difficult to buy every single one. "Miggy," you start, batting your eyelashes at him, "Can I get them all?" you ask.

There were like 15 dogs in here and you wanted every single one. "mami, no. You can get 2." he negotiates. You pout and your bratty attitude comes back.

"no! I want them all! If not then how about like 8?" you argue the amount with him. He rolls his eyes, once filled with sincerity and love now filled with anger and annoyance.

He usually wasn't annoyed with you when you got like this sometimes but he had a really bad day a work and you arguing with him didn't make it any better.

"No, two. No more negotiating mama." he says as calmly as he can because the last thing he wanted was you flinching and crying at his temper and how scary he got.

He did that once and the last time he did it, you didn't utter a proper word to him face to face for a month. He made you so scared and for a second when he raised his hand you flinched.

You genuinely thought he was going to hit you. He immediately stopped raising his voice at you after that. You allow it sometimes when you're arguing but you don't raise your voice at him that much because you know his temper and his patience.

"ok, how about 4? is that ok??!" you ask with those puppy dog eyes and that cute little pout he loves to see in different circumstances if you know what I mean.

"ok mama, and that's it." You get 4 collars for their genders one pink, one red, one green, and one violet. You got a Dachshund, a Yorkshire terrier, and a French bulldog and a Shih Tzu.

-The Dachshund was a boy and you named him lucky. (he got the red collar.)

-The Shih Tzu was a girl and you named her princess. (she obvi got the pink collar)

-The French bulldog was also a girl and you named her cleo. (she got the purple collar)

-The Yorkshire terrier was the last you chose and he was a boy and you named him stripe. (the name is because he was black and had a brown stripe on his face and he obvi got the green collar)

"That'll be $1,375 sir. And would you like to donate to charity for dogs in need?" she asks with a smile on her face.

"Ok, and yes I would like to donate!" Miguel responds with a smile on his face matching hers.

"Oooo! No Miguel! Can I do it instead? Oh, please hermoso, lemme do it!" you beg you wanted to be part of that cause.

"Ok hermosa, go ahead but lemme pay for the doggy bowls and the food and all the beds and everything else ok?"

"Miguel that means i'll have to buy something! Leave the doggy bowls out, I'll buy them because you'll have to press decline." You explain to him.

"No, I'll pay some to charity and then you pay some." He says smiling glad that your attitude is over.

"If you both don't mind me asking, how much are you donating? I run the charity and I'm just curious." The lady who you now know her name to be Sam, asks.

"Oh I'm paying 500,000 dollars." Miguel says nonchalantly like it's nothing. Her mouth drops.

"And i'm paying 600,000." I add with a smile on my face. Miguel dips his head back down at me and narrows his eyes like it's a competetion.

"Never mind 700,000." he says eyeing me up and down.

"800,000"

"900,000"

"1,000,000" I say finally winning.

"I'll pay 900,00 Sam." Miguel says smiling at her. The lady is crying now and you rush over to hug her.

"Oh poor thing. I have just as much love for dogs as you do. My dog died a couple weeks ago and i've been dying for a new one. That's why we're here so i'm glad we were able to help." You reassure her hugging her.

She mutters a sorry for your loss as she's fighting back tears and you smile feeling tears run down you face as well. Animals were such a big part of life and they brought so many people happiness.

To see the way so many people mistreat animals really crushes your heart. You both pay and walk away with happy smiles and 4 happy puppies with a new home.

You wave to the other employees as they finally realize who you and Miguel were. They asked for pictures and hugs. You gave that to them and then bid them a farewell.

"Thank you Miguel, I really needed this." You say with more tears in your eyes. His face softens and he hugs you and kisses your head. "It's ok baby. I have one more surprise for you at home." He says with a smirk on his face.

You decided to be a tease. The entire car ride you acted bratty and all mad because he wouldn't let you get all the puppies.

You knew exactly what the surprise was so that's why you acted like this. The surprise was sex, you knew it was. That smirk he had on his face in the pet store showed it. He was horny and now frustrated so that only meant one thing...

ROUGH SEX! You loved rough sex with Miguel so much. He would always degrade you and then praise you. He was just so bipolar during sex but whenever you made him real mad and pushed his limits like you are right now,

It always led to hateful, angry sex, well maybe not hateful but really angry, rough sex.

"Get out." He says through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. Your eye's go wide still keeping up with the act. "No Miguel! This conversation isn't over." You say stubbornly sitting in your seat.

"Fine. Then I'm getting out and I'm going to feed the dogs you're neglecting right now." He says with an eyebrow raised and a shrug.

You gasp and cross your arms over your chest. Your body and the car slightly shakes with Miguels slam to the door.

"what a jerk." You mutter under your breath but sometimes you forget your husband has super hearing and you also have a trunk, that happened to be open...

SMUT INCOMING: MDNI!!!!!

"Hmm love? What was that? Oh. I'm a jerk? mhmm mami, I'll show you a jerk." He says in that sultry smooth voice that had your knees buckling, every. single. time.

You let out a sigh as you watch him go into the house( aka a big ass mansion.) You wait until he goes fully inside. He closes the door but you still wait a little just for good measure.

When you walk in, something pushes you against the wall and Miguels lips are instantly on you roughly. You whimper and he grips your throat.

Your hand rushes to his hand around your throat and he growls biting your bottom lip, drawing it back before letting it spring back to it's original place.

His grip on your neck only tightens as he pushes his crotch against you. He flips you around roughly and your face and front part of your body hits the wall hard, his hand still on your neck.

You moan at the feeling of his crotch pressed against your ass now. "You wanted me to be a jerk right? Your so fucking ungrateful baby but damn are you beautiful." he growls in your ear, clearly fed up with your bratty attitude.

"Guess daddy is gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you huh? ¿Es eso lo que quieres, puta sucia?" He asks you. You loved when he dirty talked to you in spanish, it turned you on so much.

"Mhmm, want you to fuck it outta me papi." you say in return, your voice low and seductive. He grins against your neck before biting it roughly. causing you to. cry. out.

He licks over the bite and you whimper, your legs clenching to find some sort of friction. "Nuh uh mamacita, no trying to please your self. Spread em open baby." He says in a soft voice he didn't have a second ago.

You hesitantly oblige and spread your legs. "Good girl, look at that, mi niña bonita es tan buena para mí." he says proudly.

you smile to yourself before he's picking you up over his shoulder and carrying you up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

"Miggy, i-i'm sorry, I won't be bratty again! I promise." You beg him with pleading eyes when he rests you in the bedroom, on top of the bed as he slowly climbs on top of you.

"No. Don't do that. That's what you said last week, and last month. Every time you beg, I have mercy on you and let it slide, not today baby. Me lo tomarás como una buena chica, ¿verdad?"

"Yes daddy, I'll take it like a good girl for you! I promise, i'm sorry."you respond. His hand trails up. and down your body agonizingly slow and it's making you anxious and needy.

"mhm, daddy, can you fuck me now, please?" you beg. He looks at you and shakes his head.

"No, mi amor. Shut up, and maybe I will." He says roughly. Your eyes start to tear up, not from his words but from his actions.

I mean, I guess you deserve it but he didn't have to be this slow. You stay quiet for the next 20 minutes? you don't even know anymore cuz you lost count.

He finally dips his head, kissing down your stomach, your clothes long gone. He finally reaches where you want him. His warm tongue flat against your soaking cunt.

You let out a relieved sigh, "mhmm thank you thank you thank you miggy." you chant out breathlessly.

his tongue dips inside of you and that alone has you winded. Your breathing his ragged and your hands immediately flying to his hair as you tug on it.

"What'd I say, hmm love? shut up or I stop." He says sternly, your cunt now feeling empty without his tongue. He licked and sucked and prodded at your entrance multiple times.

Soon making you come undone. Your legs closed around his head and you cried out as he licked up every single drop you had, not letting any at all go to waste.

Once he stood back up and met your teary eyes, he smiled. Not a genuine, happy smile, no. It was this smirk that he made when he knew he won, when he knew that he had your little mind wrapped around his finger.

He begins moving the belt to his pants and all you hear is a grunt. You don't even register his cock slipping and sliding through your slick folds.

"Joder mi amor, te sientes tan apretado a mi alrededor." he moans out as he slides his cock into your entrance. You feel so tight around him. Like virgin tight.

"Gonna beat this pussy real nice baby, No quiero que camines por el resto del fin de semana. No walking at all mama." He whimpers when your walls clench around him.

He's pounding now. First it was small, slow thrusts to ease you into it but your pussy is just too addicting. Miguel was so lost in your pussy, he doesn't even realize how hard he's pounding in to you.

His pace unrelenting, even after he made you cum for a second time. Your pussy feeling overstimulated and sore but Miguel is too entranced to care, constantly muttering out cure words and how good you feel wrapped around him.

You felt your orgasm coming as your walls fluttered around him again. He groaned at the feeling and roughly thrusted into you yet again.

"This pussy is all mine, such a fucking brat. Now look who's a mess over my cock hmm hermosa? Mierda, eres una jodida puta para mí, cariño." he says aggressively, enunciating his words with his thrusts.

You scream out and chant Miguels name over and over again while your orgasm rushes through you. you claw at his back and pull on his hair. You've left little tiny crescent shapes in his biceps.

He finally cums inside you at the same time and he releases this animalistic, primal groan and you shudder at the sound. You moan when you feel his hot warm load burst inside you.

"Fuck Miguel." you pant out before sleep over comes you. You were so weak and so tired.

It's a little later in the night, 12:32 to be exact. You look at the clock and then look behind you to find a sleep Miguel with his arm under your head and the other keeping you close resting on your stomach.

You turn until your face is in his chest. You had Miguels shirt on and underwear. He's so sweet, he must've cleaned you up when you passed out.

Your hands run through his hair lightly and you smile at his resting face. You kiss his face, then his nose, then his lips and the his neck.

You loved everything about Miguel and you hope he knows it. How tall he was compared to you, how he had such a sweet soul behind that mean facade. Everything about him was drop-dead gorgeous.

If you had the option to relive one memory with Miguel, It would be the first time you met him. So kind and such a gentlemen.

Taglist: @oharaslover @ribbonprincess @willyoubemycherryy @cherryredstarsreblogs /@cherryredstars @versatilehater @dustbunniess / @evbunnie

[thetriumphantpanda]

she a bad lil bitch, she a rebel | joel miller

Summary | Joel has to teach you a damn lesson, just like always.

Pairing | Brat Tamer!Joel x F!Reader

Word Count | 4K

Warnings | brat tamer!Joel, softdom!Joel, praise kink, implied age gap, spanking, use of rope restraints, hair-pulling, edging, orgasm denial, squirting, (1) singular pussy slap, unprotected PiV sex, rough sex, oral sex (M&F receiving), face-fucking, fingering, dirty talk, breath play, biting, cum play/cum eating, reader is a bratty menace, aftercare(!), no use of y/n.

Authors Note | All I'm going to say is this came to me in a dream and I had to get it down on paper. Mostly written on my phone with very little proofreading, so any mistakes are my own and I will live and die by them. This is basically just pure filth. Enjoy, and happy birthday to that old man. I love him but I would give him the hardest time, just like reader.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

If there was one thing that you lived for, it was pushing Joel Miller’s patience. The poor man had wandered into Jackson, little girl in tow, looking worn and weary almost a year ago, and from the moment you set eyes on him, you just knew you had to give this old man a run for his money. 

