#waking up in a body that is yours but so clearly wasn’t suppose to be

[hungerofhadarr]

an In-Between state of mind.

[theemporium]

[3.6k] your life comes crumbling down when photos are leaked of your boyfriend making out with another girl. it doesn't help that your other boyfriend seems to be handling it worse than you are by ignoring the world, including you. well, the everyone except his rival.

series masterlist

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It felt like a nightmare. 

A sick, twisted nightmare that you were waiting to wake up from any minute now. You could imagine it so clearly, shooting up in your bed with the sheets sticking to your sweaty skin and blood roaring in your ears before soft, comforting French words washed over you. You imagined a pair of arms wrapping around you, holding you tight and a pair of lips pressed against the top of your head until you found the courage to speak.

Every cell in your body craved for that to be your reality, but it wasn’t. 

Instead, you were sitting on your bed in the comfort of your father’s home with the distant sound of music playing from the kitchen and the curtains pulled back to let the sunshine come through and—well, a series of photos on your screen that made you feel like you were about to vomit, if you even had anything in your stomach from last night’s dinner to bring up.

It wasn’t often you visited your father’s home in Switzerland. But sometimes you craved the normalcy and seclusion of the farmhouse. You craved a few days to just relax, to pretend you were a normal girl with a normal father with a normal life. You liked to play pretend for a few days, and Sebastian always entertained the whole concept because he liked having you around. 

That was what this trip was supposed to be. 

With the boys over in the states for the Miami Grand Prix, you had decided against flying out with them. It had been a few months since you had seen your father and, with no great urge to fuck up your body clock with jet lag, you had decided to fly up to Switzerland instead before the boys inevitably returned for Imola. 

It had been nice. It had been exactly what you needed. It had been the few days you needed to ground yourself, to remember life beyond the constant work and travel. It had been the perfect getaway. Even as a young girl, your life revolved around the paddock with your father racing every other weekend, it was easy to forget a life outside of it all. 

But right now? Yeah, you really fucking wish the outside world didn’t exist at all. 

Your relationship with your boys was complicated and intertwined and unconventional, but it was yours. You loved each other, you cared for each other, you would do anything for each other. Or at least, that was what you assumed. The day Charles Leclerc and Pierre Gasly entered your life, you thought everything made sense.

Even if it took a few years of beating around the bush and your own feelings to reach that conclusion. 

You thought your relationship with your boys was one of the key things that made your life so perfect, that made you happy to be the one living it. 

Until you woke up this morning, rolling over and reaching for your phone to find a flurry of notification banners filling up your screen. It was a mix of messages and mixed calls and mentions from almost every social media app you owned. It was a mess, undistinguishable and baffling to your barely-awake brain. You honestly just expected it to be another fluke, another stupid scandal blossoming out of nothing. It made you want to roll over and fall back asleep before your PR manager inevitably called you. 

God, you would have preferred a stupid scandal to this.

Instead, you found countless photos and videos of Pierre. He was in a club, most likely celebrating ending up in the points after the race. He was in that white linen shirt you loved on him, the one he always left a little too unbuttoned because he knew it drove you and Charles crazy. But instead of his friends or even Charles by his side, it was some random girl. 

His hands were all over her. She was pressed up against his front, starry eyed and grinning up at him. His lips were on her lips, her neck, any inch of skin he could kiss. She was laughing and dragging him out of the club. He was smiling and happily following her.

And you felt fucking sick. 

Not even in your worst nightmares had you imagined something like this, something as horrific and despicable and public as this. Never had you thought Pierre—one of the men you loved—could be capable of this. You never thought he could do this to you, to Charles. 

Charles. 

Charles who was nowhere to be seen in the videos. Charles who had messaged about having an early night sleep before he flew out to Maranello for Imola prep. Charles who was either asleep, on a plane or sitting in his hotel room in a similar state to you. 

Fuck, you wished you were with him right now. 

But you couldn’t stop reading the comments, reading the countless articles and tweets and posts about the whole situation. You couldn’t bring yourself to ignore the comments from strangers on the internet saying it was about time, that they were glad he got away from you. The ones showing sympathy were even worse because it made this real, it made the whole fucking thing so real.

You hadn’t even heard the music from the kitchen stop or the footsteps approaching your bedroom. You hadn’t heard the knock or the door slowly creaking open. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen until you felt a warm arm wrapping around your shoulders. 

“Shhh, honigbienchen, it’s okay. Let it out, I’ve got you,” Sebastian murmured, his voice soft and sweet and comforting and the exact thing you needed to break down the last of your crumbling walls. 

You pressed yourself into your father’s side as you sobbed, as you mourned the loss of what you believed was a loving and trusting relationship. You let yourself melt into his embrace as he held you close, as he held you together. 

You didn’t fight as he pulled your phone from your grasp, locking it and throwing it somewhere on the bed behind him. You didn’t fight as he pulled you closer, your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck as you let the familiar smell of your father’s cologne—the same one he has used since you were a child—wash over you. You didn’t fight as he murmured comforting words in German because a part of you hoped he was right, wanted nothing more than your father to be right. 

You just let yourself break because you knew your father would keep you together.

...

...

The apartment felt like a mockery of the life you once lived. 

You remember the day the three of you signed the lease, it was one of the happiest days of your life. There were always concerns about moving too fast, about hitting a milestone as big as moving in together so early on in the relationship. But, in all honesty, you didn’t see the issues. Call it rose-tinted glasses or call it the truth, but it never felt too soon.

Not for you and your boys. 

Because the relationship was still new when you moved in, just under a year old, but you had known these boys for years. Your life had been intertwined with racing from the day you were born because of your father, you had seen these boys grow up alongside you. You had been there to see them both enter Formula one. You had been there to see Charles as your father’s teammate. 

You had been there for it all. 

You had been friends long before you were a couple. You had grown close to Charles in the days your father wore the Ferrari emblem. You had found yourself attached to the boy, bonding with him in a way you never had in previous years. And where Charles was, Pierre was close behind. They were the package deal you thought you had lucked out on. 

So, moving in together seemed like a baby step in the future the three of you had planned together, a simple necessity as you continued to grow and love and care for each other. 

Now, it was a painful reminder that the place you called your home was tainted with the memories of a man you once loved. Maybe still loved. You hadn’t wanted to delve into those feelings too much yet.

It was empty. 

You had expected as much, or maybe you didn’t. You weren’t sure anymore. 

A small part of you assumed for this to be the moment you woke up from your nightmare. That you would wake up in your bed, slowly blinking your eyes open as you heard the boys laughing away in the kitchen at whatever they were attempting to cook before you woke. 

Another part of you expected to find Charles here, looking like a mirror reflection of you as you finally fell into his arms, as you received the touch you had been craving from him and him only in the last forty-eight hours. 

Another part of you expected to find Pierre standing in front of you, despite the reassurance you had received from a few friends at Alpine that the boy hadn’t left Miami. You thought maybe he would be here to beg for forgiveness or explain himself. You thought maybe he would at least have the decency to look half as worried as you were about Charles’ disappearance off the face of the Earth. 

You didn’t know if you were disappointed or relieved that he wasn’t here.

With your messages and calls receiving no answer from Charles, you had packed your bags and hopped on the first flight out of Switzerland. Your father had his reservations of you leaving so soon, of you being alone. To be completely honest, you wished you could have stayed in his arms forever and ignore everything.

But you needed to see Charles. 

You had to see him with your own two eyes because he was the only person in the world who understood what you were going through. 

To the world, it was just you and Pierre. And you were all okay with that for right now, you were okay with keeping the details and complications of your relationship private until the moment was right. 

But right now, you fucking despised it. Because the world was so focused on you and on Pierre and on the random girl from the club, but nobody was looking at Charles. Nobody cared about Charles. And despite your relationship being an open secret to the paddock, it seemed not even the people closest to him—his own fucking team—knew where he was.

And it fucking terrified you.

Monaco had been your last hope. Your apartment had been a fucking last resort. You were grasping at straws and you were losing your mind and there were a million different things running through your head but you just wanted Charles. 

There was still a voice in the back of your head reassuring you that he would show up, that he would walk through that door and fall into your arms until you both felt something other than pain right now. 

You wanted nothing more than for him to come home, to come to you. 

But forty-eight hours of emotions were wracking through you and you didn’t even realise you were falling asleep on the living room couch until your body was too tired to even try sitting up.

...

…

“Where did you find him?” 

“Well, hello to you too.” 

You flashed the Dutchman a sheepish smile as a wave of embarrassment washed over you. Your brain had been on a one-track mentality since you received his message, the bleary-eyed sleepiness long gone the second he mentioned Charles. You hadn’t even bothered to drive over, far too jittery and worked up to get behind the wheel. You needed the cold air to calm you down.

“Sorry, hello,” you greeted as you stepped into his apartment, trying to push down the urge to just grab Max’s shoulders and shake him until he told you where Charles was. “I just—”

“I know, you’re worried,” he said, his voice softer than you expected. “C’mon, I left him on the couch because he looked comfortable and I didn’t want to disturb him.”

You silently followed the boy through the long entrance corridor, your hands clenched into fists at your side to stop yourself from picking at the skin around your nail beds until they were raw and bleeding. 

You tried to prepare yourself for the sight you were going to see, to prepare for the worst just in case. 

You hadn’t expected him to look so…peaceful. 

He was sprawled on Max’s couch like the boy had said, his clothes rumpled and his hair messy but—at first glance, at least—he looked okay. But you could see the signs that he was no better than you were. His cheeks were red, like he had been crying a lot, and so was the tip of his nose, like he had been wiping it excessively. He looked worn down, and heavier than usual. Like there was a weight on his shoulders beyond the usual season stress. 

He looked like he was half as put together as you.

“I found him outside a bar,” Max’s voice startled you out of your thoughts as he stepped into the space beside you at the bottom of the couch. “I was on a late night run—you know, jet lag and stuff—and he was there. He was…” 

You frowned a little, turning to look at the Dutchman. “He was what?” 

“He wasn’t okay,” Max whispered with his own frown. “He could barely string a sentence together, let alone stand up. I think he had been kicked out of the bar, I don’t know. I promised him I would call you if he came back with me. I…I couldn’t just leave him there, you know?” 

You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat. “Thank you, Max.”

“It’s no problem, really,” he assured you and the silence fell between you two once more. And Max watched as your attention shifted back to Charles. He waited a few moments, a mental debate playing in his head, back and forth like a tennis match before he spoke up again. “I’m sorry. About everything. It…uh, it really sucks.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “Thanks.” 

Max took the hint and quickly shifted the conversation. “It doesn’t look like he is waking up anytime soon,” he said. “You can stay the night. The spare room is free. Or I can bring some blankets out here if you don’t want to leave him.”

You turned to him, a strained smile on your face. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s okay,” he assured you, and something in you felt relieved that you wouldn’t have to return home to that bed, the bed you shared with him. “It’s late anyways. You look like you need some rest.”

You chose to omit the fact that you hadn’t slept more than a few hours in the last few days, and even that was after crying yourself to exhaustion. 

“Thank you, Max. Really.” 

The Dutchman smiled. “Like I said, it’s no problem.”

...

…

When Charles woke up the next morning, his head was killing him.

There was a bright light on his face, his mouth felt desert dry and he could have sworn there was a heavy weight on his chest. Not the metaphorical kind he had been lugging around for the last few days, but something actually weighing down on his chest and making it a little hard to breathe.

He gave himself a moment, tried to ground himself and hype himself up to open his eyes when he knew the light would only be more irritating than it was now. He tried to prepare himself for the killer hangover he was going to have to nurse all day, along with the countless calls to his team to apologise for not showing up to any of the meetings. 

To eventually reply to you too. 

However, when Charles finally gained the courage to open his eyes, the last thing he expected was to see a cat staring down at him. 

“What the—” He startled as he quickly sat up. 

The cat let out a noise of surprise before meowing, glaring at him before it padded off. Charles watched it for a few moments before blinking, taking in the unfamiliar setting around him. He knew he wasn’t in his apartment, or his mother’s, or either of his brothers’. 

He had no fucking idea where he was. 

But before the overwhelming fear took over his body and made him throw up everything he drank the previous night, you wandered into the room with a mug in hand. 

“You’re awake,” you breathed out, stopping mid-walk like you couldn’t quite believe he was there. 

Charles opened his mouth to say something but you reacted faster. The mug was abandoned on the coffee table he had failed to notice and you were throwing yourself in his arms, clinging onto him like you hadn’t seen him in years. 

It had felt like it had been years.

Charles let himself wind his arms around you, to pull you onto his lap and nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck until the familiar scent of your shampoo completely engulfed him. He let himself enjoy the feeling of you in his arms after almost two weeks of not seeing you in person. He let himself enjoy the one person in this world that didn’t make him feel like questioning everything in his life. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry—”

“Shhh, it’s fine,” you whispered back, sniffling back your own tears. “It’s fine. You’re here now, that’s what matters.” 

“But—”

“I just need you, Charles, no matter how long you take,” you murmured, your words slightly muffled but his arms tightened around you in understanding. 

Neither of you said anything for a few minutes, just soaking in the presence after so long apart. And, if he was being honest, he was in no rush to speak about everything. It had been playing on his mind like a broken record since he saw the videos, he didn’t want to give it any more brain space. He knew it was inevitable, but right now he just wanted to enjoy you. 

“Where are we?” He asked eventually when the curiosity and the cat glaring at him became too much. 

“Max’s house,” you murmured, feeling the boy tense beneath you. You pulled back, keeping yourself close as you flashed the boy a sheepish expression. “He found you last night and brought you here before something happened to you.”

“Oh.” Charles blinked. “That was kind of him.” 

“Very,” you nodded in agreement. You watched him for a few moments as he stared around the living room before you continued talking. “My team messaged me.”

Charles swallowed. “Yeah?”

“They want to know what our plan is,” you whispered. You didn’t need to say more than that, Charles understood. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Val thinks it will backfire,” you murmured, looking down at your hands instead of his face. “If we are seen together too much.” 

Charles tensed. 

“The media might spin a story about me moving on from—” You paused, his name unable to pass your lips. 

“Can we just…not talk about this right now?” Charles whispered, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I just…it’s too much.”

“Okay,” you whispered with a nod. 

“We will handle it,” Charles assured you as he reached for your hand. Because he knew you, he knew the whole thing was eating  you up and it didn’t help pushing the conversation away. But he needed to be in the right state for it—not half-drunk from the night before. “Together. I promise.”

You sniffled, squeezing his hand. “Together.” 

“You two want pancakes for breakfast?” 

Both of your heads snapped around to find Max by the door, a kind smile on his face. He paused when he took a look at the both of you, probably noticing the solemn faces and red eyes and instantly looking embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry, did I just ruin a moment?” 

You shook your head. “No—”

“We would love pancakes,” Charles finished for you, trying to focus on your hand in his rather than the fact he was sitting on the couch of the man he had been competing with for a majority of his life. “Coffee is on us. As a thank you.” 

Max waved him off. “It’s fine—”

“We insist,” you said firmly. 

Max glanced between you before nodding. “Okay,” he said. “But I’m only saying yes because you two seem very stubborn and I’m not awake enough to deal with that.” 

And for the first time in over forty-eight hours, you had the oddest urge to laugh.

“Wanna order the coffee together?”

“Together.”

You weren’t sure what would happen next. You didn’t know what you were going to tell Val or the rest of your team. You didn’t know what Charles’ team would say. You didn’t know what the fuck you were going to do when you eventually saw Pierre again, when you had to sort out the fact you technically shared a flat with him.

But right now, your biggest issue was figuring out which coffee Max Verstappen liked and it was a kind distraction to your messy life.

Especially with the assurance that Charles was by your side.

.

[lizkreates]

Reflection ~A Trigun fan comic~ (Comic Script in the Keep Reading)

Context note: This takes place just after the events of TriMax Vol 10 on Brad’s ship going to December. I’m giving them more time on the trip because Livio grew a full-ass beard between pickup and drop-off (prob because of his healing factor, who knows.) Enjoy!

Vash's coffee is a reference to my first comic Black Coffee & Donuts!

Comic Script for Reflection: A Trigun Fan Comic

PAGE 1

Panel 1: Vash, with his hair down and dressed in his black undersuit, wakes up startled in a cold sweat. He clearly slept poorly bags under his eyes. It’s only been a day or two since he laid Wolfwood to rest.

Panel 2: A full body shot of him stepping out of the bed, his Colt weight down his hip, face obscured.

Panel 3: He leans over the counter in front of a mirror, shoulders hunched, head hanging.

Panel 4: He looks up, hand covering the remaining blonde of his hair so it appears full black. Large pale portraits of Rem and Wolfwood flank Vash on each side in the background.

Vash: Rem, Wolfwood, you both sacrificed everything. Funny isn’t it that I’m beginning to look more like you?

PAGE 2

Panel 1: Vash flashes back to a moment when he and Wolfwood walked side by side in the arid desert of No Man’s Land.

Vash: Wolfwood, you were there every day by my side, now I'm alone again. 

Panel 2: Another flashback to a moment Vash and Wolfwood sat on the edge of a rooftop and looked out over the cityscape to the stars pricking the sky.

Vash: There was so much unsaid between us.

Panel 3: A fresh flashback to the couch, where Vash held Wolfwood's hand in his final moments.

Vash: I wish I had known how to tell you that I loved you before it was too late.

Panel 4: A dramatic crop of half of Vash’s lower face, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cries out.

PAGE 3

Panel 1: Livio, a tall, tan, broad-shoulder, white-haired man with a tribal tattoo over his left eye, dressed in a white shirt and black pants, bursts through the bedroom door concerned.

Livio: Mr. Vash, I heard crying, are you okay?!

Panel 2: Vash looks over, a little comically rattled and surprised

Vash: Livio?

Panel 3: Close-up of Vash’s lower face smiling, a tear rolling down his face.

Vash: I’m alright.

Panel 4: A blank Panel, filled with still air

Vash: Actually.

Panel 5: Big Panel, Vash crying into the crook of his arm.

Vash: I'm not... I miss him. I can’t stop missing him.

PAGE 4

Panel 1: Vash rubs the tears from his eyes, Livio grabs his arm shamefully, his body language clearly showing regret and discomfort.

Livio: I’ll uh, leave you to it, and see myself out.

Vash: It’s okay, I just didn’t want anyone to see me like this.

Panel 2: Close-up of Livio looking down.

Livio: It’s better to let yer feelin’s out than to hide ‘em and let ‘em fester, I should know.

Panel 3: Livio turns to the side and a sad snot stream runs down his nose he was trying to keep in. Livio is very much struggling allowing himself to miss Wolfwood. He doesn’t feel like, he should even though he desperately does.

Sounds effects: sniff

Vash: Now who’s keeping in their feelings? Let it out! He was your friend too, wasn’t he? You deserve to cry too.

Panel 4: Livio smiles sheepishly. He wants to make Wolfwood proud of him first.

Livio: Yeah, I suppose he was, all this time. But I don’t think I’ve earned that right yet.

Panel 5: Livio’s stomach growls LOUDLY. Draw in a chibi style, breaking the tension.

Sound effects: grumble

Panel 6: Drawn in chibi style, Vash waves around his noddle arms and Livio’s mood brightens, grinning with excitement.

Vash: Oh, are you hungry?

Livio: Hell yeah, I am!

Vash: What would you like?

Livio: Uh, pancakes!

Vash: Alright, pancakes it is!

PAGE 5

Panel 1: They sit down and eat at a retro 50s-style diner booth in a small nook of the ship. Livio swirls the last of his pancake in syrup on the plate. Vash cradles a black coffee with both hands looking at Livio.

Vash: Hey, Livio, what do you want to do when this is all over?

Livio: Dunno, maybe wander around for a while or return to the orphanage to help make up for what I and the other guy did.

Panel 2: Livio hangs his head, eyebrows worried.

Livio: If I can be honest with ya, I'm scared to face them.

Panel 3: Zoomed out drawn in chibi style to break the tension. Livio shivers.

Vash: Is that scarier than Elendira?

Sound effects: shivers

Panel 4: They laugh.

Livio: Well, when ya put it like, hell no!

Vash: Haha!

Panel 5: Extreme close-up of Livio’s eyes softening as he remembers back to his time at the orphanage.

Livio: I think he’d like that. They were my first real family.

Panel 6: Vash is hit with a sudden realization, Livio has no one right now. In a misty background, he remembers when Razlo cried out after Wolfwood did in Master Chapel.

Vash (internal): Wolfwood, you left Livio in my care... so we wouldn’t be alone.

Razlo (background): ...I’m all alone again!

PAGE 6

Panel 1: Close-up of Vash with the sincerest smile.

Vash: I hope you know you’re not alone. You have me now.

Panel 2: Livio’s face contorts sorrowfully.

Livio/Razlo (internal): I don’t deserve this.

Livio: Mr. Vash I --

Vash: Wait, before you say anything...

Panel 3: Zoom out so we can see both of them and the table. Vash extends his leg as he digs deep into his pants pocket. Livio leans on the table watching him.

Vash: I know that we don’t know each other well yet, but he trusted you with me and I trusted him, wholly and completely, so…

Panel 4: Extreme close-up, Vash pulls out 2 black leather wristbands with silver latches.

PAGE 7

Panel 1: Vash offers Livio a wristband while holding one for himself in the same hand.

Vash: Here. One for you, one for me. I used a strap from his cross to make it, so part of him will always be with us.

Panel 2: Livio puts the wristband on his left hand.

Livio: Thank you.

Panel 3: Extreme close-up of Livio’s non-tattooed eye, tears pricking his lashes.

Livio: I hope one day I can repay yer kindness.

Panel 4: They fist bump wristbands in view.

Vash: Welcome to the family, Livio.

PAGE 8

Panel 1: A large portrait of Wolfwood with his sunglasses and back turned, fills the background, smiling as he holds his cigarette in his hand.

Livio: Hey, Mr. Vash?

Vash: Mm?

Livio: Would you mind tellin’ me a lil more about him… Wolfwood? Ya see, we were close at the orphanage as kids, but I don’t know who he became. I’ll understand if you don’t want to, you owe me absolutely nothin’.

Panel 2: A close-up of Vash’s coffee, Wolfwood’s staple morning drink, Vash’s reflection smiles back, tears in his eyes.