You’d started subtle, flirting with him on patrol, taking his distaste at your attempt to talk to him at every second as a personal challenge to break him, to work him down just enough to make your move. After a couple of weeks, he’s started talking, mainly in single word answers, but you’d managed to slowly chip him down. 

Then came the weekly drinks at The Tipsy Bison, everyone on patrol usually went, apart from those scheduled to be out that day, but he’d started laughing at your jokes and had even opted to sit next to you on occasion. Then one night, he’d walked you home, you’d had one too many glasses of whiskey, kissed him on the porch but agreed it wasn’t right to fuck right then, but he’d come back, that next night, both of you sober, and you’d kissed him again, and the rest really was history. 

It’s late afternoon when he comes through his front door, toeing his boots off as the door slams behind him. You’ve been led on his couch for most of the afternoon, reading a book you’d plucked from his shelf – some nonsense Western that did nothing to keep your attention, but was enough to keep you occupied whilst you waited for him to come home. 

“Afternoon,” You sing to him as he shrugs his jacket off, hanging it on the coat stand near the door, “Good patrol?” 

“Was fine,” He grumbles, just like he always does, he swats at your legs to get you to move them enough for him to sit down, “Scoot,” You lift them up just long enough for him to ease himself onto the couch, before you put them back down on his lap, abandoning the book on the coffee table, “You sort the stuff in the kitchen like I asked?” 

“No.” You say simply, shaking your head, subtly digging the heel of your foot into the front of his jeans. 

His big palm circles your ankle, gripping in warning, “What about the sheets, you wash ‘em?”

“Did you see them pegged out when you came home?” You ask, sweetly, using your other foot now to dig into his jeans. 

“Will you fuckin’ quit it?” He seethes a little, other hand gripping your other ankle to still you, “What have you done all day, huh?” He implores, “I don’t keep ya around to lounge about lookin’ pretty.” 

You chuckle, “That’s exactly why you keep me around, old man.” 

“Shut up,” He squeezes at your ankles, “I asked you a question, you gonna answer me?” 

You shrug, “Woke up late,” You hold up one finger, “Felt horny so I got myself off,” Another finger, “Had a shower, used the last of that nice soap,” Another finger, “Made lunch,” Another finger, “And then led here reading one of your stupid books until you came home.” A final finger raised so you’re holding up and entire hand, palm facing towards him. 

You’re looking at him, all scowling face and dark eyes as his fingers wrap even tighter around your ankles. If you didn’t know him like you did, you’d be frightened, but you know he’s just thinking about the best way to deal with you. You wonder which of his lessons he’s going to bring out today as the look he’s giving you shoots straight down to your core. 

“I ask you to do two things,” He sighs, like he’s tired, “I ain’t exactly expectin’ slave labour from you, and you sit here and treat it like the Hilton?” 

“What’s the Hilton?” You ask, genuinely curious, thinking it must have been something from the times before all this, the times you were too young to remember. 

“Forget it.” He growls, and you think any minute now he’s gonna move to drag you off and show you just how bad you’ve been, but he doesn’t move, just sits with your ankles clasped in his hands, staring at the wall in front of him. 

“I’ve been so bad Joel,” You goad, trying to wriggle your ankles free, “Aren’t you going to teach me a lesson?” 

“No,” He spits, “I ain’t, because you like it too damn much, ain’t teachin’ you anythin’ because you never learn.” 

You pout a little, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “Promise to listen real hard this time Joel,” You promise, “Try and learn and much as possible.” 

“No,” He speaks, stern tone, with a warning squeeze to your ankles again, “Been a long day, don’t have the energy to bring you into line.” 

“Ah, I see,” You muse, “You’re feeling too old today.” 

“What did you just say t’me?” He’s incredulous now, good, you’ve got him just where you want him. 

“Oh, nothing,” You giggle, “Don’t worry.” 

It seems to do the trick though, because he’s pushing himself up from the couch, gripping at your wrist now to pull you up as well. He pushes you gently by the small of your back to get you to walk in front of him, “Upstairs.” Is the only instruction he gives, along with a playful swat to your bottom as you start up the stairs. 

He’s crowding behind you, always following just one step behind as you make your way to his bedroom, suddenly aware that you didn’t make the bed when you rolled out of this morning. That’s surely another black mark to your name, you think, as he sits down on the edge of the bed. 

“Get undressed.” 

This is new, normally Joel liked to be the one to unwrap you, but you start working on the buttons of your shirt, undoing it and dropping it to the floor, followed closely behind by your jeans, leaving you standing in front of him in your underwear, “All of it.” He demands. 

Your hands shakily reach behind you to unclasp your bra, dragging it from your body to land with the rest of your clothes. You drag your panties down your legs and step out of them, wrapping your arms across your chest to try and cover yourself a little. Joel reaches out a hand to you, which you take timidly, expecting him to pull you into him so he could put his mouth on you, anywhere, but instead, you find yourself pulled to him and folded over his lap so quickly you let out a surprised yelp. 

“So fuckin’ naughty, all the damn time baby,” He speaks softly, running his fingers down the length of your spine, “Don’t ever think you’ll learn how to be good.” 

His hand trails down to your bare ass, gripping the skin with his hands, using his other arm to press you down into his lap, rough material of his jeans rubbing against the sensitive peaks of your tits and the soft skin of your tummy. He rubs his rough palm over the globes of your ass, anticipation building in your body. Then, he pulls away, bringing his palm down onto your ass with a satisfying ‘smack’ ringing through the air. It takes a while for your brain to catch up with what’s just happened, but then the stinging sensation settles across your skin and has you wriggling to get away. 

“Keep still,” Joel chastises, free hand digging further into the small of your back to keep you from moving, “That’s one, how many do you think you deserve baby?” He muses, “Fifty?” 

“W-what?!” You exclaim, “N-no Joel, that’s too much.” 

“Forty then?” His palm is cradling at the skin he’s just spanked. 

“T-ten?” You offer feebly. 

“Oh baby girl,” He tuts at you, “Aim higher.” 

“Fifteen?” 

“How about we settle for twenty, baby?” He asks, all soft and sweet, “Twenty seems reasonable to me.” 

He doesn’t give you time to agree, it would seem the bargaining time is over, as he brings his palm back down onto your ass, harder than before, but in the same exact place. It jolts you on his lap, makes you cry out. The front of your body dragging against his denim. 

“How many?” He asks, rubbing his hand over the skin he’s just spanked. 

“Two.” You reply quietly, trying to keep the whimper you want to let out to yourself. 

“Good girl,” He praises, raising his hand again, “Keep count for me, okay?” 

Smack.

“Three!” You shriek, as his palm yet again connects with that same patch of skin. 

Smack.

“F-four.” 

Smack.

“Oh fuck,” You groan, trying to wriggle away unsuccessfully, it’s already too much, “Five!”

Smack.

This one doesn’t hurt as much; Joel’s shifted the assault of his palm onto the virgin side of your ass for you. You suck in a deep breath, try and blink away the tears that have formed in your eyes, as his hand massages where it’s just struck. He gives you another four on that cheek, and then switches back to the original, bringing his palm back down onto the skin that you’re sure is reddening by now. 

“Joel!” You cry out, tears dropping from your eyes now, but your body betrays you and arches your back for him, pushing your ass up like you’re asking for it, “E-eleven.” 

It carries on like that, five spanks to each cheek until you’re practically sobbing over his lap. You count the twentieth spank and a feeling of relief washes over you as he bends over you to press a light kiss to the sore skin he’s left. It makes you hiss, the contact, no matter how gentle he is with it. Then, he’s shifting you off his lap and onto the bed, letting you scurry away to the top of the mattress as he stands. 

The stinging of the skin of your ass is still making you sniffle as Joel shuffles to the bedside table, digging around in it. You’re not quite sure what he’s looking for, focusing mainly on trying to keep the red raw skin of your ass off the sheets, when he stands, throwing what he was looking for onto the sheets next to you. You turn your head and see the length of rope that he keeps in his drawer just for moments like this. 

“Arms up.” He short with you, sitting on his knees next to you. 

You do as you’re told, raising your arms above your head, still pushing your ass off the bed, but knowing soon enough you’ll be focused on something else that isn’t the stinging sensation of your ass. He takes your wrists and binds them together deftly, like it’s a walk in the park for him, like it’s something he does all the time. Then, once he’s sure your wrists are safely encased in rope, he takes the other end and ties it to his bed frame. He tugs slightly to make sure the way he’ll have you thrashing soon means that you won’t be able to pull yourself free. 

“That okay?” He asks gruffly, to which you nod, “Words, baby.” 

“Y-yes,” You stammer, “It’s okay.” 

“Remember your word?” He asks, stepping off the bed to partially undress, shucking his jeans and flannel off, but keeping his t-shirt and boxers on. 

“I remember.” 

He hums in approval, settling himself on the bed between your thighs, using wide palms to spread you open for him. You’re absolutely soaked, pussy dripping with slick from his palms and the way he’s trussed you up to his bed. 

Joel lets out a low whistle, letting his thumb rub up the length of your folds, “See,” He murmurs, using his thumb to gently spread the lips of your pussy to reveal your clit, already swollen and begging for attention, “Told ya that ya liked being punished too much,” He lets his thumb make a single swipe over that bundle of nerves, chuckling as you cry out, hips bucking to try and follow his finger, “She’s already fuckin’ soaked for me, baby.” 

You let out a high-pitched mewl, a begging sound that you hope tells him that you need him to touch you, you need to feel the pleasure you know he’s capable of after the pain he’s just inflicted. Mercifully he obliges, pressing the calloused pad of his thumb back to your clit, slick gathered there from before, as he starts rubbing in fast, precise circles. You’ve been so worked up that you can already feel the coil tightening in your tummy, and you know Joel can sense it as well, the way your hips are moving in time to his movements and the way you’re arching your back off the bed are a dead giveaway. 

You can feel yourself reaching that peak, so fucking close to tipping over the edge when he tears his hand away from your core and sits back, watching as you try and move back towards him, moaning in frustration at being left high and dry. You’re wriggling about, trying to close your thighs to rub them together to get yourself off, when he pushes a wide palm into your belly. He’s so powerful in the best way, stilling your movements immediately as you look up at him, face serious. 

“Remind me what the second thing on your list was this mornin’, baby?” He asks, voice as innocent as pie. 

You’re wracking your brain, lust making you more confused about what the fuck he’s even talking about. Then it dawns on you, what you’d told him downstairs. Felt horny so I got myself off. 

“You’ve got a big brain baby,” He coos, one palm squeezing your thigh, “I know you remember, so go on, tell me what you did.” 

“I g-got myself off.” 

“And is that what good girls do?” He asks, hand ghosting back to your pussy, knuckles of his hand brushing over your skin there. 

“N-no?” You question. 

“That’s right,” He hums, fingers slipping between your folds once more to gather some of the insane amount of slick that’s pooling at your aching entrance, “And besides, gettin’ to come is a reward, and I ain’t sure you deserve that right now.” 

His thumb is back on your clit now, moving in exactly the same way as before, with just the right amount of pressure to be building you back up. It feels so fucking good already and you know the way it feels when he tips you over the edge, you know how delicious it is and God, you want it so bad. 

“Please Joel,” You beg, all throaty and lust-filled, “I’ll be so good, I promise.” 

“Maybe ya should’a thought about that earlier,” He growls, “Before you came without me, thought you could do it better than me, huh?” 