Vash: I’d love to.

PAGE 9

Panel 1: Bonus! Sometime later.  Drawn in chibi style.

Livio: Can I hug ya?

Vash: Sure, buddy!

Panel 2: They hug, Vash smiles, and Livio whimpers as he lets out the waterworks. He’s thankful for Vash’s kindness.

Panel 3: This sets Vash off, who also sobs. They cry in each other’s arms.

[forteafy]

Where Do We Go? | CL16 & CS55

Summary: Charles will do anything to fix his marriage with you, Carlos will do anything to prove you're worth more. The question is where do you go between the two men fighting for your affection?

Word Count: 9.7k

Warnings: angst, a lotta angst, cheating, light smut, character death.

Note: You all really wanted a Part 2 to this one, and of course, I wanted to deliver! This is a little bit more angsty, we’re trying to save a relationship, after all. Or…are we? Also, a massive thank you to @formulaforza for proof-reading this for me and pulling me up on my addiction to italics; my brain is literally jelly right now. Enjoy, everybody!

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'

Carlos Sainz is a best friend. 

Best friends, however, do not text a love confession to one another in the hours of a rising sun, especially not when their declaration is to a woman who is wrapped up in the arms of her husband. 

The confession had run cold through your veins; if it hadn’t been for the sheer exhaustion taking over your body from the events of the past 48 hours, you were certain you would have been up the entire night, contemplating the words he had sent to you. He wasn’t drunk; far from it, the man had driven you down the dusky streets to your home mere hours before. Was he lonely? Did he feel sorry for you? More importantly, did he mean those precious words that had lit up your screen?

Eventually, the desire for sleep, for the warmth of your estranged husband’s chest pillowing your back overtakes your body. You hadn’t slept in a bed with him since the last day of your supposed honeymoon; even then, you had slept with an infinite gap between the two of you, cuddling instead into a pillow, rageful tears in your eyes at the realization that this was now your life. 

This was entirely different. Charles pressed into you as if holding you together; his warm breath danced across the nape of your neck, a hand pressed into your stomach, cradling you between the warm blankets and soft cushions you had picked out when decorating your room. You didn’t rouse during the night, the two before had been filled with tears, constantly awakening to call for your mother as if you were a child again, the harsh realization that she wasn’t around anymore. 

When you did wake, the bed was empty. 

You had subconsciously turned in the blankets when you arose, expecting to see the figure of your husband next to you. The pillow was still rumpled, his glasses disappeared from the nightstand, every single trace of him had seemed to evaporate. Clearly, one night next to you had been a big enough mistake in his eyes. 

Instead, your attention turns towards your phone. Silently, you remove the device from its charger, the homescreen being flooded with sympathetic messages and photographs of you arriving at your father’s home. Luckily, no photographs of Carlos picking you up himself had been released; that would have caused a frenzy which wasn’t desired on either side. 

However, his last text to you that evening before still stayed burned into your screen. In curiosity, you’d once again opened the text thread, seeing th

e words stand strong, his confession to his feelings presents for your eyes. He had laid it out so clearly, Carlos Sainz was in love with you. 

But, were you in love with him? You loved your family; you loved the smell of fresh candles. You adored the sounds of the fastest cars in the world racing around a track whilst you watched with ease. Did you categorize your best friend into the love you so carefully crafted? Was the desire you felt for contact solely directed towards him? 

You never had time to answer yourself that morning. Your subconscious state recognised the sound of footsteps; it was most likely Charles, on his way to his own room for some private time. Maybe he’d have his mistress with him, having snuck out of bed early that morning to possibly go and pick her up himself. 

The footsteps get louder, the door to your room opens, much to your confusion. In the doorway, stands your husband. You’ve never seen him like this; a soft smile, hair pushed back by a bandana, glasses resting on the bridge of his small nose. He’s dressed in a soft, grey jumper and matching tracksuit bottoms, fluffy socks warming his feet. In one arm, he cradles a washing bag. Upon closer inspection, you see that it’s your washing from the case you had lugged in the night before, ironed and folded. In his other hand, he holds a steaming mug of tea. 

He looks beautiful like this, almost ethereal. He looks domestic. 

“Good morning.” He speaks gently, as if any sudden sound would hurt you. You looked…so precious, covered in blankets, your pajamas covering your modesty. “I’m sorry I had to leave early. I went to get your washing done and…pick up some tea.” He offers, holding up the bag of washing in confirmation. Charles offers you a smile as walks into the room, placing the pile of clothing on your vanity. Cradling the mug of hot tea in his hand, he walks back over to where you’re now sat up, surrounded by soft furnishings, offering you the drink which you gladly accept. 

It's a mediocre cup of tea at best; the teabag hasn’t diluted properly, there’s too little milk and too much sugar. Yet, the fact he had made the drink himself caused your heart to soften, despite the past twelve months of actions. You offer him a soft ‘thank you,’ as the drink touches your lips. You’re half-expecting him to stand up and leave immediately. Instead, Charles sits himself down on the edge of the bed, making certain he doesn’t sit on your outstretched legs. 

There’s a moment of bliss; you’re somewhat enjoying the drink cradled in your hands, your husband’s eyes trained on your movements. At one moment, he reaches out his hand towards your face. You flinch, not too sure on what was happening, before his palm simply tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You can’t bring your own eye gaze to meet him, simply focusing on the hot drink in your hand. You can’t help but notice the way his shoulders fall, clearly not satisfied with the lack of eye-contact. 

You can’t help it; it’s as if Charles believes with one night wrapped in his arms would solve the past twelve months. You couldn’t forget, not everything that had happened. Your husband had shattered this relationship, well and truly. He could only hope he’d realised in enough time to somehow win you back. Silently, he stands up from the edge of the comforter, walking towards the vanity, beginning to remove the clothing from its basket. It’s… humorous, to see him try and figure out where each category goes. It’s also a stark reminder of how this is ‘your’ room, not ‘our’ room.  

Whilst picking out a rather revealing pair of panties, folding them up and placing them into your draw, he begins to speak again. “What are you doing this afternoon?” His voice is soft, but in the silent room it carries well.

You shrug, before realizing Charles has his back to you. “I’m…nothing much.” You cut yourself off, placing the cup of tea on your bedside table, letting your hands pull up the comforter a little higher. “My father is going to the funeral parlor today.” Are you…having a conversation with your husband? “How about you?”

“I have lunch with the Ferrari team this afternoon. Nothing serious, just a talk on the next part of the season.” He explains. Charles isn’t stupid; he knows despite your father’s input that you constantly worry about his job. Not because you care about his fame, wealth or power; you care about him. 

“I was,” he takes a breath. “I was wondering if you would like to come along.” 

You feel goosebumps prickle across your exposed skin. Charles Leclerc never invited you to his lunches. He’d always have a reason as to why his darling Mrs. Leclerc could never attend their lunch meetings alongside him. The only time you’d ever appear by his side, fingers harshly interlinked and a cold barrier between you both was when your father insisted upon it. He wouldn’t be there today, there was no way he’d be present for any form of meeting for a while now. 

“You don’t have to, of course.” His explanation runs further. “I know it might be too much for you now. I just thought…maybe we could go for a drive after. Carlos and Xavi will be there, you’ll know some of the others from the Paddock…” His voice trails off in your mind. It had started to  the moment he had said the Spaniards name. 

Were you… ready to see Carlos? The day after a text message you had never thought you’d see. Would he acknowledge the message, was it a drunken mistake? Most importantly, did you want him to love you? 

When you come back out of your trail of thoughts, Charles is still talking, carefully hanging one of your summer dresses onto a velvet coat hanger. He takes a moment to brush the fabric under his fingertips, feeling the soft cotton under his touch. He’s so gentle. The touch is almost identical to the way he had held you mere hours ago.

“I’ll come.” You cut him off, watching as his head snaps in your direction, eyes bright underneath his glasses. “Yeah. It will be…nice.” You finish your sentence, trying not to ramble or to float off topic. Charles’ eyes are still bright, elated you had decided to come alongside him. All he had to do now was fix every other mistake spanning over twelve months. 

Carlos Sainz is a red-wine gentleman. 

You’d immediately spotted him the moment you had entered the waterside restaurant; his back was to the entrance, but you’d recognise the powdered blue shirt and dark wisps of hair in any circumstance. You could have just walked over, stood next to him and ordered a drink, but your fingers stayed tightly interlocked with your husbands, a force of habit in public at the current rate. 

However, his grasp, like the entirety of his actions over the past twenty-four hours, was different. Charles’ thumb gently stroked over your knuckle, his fingers gently resting against yours instead of the firm grip he usually held for the sake of actions. He’d taken a moment to look at you before entering the building, something he’d never done in the past, simply having dragged you into whatever location instead. It was as if his eyes told you a million things; that he had your back and the moment you wanted to leave, he was right behind you. 

The moment you’re in the presence of company, the façade still comes alive, the act you had been creating for all this time is still a force of habit. Charles’ hand comes around your waist, greeting the many members of the Scuderia Ferrari team, thanking them for his time and attention to the matter. As always, you tactfully excuse yourself from the side of your husband, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and removing yourself from the crowd. Usually, he wouldn’t so much as flinch from the chaste action, but you don’t miss his eyes longing for you to stay this time. 

Instead, your heel-clad feet press through the tiles of the place, making advancements towards the white marbled-bar. You receive a nod from the friendly-looking gentleman mixing cocktails, a silent signal to let him know when you’re ready. Maybe you stand too close to Carlos, so much so that you can smell his cologne, you can feel his body warmth radiating through that shirt. It doesn’t take long for him to notice your presence, his eyes widening upon the realization that it was, in fact, you–the woman he had confessed his feelings to less than twelve hours ago. 

“I didn’t realize you’d be here, Mariposa,” he taunts, pulling you into his side. You’re grinning immediately, happy to be reunited with your close friend after how he had left you last night, promising he’d be there if you needed anything. “Come to make sure your husband behaves?” 

“No. I came to see how his teammate is behaving.” You let him ponder for a moment, but he realizes, the blush growing from his neck to his cheeks. “I’m a married woman, Carlos.” You remind him but make no attempt to move further away. The idea is completely eradicated when his hand comes out to rest on the small of your back. His eyes are still fixed on you. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not fair to you. He couldn’t care less about his teammate’s position, the way he’s treated you all this time leaves a sour taste on his tongue. 

“Your marital status doesn’t change the way I feel for you.” He thinks back to that moment in the ocean. What on Earth would be happening if he had kissed you at that moment? He could never be certain, but something tells him you’d be his date to this luncheon right now. Sighing, Carlos turns to face you directly, the bottle of wine he had originally come to pick up having been left on the counter. 

“I’m going to ask you something, and you don’t have to respond.” He tries to keep his breathing calm, your presence practically overpowering him. “But...I would love to take you out for a date sometime. A proper date. With flowers and dinner and being able to make you smile.” Your heart is softening by the moment with the Spaniard’s pleads of everything your husband had never given you. “Would you like that?” 

“I would.” You don’t even have to think of your response. “I would like that, Carlos.” At that moment, your estranged husband is the last thought of your mind; instead it’s overpowered by the fantasies of a date with the man standing in front of you. This time, Carlos can’t help the grin on his lips, reaching for the bottle of red wine on the bar. His careful hands carefully unlatch the stopper, the liquid hitting two crystal glasses, one of which he passes to you.

“Well, shall we toast the idea, no?” he holds up the glass delicately, to which you raise your own, grinning at the satisfying sound of clinking crockery. When you take a sip of the rich red, you’re blissfully unaware of your husband’s eyes; the ones which are never attached to you, but in that moment, don’t want to focus on anything else. Nobody misses the way he purposely sits between yourself and his teammate, fingers interlocked into yours tightly, the occasional kiss on the temple of your head. 

You were his wife, after all. 

Carlos Sainz is a brilliant cook. 

The intimacy between yourself and your husband had oddly grown within the past week. To start, his messages became more frequent, checking in when he couldn’t be at the house. Your pantry had stocked overnight, begging for your home cooking whenever he could be there to sample it. Most importantly, the interaction. You’d been hesitant to even let your husband touch you in the beginning. You had kept it simple, a hug before you’d headed off to bed in your room, (sleeping in the same bed as him had been that one-off.) His arms would find their way onto your waist if you were cooking, his fingers would tuck a lock of hair behind your ear when you found yourself engrossed in studies. 

Your husband had been elated when you had spoken to him two days before he was due to leave for Qatar, announcing you would like to attend alongside him; it was also your father’s wishes to attend that race, wanting to signal to his fellow associates that he was okay, that you could pass on a message from your family. Charles’ eyes had glossed over with happiness, taking your hand in his own, pressing a kiss to the back of your knuckles. 

You were ready for your entrance to the Paddock 72 hours later; after arriving in Qatar, you’d barely seen anything from the transport from his jet to the hotel. Your eyes had grown heavy the moment your feet were removed from their shoes, two large beds welcoming you with their soft blankets and heavy pillows. (He’d made sure to give you the sleeping space that you needed.) Charles’ heart had softened when he’d seen you curl into one bed. When he returned from the bathroom, you were out like a light. 

It didn’t stop him from gently rubbing a makeup wipe over your features, knowing you’d regret your lack of attention to appearance in the morning. Hesitantly, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your hairline, one hand stroking over the back of your head before he returns to unpacking both yours and his suitcase. 

You had been hesitant of attending the Paddock alongside Charles that morning, not because you were worried of the bombarding questions. No, this was the first time you had attended the paddock with a husband who seemed comforted by your presence. His heart felt gentle when he saw you look out of the front windscreen, eyes transfixed on the countless photographers standing by the barriers. Immediately, his hand finds yours, resting atop your thigh, the hot weather pleading for a cooler outfit. 

“You don’t have to do this.” He removes his sunglasses, those ocean eyes finding your own. “You can wait here, or I can have somebody drive you back to the hotel now.” He promises, the worry flickering over his face. Your hand removes itself from his firm grasp, instead reaching forward and resting your hand on his bristled cheek. 

“I’m okay.” You promise him, thumb dancing over his soft cheekbone. He offers you a soft smile, eyelashes fluttering as your face gets closer to his; you have no panic leaning over the console of the hire-car, gently pressing a warm kiss to the cheek your hand wasn’t resting upon. You can’t help but hesitate when you pull back from his face, lingering within mere millimeters of his lips for a long moment; you could just lean forward, press your lips to his and give into all those nights you had dreamed of. But this wasn’t a dream; this was your husband whom you needed to fix a relationship with first. 

Charles isn’t going to lean forward and kiss you himself, not until the signals you are giving him are crystal clear. Instead, he presses his forehead close to yours, tips of your noses gently brushing against one another before he steps out of the car, and you’re quick to follow. 

This time, he doesn’t walk in silence, ignoring your presence. Instead, as the two of you flash your paddock passes towards the security guards, he’s openly commenting on different happenings around Media Day, both of you falling into giggles upon seeing Toto Wolff’s broken arm; he was truly beginning to become an icon at the local emergency room. You’re happy. Subdued in a bubble alongside your husband, hands interlocked as you work your way through the paddock. 

You’ve never experienced such a harsh blow to reality when you see an all-too-familiar figure lurking outside of the Williams Racing building. Her hair is shorter, her skirt is skimpier and a ghastly color. However, she still looks beautiful. She is undoubtedly the woman you’ve fought and lost your husband’s affection from, his mistress. 

Charles seems to clock less than a moment after you do, both bodies freezing upon notifying her presence. You seem to have a quicker reaction time, despite being in the presence of a world-class Formula Driver. Immediately, you rip your grasp from Charles’ hand, showing him no emotion as you step away and into the Ferrari Building. You’re fortunate enough to avoid most of your fathers’ colleges, only once having to stop to give a sympathizing message of your mothers’ passing, the words being used are minute compared to the ache in your heart for her presence. 

When you reach the top of the dark stairs, almost certain you can hear Charles’ voice below you. He’s searching for you now, but instead is overwhelmed by the amount of people in his presence. You’re able to sneak through the makeshift corridor, finding a large number ’55,’ pressed onto the door. You don’t even think, opening the door to a very tanned, very shirtless Carlos Sainz.

He's so… toned. The natural light from the window is reflecting beautifully onto his chest, broader than you’d last seen during your adventures at sea. His shorts hang low on his waist, making no attempt to shift his body despite your appearance. Instead, his dressing is overtaken by his concern for your face, immediately dropping the shirt fisted in his right hand, taking your gentle face in between both of his palms. You didn’t even realize the tears resting on your cheeks, the fear glossed over in your eyes that you’d ever trusted Charles.

Carlos doesn’t need to ask; he saw her on his own entry to the Paddock. Admittedly, he had to double-take; surely Charles wouldn’t have the audacity to bring his mistress to the other side of the world. He didn’t bother to glance in her direction too long, instead greeting the Ferrari team, excusing himself to go and get changed for their upcoming press appearances. In this moment, he’s held you against his bare chest, hushing you gently as one hand threads through your hair. Your mind is overwhelmed, from seeing your husband’s mistress, but from being pressed against his oh-so warm chest. 

You don’t even realize, but your palms are resting on his chest, his skin so soft beneath your touch. Carlos gently hushes you, tilting your head up to face him, still cradled in his grasp. He could so easily reach forward, claim you there and then, but he realizes in that moment, under your soft touch and those doe eyes, you are the one who has claimed him. After a moment, he pulls back, motioning for you to follow him towards the couch, littered in Spanish-themed cushions and the enormous chili plushie you had bought him several months ago. 

You can’t help the slight disappointment when Carlos eventually slips on his Ferrari Polo; however, you are interested when he reaches for his small fridge, pulling out a neat lunchbox, motioning for you to grasp it whilst he reaches for another. Curiosity takes the better of you, gently unclasping the lid of the Tupperware box. A beautiful aroma overtakes your senses, a carefully crafted meal nestled into the lunchbox. The Spaniard can’t help but grin at your reaction; sometimes something as simple as a homemade meal could lift your spirits.

And that’s how you spent the next forty-five minutes, sat on the sofa of Carlos Sainz’s driver room, the man sat on the floor as the two of you exchanged bites of food. There’s one particular moment where you offer him a spoonful of your lunchbox, watching as he arches his torso towards you. 

It’s almost…sensual, the way his lips wrap around the top of the spoon, maintaining sole eye contact as he retracts his mouth from the utensil, letting his tongue trace around his lips for a chase of the taste. He knows what he’s doing; in his mind, all he wants is to show how adored you could be, to show he could be everything your husband never was.

It isn’t until Charles is finally free from the bombarding questions of his sponsors that he finally locates you in Carlos’ room. The man isn’t oblivious; he can see that the two of you have grown undeniably close. He can’t bring himself to say anything on the matter. He knows, in his heart of hearts, he has no right to make any assumptions; he was the one who had spent hours with a mistress, after all. Silently, he opens the door to the driver’s room, your figure perched upon the sofa, a grin plastering your soft features. You looked happy.

You looked like the most beautiful girl he had seen in his life. 

You acknowledge his presence after a few moments, standing up from your place on the sofa, insisting the man tries Carlos’ cooking. It takes less than a few blinks of your eyes for him to submit, taking the spoonful off your utensil, making a comment towards his teammate that he would have to give him some lessons at some point. The man says nothing, simply nodding in a passive agreement. 

There’s a sharp call for Charles after he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He shoots both you and his teammate an apologetic look before he makes his way down the corridor, gently closing the door behind him as to give you a sense of privacy; the last thing he wanted was to have you plastered all over social media pages when he knew it would purely be used for publicity purposes. 

You’re still smiling when the door closes, your back to Carlos’ front. “He seems to like you-“ 

You were destined to never finish that sentence. Within a split moment, there are warm hands, rough hands resting on either side of your waist, twisting your body within his grasp. He takes two steps backwards, enough pacing to have your back pressed against the closed door: the coldness of the wood contrasting violently with the heat radiating off your best friend. 

He couldn’t hold any emotion. Carlos Sainz wears his heart on his sleeve. That much is adamant, from the way his text messages were drafted, to the way he tilts his head, meshing his lips to your own. 

They’re surprisingly soft; there’s nothing soft in the way his hands grasp at your waist, the way his body is pressing so deeply into yours. Yet, as his lips continue to entrance yours, they feel like clouds; a gentle stroke of a paintbrush. His artistry continues when his kisses get deeper, one of his hands enclosing yours, bringing it to rest around his shoulders, pushing the two of you closer together. Your other hand is interlocked by his, being stretched above your head, pinned to the door you’re resting upon. 

He's waited so long for this, before lunch, before your moment in the sea. He’s wanted this since the moment you walked into the Ferrari Paddock alongside your father, you must have been etched into his heart. 

Carlos isn’t thinking; his kisses are becoming rougher, one hand blindly reaching for your leg, almost bare from the shorts you had opted from your wardrobe earlier. He guides it to rest upon his hip, grunting when he can feel his hardened crotch press between your legs. His reality comes crashing down when he feels the cool band on your fingers entangling in his hair. Your wedding ring. 

Ragged breaths, panting, he pulls away from your lips, pressing his forehead to your own in a sheer plea of comfort. Both your breaths are synchronized, both grasping for some form of air in the room. 

“You’re everything, Mariposa.” He whispers, closing his dark eyes, enjoying his moment, taking every opportunity to imprint the feeling of your body, of your lips into his mind. He prays this won’t be the last time he holds you this way. 

Carlos Sainz is a fast texter. 

In the moments after you had shared the intimacy, hidden away in his driver’s room, he’s gone into a sheer panic. He’d overstepped, he’d made an advancement on you at your most vulnerable. When he had left for the press alongside your husband, he didn’t have a single chance to pull you aside, not when you had left the moment after the duo had been pulled into their press conferences. Simply, you were not waiting around to catch glimpses of the mistress, still proudly flocking around the Paddock as if it was her home.

It had taken a matter of moments to request a car home, having slipped out of the Ferrari building, talking to one of your father’s colleagues about your departure. Silently, you paced out of the building, a direct beeline towards the car park, head down from the ever-present photographers. 

You hadn’t expected a text from either your husband or his teammate, considering that they were both in press conferences until further notice. However, when you had felt and grasped the device in your shorts, you had immediately noticed the soft vibrations, pulling your device out of your pocket, your eyes being illuminated by the screen of your phone. Two text messages. One from your father, one from Carlos. Your attention is drawn to the latter, curious on what your best friend has to say. 

11:32: Carlos Sainz: 

I’m really, truly sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I haven’t seen Charles yet to let him know you left. You don’t have to see me again if you do not wish. 

11:36: You

It wasn’t you at all, I promise! I was aware that Charles’ mistress was about, I couldn’t stick about for that. 

Carlos messages you back, almost immediately. You’re confused, considering he is due to be in press alongside Charles. He could be having a break; he could have completely skipped out on several media appearances. 

11:38: Carlos Sainz

I wish you could have stayed longer. I meant what I said, every single word. Please let me know if you need anything.

11:41: You

I know, C. I appreciate it, even if I express it terribly. I’ll always be here for you, too. Always. 

You never get to see the next message that Carlos sends to you. Instead, your phone starts ringing, an incoming call from your father. You’re certain that the chauffeur won’t mind you taking the call whatsoever, holding the device to your ear as your father’s tone fills the void, his words becoming numbing as he runs through the details of your mother’s funeral, the tears in his voice beginning to swell heavily. 

Charles had left the Paddock as soon as he got notice of your departure. He hadn’t bothered to message, his sole focus being on returning to the hotel, to find out what on Earth had happened to you. He was fortunate enough to escape the wandering eyes of his ex-mistress, how on Earth she had gotten into the Paddock for that race was beyond him, especially since he had ceased contact from that day. 

The car arrives swiftly outside of the hotel; immediately, Charles is rushing through the back entrance, beelining for the staircase; waiting for an elevator at this moment would be too much. Within moments, he’s fumbling for his key card, pushing the door open, his heart shattering at the vision in front of him. 

You, his wife, sat on the edge of one of the king-size beds; your head is buried into your hands, heavy sobs racking through your body. He can see the goosebumps littering your skin, the solemn shakes running through you, the trauma of losing somebody you cared about so deeply, combined with a cocktail of emotions from your entrance to the Paddock had become too much. 

He doesn’t care about boundaries, not at this point. Immediately, Charles has crouched in front of you, his gentle hands reaching to grasp around your wrists. There’s a flinch at the sudden contact; your skin had overheated from the sheer energy of crying; your husband’s cool touch was a stark contrast which made you shiver. Delicate touches pull your hands away from your eyes. They’re so red, so swollen. Had he ever made you react like that from his own actions. The Monegasque doesn’t want to question that right now, he can’t even bring himself to look into your broken eyes. Instead, he feels as your arms wrap around his neck, hiding your face in his neck, craving for somebody to just…hold you. 

Your husband has no issue in that desire; he lets you remain like that, Charles on his knees whilst you cling to him, the tears dampening through his shirt. One hand slides across your back, kneading gentle circles into your skin. At some point, you move onto the bed, the man lying back on the soft furnishings whilst you rest your head on his chest, arms encircling you as if he could hold you together, until the storm in your mind passes. 

When the tears subside, you finally find the energy to look up to your husband. He hadn’t reached for his phone, tried to find some form of entertainment whilst he held you to his chest for hours. Instead, his gaze had been fixed upon you, brushing a gentle stroke over your cheek, his fingers dancing against your skin, brushing away the tension from heavy lines and sobs. When your eyes do open, you’re greeted with a soft smile, Charles leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Do you need some water?” His concern is to bring you back up to health; now the tears have stopped, he can do this. “I can order some food; would you like that?” His voice is so quiet, as if a simple loud sound could shatter through your veins. You can’t muster up more than a nod, your body becoming colder when Charles’ gently shifts away, sitting up so he can reach for the telephone. His voice is so mesmerizing, speaking down the line as he requests different foods; he doesn’t mind how much he orders, if he can coax you into even eating a little, the man will be satisfied. 

The call finishes, but the man doesn’t sink back down into his previous position. Instead, whilst he remains sat up, Charles guides you to join him, your body still aching from your emotional breakdown. He murmurs under his breath as he pulls you into his lap, your body is tense until his strong arms wrap around your waist, the warmth instantly allowing you to relax, lean back into his firm chest. 

“I’ve wanted to speak to you for a few days.” His voice is soft, but the phrase causes you to feel a sharp panic dance down your chest. Surely, this can’t be good. The relationship had evolved from barely speaking to intimate conversations within a span of two weeks. You try, try so hard to keep a clear mind as your husband continues to address you. 

“How I’ve acted…how I treated you, all that time-“ He must stop himself, trying not to let his own emotion overpower his words. “I’m never going to be able to take it all back, and I will never be able to stop apologizing for it.” His whispers, his eyes growing misty with regret. “I will never forgive myself for how I treated you, nor do I ever expect you to forgive me. But…I want to try. I want to try and spend the rest of my days as you husband. I know…it won’t be overnight, but I’ll do anything, anything for you.”  

The tears are rolling down your own cheeks now; never, in your wildest dreams, did you expect for Charles to speak those words of affirmation to you. His hand moves cautiously, to your face, wiping the tears which were pooling across your features.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, letting one of his hands remain on your cheek. The man leans forward, pressing gentle butterfly kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose…he pauses, mere inches from your lips. He wants to kiss you; he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to push you; his mind and his heart are complete opposites. 

His mind goes into overdrive when you lean forward and press your lips to his own. They’re salty, slightly chapped, but undeniably something he has been craving for oh-so-long. Charles is immediately kissing you back, his grip around you tightening, keeping your body close to his own. Carefully, he shuffles the two of you back into a lying position, never once breaking the kiss, tumbling back onto the mattress.

Of course, you don’t miss his grumble of annoyance when the food eventually arrives.

 Carlos Sainz is a gentle kisser. 

An autumn breeze was strong on the dreaded day; the funeral had rolled around way too soon for your liking. Rows of family connections, close and distant friends lined the outside of the cemetery, eyes all transfixed on the black hearse rolling into view. Murmurs were pressed into silence, a bitter air all-too present as the ivory coffin was removed from the vehicle. Your elder brother and two cousins were to assist in carrying the piece into the church. Plans were soon suspended when the eldest of your siblings collapsed into tears, head in his hands upon the sheer realization that this was it.

Your father is desperately looking around, practically praying outside a place of worship that the eldest could pull himself together; it’s impossible. Whilst one of your arms is occupied, holding the hand of your young sister, the other gently wraps around his torso, comforting him in the ways he had done for you when you were nothing more than a young girl in messy braids and mismatched socks. 

His wife stood on his right-hand side, adamant on consoling the man as you were, a caring hand running across his back. Your husband stood next to your sister, her childish eyes blinking in confusion; just like you, she had never seen her brother this inconsolable. 

Charles feels a pain wash through him, he wants nothing more than to help his dear family through this moment. Maybe the act he was playing for so long was just a way of shielding himself from caring. Now he had bared his soul towards you, pleading for a second chance, the man wanted to be there for you, in every sense of the word. 

He murmurs something incoherently, stepping away from your side, leaning towards your father’s ear. Whatever he mumbles is met with a sharp nod, a firm pat on the shoulder in confirmation. Your husband keeps a firm gaze on the coffin, not catching your own eyes as he walks towards the piece to join your cousins. There’s a quick whisper between the men, before the ivory is shuffled from the car, resting on their suit-clad shoulders. Silence falls over the attendants as your mother is carried into the church, immediate family following closely behind. Hesitantly, your eyes look to the crowding people, and as if by fate, you see his dark eyes, the fluffy curls brushed back to conform. He shouldn’t look that good in a dark suit. 

Most noticeably, his gaze isn’t fixed on the church, on the six men carrying your mother. It’s transfixed on you. 

The service is beautiful, if you can describe it like that. Flowers are placed atop of your mother’s coffin, the service of words correlating to her soul, the hymns sung were always her favorite when you had frequented church as a young girl. However, there’s a turning point. When the priest begins to speak of her dear children, tears pool in your lower lash-line. You want to take the time for yourself, to mourn, but louder sobs are emitting from next to you; the youngest child is beginning to realize her mother is truly gone. 

You’re torn; pulling her towards you would only make you cry harder; you had already seen your father and brother fall apart, silently knowing you would have to be the one to wait by the door, thanking the copious guests for attending. Her tears are suddenly quietened when you see her gently shuffled into Charles’ lap; despite the estranged relationship for the past twelve months, he’d always had a soft spot for your sister, she reminded him of when Arthur was young. Whilst her tears turn softer, he runs a hand over her back, letting the young girl rest her heavy head in his sternum. 

The open gap in the seating allowed for you to shuffle closer towards your husband, his free arm wrapping around your torso. You had to remain sitting up straight; his presence right now would have to be enough for your comfort. To any unassuming eye, you would probably look like a family, the crowds of attendants would have no idea of the true story behind your marriage. Even on the darkest days, the narrative was played well.

When the service draws to a close, final prayers are spoken. The first to rise are your father and brother, both clinging to one-another as they must leave the building. Silently, you pull yourself away from your husband’s grasp, smoothing the skirt of your dress. Charles remains seated, your sister practically passing out atop of him. Today had been a heavy day for a child, after all. 

There are rows of people pausing to console you on your loss whilst you stand at the door of the church; friends you had known for oh-so-long, members of the Scuderia Ferrari team; you had never seen Fred Vasseur cry, but the redness of his eyes told you something completely different as he took one of your hands in his, squeezing it in apology. 

The pews filter out silently, a large group of the guests making their way back to your father’s home, the wake soon to begin, a blessing and want of your late mother. Sharp footsteps are emitted through the church, the penultimate duo being your husband and sister. He was still carrying her, head resting on his shoulder, almost completely asleep. Charles smiles at finally seeing you, using his free hand to run across the back of your head. 

“I’m going to take her back.” Charles explains to you. He understands you don't need the pressure of looking after her atop of everything else bound to come your way. “Let me know when you’re done here, please?” Silently, you nod, no hesitation needed as he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, bidding you farewell as he paces out of the church, holding your sister tightly in comfort. 

You believe that’s everybody, ready to collect your belongings and thank the priest for a heart-warming farewell. Before you can even think to turn around, there’s a light cough, emitting you to spin on your heel. 

He’s there. Still clad in his designer suit, hair pushed back behind his ears. Undeniably, Carlos Sainz looks good in any situation. He holds your bag in one hand, the other reaching out to clasp around your wrist. You gasp at the warm skin pressing to your own, heat radiating through your body. The man leans down, letting his lips brush against your own, a sweet feathering brush pressing onto you. Carlos wanted to be there for you, more than ever on what would be the hardest day. 

Seeing Charles take that position had made his blood boil. 

His grip on you remains tight as he leads you out of the church and towards his own car, parked in the most secluded section of the lot. When his grip falters to hold your hand instead, he doesn’t aim to correct it, instead only holding tighter. He only removes his grasp to unlock his car, sliding himself into the driving seat, pushing the recliner back as far as it would go. When the space is present, he guides you to rest atop of his lap, arms tightening around your waist as he lets the door close, bodies pressed together tightly. 

“Is this okay?” He murmurs, keeping your faces so close together. The built-up emotion, the desire since your last kiss had built a fire in your stomach, not so much as speaking before pressing your lips to his own. Whilst your own movements had become desperate, craving for some form of emotional release, his remained feather-light, one hand tangled into your hair, the other resting firmly on your waist. 

His lips are soon ghosting over your cheek, fluttering across your jawline and landing on your neck, small whines emitting from your lips as he seeks to trace his tongue over your sweetest spot. The sensation across your body, the hot touch of his skin and an undeniable bulge now settling between your legs. 

There’s a sudden realization that you needed to go home. Being with Carlos was the affection you desired, your heart knows however that right now, your family needs you. Hesitantly, you pull away from the man’s lips, feeling utterly guilty for the pleading look in his eyes as you rest your forehead against his own. He could never hate you for it, though. In his eyes, you could never draw that feeling from him. You don’t need to say anything, he knows. 

“I’ll drive you back.” He murmurs, pressing one final kiss to your lips before allowing you to slide into the leather passenger seat. 

The drive to your father’s home is almost silent; there’s an occasional rev of the engine, various horns from different cars along the highway. A part of you always prays that each drive with the Spaniard could last forever, you could drive into the distance and live happily ever after. The fairy-tale is soon dissolved when you pull to the driveway, hearing the engine of the car cease. Your eyes find Carlos’ side profile, still transfixed on the road ahead. 

“Are you coming in?” You ask gently. He sighs, the grip on his steering wheel becoming tighter.

“I can’t see you that close to him, Mariposa.” He murmurs, finally finding the courage to look you in the eyes. “Not when I want to be that close to you.” One hand finds its way off the wheel, entwining your fingers together, peppering light kisses against your knuckles. “Please call me when you go back. I’ll miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you too.” You whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek. In that moment, Carlos Sainz is your savior. He’s your truth. 

Carlos Sainz is a liar. 

Your knuckles had turned white from the grasp on your phone, you didn’t want to believe anything you were seeing. What was supposed to be an impromptu browse of Twitter whilst waiting for your husband to finish in the en-suite, had turned into a deep dive through a certain hashtag, having seen information spread on a certain Ferrari driver.

It had started as a simple few tweets, some fans and gossip pages reckoning they had seen the driver in an exclusive club, some random blonde sitting on top of him. The photos came second, though the angle was skewed, the quality too weak to see who was there. The final nail was the video; Carlos’ hand placed on her waist, how he had done to you mere hours ago, his mouth pressing against hers, clearly nothing else on his mind. 

Granted, you knew you had no right to feel the anger you did; after all, you were married, Carlos was a single man, free to do as he desired. Yet, your rage was fuelled by the romantic, now seemingly empty promises he had made you; how you were his everything, how he would treat you better than Charles ever did. He was no different than Charles Leclerc, and as your fumbled fingers reached to his contact, your rage felt inclined to tell him that. 

The phone rings once, twice, three times. You’re set to hang up, leave a particularly nasty text message to the man before the line connects. Immediately, your eardrums are overtaken by the loud pulse of a nightclub, some feminine laughter almost directly on top of him. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. Clearly, he’s now intoxicated, his accent is always thicker when he is. You hear another voice, telling him to hang up the phone and to come and dance with her. “Hey- are you there?”

“I’m here.” You snap; why do you feel this enraged? You must have done so when you first saw Charles with his mistress; that had become such a common occurrence that the fire in your stomach must have eventually drained. “And clearly, you’re busy with the woman climbing all over you.” 

“Fuck- you left me hanging!” He retorts, drunken mind clearly pressing against any form of sober thought. “You went back to your husband. Left me with nothing. Fuck the funeral.” He snaps, clearly now becoming enraged with the entire situation, with the fact he had been caught out. The words pressed through the speaker of your phone and emitted a wave of sobs from your stomach, immediately pressing the red button on your device.

Carlos Sainz wasn’t in love with you. He just liked the distraction. 

Of course, as fate would have it, the moment that your tears began again was the moment Charles had left the bathroom. He’s dressed in just a pair of boxers, chest bare and tone after his warm shower. The sound of the door opening caused you to turn to the source. His eyes widen, scampering towards you, cradling you in his arms, bare chest against your cheek. Silently, you sob into his body for the third time that day, wanting nothing more than for every form of pain to stop.

“Hey, come on.” He whispers, arms circling your body, pulling you tight against him. He thinks that seeing you cry will get easier each time, that the pain in the pit of his stomach won’t continue to eat him away. However, it never gets easier; he hates seeing you cry, every single time. “It’s been a long day, yeah? Let’s get some sleep, baby.”

The nickname sounds foreign on his tongue, though neither of you question it. If anything it causes more emotion to flicker through your body, the fact that your estranged husband was finally beginning to give you. Silently, he guides the two of you into the large bed, cradling you to his chest as he had done whilst in Qatar. Sleep and emotion overtake you, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder as a ‘thank you,’ before drifting into a state of slumber.

The sleep means you miss a vital update from the Twitter threads you had been closely following earlier. 

‘Carlos Sainz leaves exclusive club ALONE, despite dating rumors arising with mystery blonde.’

Carlos Sainz is your best friend.

You returned to the following day; the entire time remaining at your father’s house had consisted of nothing but tears. You had been especially concerned for your sister, watching the way she had clinged to Charles when the duo was saying their fond farewells. After a tight hug from each family member, your husband hand interlinked your fingers together, guiding the two of you to his own car, each free hand carrying along the suitcases. 

The first hour of the drive home had been quiet, the buzzing streets had morphed into greenery, the sun beginning to set across the coast. Your eyelids couldn’t find it to grow heavy, having done nothing but sob and sleep for the past twenty-four hours. Instead, your focus turned to the radio, a familiar song trickling out of the speaker, one you hadn’t heard in almost eighteen months. 

“Is this…” You ask, fingers reaching towards the dial, turning the volume up slightly. Behind his sunglasses, Charles grins. You hadn’t expected him to recognise the song, let alone be aware of where he recognised it from. 

“Our first dance.” Your husband laughs, both nodding your head to the music. One hand on the wheel, he reached out his other hand to grasp yours on his own, a gentle squeeze passing through each hand. “We’ll have to dance to it again, properly next time.” He promises to himself, eyes focused on the road as he continues to drive you both home. 

It’s almost dark by the time you have arrived back at your driveway. The stones are dipped in the darkness, the only illumination being from the headlights of Charles’ iconic vehicle. Your eyes flicker towards the doorstep, convinced the sleep is playing tricks on your mind; why on earth was there a figure standing on the doorstep to your house? They were slim, feminine, holding a cream envelope in one hand, a designer bag resting atop the other. 

The familiar feeling of who she was began to nestle in your stomach. Surely, it couldn’t have been her; even your husband would not have the audacity to invite her to the house, right after you had returned home from what was quite possibly the saddest moment of your life. It couldn’t be her, even if every sign pointed towards the truth, you’d begin to search for the tiniest detail; her hair was too short. Your stomach snaps when you realize it’s the identical haircut from the Paddock mere days ago. 

“What on earth-“ You hear your husband begin to speak, turning off the engine to the car. He looks over to your figure, but you show no emotion, no reaction on the exterior. Immediately, he has stepped out of the car, violently slamming the door behind him, causing you to snap out of the trance the woman had placed you upon. 

Your eyes fixed upon Charles, his mistress trying to reach out into his touch. She’d pressed the envelope into his hand, continuing to speak. The words were clear through the thin glass of the car’s windscreen, divorce, pictures, evidence. 

You couldn’t stick around to watch this activity play out. Immediately, you reach out for your phone, breathing uneven as you scroll through the contact list, searching for his name. Despite the last twenty-four hours, you were not too sure who else to call. It takes less than a moment for him to answer, your words rambling and falling over one another, pleading for him to come and collect you. He speaks firmly, commanding you to stay in the car, he would be there as soon as possible. 

Charles is so deep in conversation, pleading for his mistress to reconsider, that he doesn’t see you slip out of the car, stepping down the driveway into the awaiting car of Carlos Sainz. He makes no intention to show you affection when first stepping into the vehicle, his only intention to get you out of the situation as soon as possible. Whilst silence filled the space between you both, you had sent a text to your husband, confirming your disappearance. 

23:01: You

I’m so sorry, I can’t be there when she is, not anymore. I’ll be back at the house tomorrow. Thank you for everything.  

There’s no response. If you’re completely honest, you were not expecting anything else, not whilst he was engrossed in conversation. The street is quiet as you pull into Carlos’ driveway. Saying nothing, the man simply removes his keys from the ignition, before leaning over your frame to open your door, ever the gentleman. Of course, his eyes catch yours as he leans back, creating a deep gaze for oh-so-long. Carefully slipping out of his gaze, you leave the car, walking up the steps to his apartment, the door opening for your arrival. 

It's homely. Clearly lived in. Shoes are thrown across the entrance mat, coats hanging in the rack. Although it is primarily basic, a little bare, there’s touches around the complex which warm your heart; a photograph of the man with his sisters and father, a helmet you immediately recognise as Lando Norris’ resting atop of a bookshelf. There’s fine wine glasses resting atop of his coffee table; clearly ready for their usage before your untimely call. 

The details become irrelevant the moment you feel his warm arms circle around your middle; the rising of your hoodie lets his body heat radiate onto yours. Carlos doesn’t need to say anything, his face comes towards the joint between your neck and your shoulder, using his nose to brush your hair away, exposing the skin he craves to mark. 

“Mariposa.” He whispers, hiding his expression in your soft skin. “I can explain her, I can explain who she is, I didn’t-“ 

This time, it’s you who rolls around in Carlos’ touch, your arms entwining around his neck, pulling his lips to touch yours. The Spaniard does not need convincing, his grip on your waist immediately tightening, pushing your bodies closer together, if that was even humanly possible. This time, when his lips begin to trail down your neck, there’s no hesitation left in your mind, letting the man dance across your skin, leaving small bites, trails of his tongue against you. 

You realize it’s you, making a small whine as he pulls away from your body, catching his breath whilst his tanned arms reach to the bottom of his shirt, exposing his chest once more. This time, your fingers fumble to find the hem of your hoodie, pulling the clothing atop of your head, exposing the laciest bra Carlos had ever seen. There’s a grunt from the back of his mouth as he darts forward, one rough palm scooping your breast from the lingerie, his mouth immediately finding your nipple, tongue tracing across the sensitive skin whilst his stubble rubs against your exposed flesh. 

He doesn’t let up, not even when your legs go weak. His mouth remains firmly attached, using his arms to instead scoop you into his grasp, your whining sheer pornography to his ears whilst he carries you into his bedroom. 

He will simply ruin you for every other person, and god forbid if he lost you now. 

You realize hours later, somewhere between your post-orgasm haze and the combined warmth of Carlos’ hoodie and his firm arms that best friends did not have intense, body-numbing sex in the middle of the night, specifically when one of them was married, the other one a close friend of her husband. Yet, it somehow feels normal, as if this had been the longest impending explosion. Of course, you had explained to the man the reasoning for calling him out so late, for him to simply hush you, promising you would have never been a burden to him. The further questions of what is to come next are pushed to the back of your mind. 

Your sleeping state misses two key moments. The first? The slight camera shutter from a phone as Carlos places his device back on the nightstand, snuggling down into the blankets, his dream to hold you whilst he slept finally arising.

The second? Your phone finally buzzed with a response from your husband, unable to sleep without knowing you were in the large house alongside him. 