“No!” You exclaim, because that’s definitely not true, you could never make yourself feel the way he does, “Oh God, please Joel.” You’re so fucking close, just a few more passes of his thumb and you could do it, you know you could, but so does he, which is why he’s tearing his thumb away from you again. 

You actually cry now, tears of frustration building in the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over as you thrash around on the bed, hissing when the rope around your wrist digs in but not caring all that much. 

“Quit your cryin’.” He chastises, hand on your hip to keep you still. 

You whimper, lip wobbling, trying to keep your cool. All you want is to reach out to him. You think if you could touch him, he would give you what you want, so you’re pretty sure that’s why he’s got you tied to the damn bed, to keep himself in check, to see this through, because Joel Miller always folds to you when you put your hands on him, weak man that he is. 

“You’re being so mean.” You cry out as he shifts, lying flat on his stomach so you can feel his breath on your aching pussy. 

“You were the one beggin’ to get punished baby,” And it smarts because it’s true, “I’m only givin’ you what you wanted.” 

He leans forward, tongue licking a stripe through your pussy, all the way up to your clit where he sucks the little bud into his mouth, rolls it between his lips and then lets it pop from his mouth like an ice-pop. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue a few times and you suck in a breath, your fingernails digging painfully into the palm of your hands as you focus on trying to reach the cliff edge and fall over it this time. 

You’re holding your breath, hips working in time with the movements of his mouth, eyes screwed shut just trying to focus on how good it feels. You can hear the rustling of sheets, which means if you were to open your eyes and look down at him, you’d find him grinding himself into the bedsheets for his own relief. He pulls off you, and you’re about to curse him out when he speaks. 

“You wanna come, baby?” He asks, punctuating it with a flick of his tongue. 

“Oh please Joel,” You beg, and even to your ears it sounds wrecked and pathetic, “Please let me come.” 

Then, you’re shrieking because the palm that has dealt so much damage to your ass this evening, has now swatted your aching cunt, “No.” He says simply, pushing himself back up and onto his knees. 

He pulls his t-shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere behind him. You’re squirming as he shucks off his boxers, moving awkwardly to kick them off, before he’s mounting your body, those strong thighs straddling your chest as his throbbing cock rests just millimetres from your mouth. He reaches down, let’s his fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls your head forward roughly. Your mouth, like muscle-memory takes over, opens, and the head of his cock slips over your tongue. You can already taste the salty beads of pre-cum as he shuffles forward a little, easing his cock into your mouth until it’s hitting the back of your throat. 

He holds your head steady with the fingers tangled in your hair as he fucks your throat. The sound is obscene, practically pornographic, the wet sounds that come as the head of his cock meets the back of your throat on every thrust. He pulls out of your mouth every now and then, when he’s thrust too hard and makes you gag on him, but fucking hell it’s turning you on so much. You can feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets, you don’t think anything has ever made you this wet before. 

He pulls his cock out of your mouth one last time, a string of saliva connecting him to your mouth until he pulls away enough for it break, laying wet across your chin and down your neck. Joel shuffles back down your body and you think finally, you’re going to get some relief. 

He hooks your knees over his arms, pushing them forward to your chest as his throbbing cock slips through your folds. He rocks his hips a few times, the bulbous head of him swiping over your clit, before he unexpectedly buries himself into your soaked cunt in one go. 

You actually sob at the feeling. You’ve been so empty all night, and now you’re so full of him, so crowded by his body, that you finally feel some kind of relief. He’s still for a moment – once it would have been to get you used to the heft of him inside you, but right now, you know it’s because he’s just as fucked as you are, and he wants to make sure you’ve truly learnt your lesson. 

Once he’s collected himself, he sets a bruising pace. Cock dragging out of your slick heat and slamming back into you. He revels in the way your tits bounce with every thrust, so much so that he leans forward and bites at the flesh, sucking bruises into your skin as he pounds himself right into the very depth of you. 

“Doin’ so good for me baby,” He groans out against your skin, sucking your nipple into his mouth, letting it go with a wet pop as he pushes himself back up for me, “Takin’ your punishment so well.” 

The angle he’s got you folded into means the head of his cock is brushing against the spongy spot inside you every time. Your pussy is clenched so tightly around him that it’s a miracle he’s held on for this long. He finally brings his thumb back to your clit and you’re begging this time that he’ll let you finish, because if he doesn’t you’re pretty sure you might actually die. 

“Joel,” You mewl, “I’m g-gonna – holy shit – m’gonna come.” 

“Go on baby,” He finally relents, you let out a sob of relief, “Come on my cock for me, like a good girl.” 

It’s so overwhelming when it finally happens. Your vision blurs and blood rushes to your ears, blocking out any sound that isn’t the beating of your pulse. Your pussy clenches impossibly tight around him as pleasure finally floods through every inch of your body. You feel yourself literally gush on his cock, soaking his skin, your skin, the bedsheets beneath you. You think you might even scream his name as your body convulses and shakes, arches up into him. 

You’re slightly aware of him pulling his cock from inside you, letting your knees drop. You can hear the slap of his fist on his skin as he fists his cock, and then he’s growling out your name, his cum spattering over your tummy, lying hot and thick on your sticky skin. It’s silent for a good few moments, the only thing you can focus on is the sound of you both sucking in breath to your lungs and the burn of the rope around your wrists. 

“Look at me.” Joel demands, and you do, your eyes meeting his, which are almost black with lust, his face flushed, sweat pooling at his hairline. 

He drags a finger through the pools of his cum, bringing his fingers to your mouth. He presses them into the flat of your tongue, letting you swallow, which continues until you’ve cleaned every inch of him from your skin. He then works quickly to untie the knots that have you bound to the bed, freeing your skin from the burning feeling that’s settled there. 

“Stay still,” It’s still demanding, but it’s softer now, as he gets off the bed, dropping the rope to the floor, “I’ll be right back.” 

He comes back moments later with a glass of water and a cool cloth. He rolls you over onto your tummy, pressing the cool material to your ass, trying to soothe the red welts of his handprints that have already started to form. He presses soothing, open-mouth kisses to the skin before he rolls you back over onto your back. 

He moves you because you’re pliant now, to rest against the pillows, handing you the water to drink as he runs the last of the cooling cloth over your lower tummy and through the folds of your spent cunt, then it’s discarded to the floor with everything else, and you’re being pulled to his chest, kiss pressed to your forehead. 

“Too much?” He asks quietly, checking to make sure he hasn’t crossed some line with you. 

“Just perfect.” You reply, eye-lids heavy with sleep. 

He brings one of your wrists to his mouth, letting his tongue lick soothing stripes along the reddened skin there, kissing every now and then, but keeping you pressed tightly to his chest, you own arm draped around his waist.

“You learn your lesson?” He asks then. 

“Probably not,” You hum against the sweaty skin of his chest, “I don’t think you’re ever going to fuck the attitude outta me, Miller.” 

[nathaslosthershit]

Long Distance (LN4)

Summary: Long distance relationships are hard, especially when they both have very time consuming careers

Warnings; Angst (a whole lot), no happy ending in this part (will happen in pt 2)

Request: hi!! requesting a lando norris x female uni!reader if possible reader being a medical student or a one of the engineers on the paddock 🧍🏻‍♀️

Lando wasn’t known for being the smartest on the grid. He, like many other drivers, had only a few years of school to his name. But that still hadn’t stopped him from being able to somehow ‘woo’ a woman quite the opposite. 

His girlfriend was currently in her last year of medical school. While he was unbelievably proud of how far she had come, the difficulties of long distance have gotten to both of them, and there wasn’t much hope once she graduated and was off to a medical training program. With her studying for finals and Lando being off to a new country every two weeks for Grand Prixs, their relationship has been rocky to say the least.

Constant lack of communication and missing each other's calls had led them to have tons of unspoken dialogue. Each unanswered call created the smallest bit of resentment that just continued to grow and grow. 

No more sweet ‘goodmorning’ or ‘goodnight’ texts, no more wishing her well before a big test, no more sending ‘good luck baby!’ before qualifying. Just a few ‘how are you doing?’ and other bland messages you’d send to a coworker, not your significant other. 

After weeks of little communication, they had finally scheduled a ‘zoom date’. Not particularly the most romantic date they had been on, but it's the best they could do with their schedules. Lando called in late at night for him while his girlfriend had a lunch break in between labs. Time zones be damned.

Lando was 25 minutes late leaving only 35 minutes to actually talk to one another.

Her wifi was spotty so it kept freezing.

Finally, with only 5 minutes left, Lando decided to make a joke that there is no reason for her to continue going to labs, as he would be happy to be her ‘sugar daddy’. This was not very well received by his girlfriend, who responded with a quick “fuck you” and hung up early.

Lando was joking, a bit. He loved his girlfriend and saw a future with her, he just couldn’t stand long distance and any job in the medical field was bound to take up most of your time. He wanted her, but he also wanted someone who could be by his side on race day. That just wasn’t something that was possibly currently. 

He supported her. He loved to brag about how smart she was and how she was so dedicated to helping people. But that came with setbacks.

After a quick message from Lando (‘I was kidding darling. You know how proud I am of you. Lighten up a little, yeah?’), which she ignored, she was off to her labs in a worse mood than before. Things couldn’t go on like this. 

He hadn’t heard from her in three days. His “how are you, love?” and “Miss you lots. Hope your class is going better than my neck training :(“ went unanswered. She knew she was being petty, but maybe a relationship was just too hard for her life currently. 

After three long and stressful days of silence, she called him. With no message asking what she needed to speak about, Lando feared he already knew.

“We can’t keep doing this” She said after they quickly exchanged a ‘hi, how are you?’ ‘I'm good, how are you?’. 

“Baby, I told you it was just a-”

“I know that Lando! It's just that this isn’t the first time you have mentioned me quitting my career to be your housewife or whatever unrealistic idea you have stuck in your head.”

“I don’t need you to be a housewife! I don’t want that for you. I just try to let you know that you don’t need to worry about your future as much because I will always be there to help you.”

“But I want a career! I want to work hard so I can have a good future. You need to get it into your head that your career isn’t the only important one.”

“I don’t think that! Me wanting to let you know that I support you no matter what isn't diminishing your career plans! It would be nice if you started to show a little more support. I am so sick and tired of all our conversations revolving around you and how your day was. If classes are rough, or you are stressed, you don’t respond to me. I never know where I land with you. But god forbid I try to mention how hard my day was. I am just as sick of it.”

She didn’t know how to respond. It seems that all the times she has been more focused on how she was feeling she completely forgot to check on how he was doing. Before she can even muster out an apology, Lando jumps back in.

“Maybe you are right. I don’t think I can do this either. Not anymore.” He feels his stomach dropping as he says the words, not fully meaning them.

There is a long silence, moments where she wants to apologize, to try and reconcile. In that moment all of the good memories of their relationship come flashing back to her, as if her mind is begging her to do something. But she doesn’t. 

“Then I guess this is it.” She finally says. 

“I guess so.”