02:51: Charles Leclerc

I’m in love with you.

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover @barnestatic @omgsuperstarg @chimchimjiminie16 @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog @junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt @crowdthena @screemqueen @lewislvr @styles-sunflower @itspaddockprincess @adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins @formulanando @lorarri @christianpulisic10 @gaypoetsblog @thisbitxhs-blog @goldsainz @ru-kru @magical-spit @hrlzy @nooshytushie @gaslysainz @marvel-at-stucky @sugarvibez

[xxblairexxss]

Revenge

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Angst

I needed something that would break my heart and shred it to pieces so I came up with this.

“Charles?”

“Yes, chérie.” He had fallen asleep face down on the couch as soon as he came home. The meeting with the team was supposed to take 2-3 hours but it ended up taking half a day so he had to rush home because he had another interview next morning. You felt so bad waking him up but your period had came early and you ran out of heating pad and tampons.

“Can you head to the store—“

“Can’t it wait?” You could clearly see he was annoyed and your words became a murmur. “I just came back not even for 30 minutes.”

“I know, but…”

“I’ll get whatever you need tomorrow, chérie. Let me sleep. Please.”

So you let him be.

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You couldn’t sleep that night. Your period cramp was getting worse and you desperately needed a heating pad, a painkiller, and anything that would help to soothe the pain. Your head was throbbing, you felt nauseous, laying down felt wrong, standing up made it worse. You tried to wake up your boyfriend but again, before you could say anything, he had left the room and locked himself in the guest room so you won’t be able to disturb his sleep. And you decided to take matters into your own hands.

You changed into an oversized sweatshirts and short yoga pants then walked out of the apartment. You couldn’t drive and it was better to have to walk for 25 minutes than to crash into someone else’s car.

You had always loved an evening stroll around the city but you would always feel anxious if your boyfriend wasn’t with you. Which was why you couldn’t go by yourself in the first place.

The walk was a pleasant one. Much to your surprise. You saw a group of people who had just finished their night shifts, a number of tourists taking pictures, and just full of humans being humans. You had reached the store in no time and got yourself some pain-relievers and a new heating pad.

“Thank you! You are Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” The old man asked as he put the items into a plastic bag.

“Ah, yes.” You were surprised as you didn’t really get this kind of question a lot.

“I knew it. I have seen you guys together a few times. Such a beautiful couple.” He handed you the plastic bag.

“Ah, thank you. I’ll get going first. Have a pleasant night, sir.” You took the items from his hand and started making your way back, trailing the steps you took all the way home.

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“Move away!”

Things would have ended in a perfect way if it wasn’t for a random man who came from the upper side of the road. He didn’t get to hit on the break before crashing on you. You saw him coming your way but before you could moved away, he and his bike had already fallen on top of you. The pedal from the bicycle was still gliding as it crashed on you, causing the sharp bit to cut the skin on your knee. The hit sent you to fall on your back and you were trying to stop the fall but the crash was too hard that you could feel a huge pressure on your wrist as it landed on the pavement. The bicycle handle then hit on your forehead as it fell so now you had a bruise on your forehead and a cut on the side of your lips from the sudden punch from the man as he tried to stop himself from falling on his face.

“I’m so so sorry. I’m really sorry, miss.” The guy started scrambling to stand up and offered a hand to pull you up to a stance.

“Ow..” You immediately retracted your right hand when you felt the jolt of pain as he pulled on it.

“Oh, no I think you might have sprained your wrist. Give me your other hand. I’m so sorry my brake wasn’t working I really thought I could turn away before crashing on you.” He pulled you on your left hand which made you stand on both of your feet now. “You are bleeding. There’s a clinic nearby, I’ll take you there.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Charles were woken up when his throat was dry and he was parched. It was when he turned his body to the side was when he recalled that he had left you because you woke him up a while ago. Guilt started to fill up his heart as he stood up and left the guest room. He was expecting to see you on the bed but he was greeted with an empty one.

“Shit…” He whispered and ran to get his phone to call you. Much to his dismay, the call went straight to your voicemail. “Fuck! Where are you, Y/N.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Oh, my. What happened to you, pretty girl.” The old man from the store earlier was surprised when you walked back into the store now looking like you were beaten up for the past 20 minutes.

“I’m so sorry for bugging you, sir. Can I borrow your phone? I need to call my boyfriend.” You had walked back into the store with the man who crashed into you, Lucas was the name as he went to buy a drinking water for you and waited outside as you made your call.

“Hello?” You heard your boyfriend’s voice through the phone. It was a relief he would picked up a call from a random number.

“Charles..” You tried to speak without crying but failed as your eyes started tearing up even before you could explain to him.

“Y/N? Where are you?” You could hear him getting restless.

“I am at the store down the street. Can you come and get me?”

“Stay. I’ll be there in 5.”

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Charles was staggered when he saw you full of cuts and bruises. Your sweatshirts had some bloodstain on it and you were still sobbing.

When he took you home, he didn’t say anything but you knew he was mad because he kept on biting the inside of his cheeks and he only did that when he was furious.

“What was that for, Y/N?” He slammed the door as you walked in.

“I was just trying to…” You sniffed softly and wiped your wet cheeks with your sleeves, unable to look at him in the eyes.

“You were trying to what? Playing games with me? Or is this some kind of revenge because I didn’t want to go to the store to get your what? Chocolate? You couldn’t even fucking wait until tomorrow?” You took a step back when he kept on raising his voice, your hand that was holding the plastic bag was shaking within every sob.

“I’m sorry…” You sniffled again, eyes still looking on the floor.

“Or was it your plan though? To embarrass me like that in front of everyone? To show everyone how bad of a boyfriend I am?” He stepped closer and for the first time, you were scared of him.

“What happened to your phone?”

“It ran out of battery..” You mumbled.

“Great. Now you are telling me it was a coincidence? That you just fucking left the house with a dead phone? It wasn’t because you tried to make it harder for me to find you? He threw his car key away to which you flinched.

“I can’t believe you would go that far just because you couldn’t get what you want. You are fucking spoil.” Charles was dazed by his own words. He didn’t know what had gotten into him but he was so tired and he expected you to understand him instead of pulling a show at 3AM. But he didn’t thought he would blow up to this extend. He regretted saying every words he had thrown to you but when he thought back about those looks he got from the strangers when he went to pick you up, he was demented with anger again thinking that you were secretly smiling at how successful your plan were to get back at him.

You looked up to him in shock at his words, your tears are now flowing non stop you didn’t even bother to wipe them off. “I…” Charles cut you off before you could say anything.

“Just go and change your clothes, Y/N. We are done here. Go!” He yelled out and you scurried to the bathroom to wash your face, leaving the plastic bag on the dining table.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, you saw Charles on the bed. He had his arm covering his eyes. He wasn’t asleep yet because you could still see how tense he was so you tried to take your change of clothes in silent before quickly head out of the room.

Charles thought you would have climbed on the side of the bed to sleep. But he didn’t think you would leave the room. First thing that came to his mind was the guest room. He thought you were so upset with him that you chose to sleep in the guest room. He couldn‘t understand why you were upset now. Obviously he was the one who should be mad. He wasn’t the one who went to that extend to play revenge. You started it first.

But he didn’t hear the door close. You could never sleep with the door open. Charles only heard the soft sound of a coffee mug hitting the other glasses. It was so soft and slow, as if you were trying to hide the sound from him.

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It was hard to do things with one hand. The doctor had to wrap your wrist with a bandage because the sprain was really bad. You couldn’t even use your right hand. Even taking yourself a glass of water was a difficult task but you needed to take the pain-reliever pill or you won’t be able to sleep. Your head was still hurting. Every part of your body was in pain but it wasn‘t as much as the pain of your heart. You were still crying, sobbing, but you tried to hide every sniffle in case Charles would yell at you again.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Charles saw the way you were struggling to take out the pill, some sort of medicine with one hand and he could feel his heart clenching in pain. Why would you go this far just because he couldn’t go to the store. Why would you even hurt yourself just to make him feel bad. He was upset that you could do this to yourself just to wreak vengeance on him. He watched you struggled to drink from the mug and still chose to wash it off as you cleaned the table and even put his car key away, the key that he thrown away in anger earlier. He saw you struggled to walk, trying not to put much weight on the leg with the cut and hurried back to the room before you could see him.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Charles walked back out when he heard you finally closed the door to the guest room and went back to the kitchen to check on the medicine that he saw you took earlier. Soon as he saw what was inside the plastic bag, he felt like there was a tons of rock being thrown on him at one time. It was a pain-reliever for a period cramp and an opened box of a heating pad. You didn’t go to the store just to play revenge on him, it wasn’t for a game. You went to get these things. He knew you always had a bad cramp and a migraine on your period but it wasn’t supposed to come until another 2 weeks. He had it saved in his calendar every month. You had asked him to go to the store earlier to get you these things because you couldn’t sleep, and it wasn’t for chocolate. He couldn’t believe what just happened. He had just yelled at his girlfriend who was in pain. He didn’t give you any space to explain anything. Now he knew why you weren’t saying anything else and just accepted everything that he said. You just wanted him to stop yelling so you could sleep the pain away. He would prefer you to shout at him back, curse at him, hit him, punch him, whatever it was. Perhaps that way it wouldn’t hurt him this much when he knew the truth.

He was a fucking asshole.

He had messed things up very bad and there was no way he could fix this up but he needed to. He couldn’t lose you.

[wonysugar]

hiii!! could i request fwb switch!ryujin x reader? it's completely fine if you're not comfy to dw!!

hickeys | shin ryujin

synopsis : it was a secret nobody could know, and you would’ve liked to keep it that way, however, ryujin leaving marks everywhere on your body truly did not make that easy.

pairing : gp!ryujin x fem!reader

genre : friends with benefits, smut!

tags : like one page of texting, g!p wbk, quickie, forbidden ig??, she’s your older brother’s best friend we all know she is not supposed to be fucking you, bathroom sex, nipple play, making out ofc, fingering, clit play, ryujin is strong so manhandling kind of, daddy kink, lots of dirty talk, jock ryujin, mirror sex(?), almost caught, that funky stuff, switchy activities

warning : none!

word count : 2.5k

your older brother occasionally having ryujin over wasn’t at all a bad thing, quite the opposite, actually, considering you both were incredibly close to her growing up.

she was incredibly chill, always dressed well, was super close with your brother, was fairly muscular, attracted everyone just by being in close proximity to them and was also like, 5 years older than you. so naturally, you took a huge liking to her. you admired her a lot when you were younger, she seemed so perfect. you didn’t quite know if you wanted her or if you wanted to be her.

things took a turn, though, and that quickly clarified things for you.

13 year old y/n definitely wouldn’t believe that 20 year old y/n was having sex on the lay-low with ryujin basically every week if you told her. who would’ve thought!

it always happened randomly, too. one would get inexplicably horny, the other would have to help them out, and it was a repeated cycle every time she came over. an unwritten agreement, if you will. sometimes, you’d even sneak into her house late at night because she’d randomly call you on the phone, telling you all about how she was jacking off thinking about you. in summary, you guys would fuck frequently.

very frequently.

today wasn’t any different!

the three of you were sitting on the sofa, watching a god-awful horror movie that made you wanna poke your eyes out each time a character did something insanely stupid, which was quite often, by the way. you clearly weren’t interested in the film whatsoever, so it’s not like ryujin standing up to go to the bathroom went unnoticed. she threw you a sly glance before casually walking to the restroom.

you already knew what she was doing, she’s done it many times before, and she’ll definitely keep doing it. you decided to wait it out though, immediately giving her what she wants takes away all the fun.

upon reading the message, you rolled your eyes, wearing a smirk, then quickly peeked over your shoulder, trying to see if your brother was awake. 

oh he was knocked out.

you internally celebrated as you saw him laying there with his eyes closed, peacefully resting as he quietly snored. you waited it out for a couple of minutes, making ryujin lose her patience has always been amusing to you, so, it was a natural reaction. getting up slowly, trying your hardest not to make any sort of noise, you then make your way to the washroom. 

upon opening the door and entering, you were immediately greeted by a pair of hungry lips being pressed onto yours, which happened for quite a bit. you could tell how worked up she was getting over a simple kiss. she smirked against you, and you quickly felt one of her hands cupping your ass while hearing the other seemingly locking the bathroom door, just in case your brother did wake up. 

once she was assured that the door was locked, she quickly gravitated her mouth lower on your body, from your lips to your jaw, down to your neck and, later on, your chest. her own body rubbing itself on yours, you felt how desperate she was for you, how badly she wanted you.

you even felt it from the not-so-subtly boner gently poking at your upper thigh.

“fuck baby i’ve missed you so much–” she told you in between kisses, embracing your body as if she hadn’t fucked the ever living shit out of you like- not even 4 days ago. you pulled away, scoffing,

“mmh- you just cannot live without getting your dick sucked, can you?”

instead of replying, she simply took your hand and lightly placed it on her crotch, breathing out of relief from the slight contact before pulling you back in, her lips getting hungrier by the second for you. you could finally properly feel how hard she was, and it was… ego flattering, really. i mean, who would’ve thought that shin ryujin, a jock who played basically every girl who breathed in her direction, would be this needy? for you, might i add.

i mean, really, she had girls sobbing over her, begging her to take them back. she ruined their lives, basically. she had the tendency to love-bomb the fuck out of her talking stages, sometimes even lasting months on end. then once they got attached, she’d ghost them out of nowhere and move onto the next.

ryujin wasn’t a marriage kind of girl, hell, she wasn’t a dating kind of girl either.

it was incredibly fortunate that you weren’t, either.

you gently rubbed your hand on her boner through the fabric of her jeans, hearing the noises coming out of her was like fuel to you, by this point, you wanted to hear more.

and despite yourself, you were getting impatient.

you unzipped the bracket of her jeans and pulled them down in a swift motion, her clothed cock bouncing up, hitting your lower stomach. you kept palming it as you kissed her, taking in every sound she let out whilst you rubbed the tip of her dick through the fabric of her underwear. feeling her twitch against your hand, you finally got down on your knees, your eye level exactly where it needed to be.

“so desperate for me, hm? i barely even did anything, and you’re already squirming.” you teased, looking up at her wearing the same smirk she had when she was headed for the bathroom in the first place.

“come on y/n, don’t play around like this—”

“you’re gonna have to talk to me in a nicer tone if you want something to be done about your situation, ryujin. just to remind you, you brought me here, at least ask nicely.” you told her sternly, earning a small, pathetic whine from her.

“pleasee..” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“please what?”

she whined more, before muttering, “pleaseee suck me off..”

you grinned, the sounds of her begs amusing you greatly as you watched her shudder due to the hot breath she felt on her dick. not wanting to tease her any longer, you simply took all of it in your mouth in one go. ryujin had to cover her mouth immediately after, afraid of being too loud. however, you were making it impossible to stay quiet. 

she whimpered against her own hand, trying her hardest not to be moaning out your name like she usually would. she watched you bob your head up and down her girthy shaft as you glanced up at her occasionally with the most lustful eyes she’d ever seen. the fact that she had to be quiet, the feeling of having her cock deep inside of your warm and wet mouth, the way you pushed your hair back when it got in the way; all of it made her twitch uncontrollably.

while you blew her, she couldn’t help but ponder about what she wanted to do to you, you made it so complicated for her. she would usually just fuck girls normally then move on, but with you? she wanted to use you in the most dehumanizing ways possible, then once she was done, she’d wanna get used by you and be treated like a little bitch in heat. 

you just made her feel and think things she didn’t even know she could. no seriously, who would’ve thought that ms. shin ryujin would enjoy being dominated every once in a while? 

you did, apparently. hence why you’re in the situation you’re in right now.

and she truly didn’t want to admit it, but you were the best fuck she’s ever had. 

she’d been breathing heavier up until now, you knew she wanted to cum, she was getting closer to the edge and it showed.

you pulled your mouth away from her dick, panting heavily from the lack of air in your lungs as you tried to catch your breath. you still gave her throbbing cock attention by rubbing the tip with your thumb, you rightfully assumed that she probably would’ve died without it, “how badly do you want to fuck me right now?” you asked before spitting in your hand and using it to keep stroking her rock hard boner.

she looked down at you, running her hand through her soft short hair as she leaned against the bathroom counter, attempting to keep her loud whines contained, “sosososo bad–” was all she managed to get out before she had to cover her mouth.

cute, you thought.

watching her lose herself under your touch, whether it be minimal or not, you couldn’t help but giggle. she always went crazy for you, and you would be stupid not to notice her efforts at pleasing you.

she’d been so good for you up until now, and you felt like she could have her oh-so-deserved reward of finally being able to cum. 

you look up at her and quickly shove her dick back into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down in swift movements as she tried her hardest not to scream out your name, she could feel your tongue tracing down the length of her shaft.

“f-fuck y/n baby i’m cumming fuckfuck—“

it didn’t take long before you felt her cock throbbing, feeling it shoot out a huge load of its thick and warm juices fill up your throat as she grunted. you immediately swallowed every last drop.

what can you say? muscle memory always does its job.

still coming down from her high, she quickly pulled you back up to face her and hungrily put her lips in contact with yours, licking at them, asking for entrance. her hands roaming everywhere around your body and 

soon enough, the tables turned and it was now her turn to let her tongue work wonders on yours as you felt like every nerve of your body reacted to the sensation. before you knew it, she was already pinning you to the counter, your back to her as her hands reached around your waist eagerly to pull down your piece of clothing. she kissed on the back of your neck and left her marks, and you knew she was smirking about it, too,

‘cause you felt it against your skin.

“you’ve had your fun, you’re gonna let daddy use that pretty cunt of yours now, right? that’s what i originally called you in here for, after all.” she whispered into your ear as she slowly slid her hand into your panties, middle finger gently caressing your swollen clit. she could tell you were ready for her, and it turned her on even more.

her dick, once again, gave it away.

and it hasn’t even been that long since she came.

sliding your panties halfway down to your knees, she didn’t waste any more time and carefully settled the tip of her cock under your dripping pussy, rubbing it against your wet folds. you slightly whined at the feeling whilst she breathed hot air against your skin. you needed to feel her inside you, your walls were literally clenching around nothing, and you couldn’t wait any longer.

“just put it in ryujin—“ you quietly pleaded,

“what was that? sorry, i don’t think i heard you properly.” she mocked, stopping her grinding movements altogether, 

which earned a small whine from you, “fuck daddy pleasee just—“ you exhaled upon feeling her hand grope your breast, then quickly added, “i need you inside me, please..”

she chuckled, satisfied with your answer, “good girl.”

immediately, she pushed you back onto the counter and slid her dick inside of you as she breathlessly groaned. you, on the other hand, were already arching your back and holding back moans. she started by slowly thrusting into you, before getting impatient and simply just pounding into you with full force. 

her cock was hitting places you genuinely didn’t even know she could hit, all you did know was that it felt heavenly. every hit of the tip pressed against the end of your cervix made you feel like you were gonna pass out. 

basically, the dick was good, it was so good that you had to be physically silenced to prevent your brother from potentially waking up and hearing the both of you go at it in the bathroom.

ryujin was the one that had to cover your mouth. not only did she cover your mouth, but she also pulled on your hair when you were being too loud (which kinda made you even more loud, but that’s beside the point). in a normal situation, she’d thrive on hearing you scream out her name and be this noisy for her, but with your brother in the other room? she couldn’t exactly afford to hear that, unfortunately.

pulling your hair back and making you face yourself in the mirror, she asked, “look at you, so slutty for my dick, so pretty, too.. don’t you think?”

and she was not wrong, your hair was a mess from her constantly grabbing it, your makeup was running all over your cheeks from the tears you’ve been shedding at the pleasure, your hooded eyes all red and swollen, your marked up neck, it was all so… filthy? you looked so filthy.

god you looked so hot like this.

you could only nod in agreement as you kept moaning into her palm, feeling her dick slide in and out of your wet pussy repeatedly, you were so close to climax that you could pass out—

the sounds of knocking on the door made the both of you flinch.

“y/n, i gotta use the restroom, are you almost done? i just woke up and i think ryujin left..? she isn’t here anymore and she hasn’t been answering my texts so i don't even think she’s home yet.” is what was heard from the other side of the door. 

what now??

you obviously wanted to respond to your brother but it’s not like ryujin even gave you the chance to, she just kept mercilessly pounding into you as he rambled and rambled. that is, until she pulled her hand away from your mouth.

was she actually expecting you to respond like this?? you looked at her through the mirror and saw her smirking at you with lust-filled eyes.

well shit!

you’d scold her later, now you just desperately had to think of a way to not sound like you’re getting fucked senseless. closing your eyes and mustering up all of the willpower to answer without your voice shaking uncontrollably, “y-yeah i’m almost done just give me a second i’m coming—“ was what you said.

and then your orgasm hit you like a truck when ryujin grabbed your waist and came into you.

quickly covering your mouth to muffle any sort of sound that escaped it, your eyes rolling back as you heard your brother mutter a quick “alrightt” before seemingly walking away from the door, not suspecting a thing.

thank god.

she slid out of you, the rhythm of her breath matching yours as you both tried to catch it.

god how lovely, you were leaking, you had hickeys every-fucking-where and now you had to think of a way to make ryujin flee the house without making it seem like she was in the bathroom with you.

this was gonna be tough to go about, especially with a fucked-out mind such as yours at that moment.

[holly-the-trash-writer]

Guilt

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Y/n lies unconscious in a hospital bed while Spencer drowns in guilt. You had felt that Spencer was cheating on you with Maeve and were going to stay with someone else before you got shot. Finding this out causes Spencer to snap and lash out at one of his closest friends.

Part 2

Word Count: 2,866

A/N: This has been a WIP for years! It was apart of a series with my own OC but I decided to change it to a Reader fic. The amount of WIPs I have is ridiculous!!!!!

Spencer sat at Y/n's hospital bed in silence. Tears were continuously streaming down his face, his breaths were shaky and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your unmoving face. 

There was a tube coming out of your mouth to help your breathing. So many different wires were coming out of your body and attached to multiple beeping machines. 

He was holding your right hand in both of his, your skin wasn’t freezing cold but it was colder than he prefers it to be. 

You had only came out of surgery half an hour ago but they won’t know if it was successful until you wake up. Which could be between the next few seconds and never.  

Never was something Spencer was trying his hardest not to think about. 

There was so much he needed to tell you. So many things he had to say. 

The last time you were together you had fought. You told him that he’s been speaking to Maeve too much and that he's been ignoring you. Spending more time with this woman. 

Spencer had told you that you were being ridiculous and then you had to go on a case and Spencer never got the chance to talk anymore about it. 

You had been furious at him and now Spencer was angry at himself as well. 

He had called you ridiculous for coming to him about your feelings. This resulted in you refusing to be his partner in the field. Which led to you going with Morgan. Which ended in you getting shot. 

This is when Spencer’s brain began connecting things that didn’t match up. 

If he had listened to you he could’ve gotten you out of harm’s way. 

Not speaking to Maeve meant you wouldn’t have fought and you never would’ve been shot. 

He was supposed to protect you. 

It should be him lying there. Not his sweet girl. 

There was a knock on the door and Spencer barely reacted as Garcia and Emily came in. 

“Hey, how is she doin’?” Emily asked softly. 

Spencer turned his head a little towards them, “She... uh.” His voice cracked and he cleared it before trying again, “They said everything went well but we won’t know the damage until she wakes up.” 

Garcia's eyes watered as she stared at your body. “When will she wake up?” 

Spencer's eyes filled with tears, a sad smile forming as he squeezed your hand, “When she’s ready.” 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out to see that it was Maeve. 

Again.  

Along with the twenty missed calls from Maeve.  

He rubbed his eyes before pressing answer, “Spencer Reid.” 

“Oh my God. Spencer, I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Are you alright?” 

This statement didn’t sit well in his stomach.  

If you miss an appointment with your doctor, they don’t leave twenty missed calls on your phone.  

They wait for you to reschedule. 

He glanced at the other two women who were trying their best not to listen in. Although Garcia was looking particularly peeved about something.  

Then he glanced down at you and any words he was going to say to Maeve turned to ash in his mouth. He felt sick.  

Now he understood what you meant. 

“Now, isn’t a good time. I’ll call you next week.” He didn’t wait for a response before he ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket. 

Garcia shifted uncomfortably, “Was... was that her?” 

“Who?” Spencer’s brain wasn’t even functioning at 20%. He couldn’t think things through clearly. 

“Doctor Maeve.” Garcia mocked. 

Spencer frowned, “Yes. Why?” 

Emily gave Penelope a pointed look. 

A look that did not go unnoticed by Spencer, “What? What is it?” 

Emily put her hands up in a calming gesture, as if trying to approach a cornered animal. “Spencer. You must understand, we don’t mean to pry but Y/n spoke to Morgan and he didn’t know what to do so he told Garcia, who told me.” 

Spencer rubbed his eyes for the fourth time in ten minutes, he did not have the energy for this, “Told you what? What are you talking about?” Spencer was getting agitated now. Why can’t they just tell him? He hated not getting to the point. 

“Well, Y/n came to Morgan two weeks ago and was quite upset.” 

Spencer frowned as he looked at you again. Two weeks ago? You didn’t seem upset two weeks ago. 

“She had some concerns about this doctor that you’ve been speaking to.” Emily explained. 

Garcia huffed, “She told Derek that she had suspicions that you were cheating on her.” She spoke with daggers in her eyes. 

Spencer froze.  

What?!  

He stiffened in his seat as he stared at his unconscious fiancé in shock.  

You thought he was cheating on you?  

You might never wake up again and your last thoughts of him would be the fight and thoughts of his, supposed, adultery.  

How?! How could you think that he could even look at anyone that wasn’t you? 

“I. Would. Never.” He punctuated every damn word so they got his point, trying to blink away the fresh batch of tears that filled his eyes. 

“She planned to stay with Morgan and Savannah for a couple of days-" Garcia told him. 

Spencer tore his eyes away from the bed to gawk at Garcia, “She what?” 

Emily placed her hand on Garcia’s arm and spoke next, “Yesterday, Derek had... overheard one of your conversations with the doctor and he spoke to Y/n about it. So, she decided she would go and stay with him for a few days to sort out her head before coming to you about it.” 

Spencer was furious. Not only did you think he was cheating on you, half of the team now suspected him of it too and no one even had the decency to ask him. And what was this phone call that was so damning that Derek had to run and tell his fiancé? Why didn’t Derek just ask him instead of almost ruining his relationship without him even knowing about it! 

Spencer was shaking with rage. He stood abruptly from his chair and turned to the girls, pointing to Y/n’s bed he ordered out, “Stay with her.” before he stormed outside to head to the waiting room. 

He saw red. He couldn’t think of anything except for the anger he felt. 

Quickly turning the corner he saw the rest of the team sitting and talking as if nothing was wrong. 

J.J noticed him first and stood up, Hotch, Rossi and Morgan following suit. 

“Spence, any news?” she asked gently. 

Spencer didn’t even hear her; never slowed his pace either. As soon as Morgan was within arm’s reach he clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white and swung as hard as he could.  

His fist made connection with Morgan’s cheek and from the shock of Spencer’s actions it knocked Morgan off kilter. Morgan stumbled and placed his hand to his cheek. 

The punch clearly did more harm to Spencer than Morgan, but he didn’t care. The pain in his hand was welcomed. It cut through the hurt that was clutched around his heart. 

The others cried out in shock as they tried to digest what just happened. 

“What the hell, kid?!” Morgan yelled at him. 

“’What the hell’ is right!” Spencer growled back as he stepped up to the other man and pushed his shoulders, “Sneaking behind my back? Telling my fiancé that I had some secret affair because of some phone call you didn’t hear the entirety of!” 

Spencer was seething, the rest of the team gaping at him never having seen him so furious before, “You could’ve just asked! But no, the whole team had to get involved. And now I hear she was planning on living with you for a few days?!” Spencer clenched his possibly broken fist again. “She’s in a coma and may never wake up again and her last thoughts of me will be the thought that I was getting with someone else.” 

Spencer inhaled sharply as his rage at Morgan turned to rage at himself. 

“Spencer!” J.J shouted, “Stop!” 

His sharp inhales quickly turned to hyperventilation, his brain was in overdrive, a million thoughts and memories were spinning around his head and he just wanted it to stop. 

So he stopped it the only way he knew how.  

Instead of hitting Morgan, Spencer turned at the last second and hit the wall. 

He fell to his knees and cried as he hit the wall again and again and again and again. 

Blood smeared across the white wall as he broke the skin on the knuckles. The physical pain overrode his senses and he chased the feeling. 

That was until Hotch grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him away from the wall causing Spencer to lose his balance and fall back into Hotch's arms which quickly locked around him. 

“Stop! Get off of me! Hotch, let go!” Spencer squirmed as he tried to fight against his boss. His back was pressed tightly against Hotch’s chest, his legs bent in front of him and he kept slapping at Hotch’s arms to let go. 

Hotch just shushed him and held him tighter. Completely understanding his anger. He’s been there and the best thing for Spencer is to calm down enough so he can go back and sit with Y/n instead of giving in to his anger and doing something else that he will regret. 

Once Spencer figured out that he wasn’t going anywhere the fight drained out of him and he stopped slapping at the arms circled around him.  

While Spencer was hunched over Hotch gave the rest of the team a nod to clear the area and give the two some space. 

Hotch pulled one Spencer’s shoulders to shift his position so that Spencer curled into his chest. 

Once Hotch placed a comforting hand over Spencer’s head a sob broke past his lips and the entire dam broke. Spencer cried his heart out.  

He could barely breathe, inhaling only made him choke on his sobs and made him feel worse. 

“What if I never get to speak to her again?” he whispered between sobs. “Never get to tell her that she’s the only one for me.” 

“Spencer you need to breathe.” Hotch told him gently, “You need to calm down. Breathe with me.” 

Spencer felt Hotch’s chest rising and falling against him. He closed his eyes and tried to follow his boss’ actions. 

After a moment, Spencer was finally able to take a deep breath. The oxygen flooded his brain and the fog cleared. His entire body shivered before he came to his senses. 

Blinking hard he realised he was curled into Hotch’s chest, cocooned in his arms.  

He shouldn’t be here.  

He was sitting on the hospital floor instead of in with Y/n. He slowly sat up and Hotch let his arms fall from around him. 

“You alright?” 

Spencer wiped his left hand over his face, “Fine. Fine. Yeah. I need to uh, I need to go to Y/n.” 

He put his right hand behind him to support his weight, but an agonising pain shot through his hand and he fell onto his elbow with a grunt. 

“Here, let me see.” Hotch knelt over him and held out his hand. 

Spencer shook his head and used his other hand to support his weight as he got off the floor, dusting himself off as best he could, “I’m fine.” He held his right arm close to him as he stood up straight.  

He looked around and noticed that J.J, Rossi and Morgan are nowhere to be seen… which is probably for the best. 

The shame of what he’s done washed over him like a bucket of ice water. He just punched his best friend in front of his team then proceeded to have a break down in his boss’ arms. 

“Spencer.” Hotch called out. “You’re not fine, let me see your hand.” 

Spencer shook his head and walked out of the waiting room without saying anything. 

Stopping just outside Y/n’s room he looked in the window, you hadn’t moved a muscle.  

Emily was sat by your bedside holding your hand. 

The pain of the possibility of losing her was too much for him. His only relief was the slow rise and fall of your chest.  

His eyes were already puffy and sore, and he felt dehydrated. He sighed as he raised his left hand to wipe the tears away, cursing himself for his behaviour. 

“Spencer.” Hotch stood at his side, “You need to get your hand looked at, and I’m sure the nurse wouldn’t mind doing it by Y/n’s bedside.” He knew Spencer probably doesn’t want his hand looked at for at least three reasons; he doesn’t want to leave Y/n’s side for much longer, he feels embarrassed or shameful or he feels the need to punish himself. 

He agreed as long as he can stay beside Y/n, “Okay.” He opened the door and the bleeps of the machine’s filled his ears.  

That was your heartbeat.  

He lowered himself into the chair at your right side and raised his left hand to hold hers. His right hand was tucked into his chest. The throbbing was excruciating but he welcomed it. 

He pointedly avoided Emily’s worried expression before she smiled at him and left the room without word. 

A nurse came bustling into the room a few moments later with a tray of equipment, clearly fetched by Hotch. She stood next to him and Spencer raised his hand to let her do what she needed to do. Hissing as she cleaned the cuts on his knuckles. 

The nurse didn’t mind his silence and talked calmly to him as she worked, “You did quite the number on your hand.” She wiped away the blood and inspected his fingers, “You’ve definitely broken a few knuckles, I’m going to wrap your fingers in a splint and then bandage you up, okay?” 

Spencer nodded, “Okay.” He said quietly. 

She taped his middle and ring finger together and then bandaged his entire hand down to his wrist. “Now, keep this on for the next two weeks and then come back in so we can give you an x-ray and review the damage.” 

Spencer nodded, “Thank you.” 

The nurse left and Spencer was alone with Y/n once more. He stared at his right hand that was now resting on the bed.  

How could he do this? Throw a tantrum while the love of his life lies in bed fighting for her life. 

He leaned forward to rest his arms on the bed. 

“Hi.” His voice shook, and he cleared his throat. He hasn’t been this nervous to talk to you since you first met. “You always told me that I needed to talk more, but I- I have no words for what I’ve done. I’ve done something terrible. Actually, I’ve done a few terrible things.” The tears formed once more, and his head pounded from the pressure. “I may never get the chance to say this to you but I am so, so, sorry. I made you feel that you weren’t special to me anymore, that I don’t love you which is the furthest thing from the truth.” 

Spencer played with a strand of your hair that was laying on your shoulder. 

“How could I ever be with someone else? No one could ever, ever take your place in my heart.” 

He gently lifted your hand in both of his, his head felt heavy, so he bent over and placed his forehead on the back of her hand. “I love you more than anything in this world. When you wake up I’m going to spend every second of the rest of my life making it up to you. And I know you wouldn’t want to miss that. So, please wake up. Please.” 

He had been talking when it happened so he never heard it. 

You weren’t breathing in the same rhythm as before. 

When he finally noticed, he frowned as he looked you over. He slowly got to his feet as he scanned the machines. Right before his eyes some of the numbers began to climb as others started to fall. 

Spencer scrambled past the chair and ripped open the door to your room, “Doctor! I need a doctor here now!” He yelled out before running back to your side, “Y/n, sweetheart if you can hear me; don’t give up. Please.” 

Two doctors and a nurse sprinted into the room. 

“Sir, sir!” The nurse grabbed Spencer’s shoulder, “We need you to leave.” 

Spencer shook his head frantically, trying to keep up with everything that the doctors were saying to each other, “I can’t.” he whispered to himself. 

“Sir! Please!” The nurse pushed at Spencer’s shoulders until he was outside the room and the door was shut in his face. 

The rest of the team had heard the commotion and had run to the room as well. 

Rossi placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder as the entire team watched the doctors place paddles on your chest and shock you. 

Again. 

And again. 

And again. 

[javarium]

under the clouds, in my heart | g. satoru

it’s these kinds of days that make Satoru the happiest — that remind him of the wonderful things he has in his life now; thunderstorms where his wife and children are safe and protected inside of his home are all he could ask for

w — post canon! gojo, canon-divergence, pregnant! reader, former first-year student! reader, mentions of underage relationship, mentions of being in a former! student-teacher relationship, Papa Satoru & Mama Reader, Satoru and Reader have a (growing) big family, this ended up shorter than I anticipated

a/n: another fix it fic you guys 🤧 this one has been in my drafts longer than 236

[ apart of the TFFTS universe! ]

He loves seeing you cozied up in his sweaters, no matter the time of year (he secretly keeps it colder than normal in the summertime so you’ll put them on, but he’ll never tell you that). He loves how the hemline rests at your knees, a testament to the cute height difference between the two of you.

With your pregnancy belly, like now, sweaters only seem reach mid-thigh.

Ah, he’s not complaining.

He’s back from a mission overseas a day early, one he committed to speed-running like a demon so he could get back to his growing family. It wasn’t too necessary, considering he doesn’t have to do many more missions nowadays. The only reason he was summoned was because of his long, long influence, to which he most definitely used to get back faster.

But the universe hits his Pause button the second he warps back into his lovely home. For good reason. His heavenly blue eyes take in the scene in front of him, soul imprinting this memory into itself for eternity.

Seiji, his five-nearly-six year-old firstborn, was curled up on your lap, head using your thighs as a makeshift pillow. Traitor. Satoru can hear little snores escaping his lips at the awkward position his head is in. But if Satoru tilts his head, he can see his son’s protective decision from where his head and body lay.

Sanari, his sweet daughter, is curled up by your left arm. Her white curls of hair are splayed out on the pillow behind her as her head rests on your shoulders. Satoru chuckles. He can clearly see drool at the corner of her mouth pooling onto the sweater of his you’re wearing.

Lightning lights up the sky outside. And suddenly, the gushing sound of rain is all Satoru can hear — a downpour. Huh, the clouds had been just as white as his hair earlier. He supposes anything can happen though.

He can’t even see outside anymore now. The greenery has been completely overtaken by the opaque gray of the intense rain and thunderstorm.

Satoru’s head snaps back to you and his sleeping offspring. As much as he wants to join, he can’t bring himself to. He wants to do anything besides ruin the picturesque moment in time before him.

Just look at the family he’s made for himself.

Ah, but the squirming toddler in your arms may do just that anyway. So he doesn’t debate taking Junpei from your arms as he begins to scrunch up his adorable little nose.

Besides, Satoru’s sure you’re bound to wake up soon. His Six Eyes tells him that because the cursed energy from within your tummy is starting to become restless, the twins are finally waking up.

A big family hadn’t been on his mind. You both agreed on leaving your family with Junpei as your youngest. Especially with you falling pregnant so soon with him after having trouble with Sanari’s pregnancy and birth.

But things don’t always go to plan, do they? Satoru muses.

Taking the littlest that'll soon be a big brother wakes you from your nap. You inhale and exhale deeply as your eyes flutter open, blinking quite a few times before your vision clears.

“….’toru~” Your sleepy inhale sounds like a cute sniffle; he can’t help but grin. “You’re home?”

“Surprise, baby,” Satoru mumbles as he sits down and leans over the couch and over your pregnant belly to sweetly kiss your lips. “I’ll be home for awhile this time,” he adds softly. One arm holds his son, the other wraps around the back of your shoulders, hand resting on your upper arm to gently pull your body into him to deepen the kiss. You can’t help but giggle against his lips, and he smiles and giggles into it in return.

Lightning brightens the sky, this time for the longest you’ve ever seen. And following it, is the mightiest thunderclap you’ve ever heard. It makes even your husband jump, surprised by the deafening boom. Your lips separate from Satoru’s, who’s looking out the window with you, impressed by the power of Mother Nature.

It wakes Seiji and Sanari, who despite their maturity for their age, show their age by the fat tears pooling at their eyelids. Junpei, fully awake, begins to cry too, slightly louder than his older siblings. The toddler buries himself into his daddy’s shoulder for comfort and protection. And when the other two see their dad, who’s back home early, they jump to him and do the exact same, hugging him and burrowing into his chest and neck.

You’d take a picture had your babies not been so scared.

When your hand rubs Seiji’s back, the little boy turns to you, eyes watery with fear. He takes two little steps on the couch and softly stumbles into your outstretched arms. He rests his bottom on your thigh, head burrowed into the crook of your neck, little hands balled up into fists with the sweater you were wearing between his itty bitty fingers.

“Come on, Seiji. Off Mama’s belly,” Satoru says, a slight tinge of worry to his voice as he sees him lay a little too heavily on your rounded middle.

The little boy gasps lightly and moves. “Sorry, Mama. Sorry babies.”

You chuckle and kiss his tiny forehead. Satoru presses his lips to the side of his son’s temple, his free hand reaching for his sides to tickle him, saying things about how cute he was.

Sanari takes the moment to detach from her daddy’s side and dives back into your ribs, albeit much more carefully than her older brother. She sniffles, still scared from the clash of thunder, but much calmer now that both her parents were home and awake. She burrows her head under your arm, almost behind your back, leaving her nose room to breathe in the cool air and the sweater that smells like both you and her papa.

It’s so cute, Satoru thinks. She’s the complete opposite of him. She’s the more quiet and reserved one of her siblings. And he still suspects that she still will after her younger twin siblings will be born. Satoru has a feeling, knows in his gut that they’ll be the most extroverted of his children, bouncing off the walls just like he does every day.

Though not so much anymore, heh. He’s still a childish person at heart, but his age is slowly getting to him, slowly beginning to chip away at his ability to be the flamboyant jujutsu sorcerer he used to be. He can feel the ache of time and age begin to take root in the bones of his body that had been so tempered.

In its place, however, took fatherhood, took a new and different kind of responsibility that he was more than excited for — days filled with new challenges, watching his kids grow as he smothers them with love.

His former students were more than capable of handling the load he used to. There’s plenty more of them nowadays than there is of him. With most of them all Special Grade sorcerers, too, he muses. Including you. But you don’t partake in missions like that, mostly being in the reserves of jujutsu society and using your reverse cursed energy like Shoko has.

Especially since becoming a mom.

Satoru sees the rainy day lulling you back to sleep. Being five-and-a-half months pregnant with twins, while also caring for three more while her husband was away would make any woman tired.

His offspring, however, were wide awake.

“Go upstairs and go to sleep,” Satoru says quietly. He sees the waves of fatigue hit every time you blink several times in one go. Your happy expression is getting harder to hold as you grow tired all over again, and Satoru thinks he’s going to have to carry you upstairs, fearing you falling.

But you, ever-stubborn, refuse. “I’m okaaay,” you reply, yawning into the words.

The white-haired man chuckles and shakes his head. “Go to bed,” he says, this time in a more commanding tone. “I’ll wake you up in a couple hours with food ready.”

And when he makes that face, the cutesy one that also means he’s more than happy to carry you to bed, you don’t argue. He does, however, help you up off the couch and watches from the bottom of the stairs to make sure you lose balance and tip backwards. Satoru blows you a kiss, to which you chomp down at, mock-devouring his kisses. He gasps, fake offended, and it gets the giggle out of you he’s hoping for before you go into the bedroom.

Satoru’s heart swells with adoration and love. It overflows even more as he turns back to his two sons and his daughter. God, he almost wants to cry. What did he do to deserve such happiness in his life? After everything he’s done, that’s happened to him, when did the universe decide a beautiful wife and sweet, adorable children were in the cards for him?

He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s going to hold his family close to his heart and protect them until his last breath.

a/n: this got published at a completely random time lmao, where did this even come from? this’ll flop for sure but everyone who reads pls enjoy anyway

[bratzforchris]

can you do one where chris has a gf who gets psychogenic fevers? thank you!

Masking

Summary: Autistic masking takes a lot out of you and leads to you running a psychogenic fever, but luckily for you, Chris is always right by your side to help you<3

Pairing: Chris x neurodivergentfem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of masking, autistic meltdown

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Thank you for the request! I actually experience psychogenic fevers myself (related to masking and burnout), so this was a very self-indulgent request :) For those of you that don't know, psychogenic fevers are stress related and psychosomatic. You can read this article for more info<3 Hate/ableism/etc will be blocked and deleted ♡ Enjoy!!

There were very few parts, if any, of your relationship with Chris that you didn’t like. Everything was absolutely perfect. Your boyfriend spoiled you rotten, taking great care to make sure you were okay physically, mentally, and emotionally, and always made sure to both accommodate and help you accommodate your disability. Chris never made you feel wrong, bad, or different for the way your brain worked. Quite the opposite, actually. However, there were things that even he couldn’t control for you. 

Like today, for example. The morning had started off rather rocky, with Matt unintentionally finishing off the milk before you’d had your bowl of cereal. Frosted Flakes was one of your safe foods, and not being able to have them, along with getting out of your routine, had left you teary-eyed and anxious. The middle triplet had apologized profusely, and although you forgave him immediately, it still put you out of whack. Then, instead of your usual afternoon snuggle and stim time with Chris, you’d both been running around the house getting ready for the movie premiere the trio had been invited to this evening. 