[silkscream]

once bitten, twice shy

megumi fushiguro x reader

ੈ✩ wc: 3.1k (i cannot write anything under 2k to save my life)

ੈ✩ tags: emotionally constipated megumi, tsundere basically, friends to lovers, a lil angst, not actually unrequited love, pining, alcohol, typical yuuji nobara antics

ੈ✩ a/n: this is not xmas themed despite the title BUT it does end up taking place on satoru's birthday for plot reasons. megumi fushiguro your intimacy issues bewitch me mind body and soul.....

megumi does not know what to do with his feelings.

he’s never been the type to be particularly in touch with them — he didn’t remember his parents enough to blame them for whatever avoidant attachment he’d accustomed himself to. or maybe, that was the exact cause of said attachment style. gojo taking him in when he was a child didn’t help either — the man also refused to be very vulnerable around him, merely acting as a benefactor and a nuisance at best.

and while he was closest to tsumiki, he’d still built up a wall around himself that she couldn’t get through, and she knew it. she couldn’t break through it in his pre-teen years, and certainly not his teenage years when he was taking out his aggression on his classmates. he would ignore her soothing words and resent her kindness. perhaps he’d taken after toji in that way. constantly fending for himself for the sake of survival. always convinced that he was doomed to be alone.

and then there was you.

he’d met you first at jujutsu tech before any of the other students could. after sparring with maki, he’d been dismissed to shoko’s office. he’d opened the door that september day and was immediately met with your wide eyes, your searing cursed energy. gojo had found another stray.

shoko had made him your first experiment and you excelled. his injuries were healed within minutes. if anything, he felt better than he had in months — after battling insomnia and panic attacks, he felt… calm. like his brain was cleansed and that he had nothing to stress about. (until the next time gojo had gotten on his nerves.)

your introduction to his class was nothing extravagant despite gojo’s theatrics. megumi couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you after that — during practice battles, lectures, or lunch. he was always hyperaware of your presence. he blamed it on your cursed energy.

he hates how enthusiastic yuuji is about you, how yuuji tells him about how he manages to get you alone even though you often keep to yourself, and how he thinks you’re so fucking pretty, and that you’d agreed to watch the human earthworm movies with him. (megumi had refused when yuuji asked.)

he stews in that anger quietly because he’d rather die than let anyone know. nobara knows better, of course. she teases him about it and brings up jealousy.

why should megumi ever be jealous of yuuji? the boy was a freak accident in human form, with no inherent technique. who fucking cares that he can make you laugh without any effort?

it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t. because you have no direct effect on megumi and you don’t distract him during school. he doesn’t cling onto the memory of your hands on his skin. he doesn’t wish for the feeling again. of course not.

he tells this to yuuji and nobara, too. there’s one day where nobara goes too far — she teases him about setting up a date, that you rave about him, that he’s definitely your type. megumi doesn’t believe a word of it, especially because you’re probably more comfortable with yuuji. he doesn’t care to date because it would hold him back. he’s too focused on his training, on being the best, because he’s determined to follow in gojo’s shadow even if he won’t admit it. he could be the second strongest. he could be the most reliable.

it comes out in all the wrong ways. he’s more irritable than usual, so he yells at nobara instead of seething in hushed tones. he rants about how he does’t need someone by his side, certainly not you, whose only benefit is to heal superficial injuries and not much else. how your combat skills are poor, how easily you get beat when you spar on the field. how compared to him, you’re weak, so you’re of no use.

unfortunately, you hear him. every thought on his mind that tumbles out of his stupid mouth, his tone spewing wrath. you know that megumi is a moody person, but you’d never think him to be mean.

you pretend you’re just passing by, but from the faces nobara and yuuji are making, megumi already senses your presence. the color drains from his face, cobalt eyes wide.

“i’m — i’m sorry, i didn’t mean —“

“it’s okay, fushiguro,” you say softly. even after that shitshow, you’re still fucking smiling. it puts a sinking feeling in megumi’s stomach.

“ah, i got an extra pack of mochi and thought you guys would like it.”

you hand over a small bag and megumi takes it wordlessly.

“that’s so sweet,” yuuji beams, attempting to deflect. “hey, i was just looking for you. do you happen to have those jujutsu history notes? kugisaki spilled a soda on mine.”

“you knocked it over!” nobara protests.

“you put it on top of my stuff!”

you take your notebook out of your bag and hand it to yuuji graciously, avoiding megumi’s gaze and making up an excuse to see all of them later.

apparently, “later” means a week after. megumi sees you in class, and while he attempts to walk you to the dining hall or invite you to hang out, you bolt out the door before catching anyone’s attention. he has to find out how you are from fucking yuuji, who somehow gets to see you around the dorms every other day.

“i think she just likes to keep to herself, s’all,” yuuji says. he can sense megumi’s anxiety just from being in the same room as him.

“but you see her all the time.”

“she’s been tutoring me a little. and we just like the same movies and stuff.”

yuuji shrugs casually. his nonchalance makes megumi’s blood boil, because of course he’s the one who gets to occupy all of your time. of course you’re probably most comfortable with him. he knows he shouldn’t be seething at the thought of you two together — it isn’t his right. but his jealousy is starting to get the best of him lately.

“are you guys together?” he blurts out.

“no?” yuuji furrows his brows. “if anything, i feel like nobara might be trying to make a move since she’s way nicer to her than she is to us. except i’m pretty sure she and maki have been going out lately.”

“maki?”

“dude, keep up!”

and when yuuji accuses of megumi having a crush again, the same way nobara did all those weeks ago before he made a fucking fool of himself, megumi shuts it down with a grimace and a blush. he’s merely concerned about your wellbeing is what it is. that’s what he’s able to muster up to yuuji, of course, who absolutely isn’t buying it based on his shit-eating grin.

it’s annoying, especially because yuuji can make you feel more comfortable, comfortable enough to hang with the whole trio, and the pink-haired bastard has to meddle like a little troll. bumping the two of you into each other like you’re in middle school. somehow, it worsens everything. not your dynamic, but megumi’s self-consciousness.

he was already so extremely aware of you, but now he’s convinced that some angel above has tied the red string between you both extra tight. megumi looks for you in every crowd, awaits your arrival every day in the classroom and at lunch, and it’s starting to feel pathetic — the lightness in his chest whenever you’re even so much as ten feet away. his heart even beats faster at the anticipation of your text in the group chat, for fuck’s sake.

and then there’s gojo’s birthday party, a surprise orchestrated by the four of you, despite megumi’s reluctance. you’re particularly more radiant than usual. maybe it’s the lighting. maybe it’s the dress you have on.

despite the amount of shots he’s been forced to take in the past hour (three), megumi is still sober enough to feel anxious around you. though, he thinks he might be drunk enough to be lost in your image, fixating on your collarbone and the way your hair falls in your face as you laugh at one of gojo’s stupid jokes. it’s when the two of you lock eyes that megumi feels out of it, because you smile at him. you fucking smile.

if the warmth of the liquor wasn’t currently raising heated blood to his head, he’d deny the sparks that came from the mere sight of your smile, but he was hopeless. you’re mesmerizing. dizzying. he doesn’t know what to do with his face, not when his cheeks are flushing red and his motor skills are slowing down. fuck, maybe he was a lightweight like gojo after all.

he’s clearly out of touch with reality, because the moment fades as soon as it comes. perhaps it wasn’t a moment at all. he watches you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your mouth moving slowly as you mingle with other classmates. he’s fucking fixated on your mouth — your lipstick tonight is a blush red with a shiny gloss reflecting light. megumi has only dreamed of what your lips would taste like once or twice. no more than that. he swears on it.

there’s brief eye contact between the two of you again for half a second. there’s a coy smile on your face as always before you slip out the back door of the house.

there are so many bottles around the place that no one will notice megumi taking an entire bottle of champagne for himself. he scowls at the taste, of sickeningly sweet pears — courtesy of gojo, probably. his head swims and thinks of you.

his momentary peace is rudely interrupted by the sound of nobara’s voice in his ear, asking for you.

“ijichi’s setting up karaoke!”

“there is no way in hell that i’m—”

“i don’t care what you do, emo, but i need her to do a duet!”

megumi heaves a sigh, making his way to the backyard where he finds you sitting on a tree stump. even with the dim fairy lights, he probably would’ve missed you if not for the cherried end of your cigarette.

“fushiguro-kun,” you nod at him.

“megumi,” he rasps. “just… megumi is fine.”

“oh, i get special privileges now? how come?”

there’s no mirth in your tone. you’re teasing him. he doesn’t answer your question.

(the mere act of you teasing him becomes an intimacy in itself — he had never thought that you would be comfortable enough to talk to him in jest. you’d maintained your distance from him fairly well.)

“didn’t know you smoked.”

“only when i drink,” you shrug. “ieiri-san doesn’t make much of an effort to hide her cigarettes, either. don’t tell on me, though.”

“wouldn’t dream of it.”

he doesn’t know where to look. luckily, you’re not looking at him, so he can settle his gaze on your mouth nursing the cigarette. plump. glossy under the moonlight.

megumi is not used to wanting. he had never asked gojo for anything during his adolescence, and refused any gesture of kindness from anyone. he was convinced since childhood that there was no point in desire because disappointment would be on the other end of it either way.

he’d like to be a monk about it. he could control himself and focus on his studies. never spare you a glance again that isn’t platonic. and then a cool december wind blows past the two of you, and he smells your amber perfume.

and when he turns his head, you’re looking at him, eyes bright.

“so… not enjoying the party?”

“i’m not really one for parties.”

“me neither,” you shrug. “that’s why i like to do my little ritual of escaping.”

“we have that in common.”

you hum, a noncommittal noise. you take another drag of your cigarette, which disintegrates slowly.

“what a pair, the two of us.”

megumi can’t pick up any sarcasm from your voice, though he assumes it. it makes his stomach drop even though the statement is harmless. the two of you. together. it makes endless futures bloom in his mind. maybe it’s the prosecco, but it almost makes him want to vomit. to think that he was even good enough to be beside you in your future.

you curse quietly when you pull your phone out of your jacket pocket to check the time, realizing it’s dead. megumi gives you a once-over. the jacket you’re wearing is all too familiar. like him, you’re not one to wear very many colors. but this jacket is bright red, varsity style, and oversized on you.

“is that itadori’s jacket?” megumi stammers.

“oh, yeah. i didn’t realize how cold it would be tonight.”

“oh.”

“why?” you give him a curious smile.

“nothing,” he coughs. “are… you two…”

you laugh and it’s like a song to him.

“i think he might be my best friend, s’all. why? you jealous?”

he looks at you again, head-on, your eyes still bright. brighter than fluorescents. there’s something in your irises that is meant to provoke him, but he’s dispensed of his usual cautious nature after he takes another gulp from the bottle.

“more than you can imagine,” he huffs.

“sorry?”

“’m not repeating that.”

“what, you’re not saying you’re like, into me, are you?” you exasperate.

megumi remains silent, cheeks flushed. he thinks that if his head could heat up any more, he’d end up with a migraine.

you breathe the tiniest gasp. if it wasn’t for how close megumi was to you, he wouldn’t have noticed.

“i kind of thought you hated me, you know,” you admit.

“i could never hate you. i don’t think anyone could.”

“you don’t have to pretend,” you sigh. he didn’t notice until now that your cigarette was finished, discarded onto the dirt with your boot to crush it into ash. “i— beyond the politeness, i get it. that i’m not your type or whatever. you don’t even have to be friends with me, fushiguro-kun.”

“megumi,” he emphasizes.

“megumi.”

“i’m not pretending. i… i really fucking like you,” he slurs. “it kind of scares me how much.”

“you’re drunk.”