All of those events had led you to now, standing off in the corner of the ballroom that had been used for the afterparty, nursing a sweating glass of Sprite. You adored being Chris’ girlfriend, but sometimes all the things you had to attend as a plus one became exhausting, especially when you had to mask around all the people you didn’t know. You’d been suppressing your stimming all evening, as well as small talking with a variety of people without Chris by your side, and it was beginning to wear on you. You shivered, setting your drink down on a nearby tray and rubbing your arms, both as a stim and to warm yourself up. You supposed it was the thin, silky slip dress you had on, but for some reason you felt awfully cold. 

In the wake of trying to warm yourself up, you hadn’t even noticed Chris appear by your side. “Hey ma,” he smiled, sipping his own drink. “I’ve barely seen you all night.”

You hummed softly, still trying to warm yourself up. “Is your jacket in the car?” You asked softly, wincing at the ache in your joints. 

Chris studied you for a moment, assessing your quiet voice and shaking frame. “Are you okay? You’re not looking too good…” After being with you for nearly two years, your boyfriend could practically read you like a book, always being in tune with your moods and feelings. He also knew that you experienced psychogenic fevers, and that the lack of routine, as well as masking around a large group, probably wasn’t doing you any favors. 

“I’m cold,” You mumbled. “I feel like I’m getting the flu or something but I don’t have a stuffy nose or anything.” 

Had you been able to think more clearly, you would’ve realized that you were currently going through what was unfortunately a pretty common experience for you. You had started experiencing psychogenic fevers in high school, once the stress, combined with being neurodivergent, kicked in. They were usually low grade fevers and body aches that would come on during the night due to stress and anxiety and then be gone by the next morning, but they made you feel awful nonetheless.

Chris ran his thumb across your cheek softly, noting how you leaned into his touch like he was the last source of warmth on earth. “D’ya wanna go home, ma?” he asked gently. “You’ve got a fever, babe.”

You looked up at your boyfriend as tears collected on your lash line. “Oh…I guess I should’ve realized…” You mumbled, the thought of why you were feeling terrible finally kicking in. “We don’t have to go, though. I’ll be alright. Enjoy the party.” You tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“Sweetheart, there’s no way I’m gonna let you just sit here all stressed and burning up. This party’s shit, anyway. Stay here, ‘kay? I’m gonna go get Matt and Nick.”

You felt your heart swell as you watched Chris walk away. Despite his assurance, you knew how much your boyfriend loved parties, and the fact that he was willingly leaving one for you made you want to cry. You curled into yourself as much as possible on the small couch next to you while you waited for the triplets. All you wanted at this point was a hot bath and for Chris to hold you. 

⊹ ࣪ ˖

The next thing you knew, Chris was gently shaking your shoulder, brushing your bangs off your forehead. “Ma, come on, honey. We’re going home.”

You sleepily blinked open your eyes, realizing you had fallen asleep in the time it had taken for Chris to find Matt and Nick. “Oh…I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep.”

Chris smiled softly, while Nick looked on worriedly. “Matt’s getting the car.” he explained at your confusion to only seeing two-thirds of the triplets. 

Your boyfriend helped you up gently, leading you by the arm towards the exit while Nick shielded you from onlookers’ eyes protectively. Had Chris had his choice, he would’ve carried you, but he didn’t want to completely embarrass you, nor did he want photos of you not feeling well circling around social media. You shivered when the three of you stepped out into the cool night air, whimpering softly. 

Chris helped you into the car, where Matt was idling at the curb. You immediately grabbed his hoodie from the front seat, pulling it over your shaking frame. “I’m cold.” You whispered. 

Your boyfriend caressed you in a tight hug as well as he could with his own seatbelt, holding you close so that you could feel his body heat as Matt sped home. By the time the car had pulled up outside of your shared LA home, you were practically asleep, your aches and pains making you miserable. Chris gently shuffled you inside, leading you upstairs to the bedroom.

“Do you want a hot shower, ma?” he asked you softly, helping you remove your earrings and necklaces. 

You shook your head, feeling too fatigued to do much else other than cuddle under the covers. Chris seemed to understand, continuing to help you undress with a soft smile on his face. In his eyes, you always looked like a goddess, no matter how sick or tired you felt. You sighed softly once you were dressed in a much more comfortable outfit that consisted of one of your boyfriend’s soft, big shirts and some cozy pajama pants. 

The brunette kissed your forehead with a soft ‘be right back’ as you snuggled up under your soft duvet. You laid across Chris’ pillow while you waited, breathing in his soft, boyish scent. Before you knew it, your boyfriend returned with a handful of medical supplies in one arm and a warm, wet rag in the other. Chris used the washcloth to gently remove your makeup, pressing kisses to your fevered skin as he did so. 

“Do you know what brought this on?” Chris whispered gently, sitting beside you. 

He had a pretty good idea of what had brought on this stress-induced fever, but he wanted to give you a chance to voice your feelings first. You rolled over, sniffling softly and pressing your face into his thigh as you tried to voice your concerns. Despite being home and in bed, you still felt the stress of being out of your routine and masking wearing on you. 

“Not right now? I’m too tired…” You mumbled, a sniffle escaping you. 

“Okay, ma. That’s okay. Let’s take your temperature, okay?” Chris gently grabbed the thermometer off the nightstand, gently sticking it under your tongue while he caressed your cheek. “100.3 (37.9 C). Not too bad, but enough to make you pretty miserable, huh?”

You just nodded sadly as Chris passed you some Tylenol and a water bottle. You downed the medicine quickly, shuddering at the bitter taste in your mouth. Your boyfriend easily helped you lay back down, pulling you into his chest as he spooned you. Instead of focusing on the pain you felt, you snuggled into Chris, realizing that this was the routine you had been craving all day. 

You and Chris would always spoon at night before you went to bed, talking about everything and nothing while huddled up under the weighted blanket that had been placed on the bed at your request. Tonight, Chris didn’t pressure you to speak. Instead, he mumbled little things about how strong and beautiful you were, how he hoped you felt better soon, and how much he adored you while he traced little shapes onto the soft skin of your arm. 

Despite your pain, you felt yourself becoming less tense. You knew your fever probably wouldn’t go away until tomorrow morning, and that you would need lots of routine and special interest time to get yourself back to fully normal, but for now, you enjoyed the brunette's soft hold, relishing the way it made your body feel perfectly aligned after a day of overwhelm. 

It was much easier for you to fall asleep than you had anticipated, the combination of Chris’ snuggles and the medicine working its magic lulling you to sleep. By the time you woke up the next morning, your temperature was back to normal and you made sure to shower your lovely boyfriend with affection for what a great nurse he had been. 

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy

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[dreamescapeswriting]

𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘆 𝗞𝗶𝗱𝘀 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ⪼ 𝗛𝗲 𝗖𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗖𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘆

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2022

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

A flight home with his partner in order for you to meet his family was supposed to be relaxing but so far the plane journey had everything but. Ten hours on a flight and you had spent the last two getting on his last nerve about trying to get some sleep. It wasn't as though there was a massive time difference but you'd hoped if he got some sleep now while you were on the flight it would make him feel good about everything. That and you knew your boyfriend's sleeping patterns weren't exactly something he was known for. 

"All I'm saying is, this is a ten-hour flight, at least get some sleep and you can work later." You told him when you noticed Chan's hands working away on the laptop in front of him, instead of getting some sleep. There were plenty of hours for him to do this but he insisted on working. This was supposed to be something that was relaxing for him but all of your naggings were starting to get on his last nerve and he ripped his headphones from his ears

"I'm just saying if you sleep now you can work later-"

"I don't need a fucking babysitter." He snapped, suddenly the people in front of you turned around to look in your direction and your entire body heated up. The thought of Chan snapping at you like this made your entire body feel numb, he'd never snapped at you so much before much less in front of people. 

"I never should have asked you to come, god, you're being so fucking clingy and annoying." The words hit you like a freight train and you stared at him in silence for a couple of seconds not knowing what to say or even do in response to that so you just nodded. Slowly putting up the privacy screen when Chan put on his earphones and went back to work on his laptop. It was going to be a long 8 hours of not speaking to one another and you hated the fact that you could hear murmurs from other people around you. Biting down on your lip you rolled over on your seat, leaning it back as you tried to at least get some sleep before you landed.

[X]

After the plane landed and you'd collected everything from baggage claim you'd silently made your way to the taxi bay and to the hotel. Since his parents were more than likely asleep right now you were both just going to wait in the hotel room until later on in the morning. It was barely 4 am and Chan didn't exactly want to wake his family up so early.

"Hey we got a balcony, that's pretty cool," Chan said as he broke the almost deafening silence that was between you but you just headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you as you did your best not to cry. You'd cried so much on the plane that one of the stewards had asked if you needed to go and sit somewhere else but you stayed where you were at the time. All you wanted to do was get away from Chan for a few hours, just to let yourself calm down since he clearly wasn't going to apologise for what he had said earlier.

"Babe?" Chan called out when you emerged once again, changed into different clothes and headed for the exit of the room, you were going to go for a walk and clear your mind. 

"Hey...Babe!" He called out before he grasped your wrist in his hand and stopped you from leaving. You stared down at his hand holding onto you but you didn't dare move,

"Where are you going?" His thumb smoothed across your skin and as much as you loved that you couldn't stand that he was doing it right now. Did he not remember what he'd said on the plane?

"Out." You grumbled trying to pull your hand free but he wasn't going to let you go that easy. It wasn't as though you knew your way around and not much was going to be open so he was confused.

"Out where?" He frowned at you, 

"I don't know. Just out." Your tone was sharp and he knew that there was something wrong with you so he wasn't going to let you just walk away from him when you were in this mood. 

"Wait and I'll come with you." He said as he pointed to his laptop, all he needed to do was save the project he was working on,

"No. Don't. I know how important your work is to you, I'm going to go for a walk and be clingy and annoying somewhere else." You snapped before you got your wrist out of his hand and headed out of the door and into the hallway but not before Chan chased after you.

"Look. I'm sorry," He told you as you stopped just outside the elevator together, you stared at him as you waited for him to continue with what he was saying.

"I didn't mean it," That was the oldest excuse in the book.

"If you didn't mean it you wouldn't have said it in the first place," You grumbled, hitting the button repeatedly in hopes it would somehow speed the elevator up.

"Come back to the room, let me show you how sorry I am?" You stared at him and looked at the doors that opened, you debated jumping inside but you were also exhausted from the plane.

"Chan-"

"Please. I don't want us to start our trip this way. I-I was just stressed and I know it's a terrible excuse but I was and I'm going to spend every second making it up to you." You stared back at him as the doors to the elevator slowly shut,

"Start by getting us breakfast. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse." You whined a little as you both headed back to your room to order something from room service.

MINHO:

With comeback season right around the corner, the boys were getting busier and busier with each passing day which meant they were starting to neglect their self-care more. You figured that you could make yourself useful by being the one to bring them lunch every day, you knew when they would take their lunch break and you knew what each of them liked to eat. All of them were pretty happy with your effort to bring them a home-cooked meal, even if they had a canteen it was a sweet gesture from you.

"Thank you," Jeongin chuckled as you handed him the small box with his favourite meal stuffed inside, freshly cooked and all ready for him to eat with a giant grin on his face. Chan and Felix were switching food with one another once they got halfway done and the others were complimenting you on the food.

"Anytime, I thought you guys would want something to eat after Minho works you so hard," You softly teased but Minho didn't look impressed, he was just staring at you while all of the boys sat on the floor and ate their meal. They were behind on their training and he wasn't impressed that you had just dropped by completely unannounced and distracted them from the work that they were supposed to be doing.

"Can I speak to you outside?" He questioned, not giving you a chance to answer as he headed out of the door and waited for you to follow after him. You walked out and quietly shut the door behind you, bowing a little to the staff members that were walking by,

"Did you not like what I made? I thought it was your favourite," You pouted a little but Minho folded his arms over his chest and stared at you, his expression unreadable. 

"Can you please just go away? I don't know what it is but just lately you're being clingy." The word was like a knife to your gut and you stared at him. Clingy? He knew that your love language was acts of service and that you loved being able to look after other people that you cared for.

"I was just bringing you guys food, I figured you would want something to eat." You tried to justify it but in Minho's eyes, you were wrong for it, especially when there was plenty of food in the canteen that they could have been eating instead of wasting their time.

"With have a canteen with plenty of food, you're just looking for an excuse to come and see me just to give us all food and it's irritating." He murmured without seeing how much it was hurting you to hear these words falling from his lips. The man you loved had just called you clingy and that your love language was irritating him.

"We don't need someone to look after us, just go home." He mumbled before shutting the door to the dance studio, so that was exactly what you did. You went home. 

[X]

"Yn! I know you're in there!" Minho called out as he banged on your apartment door again. All week long you had been giving him the cold shoulder and ignoring him and he finally had enough of it. Not only were you ignoring him but the boys had been complaining about missing your food breaks and if he was being honest with himself, Minho missed them too. He didn't know what he had until it was gone. 

"What are you doing here?" Your voice came from behind him and he spans around to see you struggling to carry grocery bags in your hand.

"I came to see you, why have you been ignoring me?" He questioned, struggling to keep the bags up but he was doing his best not to show you his struggles.

"Maybe because you called me clingy and irritating?" You grumbled, ignoring him as he took the bags from your hands, you unlocked the door and were about to take the bags back from him when he made his way into your apartment. 

"Come on in." You grumbled sarcastically, kicking the door shut before taking the bags from him and going to put everything you had bought away.

"The boys miss you and your food." You should have known better than to think Minho was going to apologise for something.

"They have food in the canteen." You grumbled coldly, putting all of the fresh vegetables into the sink to wash up, you began to run the tap when you felt Minho stand behind you. 

"I miss you," He whispered as your entire body tensed up, his arms slowly snaked around your waist as he pulled you back into him.

"M-Minho...You called-"

"I know and I didn't mean it. We've been behind and I just snapped at the first thing I could, it was wrong and I am so sorry...Just, please...Please don't ignore me," You heard him sniffle, followed by a tear hitting your shoulder causing you to spin around and face him, it wasn't often that he cried and you knew that if he was allowing himself to be this vulnerable in front of him, he was clearly upset with something he'd done.

"It's okay," You whispered, slowly running your thumbs under his eyes as you tried to get the tears away,

"J-Just wash up the veg okay...You can stay here tonight and we can cuddle all night," You suggested as he sniffled again, simply nodding his head before he kissed you.

CHANGBIN:

Ever since Changbin hadn't gotten hurt on stage you had been looking after him, trying to make sure that he had everything he could possibly need and helping him around the dorms. You'd practically moved in while his leg was broken since you wanted him to have everything he needed from you.

"Can you just leave it?" Changbin asked when he noticed you cleaning up around the dorms. It wasn't as though the boys were messy a lot but since it was close to comeback season they'd been getting a little slack on everything.

"Once it's done, it's done and I can help you in the bath," You said with a bright smile on your face, walking over to him and kissing the top of his head. 

"I get this thing off in a week and it'll be the happiest damn day of my life," He grumbled harshly as you rolled your eyes at him. He'd been getting irritable lately with not being able to do things for himself even though you'd reassured him plenty of times that it was fine for him to just sit back for a little while.

"I thought you enjoyed spending some quality time with me," You teased, bending down to pick up some of the clothes that were on the floor while stuffing them into the basket. 

"When you're not being so god-damn clingy. I don't need help with everything," He mumbled, thinking that you wouldn't be able to hear him but you did and you almost dropped the basket that you were carrying around. You didn't want him to know you'd heard him so you played it off, heading over to the counter and stuffing everything into the machine. You knew how much stress he was under because of his leg and you didn't want to make it into a bigger deal than it was. You knew he was just lashing out but still, it didn't need to be at you.

"What are you doing?" Changbin called out when he heard you grabbing your keys and heading to the door.

"Forgot something," You mumbled dryly, opening and slamming the door behind you before Changbin even had a chance to protest about you leaving him behind and he just stared at the door in silence. 

[X]

The door to the dorms pushed open and you stared down at Changbin who was struggling to lift himself up onto the sofa, letting out small grunts as he tried not to slip on his cast. 

"Hyung...Why are you on the floor?" Hyunjin laughed as you two walked into the dorms together. It had been six hours since you'd left Changbin alone and you finally came back with Hyunjin after you'd cooled down a little. Deciding to go back to the dorms to see if your boyfriend had chilled out a little yet.

"Because YN left me here alone." He mumbled while staring over at you, his bottom lip poking out a little as you sighed. You carefully made your way over to him with Hyunjin and stood on either side of his body.

"You called me clingy. I figured you didn't need any more help from me." Changbin's cheeks flamed when he heard what you said, he hadn't meant for you to hear him but it didn't make what he said any better. 

"You heard?" He asked, sounding completely sympathetic as you nodded your head,

"Oh yeah," You giggled bending over and helping him back into the wheelchair he'd been given while his leg was broken, he grunted softly as you got him seated again.

"I'm sorry," He said quickly as he took your hand into his and gave it a small squeeze. It wasn't something you were just to get over quickly but it wasn't something you were going to get completely hung up over when you knew he was upset with himself. 

"I know...I know you're stressed with your whole leg but don't take it out on more or next time I'll leave you on the floor," You joked before he lent forward and pushed his lips against yours.

HYUNJIN:

For weeks now, Hyunjin had been hurled up inside of his home studio trying to work on something but it seemed as though he was having a major creativity block himself and couldn’t bring himself to work on anything. 

“Hey, I bought you-” You froze as you walked into the room, knocking over the pot of oil paint that was right by the door and spilling it all over the blank canvas that Hyunjin was sitting in front of.

“S-Shit…Hyunjin,” You whispered trying to say sorry but was staring at you, his face turning red as he slowly got up and began cleaning everything up, 

“You’re so fucking annoying! I told you to leave me alone because I’m trying to work on something but you just have to be so clingy!” Hyunjin snapped at you angrily as you stared down at the spilt paint, at least it hadn’t gone onto anything he’d been working on for hours, at least it was on a blank canvas.

“I didn’t know the paint was right behind the door,” You defended yourself, you weren’t going to let him blame you for this when he was the one leaving paint out all over the place.

“You should have just left me alone as I told you to do!” He yelled, refusing to look at you so you walked out of the door, slamming it hard behind you as you headed home where you would be more appreciated.

[x]

You gave Hyunjin exactly what he wanted, you left him alone for two weeks. Two whole weeks and he’d been constantly texting you and calling you trying to get you to talk to him but you weren’t having any of it. Not once had he said sorry for calling you clingy and you weren’t going to get over something that quickly without an apology from him.

“So your phone still works then?” He questioned when he noticed you inside of a cafe, he’d tried ringing you only to watch you send it straight to voicemail. 

“I decided to give you what you wanted, now am I not clingy?” You asked bitterly before he took a seat in front of you and let out a sigh, he never meant for it to come out the way that he did. With everything going on, he just snapped at the closest thing to him and it happened to be you at the time.

“I was just annoyed,”

“Everyone gets annoyed Hyunjin but they don’t go around calling their partners clingy.” You told him while sipping on your drink. This might be something he was going to forget and move on from but not you. It killed you inside to know that your boyfriend thought of you that way and you weren’t going to forgive him so easily for it either.

“I’m sorry…I really am, I don’t know how I’m going to prove it to you, but I’m going to spend every day trying until you forgive me.” He placed his hand on top of yours and you smiled weakly, you liked the fact that he was willing to try and make this better was warming to you. 

“Did you manage to get anything done?” You asked while moving your chair closer to his and leaning your head on his shoulder,

“We did,”

“We?” You asked while laughing, he nodded pulling out his phone and showing the canvas you had spilt the oil paint onto that was now transformed into yet another masterpiece by your wonderful boyfriend.

JISUNG:

Ever since he had called you clingy last night you’d been giving him the silent treatment and all of the boys knew it. 

“Are you going to answer me?” Jisung asked as he pouted out his bottom lip and followed you into the kitchen. Maybe he’d completely forgotten what he’d said to you but you weren’t ever going to forget it. He’d been sitting with Chan when you’d asked nicely if they wanted anything to eat or drink, only to have your boyfriend turn around and call you annoyingly clingy when he didn’t think you were listening. 

“I think she’s giving you the silent treatment,” Felix told him since it was obvious Jisung wasn’t completely understanding why you were suddenly not talking to him anymore and going about your business as though he wasn’t there.

“Why?” Jisung asked sounding totally perplexed as to why you were ignoring him and you let out a loud laugh and a scoff at him,

“Calling me clingy last night?”

“Oh, you heard that?” You rolled your eyes at him as if that was the first thing he would say about it instead of saying sorry for something that had caused you to hurt so much. You’d stayed up for most of the night debating on walking home because you were worried that you truly made him hate you for something you did. You didn’t mean to come across as clingy, it was just your way of showing affection to him. 

“I was trying to do something nice for you and you called me annoying and clingy in one sentence and all you have to say is “oh”?” You questioned not caring how harsh you seemed to be grilling him over it, 

“I didn’t mean it, I-” He let out a small sigh as he made his way over to him,

“I was busy and stressed…Y-You and I both know how much I love when you’re like that with me…I-I love it when you care for me like that,” He admitted shyly, blushing when he heard the boys beginning to tease him and call him a simp for you but he didn’t care. It was the truth, he adored it when you would pamper him and constantly bring him drinks and food to show him how much you loved him. 

“Well, now it’s your turn…I-I don’t quite forgive you just yet,” You whined before he nodded and kissed you all over your face, promising you that he was going to make it all up to you.

FELIX:

Since moving to Seoul you didn't really have many of your own friends and it was hard to meet people when you couldn't tell them about your personal life. You'd tried to meet up with different groups but you'd never really seemed to click with anyone except the boys and you figured that they liked you too. 

"Yn? What are you doing here?" Felix asked when he walked into the dorms to see you playing on the switch with Jeongin and Seungmin, all three of you yelling at one another as you crashed on Mario Kart. 

"Playing Mario Kart, I got all of the new maps and wanted someone to play with," You told him before falling off the edge of the map and grumbling something under your breath about Seungmin using a red shell on you. 

"I thought we agreed that you'd take some time away to go and make some friends," Felix said slowly, trying to be as nice about this as humanly possible. The last thing he ever would want to do was hurt you, he was just tired of you constantly hanging around him and the boys all of the time when they were his friends and not yours.

"I tried that group this morning but it's kind of hard when I can't tell people about my life...or at least all of it," You told him when the match ended, you finally looked at him and you could already sense that he wasn't exactly thrilled with you being in his space.