“i am. i know you heard me say all that shit to kugisaki and itadori, but it’s because they put me on the spot and i was nervous. i don’t know how to… deal with feelings. honestly, if i wasn’t even a little drunk right now, i’d probably have left the party with my tail in between my legs and avoided you for the next fucking week, and you don’t deserve that. you deserve… everything.”

“even you?”

when did you get so close to him? if he sauntered just a few inches in your direction, he could touch your noses together. he can smell your perfume so deeply.

“it’s the other way around,” megumi breathes. “i don’t deserve you. not anything close to you.”

“what if i want you regardless?” your voice is just above a whisper. a prayer, a hymn. a wish to be blown out.

megumi swallows the lump in his throat. he blinks at you, dark indigo luminescent. the world slows down. he may owe it to the liquor and the wine, but he assumes it’s just your presence. your scent, the softness of your hair in between his fingers, your soft breaths.

“what do you want, megumi-kun?”

he remembers something gojo said. that to be a jujutsu sorcerer, he has to be selfish. he’s not sure if that philosophy applies to the situation at hand, but he’d be damned if he let you crawl into bed tonight without knowing how he truly felt about you. so, uncharacteristically, he takes a leap forward.

he unwinds the tension in his body and presses his lips to yours. it’s soft, chaste, innocent. something like a pause. he’s afraid to touch you, but you’ve already reeled him in with arms thrown around his shoulders, fingertips touching the softness of his black hair.

you bump your nose with his, shyly, and he kisses you open-mouthed. tongue in your mouth, meshing the taste of tobacco and prickly pear. the vanilla chapstick that he’d put on before he followed you out to the backyard.

he has one hand caressing your jaw and the other on your shoulder, thumb brushing over your collarbone in a way that makes your entire body shiver. you’re embarrassed at the pool of desire in between your legs.

megumi has never let himself be full of wanting, but at the moment, his veins are surging with it. it’s like a drug to him — your warmth, your scent, the saccharine taste of your mouth. your flesh is so soft, so pliable, from the way you dip towards the cavern of his lanky body, pressed against him chest to chest. letting his hand dig into the fat of your hip. fingertips grazing the skin underneath your shirt.

maybe it’s the liquor, but he’s feeling experimental — he tucks your bottom lip in between his teeth. pulls your hair ever so slightly. you mewl into his mouth quietly and he thinks that he’s never felt anything better than this. you’re wrapped up in all of him. you can quite literally feel the heat on his cheeks and both of you realize how aroused he is, his bulge prodding your thigh.

“fuck,” he whispers into your mouth, and he pulls away. only a few inches are separating you as he takes a moment to breathe. his eyes are blown out wide, black stretching across dark blue. both of you are stunned, panting, and the tension is more palpable than ever.

a rustling of grass makes both of you jump. when he turns, he sees yuuji and nobara staring with wide eyes.

“you owe me 7,000 yen,” yuuji deadpans to nobara.

“seriously, fushiguro? i didn’t think you had it in you!”

“i always had faith in you, fushiguro!” yuuji chimes.

while you giggle, megumi growls under his breath at the new intrusions of dumb and dumber.

“i personally thought you were way out of his league,” nobara tells you.

“eat shit.” megumi seethes with arms crossed, and despite his wrath, he resembles more of an angry kitten to you than any potential threat.

“sheesh, don’t summon a shikigami on them, megumi,” you tease with a pleased grin.

“i—” he stumbles over his words in frustration, grimacing. “what do the two of you want, anyway?”

“gojo-sensei got ijichi to sing doja cat.”

“oh, i’ve gotta see this,” you snort, grabbing megumi by the hand as you begin to usher the crew back inside. his heart leaps at the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his.

despite his inhibitions, megumi’s decided that he could get used to this.

[cupid-styles]

scare (cheatrry)

word count: 1.9k

content warnings: slight mentions of smut, pregnancy scare, cheating plot, mentions of abortion, not suitable for ramadan

based on this blurb!

main masterlist

. . .

Harry’s not an oblivious man.

More often than not, he considers himself to be an empath, easily picking up on mood changes pertaining to those around him. With his ex-wife, he could tell if she’d had a bad day at work just by the way she walked through the front door. With Y/N, it’s much, much easier, because, for the first time ever, she’s clearly avoiding him. 

When he texted for their weekly hookup, she churned out some bullshit excuse about landscapers being at the house all day. (There weren’t. Call him insane, but he drove by on her lunch break, and her front and back yards were so quiet, you’d be able to hear the sound of leaves falling.) 

And while they normally don’t interact much at school pickup — usually Harry’s being swarmed by hungry MILFs who he politely rejects each and every time — she’s taken to wearing a large pair of sunglasses over her eyes, almost as if she’s physically attempting to hide from him. It’s odd and it makes him concerned, even if he’s the one that’s repeated the same sentiment regarding their situation a million times over (“no feelings, just sex”). 

His brain launches itself into the worst places it could possibly go, so on Thursday afternoon, exactly one week and a day since they last slept together, Harry tries to casually mosey over to her car as she stands there, waiting for her kids to leave school. He watches as she visibly clenches her jaw and he clears his throat, standing next to her but refusing to give her eye contact. There’s a reason they don’t ever speak too much at pickup time, and it’s always to make sure no one suspects anything.

“You’re avoiding me.” he says through gritted teeth. She inhales through her nose and he peers down from the corner of his eye to see her expression. It’s difficult to tell when she’s wearing those ridiculously oversized sunglasses. 

“I’m not avoiding you.” she mutters, leaning her hip against the bumper of her black SUV. 

“Then why haven’t I seen you?”

Her nostrils flare as she runs her tongue over her teeth. 

“It’s barely been two weeks, Harry. Don’t be dramatic.”

He resists the urge to snort and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well fuck me for wanting to make sure you’re alright.”

“Keep your voice down,” she grumbles, flashing a forced smile to a mom who passes by them. She clears her throat and pushes her sunglasses into her hair. Harry’s relieved to finally be able to see her eyes. “I might be… pregnant.”

Despite the drop in his stomach, he’s able to maintain a stoic expression. He’s no longer the foolish teenager he once was — he and Y/N are both fully capable adults and would know how to approach an unwanted pregnancy, need be. What scares him more is the prospect of her wanting to keep the baby.

His mind is whirring at a million miles per hour when she grits out his name, bringing him back down to earth. He coughs. 

“My period is late but I haven’t had a chance to pick up a test yet, so don’t get your panties in a twist.” she replies lowly. They hear the school bell ring, signaling the official end to the day. They have about four minutes before the kids come running out through the front. 

“I’ll pick you up tonight at 9. Tell your husband you’re having a baking emergency or some shit.”

Y/N doesn’t have a chance to fight him before he’s walking away, headed back in the direction of his car to wait for his twins.

. . .

Harry parks down the road from Y/N’s house at 9 pm on the dot.

He feels like some sort of shitty spy with the way he’s turned his car lights off as he waits for Y/N to get in. He texted her as soon as he got there — they used to have a secret code word for their rendezvouses but it’s been months since they started, and Harry thinks they could fuck right in front of her husband and he wouldn’t even notice.

He sighs as he takes a sip from his reusable water bottle. He glances up at the rearview mirror for the tenth time in the past minute, his stomach calming some when he recognizes Y/N’s frame hustling towards his SUV. He presses the ‘unlock’ button as she wordlessly climbs in the passenger’s seat. Harry doesn’t say anything when he shifts the gear back into drive to pull out of her cul-de-sac. 

Finally, he asks: “Did your husband have an issue with you leaving?” 

Y/N tries not to roll her eyes. 

“No, but I also didn’t tell him I was having a ‘baking emergency’, like you so kindly suggested.”

“Oh, so you told him you have to go take a pregnancy test to make sure you’re not knocked up with some other guy’s kid?”

“Stop being a dick,” she mumbles, occupying her shaky hands by playing with the ends of her hair. “Where are we going?”

“Where do you think?” 

When she doesn’t reply, he sighs.

“The twins are at their mom’s for the next few days so after I dropped them off, I got a few tests from the pharmacy a few towns over. We’re going to my place so you can take them.”

Her stomach tightens. While she’s mainly worried about the results of the impending pregnancy tests, she’s also never been to Harry’s before. He’s never actually offered.

Y/N hums in response — it’s apparent she doesn’t have much of a choice, and quite frankly, she’d rather take them there than go back to her own home and do it. A silence blankets them once again as he drives through their quiet suburban neighborhood.

Until Harry clears his throat. 

She cranes her neck to look at him, quirking an eyebrow as a wordless encouragement to say whatever stupid thing he’s thinking. 

“If it’s positive… you’re not… you’re not gonna have the kid, right?”

She sighs noisily. “Do I look like I’m in the position to deal with that? I already feel guilty enough fucking you behind his back.”

“He pays you no attention, Y/N. Your pussy is always completely depraved when we hook up. You shouldn’t feel bad.”

Y/N ignores the way her skin warms at the casual filth that falls from his lips. 

“To answer your initial question, no, I wouldn’t keep them. I would get an abortion.”

He doesn’t respond to that, which leaves her to believe it’s a satisfactory reply. 

It’s only a few more minutes before Harry’s pulling into the three-car garage attached to his house. They move silently and quickly, as if any one of his neighbors could come out and see them together — she supposes it’s a possibility, but their town is usually asleep by 8:30 at the latest. She follows him in through the side door, which apparently takes them into the kitchen. He flicks some lights on as he digs in his pocket, pulling three small boxes out and tossing them on the kitchen island. 

“Take your pick,” he says before nudging his chin in the direction of the hallway. “There’s a bathroom down there.”

Somehow, she’s unsurprised that he got the most expensive options — the ones with the digital screens that spell out “you’re pregnant!” with a smiley face on it. She grabs the first one and follows the direction that Harry led her in. Despite the harshness of the interior design (everything feels pristine thanks to white marbled flooring and light gray walls), she notices that he has a plethora of family photos that line the hallway. None of the pictures include his ex-wife, who left Harry three or so years ago. She remembers it being a huge deal in their small community. They were both gorgeous, a completely picturesque family that seemed completely destined to be together. Rumors flew about the divorce — everything from Harry sleeping with his wife’s assistant to her running away to Aruba — but Y/N never cared to find out what really happened. In fact, she and Harry didn’t really speak until they started sleeping together.

Her mind wanders back to the task at hand when she closes the bathroom door behind her. She’s taken many pregnancy tests in her life — she has two kids, after all. It’s a straightforward process and she gently places the cap back on the stick, placing it on the sink as she waits for it to process. After flushing and washing her hands, she nibbles on her bottom lip, watching as the little bar loads.

. . .

Harry thinks he’s going to vomit as he waits for Y/N to emerge from the bathroom. 

He hasn’t felt this way in years. Despite the twins being his entire life nowadays, when his ex first got pregnant with them, he spent months sick with worry. And although Y/N already assured him that she wouldn’t keep it if she is pregnant, the thought of her carrying his child still makes him woozy.

His head snaps up when he hears the bathroom door creak open. A few moments later, her sneaker-clad feet carry her back into the kitchen. She holds the stick in her hands and Harry’s eyes bulge at it. 

“Negative,” she breathes, putting it down on the table, as if to prove it. “No baby.”

He sighs out in relief. “Thank fuck.”