"Are you even trying hard enough? Why do you have to constantly adhere to me and the boys all of the time? Do you have any idea how clingy it makes you?" The room fell into silence and Jeongin stared back at his hyung completely stunned that Felix would say something like that to you. 

"Hyung...That was a little mean, they're not clingy." Jeongin defended quickly, 

"We like having Yn around!" Seungmin added while you shook your head and slowly got up, 

"He's right...I-I should leave you guys alone, you're busy and me hanging around is only going to distract you," Your voice was barely coming out above a whisper, you were so worried if you spoke any louder, that you were going to start crying.

"Babe..." Felix trailed off as he walked with you toward the front door of the dorm, 

"I didn't mean clingy like that," He told you while the other members looked anywhere except at the two of you, trying to pretend as though they didn’t hear what the two of you were speaking to one another about.

"There's no other way to mean it Lixie," You whispered but he took your hand in his,

“I just want you to have your own friends…For when I’m not here and on tour, you’ll need someone to hang out with,” You knew he was right but it still hurt you deep inside that he had called you clingy.

“I just need some space, okay? I’ll call you later,” You pressed your lips to his cheek to let him know that things between you were okay, you just wanted to have a little time to yourself to think over what he had said to you.

[X]

“Because of you, Yn is no longer our best friend!” Jeongin called out as you cuddled into Felix’s chest later on in the week. It turned out that after you’d left the dorms you’d run into someone in the coffee shop next door and struck up a conversation with one another when you’d noticed her looking a little lost. It also just so happened that she was Changbin’s girlfriend and she’d been wanting to move her stuff into the dorms since his leg was broken and she was going to be caring for him for a while. 

“I’m still your best friend, I just happen to be theirs too,” You laughed softly while shaking your head at the youngest member, Felix chuckled deeply and kissed the top of your head.

SEUNGMIN:

It wasn’t that Seungmin was annoyed with you around him all of the time but lately it was just starting to all get a little too much for him. Everywhere he turned you were there and it seemed as though he couldn’t get away from you. If the two of you weren’t at home together then you were at the studio hanging out with Felix and Chan since you were quite close with the two of them. Even tonight, you weren’t scheduled to hang out with Seungmin and he was quite looking forward to going back to the dorms and having a chill night, only when he walked inside the dorms he found you in the kitchen with Felix. The two of you singing loudly and baking cookies together and Seungmin sighed, he just wanted one night where he could have a little peace. One night where he could be in his own quiet space.

“What are you doing here?” It came out a little harsher than he had intended but he didn’t say anything else after that, you glanced over at him. 

“Lix invited me, we’re going to make cookies and then sit and watch the new “black phone” movie together, you wanna join?” You quizzed, not hearing the anoyance in Seungmin’s previous question. 

“No. I want you to go home. Can’t you see you’re annoying us all?” Seungmin asked as you suddenly stopped stirring the batter you were mixing, Felix froze in place as he stared at the side of your head waiting for you to say something. 

“They’re not annoying me,” Felix stated as he tried to make you feel a little less upset about all of this but you were stuck on what Seungmin had said. 

“Yes, they are. They’re being so clingy lately and it’s not just to me now, it’s to you too.” You looked down at your hands as you walked toward the sink, deciding to wash off everything you could and head home for the night since you weren’t wanted here. 

“Seungmin! Take it back, you know that if they weren’t here you’d be upset,” Felix told the younger member but you were already walking toward the exit, not wanting to stay there anymore. 

[X]

You hadn’t expected Seungmin to say sorry for everything he had said that night but he did. Every day for the last week flowers had been arriving at your door, as well as your favourite meals and snacks all made by him and delivered by Felix or Chan on their way to work except for right now. Instead, seungmin stood at your door holding up a bouquet of chocolate roses while he smiled at you. 

“Did you really think flowers and food were going to make me forgive you for what you said?” You questioned as you let him into your apartment, every surface was covered in flowers and food containers that would no longer fit inside of your fridge.

“No, but I was told to give you space and time before I came to see you.” He told you before he put the flowers down on your coffee table and looked back at you. 

“N-Now, I’ve come to say sorry.” He walked toward you, wrapping his arm around your waist as you relaxed against his touch. As much as he had hurt you last week, you’d missed him and you could kind of see why he was so annoyed with you being around all of the time.

“I promise to give you more space, I know that you like to be alone.” You told him as you snuggled your head into his chest, just enjoying the feeling of being close to him after all this time.

JEONGIN:

“Jeongin and you going to meet his parents, that’s a big step,” Chan said as you sat down beside him on the sofa, 

“What are you talking about? I’m not going with him.” You laughed weakly, Jeongin had told you that he had a family emergency next weekend and that he was going to be gone the whole time and probably not answer his phone. 

“He’s got a family issue, so I’m going to be at my place that weekend.” You told Chan who clearly was confused thanks to the frown that was on his forehead, he shook his head. That wasn’t what Jeongin had told them, he’d told the boys that his mum was dying to meet you.

“Maybe you should ask him, 'cause that's not what he told us,” You slowly got up from the sofa and made your way over to Jeongin’s room, about to knock on the door when you heard him talking on the phone. It was rude to eavesdrop and you knew better than to do so but you’d already heard your name being mentioned,

“Mum, I already told you, I’m not bringing Yn. Because they’re always clingy and it’ll be nice to get away for one weekend.” Your heart was completely shattered as you heard what he was saying to his mother about you. 

“I’m not being mean, I’m telling the truth. Sometimes you need a break from dad,” He told her before freezing when he heard the floorboard outside of his bedroom door creek but when he got up to investigate you were already gone and out of the dorms.

[X]

The weekend away from Jeongin had gone as quickly as it had come and he was doing everything he could to get in contact with you, even the boys had tried to get you to call him back but you were too hurt. If he’d been honest with you about it maybe it wouldn’t have hurt as much but to say it to his mother too? You felt as though you were a big letdown in the relationship department and not only that, but now his mother knew he found you clingy. You knew for a fact that she wasn’t going to like you anymore.

“Yn?” You glanced up when you heard your name being called by an unfamiliar voice and you froze when you saw Jeongin’s mother standing in front of you in the store. It was the first time you’d left your apartment this week because you were in desperate need of supplies and you just so happened to run into her.

“Mrs Yang, it’s lovely to meet you.” You said while bowing to her, she smiled and brought you into a tight hug. 

“I hope what Jeongin said the other day didn’t hurt you too badly, I scolded him for it the whole weekend he was with us, the boy can be so rude sometimes. You know, he gets it from his father.” You let out a weak laugh as she began to walk with you beside your trolley, making her way over to Jeongin who was looking around for his mother,

“Look who I ran into, now...I’m going to make myself busy while you say sorry.” She told him before disappearing down another aisle, you stared at Jeongin who was already flushing a red colour. 

“Yn.”

“I know,” You said before he could even tell you that he was sorry, you knew by the look on his face that he was. 

“I never meant for it to hurt you. I was just- i needed some space and I didn’t know how to ask for it,” You smiled weakly and nudged his arm softly, 

“Next time just be honest…I’d rather find out from you, than overhear it while you tell your mother,” You told him before he nodded and quickly kissed the top of your head. The two of you finished your shopping together while his mother walked around proud that you had made up.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @hanasonmi @sw33tnight @taestannie @illicee @army24--7 @acciocriativity @scarletemeterio @kimahnjung98 @halesandy @aerastus​ @lost-leopard-beanie​ @ethereallino​ @afternoonteabiscuit​ @dhyanavati​ @itmehc​ @rubberduckieyourtheone​ @heeseunger24​ @laylasbunbunny​ @lovelychann​

[somber-sapphic]

Snow Daze

〖Summary: Shoveling snow while sick is a nightmare combination.〗

〖Word Count: 2.1k〗

〖Pairing: Wanda x Sick Reader〗

〖Notes: Sorry it took so long to get this done, I got sick and couldn't write for the life of me. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this and feel free to send me an ask if you'd like to read anything!〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Waking up to fresh snowfall brought different reactions for everyone. Some felt joy upon seeing their ordinary world coated in white, they loved the whimsy that came with the weather. To others it was more frustrating. It was a chore that had to be dealt with as early as possible to make room for the day. You fell into the latter category.

When you woke up on what was supposed to be a lazy Sunday morning you were less than thrilled to see a blanket of snow covering the yard, driveway and cars. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy the snow, you loved watching it fall in large fluffy flakes and every so often you would have a snowball fight with the avengers. Really you loved the snow, but you hated the cleanup. You hated it more with a stuffy nose and a dull ache in your body that clearly indicated that you were getting sick.

There was this little competition among the heroes about who could shovel the most snow, it was their way of turning a chore into a fun workout. You didn’t find it nearly as fun as them. You would rather just get the damn job over with without all of the smack talk and teasing, but they insisted on it.

Wanda had gotten so tired of their antics that she’d dubbed herself ‘maker of the hot coca’ to get out of it. Natasha loved it, she felt great when she could beat the superhumans at anything and generally just enjoyed competition. You participated only because you were a relatively new member of the team (compared to the others) and didn’t want to make yourself look weak.  

Staring out at the vast expanse that was the Avengers Compound driveway you couldn’t help but feel a bit of self-pity. You had just woken up and you were already feeling awful. Your nose was so stuffy that you couldn’t breathe through it, but it was also running. Your throat burned every time you swallowed, and you were sure that the cough that would be coming would make it hurt even worse.

It wasn’t like you had much of a choice though, you could hear Steve beginning to yell at everyone to get up and dressed for 20-degree weather. With a harsh sneeze you began to get ready, pulling on the warmest clothes you could find which included doubles of everything. Even with the two layers you were shivering hard, unable to get warm.

You stared at yourself in the small mirror, studying the dark smudges under your eyes and the sickly pallor of your face. Your nostrils were already rimmed red from rubbing them and your lips were badly chapped. Whatever this was it was hitting fast and hard.

A loud knock startled you out of your daze and back into reality. You shuffled to your door, hindered by the extra layers and your own dizziness. Opening it revealed an excited looking Steve with a big smile on his face and wearing winter clothes.

“You ready Y/n? It looks heavy!” He greeted, grinning at you. His joyful tone was baffling, but you were determined to prove yourself as an individual with no powers and far less experience than the others.

“Lets do this.” You croaked, confirming that you sounded as bad as you felt. Steve’s eyebrow twitched and his expression morphed into one of concern, but you brushed it off with a quiet cough and a smile.

“Sorry, my throat is a little dry. I think I need to talk to FRIDAY about increasing the humidity in here.” You said, offering an easy explanation for what could easily be a fluke. The cough had done wonders to clear your throat and you didn’t sound quite as awful. A bit nasally, but not like death.

Cap nodded enthusiastically, too focused on the idea of what he was sure would be an intense workout to really notice the state you were in. If you said you were fine, he was in no place to question you.

“Lets do this!”

You grabbed your coat and followed the superhero out of your bedroom where you practically ran into a very tired looking Wanda. The witch wasn’t sure why it was so important for her to be awake as she was only making cocoa for everyone, but the boys had refused to give her peace.

When she saw you, her eyes went wide, and you couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks. The way she looked at you with worry and love, it was just something you’d never seen before meeting her.

When you first joined the team, she had been incredibly kind to you, she’d understood your fear and done everything to make you feel welcome. It hadn’t taken long for you to fall head over heels for her. Thankfully she could read your mind otherwise you never would’ve gotten the courage to ask her out.

“Y/n, are you okay? You look…not great.” She said softly, not wanting to attract the attention of anyone else. You smiled again and nodded slightly, wondering if she could tell that you were lying. You had always been good at it, but you knew that she could sense emotions without trying if they were strong enough.

“I’m fine. I just woke up, that’s it. Will you put marshmallows in my hot cocoa?” You asked, leaning in to peck her on the cheek. The brunette hummed quiet concern, but nodded after a moment and squeezed your hand.

“Of course, baby. Come inside if you need a break, okay? No need to put yourself at risk for a chore, it will get done.” She kissed you, her soft red lips brushing gently against yours. You did the best you could to return the kiss, but it was everything you could do not to fall apart. The last place you wanted to be was outside in the freezing cold, you wanted to be with Wanda who was comfortable and warm. Later you’d find yourself wishing that you gave into that want.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A chesty cough bubbled from your lips as you threw another shovel full of heavy wet snow over your shoulder, but this time you did nothing to suppress it. You no longer cared if someone heard you, you were tired and cold. It had been two hours of moving piles of incredibly heavy snow and you were barely halfway done.

Natasha glanced over at you but said nothing. She’d been watching you deteriorate for a while now but didn’t want to force you inside when you were being so stubborn. She had internally decided that if you didn’t go in soon, she would get Wanda to come get you.

 The boys were getting even more competitive as they got bored, and Clint had started throwing snowballs. You were thankful that you were on the other side of the driveway away from that nonsense.

One thing your slightly feverish brain hadn’t considered was that the others might retaliate. What had started as one man throwing a few snowballs had turned into a full-blown snowball fight in less than a minute. You tried to avoid your teams’ antics and just continue with the snow removal, but it was too late for that.

Before you could think to react one very well packed snowball slammed you in the face and another hit the back of your head. You froze as icy slush slid down your back and chest, bypassing your jacket to soak into your soft cotton undershirt. You stared at Steve who had thrown the one that hit your face with an expression of shock and anger that was barely masking tears.

You threw the shovel down and whipped around, a wave of spots dancing in your vision as you began to march back toward the front doors. You glared daggers at Clint who had thrown the other snowball and flipped them both off as you trudged your way through the snow, hot tears beginning to drip down your freezing cheeks.

When you got inside you didn’t even bother taking off your boots, you just stomped through the foyer and to the elevator, pushing the button you knew would get you to the kitchen and your girlfriend.

“Mx. Y/l/n, your vitals indicate—”

“Shut up FRIDAY.” You snapped, coughing aggressively into your elbow as you waited the few seconds for the elevator to get to your floor. You didn’t care what the AI had to say, you knew that you were sick, and you were so angry that all you really wanted to do was scream.

When you finally made it to the kitchen the snow had begun to melt. You stood in front of Wanda dripping and shivering, doing everything you could to keep yourself from sobbing.

“Oh love, you’re freezing.” The brunette breathed, shaking her head as she rushed to comfort you. She began to take off your coat and you just let her. The tears coming faster as her aura of compassion washed over you, reassuring you that you weren’t alone.

The young Sokovian woman set your coat on a chair and pulled you in for a hug, giving you silent permission to break down. You did just that and buried your head in her shoulder as you began to sob out your frustration at the world. Wanda held you like that, crying coughing and sneezing for probably five minutes before she pulled away, seeming not to care that you’d ruined her shirt.

“Come on Y/n/n, let’s get you in bed.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When she said that you expected to be brought to your bedroom, but instead you found her leading you to hers. Once there she helped you change into her softest pajamas and tucked you into her bed without a second thought.

The whole thing happened so fast that your fever clouded brain barely had time to catch up when Wanda left you alone only to return a moment later with a mug of tea.

“Here you go sweetheart. Drink this for me, it’ll warm you up.” Wanda said gently, pushing a mug into your hands. She had never made you any cocoa, she knew that you were getting sick and decided that tea would be best.

“Thanks.” You rasped, not sure what else to say. You’d never really been taken care of before and being sick around your girlfriend was strange. The relationship was still on the newer side, so you were worried about doing something wrong and messing it up.

The witch kissed your forehead and took her seat beside you on the soft bed. She wrapped a blanket around your trembling shoulders and made quiet noises of concern as she fussed, something you found yourself enjoying. It was nice to feel cared for and she did it better than anyone else.

“How about we watch a show while you warm up?” She suggested reaching for the remote on her bedside table. You nodded silently and wiped your nose on your sleeve, your throat hurt, and you weren’t really up to talking anymore. Wanda tilted her head at your action and placed a box of tissues in your lap with a little smile.

“Use these instead.” She directed, turning her attention to the TV. You obliged and grabbed a tissue to blow your nose which was definitely better than just wiping it.

Wanda flipped through channels and began to play with your hair as she did so, dragging her nails in patterns across your skull. The effect was amazing, you instantly felt calmer and settled against her even more, practically melting into her side.

You focused your eyes on whatever show she had put on; it was brightly colored and animated. It didn’t really matter to you what she decided to watch, you were too sick to pay attention to it.

You took a sip of the hot tea, relishing the way it soothed your throat and warmed your insides. The snow had been hell, but you were finally able to relax thanks to your amazing girlfriend. You vowed silently to repay the favor the next time she got sick and go above and beyond to take care of her the same way she was doing for you.

[softtdaisy]

mick + "you slept like a baby. it was kind of cute."

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x female!reader

Words: 811

A/n: here comes my baby Mick. I’m soooo happy to finally write for him, I hope I did him justice 🥺

First, you heard some game noises. The one from your boyfriend’s favorite video game.

Then you heard some complaints in German. Needless to say there was only man you know that could be saying them.

You open one eye, trying to adjust to the sun shining in the room, then the other. You were still sleepy and your glance was a little blurry. But it didn’t take you long to recognize and remember where you are. The TV showing the video game you just heard, the poster of an old f1 gp on the wall, one his father won obviously, the shelf with all the trophies and all Angie’s stuff in the corner of the room. Yeah, no doubt. You were at your boyfriend’s place.

Your head was on his lap so when you turned around, you saw his beautiful and serious face. You loved how his blue eyes seemed bigger when he focused on winning his game. Or he was biting his lips without even noticing it when it got harder. The sun was shining on his face and it was like a beautiful painting. Yes, Mick was definitely an angel, as if you needed confirmation;

His face softened suddenly and a smile appeared on his lips. “Good morning, Mein Liebling” he said with a low voice, knowing that you just woke up. One of his hands left the controller so he could brush your hair with so much tenderness. If you thought about sitting up, you clearly abandoned this idea. How could leave his lovely touch and body when it was the most comfortable and safest place you know.

“You shouldn't have let me sleep” you yawned, which made him laugh. “We were supposed to spend the day together.” You felt guilty about falling asleep. Not you meant to. Mick came back yesterday from a two weeks trip with Mercedes. As usual, you had been studying a lot while he was gone. It was the advantage of being alone: except for when Mick texted you or called you to make sure you were taking a break, you could work as much as you want. The only problem was that you sacrificed most of your nights to do that. So when you stopped, all the tiredness hit you. 

The music stopped playing. You turned your head slightly to see that Mick put the game on pause. And before you could ask anything, his second hand meet your face to make you face him again. Then it was his soft lips that met yours for a lovely and tender kiss. You felt his blond hair brushing your forehead. “You needed some sleep.” he spoke against your lips. “So I let you sleep.”

That was pure Mick. He always put the others first. Not that he considered letting you take a nap a sacrifice. Especially considering he was home for two weeks and he had planned many things with you. But if you told him that you wanted to travel with him during his break, he would cancel all his plans and go with you. He would do anything for you, from doing the craziest thing to watch you sleep peacefully.

Mick sat up straight and helped you cuddle against him. "Plus you slept like a baby.” He laughed, still brushing your hair. You hit him in the chest, which, of course, made him laugh even harder. “It was kind of cute!" 

“You watched me sleep, Schumi?”

“Do I have to remind you that you didn’t fall asleep on my lap?” you frowned. You didn’t? You questioned Mick with a confused look and he answered by shaking his head. “I promise you didn’t. You were lying next to me, reading your book. I took it away when I saw you sleeping. I don’t know if it’s the movement or if you just remembered that I was more comfortable than your favorite pillow, but you ended up here.” 

It wasn’t a surprise. Anytime you were sleeping together, either you or Mick would find its way to the other. Even when you didn’t feel asleep in each other’s arms, you would always wake up with Mick’s body pressed against yours, his arms around you and, sometimes, his lips on your hair like he wanted to give you some love even while asleep. Anytime it happened, you saw it as a reminder that Mick was your soulmate.

Now that you were well awake, you didn’t plan on spending the rest of your day doing nothing. So you took the controller on the bed and gave your boyfriend a challenging look. “I heard you had some troubles, wanna fight?”

“You heard?” he answered, confused, but still looking for the second controller beside the bed.

“Well, you watch me sleep, I listen to you playing. It was kind of cute!” you added, trying to sound like him.  

[monsterinmyboxers]

Can you pleaseeeee write a fanfic top male reader x jake sully, i've been dying for someone to do it👾

pairing. jake sully x top male reader.

dni. fem-aligned and minors.

author’s note. i'm actually glad you didn't give me a specific idea since i've been thinking of one myself lol

content. not proofread, time skips, pre-established relationship, jake taking advantage of his new body, mentions of insecurities, some angst if you squint, turns intimate quick, mating, blowjob, fingering, doggy style, creampie, hair pulling, praise, reader had a big dick (real), pet names (baby, pretty boy, sir.)

“..grace?”

was the first thing you heard your boyfriend jake, who had just gotten into his avatar form, say after he had just ran away from the people who were supposed to make sure he was fully functioning. seems like they didn’t need to.

he just doesn’t listen, and that’s one of the reasons why you love him.

you were right behind him and norm, quietly laughing at how norm attempted to run after him with his ass hanging out. luckily, his tail was hiding whatever else that was exposed.

“well, who’d you expect, numb nuts?” you heard grace reply, giving a chuckle as you walked past norm, right up to jake.

and once grace threw some fruit at him, you’d catch it before he could react.

“hey,” he was ready to scold whoever was beside him, yet didn’t get the chance as he cut himself off the moment he looked at you, eyes even wider than before.

shit, you were gorgeous. he didn’t expect you to be anything else, but still. it was surprising to see how good you looked.

so good in fact, that his eyes and curiosity traveled elsewhere. your body, you were sculpted so perfectly. it made him wonder what was under those thin clothes. but, before he could get any lower, he felt something wet hit his face.

you had taken a bite out of the odd looking fruit, that he could instantly tell by the juice running down your chin.

and it was obvious that you enjoyed the taste as your ears fluttered, something he learned to appreciate seeing.

as predicted, jake had gotten into some trouble whilst you, grace, norm, and him tried to get some data in the forest. well, more grace and norm, honestly. though, what you didn’t expect was that you wouldn’t be able to find him after he ran deeper into the woods.

“he won’t make it ‘till morning.” clearly, grace wasn’t someone to lean on. she was being realistic, sure, but she could’ve said something more hopeful. but, she didn’t, so you did.