She nods. “Just make sure you destroy this or whatever,” she mumbles, reaching up to run a hand through her hair. It’s only then that Harry realizes how exhausted she looks. She has deep bags under her eyes and her lips look worn from constantly biting them. “Listen, I’m fine if you want to stop messing around. This was scary.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “It was a pregnancy scare. It happens to everyone.”

“Yeah, but there’s more consequences for us.”

He shrugs. “We would’ve taken care of it.”

She’s too exhausted to fight him on his nonchalant nature, so she just sighs instead. 

“I take it that you don’t want to stop, then?” she asks, pursing her lips at the male. 

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Okay,” she nods, “We’ll just need to be more careful, then.”

“Sure.”

She swallows, glancing past him to read the time on the stove. “I guess I’ll get going then.”

“I can drive you home.” he says quickly, grabbing his keys off the table.

She doesn’t reject his offer, especially now that the adrenaline from the evening has officially worn off. For the second time that night, she sits in the passenger’s seat of Harry’s car, allowing him to chauffeur her back to her house. He drives down to the spot he picked her up in, at the very end of her road so no one sees him dropping her off. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs as she unbuckles her seatbelt. “Sorry about all this.”

“It’s fine, shit happens. You don’t have to go through it alone.”

It may be the nicest thing he’s ever said to her and she doesn’t know what to say. Instead, she simply flashes him a small smile before moving to open the car door. 

“Wait—” Harry reaches out to press his hand to her knee. Y/N glances down at his touch and he quickly rips it away. “Are you around sometime next week? For me to come by?”

She doesn’t even consider what her schedule looks like before she turns to look at him. 

“Yeah. Come over whenever you want.”

He sends her a wide grin as she climbs out of his car.

[resi4skz]

Title: My Nerdy Girl

Pairing: Chan x Reader

Warning: smut, fingering, kissing, hard thoughts, horny chan, all the shebang

MDNI !!!

You know when you're the most popular guy in college and have girls asking for your phone number? And when you politely reject them because you have a huge crush on your good friend who also happens to be one of your classmates in one of your classes?

Yeah. That's me. I'm currently looking at her eat her lunch, sitting across from her best friend, Luna, who happens to be the girlfriend of my best friend, Han. Luna and Han met because of Y/N last year, during Han's birthday. Now, that was a fun day, even if it did end with Han and Luna going at it in a closet. Good thing no one interrupted them.

Right. Back to my point about Y/N. I don't know what it is about her. I feel attracted to her. I find her cute. Endearing. And the clothes, she's always wearing baggy clothes and it has made my mind to not shut up about the filthy images I've had and been having. Now, I'm not going to deny that I have eye fucked her many times because one could only imagine what's behind all those clothes. And those glasses she wears. Something about her being a nerd makes me want to scream her name every night with my hand down my pants. I've lost count of how many times I've jerked off to her.

"Bro, just tell her already," Han says, munching on snacks.

"Remind me why you're here instead of with your girlfriend?"

"Annoyed much?" He gives me a look.

"Much."

He throws a popcorn at me which I catch with my mouth. "I can't tell her."

"Why not?"

"Because. It's Y/N. I don't want to ruin our friendship," I replied, sighing as I sit in my chair. "Fuck, I want her so bad."

"Ugh," Han groans, rolling his eyes. "Why do I have to do everything myself?" I watch as he fishes out his phone and types something.

"What are you doing?"

"Just so you know," he says putting his phone down. "I'm only doing this because you're like my bro but just this once. The rest is on you." He gets up, pats my back and leaves giving me a peace sign.

What just happened?

------------------------------------------------------------

Fuck me. That's her? She follows the waiter to where our table is. Oh my god. She's wearing a black dress that goes to her mid thighs and she paired it up with suede high knee boots and beige cardigan. If it's one thing that makes me turn feral, it's women wearing black.

Correction: it's Y/N wearing black. And no glasses??

Fuck.

How am I going to survive this date?

As she approaches the table, I stand up pulling the chair out for her. "Thank you," she says as she takes a seat.

"My pleasure."

My pleasure indeed.

------------------------------------------------------------

We're both laughing as we walk side by side by the river. "No, you're telling me that Luna is Han's first girlfriend?" She asked, laughing.

"And the only one from the looks of it," I replied.

How I never knew she would be this fun to be with, I would have made a move much sooner. She places her hand on the railing in front of her, leaning against it as she sighs, looking at the river below us. "It's so pretty."

I glance at her, not being able to take it anymore. So I cage her in from the back, putting my hands on either side of her. I feel her stiffen as I lean in near her ear. "Very pretty. Like you."

She turns her head and her cheeks turn pink realizing the sudden close proximity we're in. Her eyes travel down to my lips then to my eyes. "So pretty," I whisper as I lean in towards her parted lips. "May I?" When she nods, I waste no time. I have dreamt of kissing this woman and to finally be able to do it doesn't even compare to my dreams.

I pull back, our breaths heavy. "Fuck, Y/N. Is it safe to say that I like you?"

She chuckles, fully turns around and wraps her arms around my neck. "Yes, because I like you too. Now kiss me."

"Fuck yes," I say and crash my lips on her. She tastes like cherries. But I break the kiss too soon. She chases my lips but I stop her, gazing into her lustful eyes. "Do you wanna come over at my place?"

She blinks at me, and I can see cogs turning in her brain. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe this was too soon. I just want her so bad and I haven't been this fucking hard ever. As I slowly let her go, she fists my shirt yanking me back. I blink down at her, surprised. "Yes."

The ride to my apartment was....let's say it wasn't the best. I had to put all my focus on driving and going above the speed limit was an understatement. The amount of times I just wanted her to climb over and have her way with me.

Fuck.

I'm doomed.

And the fact that my apartment was on the eighth floor. The elevator ride, I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed Y/N against the wall, my face in the crook of her neck, drinking in her scent. I wanted to memorize it. She let out a moan as I sucked on her pulse point, making her whimper. My hands slither around her waist, travelling lower to grip both of her cheeks in my palms, pulling her closer to my body. I felt her arms wrap around my neck, tilted her head to the side for me to gain more access to skin.

I hooked her leg on my hip as my left hand went up her thigh, going beneath her dress to give her ass a tight grip. The material of my jeans rubbed against her clothed clit, and that was enough to set me into overdrive. "Chan..." Y/N whimpered as I sucked on her neck.

I wish I could listen to her whimpers and moans any day of the week. And every night, if she were up to it.

When I finally pulled away, I took a moment to stare at her dead in the eyes before leaning down to smash my lips to hers. She matched my energy as her hands travelled to my hair, her fingers raking through my black locks. Her small whimpers and moans spurred me on, her tongue swirled around mine and my cock grew hard at the sensation.

The dinging of the elevator brought me back to reality as I stepped back and we both walked off the machine. Her giggles are my favorite so far, as I pressed her against the wall, licking and biting along her neck as we tried to walk to my apartment. When we arrived, her hand intertwining with mine, I used my key to unlock the door and allowed Y/N to walk inside first. But as soon as the door closed, she was on me and I moaned into her mouth as I softly slammed her against the nearest wall.

Sliding my hands around her hips, I hoisted Y/N in my arms as her legs wrapped around my torso. Yet again, our lips moved in sync, never leaving, but quickly deepened as I walked over to my room. Upon entering, I head straight for the bed, Y/N’s back hits the soft mattress as I dive right back to her neck as hands fisted my hair giving it a light tug. "Fuck, do that again." She blinks twice before tugging at my hair, making my mind go fuzzy, unable to think straight. In return, I gripped her thigh and pulled it up a bit, lifting her thighs as I grind my hips against hers.

Y/N moaned and grinds her hips back, her covered sensitive clit, giving her the right amount of friction. She squirmed beneath me as the wetness of her panties became uncomfortable. I kissed her deeply, pausing briefly to strip out of her dress, leaving her in her black thong. "No bra?" I asked, blinking at her perky breasts to which her cheeks turns pink. I admired her body, staring at every curve and dip in her skin, running my hands up and down her frame. "Fuck. You're gorgeous."

She had swollen lips as her chest rose and fell with each breath and I trailed my lips down her body. Starting at Y/N's neck, nibbling down her collarbone to the dip of her breasts, making sure to suck her sensitive buds. She moaned, once again running her fingers through my hair and pulling my face closer. Smiling into the kiss, I was starting to love hearing her moan and could listen to them all day. Heck, if it was up to me, I would want to keep her beneath the sheets, under me.

I continued trailing my tongue down the her torso. When I got to her black panties, I look up, and she nods for me to continue. I reached up and peeled the black item of clothing down her legs, throwing it behind me as it joins with the rest of of our clothing.

Pushing her legs open, I run my fingers through her folds before slipping my middle finger into her. “Such a pretty cunt.”

Her cheeks turn pink at the compliment. I watch as her back arches as I thrust my finger inside, knuckle deep, exploring her soft walls.

"Fuck, Channie.” she moaned, closing her eyes in pleasure.

I hovered over her lips as my fingers slowly worked in and out of her. She kept arching and writhing as I continued, mouth wide open as she let out silent moans.

“I can feel you tightening already.” But as I added a second finger, she couldn't contain herself. Her moans spilled out of her like she was a pornstar. Even when I kissed her, nothing stopped the volume she was outputting. “Fuck, I can't wait to fuck you."

Her walls clamp down on my fingers and I silently cursed at myself for not doing this sooner. “Channie…please…” The moans that escaped her mouth as they bounced off my room's walls. If the neighbors complain, I wouldn't give a fuck.

“Please, what?” I smirked watching her come undone at my pleasure. “I can’t hear you, baby.” I started moving my fingers faster in and out of her tight wet cunt that I had been dreaming about. I smile hearing her beg and plead. Gazing up at her lustfully, I smirk before taking her by surprise by leaning down and latching my mouth on her clit. She lets out a muffled moan, making me come up to see her biting the back of her hand.

Something came over me and I swat her ass cheek, making her yelp. "I want to hear you." She draws her hand back as I go back to my first mission and groan at the taste of her juices as they run down my chin. I hear her gasp before her hand grips the back of my head, fisting my hair and then pushes me deeper into her sopping pussy. "You taste so fucking good.”

“Don’t fucking stop,” Y/N moaned, as I run my fingers over her sensitive nub. “I’m so close.”

I couldn't say no to her so I grabbed the back of her knees, pushed her legs towards her chest, and began to devour her. I ran my tongue through her already soaking pussy before sticking it inside of her. Her thighs started shaking as I feel her first orgasm of the night approaching. And it was coming fast. "Cum on my face, baby. Can you do that for me?"

Her walls clenched around my fingers. She moaned my name as her orgasm hit her hard, she closed her thighs around my head as the aftershocks flowed through her body. I trailed kisses up her chest, sucking her sensitive nubs again before smashing my lips to hers.

As I shed my pants and boxers, I felt her watching me and saw her eyes widen at my rock hard cock. I quickly grabbed a condom, teared the corner of the foil with my teeth before putting it on. "Ready?" When she gives me a nod, I hover over her as I aligned myself at her enterance. She cries out as I slide in, all at once. I wanted to move and ruin her under my spell. But the look on her face made me stop. "Are you okay?"

She nods, opening her eyes. "I didn't expect you to be this big."

I laugh. "You've got a smart mouth. I wonder what else it can do."

"Why don't you find out?"

Fuck me. Drawing myself back, I thrust my cock inside her and threw her head back, arching her back as her walls pulsated wildly around me. “So fucking tight…” I hissed as I speed up the pace to the point where I'm hammering into her. Her glistening neck had me going crazy as I licked and nibbled at a spot and mumbled how she felt around me. She felt so tight, so warm, just right. “Babygirl, is this good? Do you want me to go harder, faster?”

I slowed down when she didn't respond, making her whine. I didn't want to pull out because I had wanted to be inside, nice and snug in her warmth. She was stretching well to my size, much to my surprise.

“Channie, if you don't fuck me in the next 5 seconds, I'm leaving you with blue balls,” Y/N stated, eyes glazed over with lust, and her cheek flushed.

"You asked for it," I said as I grabbed her hips and slammed my hips against her at an ungodly speed. She looked so sexy, so good, and willing to take what I had to offer. Fuck, her fucked out appearance was beyond my dreams. My thumb rubbed her sensitive clit making her mewl out loud.

“Oh, are you sensitive?” She nodded at my question. "I'm going to have so much fun with this later on but right now, I need you to come on my cock," I grunted, leaving a hickey on her neck.

“Ahhh…no wait…” She squirmed beneath me, and her hand went to grab my wrist. "Chan, ah, fuck, please." I noticed how she didn’t pull my hand away despite her pleads.

I could feel her walls clenching down around me. “Sorry baby,” I breathed out as the pressure in my balls kept rising. “You’re just too perfect for me."

“Fuck, Channie,” She came with a cry. Her arms wrapped around my neck, her body convulsing as she held me close.

I wasn't far behind. “Oh, fuck. I'm gonna cum. You're gonna make me cum. Fuck, fuck, I'm cumming.” I stilled as the hot sticky cum painted the inside of Y/N's tight cunt.

Our heavy breaths filled the room, bouncing off the walls as I blinked down at her, catching my breath. I pressed my lips to hers as her hands ran down my back. "You okay?"

"Yes," she nods, smiling.

"Wait here," I pull out when I've gone soft and retrieve a small towel from the bathroom. As I cleaned her off, her hand grabs mine and I glance up. "What is it? Are you hurt? Was I too rough?"

She giggles. Oh, I love her giggles. "I'm okay, Channie. In fact, I don't think I can walk." She grins and asks, "So does this mean I'll see you again?"

I smile. "Oh, you'll definitely be seeing me again. Because I intend on seeing you outside of my room." I laugh when she hits my arm playfully. "Y/N. You're mine."

She smiles, beaming at me. "I'm yours."

Settling down in the bed next to her, she snuggles up to me as I wrap my arm around her, kissing her forehead. It doesn't take too long for her to falls asleep, making me smile. "Goodnight, babygirl. Sweet dreams."

A/N: i dont know what to do with myself now.....

[li0nn3stuff]

Kiddo

Chapter one

Kiddo masterlist

English is not my first language, be kind.

Modern!Older!Aemond x Modern!Younger!Reader

•Chapter warnings: beginning of the obsession•

As Aemond sat at the bar during his lunch break, his colleagues from the bank company gathered around him, chatting and laughing.

It was a family company, but nothing was given off out of nepotism. He had earned it. And he earned it fucking wonderfully.

He had studied in the best schools, yes, but he had been dedicated as no one could.

His father took him to work there when he was twenty-two, then he took his degree.

He worked wonders in the company, success after success. Not that his father ever applauded him anything. It was just his job to be a good employee.

He acknowledged his success, that he did. That was the reason why when his father started to get seriously sick, he named Aemond his successor.

Because he was fucking good at what he did.

Then, it happened. His father died, and the company fell into his hands.

CEO at thirty years old.

These types of bar were not something Aemond usually frequented. He likes places more… quiet, personal. He only came because his colleagues, or well, his employees suggested it with enthusiasm.

“Keep good relationships. You have to be present in the company, for them to trust and respect you. They’ll see how much you work and they’ll never doubt a word of yours.”

Despite the jovial atmosphere, Aemond remained aloof, his icy demeanor never faltering.

"So, Aemond, how's the Martel project coming along?" asked Marcus, a fellow executive, taking a sip of his drink.

Aemond shrugged nonchalantly. "It's progressing as expected." he replied in his usual monotone voice. "Nothing worth getting excited about."

Marcus chuckled. "Always the stoic one, aren't you? You should loosen up a bit, enjoy the small victories."

Aemond raised an eyebrow. "I'll leave the celebrations to those who find them worthwhile." He said curtly.

Across the table, Emily, another colleague, leaned in with a playful smirk. "Come on, Aemond, don't tell me you're immune to the charms of success." She teased, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Aemond's lips curled into a slight smirk, the closest thing to a smile he ever showed. "Success is fleeting," He replied cryptically. "I prefer to focus on the long game."

The conversation continued, with Aemond contributing sparingly, his responses always measured and guarded. He listened intently to his colleagues' chatter, but there was a distance in his eyes, as if he were observing from afar rather than fully engaging.

Despite his detached demeanor, there was an undeniable aura of authority and confidence that surrounded Aemond. He commanded respect without ever having to demand it, his presence alone enough to make those around him sit up a little straighter.

“Aspect, composure, and attitude are the key.”

As the conversation turned to other topics, Aemond remained in his own world, a silent observer amidst the lively banter of his colleagues. For him, the bar was just another backdrop in the intricate dance of corporate life, a place where he could observe and strategize, always one step ahead of the game.

As he perused the menu of the pub, a sense of disappointment washed over him. The offerings seemed basic and uninspired compared to the elegant plates he was accustomed to in high-end restaurants.

As he reluctantly considered his options, he couldn't help but long for the sophistication and refinement of the restaurants he frequented. The thought of settling for a mediocre meal in a dingy pub left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He ordered a basic plate of pasta, hoping it wouldn’t suck too much.

He glanced around the bustling pub, filled with lively conversations and clinking glasses, he thought that perhaps there was more to the dining experience than just the food itself. Maybe, just maybe, he could find enjoyment in the simple pleasures of good company and convivial atmosphere, even if the cuisine didn't quite meet his lofty standards.

He looked at his employees around the table.

What a lie.

He liked being alone, he liked to stay away from people.

He sighed silently and scanned the pub, people standing or sitting everywhere, with a beer in their hands, laughing out loud, it almost gave him a headache. He drifted his gaze to a group of young girls that just walked inside. They were laughing in such a high pitched tone it was so annoying. They were all dressed too provocative for their age, probably hoping to look older in order to buy some alcohol.

Stupid kids.

They could barely walk on those heels, they looked horrendous, even if they acted like they were on top of the world. One of the group of girls looked at him and she immediately straightened up her composure, trying to evidence her curves.

Aemond felt like throwing up.

The girl laughed when he averted his gaze for a minute, looking behind her. He followed her gaze, and he saw her, a couple of steps behind the whole group, there was another girl, dressed in a skirt long to her knee, and a cardigan. There weren’t heels at her feet but old stan smith, she wasn’t wearing much makeup, just some mascara and gloss on her lips, that made them sparkle under the light, making them look soft, plumb, ready to be bitten.

Her hair tied up in a half ponytail, her hair coming down in soft waves. She clinged to her backpack strap like it was her life savior. She must have been… sixteen? Maybe seventeen, and she looked like it, despite her friends. Her friends only looked ridiculous.

She walked in a shy demeanor, her legs almost shining over the light that came from the door of the pub. Her thighs swayed one against each other, making all of her skin move in waves. They looked so soft, the perfect shape to grab them tightly and-

“Here’s your pasta.” The waitress said to him, as she placed the plate in front of him. He hummed and nodded, as she gave him a smirk and went away. He didn’t even bother to look at the waitress' body as she walked away. He went back to the little girl, but he found her looking back at him.

She softly, gently smiled at him, shyly.

She smiled.

Aemond didn’t smile back, and she immediately looked away, running to her friends. Her breasts jumped up and down at every step she took towards the bar, her hair moving around her face.

She was beautiful. Perfect.

He coughed and finally looked away from her. He felt like she put a spell on him. He felt drawn to her.

God he looked like a pervert.

The girl was only sixteen, half his age.

What the fuck was wrong with him?!

He groaned and rubbed his temple, looking down at his plate, grabbing the fork and taking a bite.

Tasteless. Fucking tasteless.

“Marcus, stop staring at them, they could be your daughters!” He heard one of his employees say, laughing. Aemond immediately looked at him… Kyle? Then at Marcus, seeing him looking at the group of girls he saw before.

Don’t you dare look at her.

Marcus looked up and down the girls, smirking to his colleague.

“You can look at those, I don’t even know what the other girl is.” He laughed.

Don't talk about her.

Aemond clenched his hand on the fork, as both Marcys and Kyle turned to look at the girls again, drawing the attention of other colleagues as well. Aemond took a deep breath, closing his eye and leaning his head down.

I will kill you.

“Marcus, I heard the Lannister complaining about some work that has been done for them.” Aemond spoke, raising his glance at him, as he sat comfortably back on the chair.

The most uncomfortable chair he has ever sat on.

Marcus looks at him, surprised, and he immediately lowers his eyes.

“Uhm… yeah, they’re not really good at explaining what they want, you know? I made some mistakes, but I immediately fixed them when they noticed.”

“Mistakes?” He questioned further, taking another bite of his pasta, leaning back forward.

“Yeah, but nothing serious… Everything's alright now.” Marcus quickly added.

“Mh.” He only answered. He looked down at his silverwares, and he noticed the spoon was dirty.

Disgusting.

He sighed and looked towards the bar. The girls were still there. His girl was looking around the pub, her mind obviously somewhere else from her friend's conversation.

He shouldn’t do it.

He got up, excusing himself cordially to his employees, and walked away from his table.

He really shouldn’t.

He approached the bar, standing beside his girl. Her friends were giggling closed in a circle, she was more outside of it.

Were they really her friends?

Why the fuck did he care?

He twirled the spoon between his fingers, looking ahead of him as he waited for someone of the pub’s staff to consider him. Still he kept his ears well open.

“Y/N you should do it too!” One of the friends exclaimed, laughing. His girl looked at her, confused, but with a gentle face.

Y/N. He liked her name.

“What should I do?” She asked softly.

Her voice.

God, her voice.

Sweet, caring, gentle.

“Sammi maid. To earn some money, you need it, don’t you?” Her friend chuckled.

Bitch.

Aemond felt his anger rise in a second. They couldn’t be her friends. No. His girl tilted her head, confused.

“What is a Sammi maid?” She asked, so innocently. All of the girls laughed.

“Just… a maid. They just pay them more.” One of the girls explains.

Don’t.

“Might think about it, thank you.” His girl answered. She sounded embarrassed, her soft cheeks were probably red.

Don’t.

Aemond sighed and moved away, as finally, he saw a bartender coming to him.

“This spoon is dirty… and I know those girls are underage.” He handed the spoon and pointed at the group of girls, who were just asking for beers to another barman.

“Thank you, sir.” The barman took the spoon, and as he went to change it he whispered something to the other barman.

He saw the pissed expression of those girls and how they acted all offended. They quickly started to walk away but his girl was confused.

“I… I haven’t finished my cola…” She said weakly. One of the girls rolled her eyes at her.

“Whatever, Y/N stay here then.” She said, and all the group left. His girl was just staring at them surprised, as she stood there, alone.

He felt bad for her.

He wanted to hug her, console her. Kiss her.

What. The fuck. Was wrong. With. Him?!

He wanted her for himself. Never let anyone else touch her, speak to her, see her. He wanted her to be a prisoner in his arms. Why was he being so affectionate towards this girl? She was nothing he hadn't seen before. Yet he found himself rubbing his fingertips together, wanting to touch her, in any way she would let him.

“Here.” The bartender gave him back another spoon. He nodded and took it, so he turned to walk away, when he saw a necklace on the floor, next to her feet. He bent down, as she turned to him, surprised to see someone so close to her. Aemond stood up in front of her.

She was short. Shorter than him.

Her head was barely at the level of his shoulders. She looked at him, always gentle, soft, a hint of a smile on her face.

Her perfume. Sweet. Vanilla.

Her big eyes were staring at him. She looked so innocent.

He raised his hand with a necklace so she could see it. Her eyes sparkled when she noticed the necklace. She smiled broadly, and grabbed the necklace, putting her other hand over his.

“Thank you so much! I didn’t even notice it fell from my neck.” She looked at him, grateful. Aemond nodded back, even if his mind was trying to perfectly memorize the feeling of her touch. He looked at her hand, over his, her thumb moving slightly, as if to caress him.

He was a stranger to her, why was she being so nice and friendly? Was she like this with everyone?

He hoped not.

“Have a good day.” He said, nodding, turning to walk away, but she quickly put her hand in his arm, stopping him on track.

He had to put distance.

She had to stay away from him.

He didn’t know what was happening to him.

“Sorry… Would you mind helping me put the necklace on?” She smiled softly, her expression a mixture of hope and worry, she didn’t want to bother him. He shook his head and turned back towards her, as she gave him her back, giving him the necklace. He quickly puts it on her, and she immediately turns back to face him, smiling.

“Thank you. Again.” She chuckled. Aemond felt like smiling at her.

He didn’t.

He gave her another nod, as he walked away, back to his table.

Somehow, none of his employees seemed to have seen his interaction with his girl, and he was thankful for it. Especially because of how he felt his cock stiffen at the mere memory of her touch

[loveinhawkins]

When Lucas Sinclair starts to apologise for missing The Cult of Vecna, Eddie initially thinks that he’s hearing things.

Well, actually, the first thing he thinks is something along the lines of ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’

It takes him almost a solid thirty seconds to even vaguely remember his campaign; the last day of school before Spring Break feels dreamlike, as if it happened to someone else, as if he just watched everything through a fogged-up window.

“Jesus, Sinclair. I’ve got an ongoing list of folks who owe me an apology since, like, sixth grade, and trust me, your name’s not on there. Can pretty confidently say it never will, okay?”

Eddie sees Steve tilt his head ever so slightly from where he’s walking just ahead of them, like he’s listening in. Spots his faint nod of approval.

Eddie can’t decide if he resents it or finds it endearing—kind of gets the ridiculous feeling that Steve’s vetting him on behalf of the kids.

“Okay,” Lucas says, and he’s smiling, but there’s a sort of sombreness to it, too. “Still, I should’ve—”

“Hey, hindsight’s twenty-twenty,” Eddie says, firmly cutting off whatever self-critical bullshit he was about to hear. He knocks his shoulder against Lucas’s, adds a dry, “Like, I would’ve been a dick about it no matter what.”

Lucas laughs, but it’s muted. Then he takes a deep breath, and Eddie suddenly realises that he must’ve been using the apology to get himself started, to work himself up to what he really wanted to say.

“I’m… I’m sorry about… about Jason and… I thought I’d thrown them all off the trail, but—”

“Oh, don’t—don’t worry about it, man,” Eddie says faintly.

There’s a flash of Jason in his mind’s eye, the savage twist of his lip as he ran into the lake; he thinks of Lucas lying to his face, the danger of him being found out, and feels sick.

“Seriously, you could’ve told them… y’know. Wouldn’t have held it against you.”

Eddie doesn’t mention that him getting caught still feels inevitable, like he’s just waiting for the walls to close in.

But right now, at least, he can breathe a little easier. The shire might be burning, but there’s people leading him through it. He’s not alone.

Lucas looks appalled. “What? No, I couldn’t—I couldn’t do that to you.”

It’s said with such conviction that Eddie has to fight through a sudden tightness in his throat—doesn’t really know what to do in the face of such undeserved loyalty.

He settles on saying, “So, how was the game?” which is embarrassingly inadequate, but a genuine question nevertheless; the past few… Jesus, however long it’s been, he’s been in permanent need of a distraction.

Steve slows his walking pace—to anyone else it might’ve seemed subtle, but Eddie’s used to noticing such things. He somehow gets the feeling that Steve is no longer scrutinising him, not exactly; his posture’s relaxed and open, his forehead free of frown lines.

It’s more like he’s simply curious about Eddie’s behaviour. The way his eyes drift over, then down to the forest floor, then back again silently seems to say what are you thinking?

Or maybe Eddie’s projecting because he asks the very same question whenever a muscle jumps in Steve’s jaw.

“Oh, um…” Lucas says hesitantly. “I was on the bench for most of it, so—”

“Quit being modest.” The quiet whir of a tape being rewound; Max Mayfield comes up to Lucas’s side. “He made the winning shot,” she tells Eddie pointedly. “It was a buzzer-beater.”

“Oh, holy shit. Well done, dude.”

From the way Lucas is staring at Max with wide eyes, it’s obvious that he’s barely registered what Eddie’s said.

“How do you know that?” he asks. “You… you weren’t at the game.”

“I, uh.” Max looks down for a moment, fiddling with the headphones around her neck. “I listened to it on the radio.”

Lucas smiles so brightly. There’s an earnestness to him; Eddie spotted it a mile away, ever since that first day back at school, when all the new freshmen were anxiously lining up to get lunch.

Max softens—her arms are still folded, but she drifts a little closer to Lucas as they walk, all studied casualness.

(Oh, Eddie’s been there before: forced to run track in middle school Phys Ed, and the only saving grace was ‘just so happening’ to run at the same pace as any boy who’d smile at him.)

Eddie catches Steve’s eye, and this time Steve gives him a very deliberate expression, nodding fondly at Max and Lucas.

Look at them, he’s saying with his eyes, as if he and Eddie are on the same team, as if Eddie at all deserves to be let in on whatever shared history Steve has with these kids.

Eddie kicks at a stray twig. You’re not going to get a lump in your throat about this, damn it, don’t be stupid.

“S’gonna be historic, Sinclair,” he says. “Last time the Tigers won a championship was, uh, lemme think… twenty-two years ago.”

Lucas stops in his tracks.

“I know that,” he says, eyes shrewd, “but why do you know?”

Eddie raises his hands with a grin, it wasn’t me, officer. “What, I can’t repeat a few years without retaining a little school knowledge?”

“Oh,” Lucas says, and it’s like Eddie can see him mentally replaying every cafeteria speech. He grins back. “So you’re a hypocrite.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says. He glances further afield, where Dustin is animatedly explaining something to Robin and Nancy. “I know you’re not gonna give me shit for it, though.”

“Huh, guess you don’t really know me,” Lucas says, and Max snorts.

Eddie smirks. “And it’s, like, doubly historic since the last person to score a buzzer-beater was—”

He cuts himself off, because Steve abruptly turns to him, like they’re in alliance, and draws a hand sharply across his neck.

But Lucas is already hooked. “What? Who was it?”

Eddie gives Steve a helpless shrug. Sorry, man.

“I’m looking right at him,” he says.

Lucas rounds on Steve. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because,” Steve says, flustered, “that was your thing, Lucas, I didn’t wanna be all…”

He trails off with a vague hand gesture, and Eddie thinks he somehow gets what he means—smiles at the thoughtfulness of it.

“That makes, like, no sense,” Lucas says vehemently. His eyes practically have stars in them. “Damn it, we shoulda got a photo.”

Steve laughs in surprise. “All right, noted.”

“I mean, Wheeler works for the school paper, right?” Eddie says. “They’ve probably got old issues. Hey, Sinclair, you could have, y’know, side-by-side photos. Yours and then…” He waves a hand at Steve. “Ancient history.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Ancient, sure.”

“Oh, Lucas,” Max says, batting her eyes excessively, “I’d frame a picture of you. Pray to it every night.”

Lucas blushes. “Shut up,” he says, elbowing her gently; Eddie thinks that it’s the first time he’s heard Max Mayfield laugh.

Steve’s watching over them again, and his eyes go pensive when Lucas mumbles something like, “I wouldn’t mind a frame.”

The expression Steve has is something Eddie’s only seen once before, and it was on Wayne’s face. Eddie had privately dubbed it the ‘found something for your birthday’ look when he’d noticed it: him and Wayne on a road trip, Eddie not so secretly mooning over the secondhand acoustic guitar in the shop window.

“Your picture should be bigger, Sinclair,” Steve says, sounding both teasing and sincere. “My shot didn’t win a Championship Game.” In an undertone, he adds, “As Brenda so helpfully reminded me.”

Oh, Eddie’s not letting that go.

“Do mine ears deceive me? Did you take a date to a high school basketball game?” Eddie cackles. “You sure know how to woo ‘em, Harrington.”

“Hey,” Steve says defensively, “she could only make that day. Told her I had non-negotiable plans: it was either the game or it was a bust.”

Huh, Eddie thinks, that’s actually… really sweet.

Lucas looks torn between being embarrassed or touched. “You didn’t need to do that, Steve.”

“Sure I did. C’mon, you thought I was gonna go to every match and then miss the Championship?” Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “Where was Erica, anyway?”

… Ah.

“Mea culpa,” Eddie says. “She was, uh, at Hellfire.”

Lucas scoffs. “It’s fine,” he says. “Last time she was at a game, she kept shouting that she loved my tactics.” He looks out into the middle distance. “I was on the bench the whole time.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, I missed her being there.” He’s sporting a smile that’s somehow the perfect balance of fond and mischievous; it, quite frankly, has no business looking as attractive as it does. “We had, um, alternative commentary for every game. That kid should have a radio show.” He comes closer, adds in another aside, “Would’ve made the date more bearable if she was there.”

Eddie stifles a laugh, has a moment of respectful silence for Brenda.

Max and Lucas cut in front, keep walking until they’re almost out of earshot; Eddie hears Lucas faintly say something that sounds like, “Was I totally tubular?”, soon drowned out by Max’s laughter.

There’s a short silence.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve says suddenly.

Eddie blinks at him, quickly turns his genuine confusion into a bit. “What for, Harrington? My devastating wit? Devilish good looks?”

Steve shakes his head. He smiles for a moment, in on the joke, but then he looks over at Lucas and Max again, and… there.

A muscle jumps in his jaw.

“It’s just… they’ve got a lot to carry, y’know? So…” He shrugs. “Thanks.”

It’s said so quietly, so without fanfare.

Eddie’s hit with the realisation between one footstep and the next: that he’s earned Steve Harrington’s trust.

It feels… weighty.

But Eddie doesn’t mind it; he doesn’t think it’s going to crush his ribs. If anything it feels like they’re sharing a load.

“Don’t gotta thank me for that, Harrington.”

Steve smiles, pushing back his hair; Eddie’s brought back to the moment he did the very same on the basketball court, just as the ball sunk through the net, and Eddie decided fuck it, wholeheartedly embracing his hypocrisy as he jumped up and down with the band kids.

I cheered so goddamn loud for you, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t say it.

But he keeps walking next to Steve. Feels a little young, a little bit like he’s running track—checking his pace just so he could see a boy smile at him.