“he will.” a pause, “i don’t know how, but he always finds a way.” despite the confidence in your tone, you were only trying to reassure yourself. you were scared. who wouldn’t be? jake, your jake, was stuck in the forest, where hundreds, if not thousands of creatures are lurking.

it was terrifying to think about.

yet, you didn’t have to fear for too long, jake waking up in his real body sooner than you had anticipated — which you were grateful for. and, another surprise, you wouldn’t believe where he ended up.

he had been at hometree, he was chosen.

“..holy shit.”

after gaining the trust of the omaticaya, jake had brought you to their home. which, he now considered his home.

he’d give you a tour of sorts, though it seemed he was especially excited for a certain part of the forest.

the tree of voices, he called it.

you had learned all about the tree from your years of research on pandora, but jake didn’t bring you there for it’s intended purpose.

no, no. he wanted something else. something much more important than praying to eywa — in his opinion, anyway.

he didn’t really try to hide his eagerness as you both walked throughout the tree. he had stopped walking at some point, looking at you with a smile on his face.

quickly, you focused your gaze upon him, and fuck, was it a sight to see.

a braid had fallen over the side of his face, another tucked behind one of his fluttering ears, those bright freckles splattered across his face and body more prominent in the light the tree provided — his amber eyes shimmering as he looked at you. admired you, to be more specific.

he slowly shuffled closer to you, nudging your nose with his. curiosity spread across your features, head tilting, waiting for him to speak.

though, jake was found speechless, something neither of you thought was possible. so, as a result, you spoke instead.

“i assume that this is, the tree of voices, if my years of research haven’t failed me.”

that got him to laugh, eyes traveling downward “yeah, yeah.” he seemed oddly quiet, usually very talkative, especially around you.

“jake.” he was quick to look back up at you, ears twitching. “what have you brought me for?”

an audible gulp came from him before any words got the chance, “i, i wanted to tell you something.” you could see what he was doing, clearly nervous and trying to draw this out as long as possible. you didn’t mind, patience overpowering your curiosity.

“what would you like to tell me, jake?” oh, how he loved the way you said his name. that previous excitement returned, his tail whipping around nonstop, hips swaying slightly due to the force. this all was very distracting — maybe, that was why he couldn’t get a sentence out without stuttering.

as a way to get him to focus, your hand reaches around to grip the base of his tail, giving it a gentle, warning tug. that certainly got his attention, a small, almost pleasured gasp leaving him. it was embarrassing, jake attempting to cover the noise with a cough.

“i was going to say that, ..i want to,” he shakes his head, “..i want you.”

he summarized all his thoughts into those three words, and then did what his words couldn’t. his hand slides up your arm, then moving behind himself to grab onto his braid. his queue. he brought it forward, motioning towards it.

it immediately clicked in your head. he wanted to mate, he wanted to be your mate, and have you be his.

“and, i was wondering, ..if you wanted me, too.”

you scoff at his words, and jake takes it negatively, ears flattening. but, you made that regret disappear instantly.

“of course i want you to be my mate, jake. why would i suddenly change my mind?” you teased him, yet he didn’t notice it, too overcome with joy as a smile spread across his face. without missing a beat, he leans forward, lips pressing against yours — in an almost desperate manner. eywa, he needed this, needed you.

the kiss soon turned heated, his urge to give you everything strong. but, connecting queues was much more important than his lust. so, he pulled away, panting softly as he did. a laugh left the both of you, though jake gained his composure and pulled you down to sit.

you were both on your knees, queues exposed and close together, but not close enough to attach to one another.

“..this has never happened before, you know. from what we’ve seen, at least.” you said, making sure that jake knew what they were trying might not work.

“what do you mean?” he didn’t exactly get the gist though.

“two male na'vi mating. we’ve never seen it be done.” his eyebrows would furrow, but your words didn’t discourage him. “doesn’t mean we can’t try.” you merely nod, hoping for the better, preparing for the worst.

though, your process was interrupted as jake crawled closer, planting his thighs aside yours and sitting on your lap. you were about to express your confusion, but he answered before you could get the question out. “maybe, if we physically show our love in front of eywa, she will accept us.” it might’ve been genuine, or an excuse to touch you. either way, you were amused and, in all honesty, flattered. “whatever you say.”

he took a deep breath in, holding it as he nodded towards you, signaling for you to move. and you did, both of you, pushing your queues forward until they entwined.

your dreams came true as you bonded, jake letting out a shaky sigh and closing his eyes, feeling you. it was heavenly, this intense emotion, this euphoria that swept through him.

it was so powerful, so strong, that it transferred to you, that link much more intoxicating than you could have ever imagined.

“holy shit,” he spoke for you both.

whilst he did, staring at your bonded queues, you only looked at him. your gaze held so much love, so much care. you looked at him like he was your most prized possession — which he is. seeing him so happy because of you, it made your heart swell. without saying anything, your free hand caresses his cheek, that grin of his never faltering as he faced you.

instinctively, he leaned into your touch, eyes telling you everything with just one glance. you kiss, again and again and again, each one solidifying your feelings for the other.

“you’re so gorgeous, jake. so fucking beautiful. how did i get this damn lucky.” if one thing was for sure, your praise had his confidence going through the atmosphere. and, apparently, his ego wasn’t the only thing rising.

you felt him shift against your lap, innocent kisses turning needy as your tongues slip into each others mouths. his moans were muffled, no longer caring about what sounds he creates, as long as you’re the one coaxing them out.

you thought every single one of them were angelic, despite how lewd the grind of his hips felt.

before, when you both were still human and had time together, this never occurred. jake was quite insecure about his disability, no matter the demeanor he puts on. he was comfortable enough with you to admit that looking at his legs just, never felt right. so, sex was an immediate no.

but now, he could do whatever he wanted. he was in control and confident in his body and how it looked. being vulnerable was finally something he could enjoy. he didn’t have to prove that he could take care of himself, he didn’t have to prove anything, not with you. you know damn well who your boyfriend is and what he’s capable of.

your lips separated, much to jakes dismay, but he couldn’t complain once you kissed along his jaw and neck. his hips would stutter at each peck, hands now gripping at your shoulders, anticipation getting the best of him. he pushes you away, sliding off your lap. this confused you, as first, until you saw him tug at the waistband of your loincloth.

after getting into a comfortable position, fully sat on the ground with your legs spread out, permission was granted.

saying jake was excited was understatement. his hands were shaking. in fact, his whole body was trembling. he needed you now, but his arousal made his head foggy. you noticed, of course, laughing softly. “jake, baby,” a hand lifts his head, cloudy amber eyes looking at you, craving you.

“please, please, i’ve waited so long,” you nod, “i know, shh. breathe.” he leans against you, forehead against yours. he listens, obedient as ever, breathing slowly. “good boy.” that makes him whine, eyes closed, so focused on being good that he didn’t notice how you pulled down that thin cloth.

once he thought he was ready, he opened his eyes and looked down, sucking in a quick breath. fuck, you were big. it was to be expected, as your avatar was twice the size of your human body, but shit.

with some hesitation, he’d spit into his hand, then rubbing it along the underside of your dick. you let out a grunt, shifting beneath his touch, which he hummed at — strong thighs squeezing together.

“can, ..can i?” “can you what?”

you’re such an asshole.

“can i, suck, your dick? ..please?” you smirk, and nod.

once he was given the okay, he’d lean down, hands holding onto your thighs. his motions were unsure, giving your tip shy licks. you encourage him by laying a palm on his head, gently pulling at those soft roots. he reacts instantly, back arching and tail swinging while he takes your head inside.

a hand strokes what isn’t between his lips, tongue working along the ridge of your cock. fingers would trail down his spine, tracing small circles into his back, jakes whines stifled due to his mouth being full.

he opens up wide, wide enough for it to hurt, as an attempt to go deeper, take you further. you hit the back of his throat sooner than expected, a gag and cough heard, yet jake didn’t pull off. he relaxes, hollowing his cheeks and going back down. he was determined, it seemed.

thought, it was driven by the need to prove someone wrong, he only wanted to make you feel good. “careful, jake. don’t hurt yourself.” he hums as a reply, then bobbing his head up and down. he could barely take you halfway. every time he choked, his teeth grazed the veins running along your dick, yet it only enhanced your pleasure.

while he busies himself on your cock, he doesn’t even notice how his hips rocked from side to side, ass in the air. his body spoke for him. he was aching for your touch in more private areas, so you gave it to him.

at first, you touch his tail, watching as he twitched once you trailed your palm along the length of it. then, you took hold of his loincloth and slid it down his thighs. your other hand was by your lips, your middle, ring, and forefinger in your mouth. once you thought they were wet enough, you move forward, reaching between those two mounds of flesh.

your finger pads circled his hole, feeling how he clenched around nothing. he pulls off your dick, drool covering his chin as he leans his head on your stomach. oh, how he hated the way you teased him, knowing how desperate he was.

“get back down.” your tone was stern, demanding, and jake was affected by it greatly. a whine unintentionally escapes his throat. “yes, sir,” everything that left him was involuntary, like he was no longer in control of his own body or voice. watching his fangs, he swallows around your shaft, trying to focus on you as your middle finger pushed pass his rim.

surprisingly, it didn’t take much effort to put your first finger inside — or the second. hm.

you decided not to question it, but kept it in mind if you ever wanted to tease him after. which, you inevitably will. he’s cute when he’s flustered.

pushing down your thoughts, you continue working your digits in and out of his, seemingly, already prepped ass. he got distracted often as he worked on your cock, either by your fingers that felt so much better than his own, or his throat that constantly flexed around your dick.

it took longer for the third to fit, jakes body convulsing with each stroke of his insides. you hadn’t realized it before, too engulfed in his noises, but he was truly a mess — just for you.

tears stream down his face, spit dripping down his chin, eyes backing into his skull whilst half-lidded, a heavy blush adorning his cheeks. you felt a sense of pride for bringing such a strong man down so many notches. only you get to see him like this. only you have this power over him.

and even when you’re lost in your thoughts, you don’t hesitate to force your fourth finger inside, hole so wet that it lubed the digit up itself — if you kept going like this, you’d start fisting him. but, you were only trying to prep him, not gape him. though, that’s going to happen either way.

eventually, you slowly pull your fingers out, and became aware of your surroundings. it was all too surreal — in such an unbelievably good way.

he pulls off of you with an audible pop, panting as if he had just ran across the expanse of pandora. his gaze was hazy, letting out tiny, cock-drunken giggles as he leans against you. you hum, using your thumb to wipe away the drool from the lower part of his face.

“havin’ fun?” he’d give an enthusiastic nod, biting his lower lip, knowing what was coming next. “turn around for me, sweet thing.” another nod, though he struggled to move by himself. he was trembling, and you seemed to find out why when he shifted.

there was a pool of cum on the grass, more than you’d ever expect. it probably happened when you were daydreaming.

you ignored it, now staring down jake like he was your prey. he was in the position he thought would be most comfortable, and less embarrassing. though, if you wanted him to move, he would. but you didn’t. it was all about him tonight, and you weren’t going to force him into doing anything. besides, you could try the positions in mind later. this was his first time with you. whatever he wants, goes.

how your hand rubbed up along his thighs he would never forget, your touch making his heart skip a beat, skin set ablaze. your palms move to his waist, propping him up just a bit more, as you knew his trembling didn’t help with his stability.

you could tell he was ready to take whatever you gave him, but you knew what he craved most. and of course, you gave it to him.

he felt the heat of your dick before the weight, ass squirming a bit before you had rubbed it directly over where he needed it. a whine was audible, hands reaching back to try and guide your tip. but before he could grasp it, you grab his wrists, a small gasp leaving him at the sudden grip. but, that gasp soon turned into a loud, joyous moan.

the head had entered him, and jake couldn’t be happier feeling the intrusion. it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would, now trying to push back against you to slide more inside. you chuckle, then shoving in a few more inches, placing kisses along his spine and whispering compliments. his insides adjusted much quicker than his throat could, you mentally noted.

within a few more minutes, your hips were connected to his ass. “you take me so well, baby. doin’ so good for me.” you grab onto his queues, which was still immersed with yours, and tugged on it lightly. that lifts his head off the ground, jake murmuring softly. “can, move now? please, sir, move, please sir,” how cute.

you obliged, putting your approval into words, “such good manners, jake.” kissing across his shoulder, you pull out halfway, then slowly sink yourself back in. the hold he had on the blades of grass beneath him told you enough, his noises merely adding onto that.

now, your hands were clasped around him, one of his hair and the other on the base of his tail. you had done nothing extreme, yet he couldn’t even form a proper sentence — sputtering out the words ‘please’, ‘sir’, and ‘faster’. curses were a common occurrence, too.

your thrusts increased in speed, giving him exactly what he wanted, feeling you so deep every time you practically slammed yourself into his ass. the force pushed him farther into the dirt below, and he loved every second of it.

you were so aggressive, your rough motions contrasting greatly with the gentle kisses and bites you placed on his skin. and during it all, jake had a wide smile on his face. even as his legs gave out, and you putting your chest against his back, knuckles grazing his sides.

it didn’t take long for him to feel that familiar heat within his gut again, overstimulation hitting him fast and hard. and this time, he mouth wasn’t busy, so he warned you. “wanna- gonna come, again, coming,” he was breathless, like the air had been sucked out of his lungs, but you could understand him through all his keens.

“come, jake, show me how good i make you feel.” he’d nod, again and again, letting out a guttural moan as thick ropes of cum spilled from his dick. you’d rock your hips back and forth, continuing to pleasure him and prolonging his orgasm. once the last few spurts of cum spewed out of his slit, you’d begin to pull out, before pressing right back in — hitting his already beaten prostate.

he almost screamed, voice breaking up, cracking. his throat felt so raw. but, he didn’t want you to stop. he’d do anything for you to come too, warmth squeezing around you.

luckily, he didn’t have to go through much more for you to feel your stomach tighten. you’d mumble near his ear, which twitched once feeling your breath. “do you, want me to come inside or- or out?”

he thought the question was stupid.

“in- in, in, inside, please.” who were you to say no?

soon after speaking, cum filled him, then leaking out of his hole, around the sides of your dick. you’d have to look away to prevent yourself from getting hard again, attempting to pull out slow, until he felt jake hold onto your hands — whimpering. you never thought you’d hear such a sound coming from him, but you sure as hell were grateful that you did.

you interlaced your fingers together, keeping yourself inside. from what i you could tell, he was glad that you did, seemingly purring at your actions.

though, after a moment of rest, he wiggles underneath you. as a response, you lift yourself off of him. “wanna, turn. on my back.” you pause, not sure how this was gonna work, but decided to try nonetheless.

it was a process, keeping yourself from slipping out whilst trying to flip him over. it worked, thankfully, you now seeing jakes toothy grin. it never left. he doesn’t even think he could stop if he tried.

he pulls you close, by your shoulders, pressing his forehead against you. but, just before either of you could fall asleep, you’d murmur. “i see you, jake.”

and with a hoarse voice, he’d reply, “i see you.”

[fairytsuk1]

cupid's arrow | (s)

apart of the meet cute: gone wrong series, click here for more!

pairing: izuku midoriya x reader

words: 8.3k

prompt: "getting set up by their lovely grandmas, who always go to the same café and gush about their grandkids"

warnings: teasing game, public sex, quickie, protected sex, tit play, praise kink, missionary position, soft dom!midoriya

The retirement home was an amalgamation of both good and evil. It had the finest foods for delicate denture havers and was home to some of life’s more depressing thought processes. You preferred being able to drive over the speed limit as the city air lashed at your face; being young and carefree was much more appealing. However, this couldn’t be your reality anymore as you knew your grandmother needed you more than ever. Things were about to change. You’d be moving onto bigger steps in your life! Finding a partner, making a home together, advancing in your career…

Before leaving for the retirement home, you hoped you’d be walking out of there glimmering with adjusting to adulthood. No games or silly adventures, a part of you lit up at the idea of this summer excursion changing your life. You really, really hoped it would.

You smooth your tennis skirt over your thighs, ankles crossing and a warm smile gracing your features when your grandmother waltz in with house slippers and an old tea set. The smell of earthy leaves wafts into your nose, and you already know she’s made two steaming cups of green tea before she pours it.

“Nana, you know you don’t have to make anything when I visit,” you’d figured she’d stop making cookies past your twelfth birthday, but she clearly planned to wave you off every single time.

Snarkily, your grandmother rolls her eyes and takes a slurping sip of her tea.

“It’s not about that. It’s about keeping ancient traditions! We’re family, and that means grandmothers make their grandchildren tea!”

She nods, pleased with herself, and her eyes are closed as she savors the grass notes, the feeling of toastiness, and the mild sweetness. Your eyebrows twitch, and you miss how she does the same once she’s placed her cup back down.

“Mhm, it’s very good, did you taste the grass?” you swallow and nod, “yes, me too. So… Have you found a boyfriend yet?”

You’re in the process of drinking more tea but her comment startles you; the cup is hastily set back on the coffee table and leaving a liquid trail in its wake. Practically spitting out your tea, you’re quick to wipe your mouth with a napkin and set the record straight.

“Huh?! Where is that coming from? …I don’t, but why are you asking, nana?”

She’s got this unreadable look on her face. Then, she’s giving you this cheeky grin and sighing wistfully as if thinking of a past lover. You’re curling your fingers into your palms, nearly shaking in anticipation as her hands rub together sneakily.

“It’s my friend’s grandson! You know me. Always talking, but if I were you, I’d snatch him right up! He’s strong, and he’s got bright green eyes! They’d compliment yours so well,” and she’s scooting forward in her seat, “you will like him! He’s a very nice boy.”

Nana’s been gossiping again. You’re relieved she wasn’t trying to reconnect you and former lovers (an activity that had proven to be unsuccessful, twice.) Still, the idea of her pitching you to random strangers like an ATM card makes your face twist in an attempt to tell her how you really feel.

“I-I don’t know, nana. I’m not even sure if I’m looking for anything right now,” and you were right. 

A relationship seemed like a huge step, and this was supposed to be your summer “boss up” phase. To be honest, you weren’t sure if you had trust in your grandma’s romantic instincts for matchmaking either. A wrinkled hand covers yours, and your nana is beaming with her body leaned towards you.

“Tell you what, he will be here for breakfast tomorrow morning. You don’t have to do much, but you should see him in person! Get to know him a little.”

You let the offer hang in the air for a moment before shrugging.

“...I guess I can do that. I don’t want this to become an everyday thing, though! I came here to spend time with you, nana. Not with some guy!”

Nana had already returned to sipping her tea and nodded before licking her lips.

“Of course, dear. However, if you like this Midoriya as much as I think you will, you’ll end up regretting saying that!”

You take a sip, and two pairs of eyebrows raise. You doubted it. This “Midoriya” person was probably some nerdy guy that didn’t know how to talk to girls. It didn’t matter anyways, so on that fateful day you brushed mascara on thick lashes and made sure your lips looked as plump as ever in your pink lip gloss. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, not at all!

Something in your gut had just told you to make an effort, but it was hard to tell whether this gut feeling was good or bad.

The situation had proven that you needed to take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror. He wasn’t ugly, no. He was anything but. He was so handsome that as you and your grandmother circled the table to sit, your foot caught on the leg of the table. Practically every brain cell had been focused on the promise of muscles under his white button-up plus the extra show of solid, veiny forearms. He was hot.

“This is my friend, Kotoe! And this is her grandson, Izuku Midoriya! He’s the one I brought up to you last night,” and for the first time, you’re aware of how red Midoriya looks; maybe he was thinking the same things about you.

Kotoe grins widely, and the wave crashes on you and Midoriya because the embarrassment of the situation keeps getting worse. First, the table. Then, he’s watching you as you settle yourself across from him. This feels more like you’re being judged than trying to link up with someone.

“You remember her, right? I showed you that picture of her at that one band performance.”

Your pride is fatally wounded, but you’re even more aghast that one of the cutest boys you’ve ever seen is actually seeing you for the second time. The idea that Midoriya’s first impression was of you with braces and frizzy hair left you feeling like you could melt into your seat effortlessly.

Nana guiltily peruses the menu, but you know there’s no one else that has that picture. You’d tried to erase every copy of it but… she had her ways.

“Nana.”

She grins sheepishly while fluffing her curls, “it’s not my fault your mother only sends me photos when she feels like it. You look cute in the photo!”

If you didn’t stop her now, maybe nothing could. Along with this setting not seeming like the right time to discuss the ins and outs of your family relationships, you turn to Midoriya and smile warmly. 

“Right. Well, Midoriya, it’s nice to meet you. You’re lucky you were spared from the dreaded band photo. I’m jealous,” with a hair flip for good measure.

She’s so cute, he thinks.

“If only you could have the same fate.”

It’s so boyish, so ridiculous, and it makes your heart-beat rabbit fast because it’s not fair that his voice is gentle yet had an edge to it. His smile and even the licking of lips were uncalled for. He was charming you way too easily. How long had you two been sitting here again? 

He’s tuning you like a fiddle to his chosen song, and you play beautifully. You need fresh air, so your cup of water is gulped down to curb the romantic-tension fever rising inside you. 

Your grandmother and Kotoe fall into conversation like it’s natural. Midoriya keeps taking tentative glances at you but looking away before something productive happens, so you begin to copy him; now you just feel like you’re in the hall of mirrors.

“So, Midoriya… Do you go to university?”

“I-I do! I’m an archaeology major with a minor in history! It’s a lot of nerdy stuff, but it’s more interesting than calculus!”

His eyes sparkle at the topic, and the passion leaking through his words is evident. It’s cute, and your cheeks lift without thinking about it. He’s infectious, and in a bad way.

The type of infection where every glance feels like slow motion, and your brain skips ahead to when his mouth is on yours, and his hands are tugging, pulling, squeezing…

“That’s really cool! I’ve never heard of someone majoring in something like that! I’m doing public administration; it’s like political science but not really.”

Midoriya can’t wait to dig his hands into you and bury his cock deep inside you, but he can’t think about that right now. He mentally files away the memories of your shy looks so he can wrap a fist around himself in the shower later as he thinks of ruining your tight little pussy.

“No, yeah, that’s brave stuff to do! That can be in any sector, right? Public, private, and all of that.”

Both brains come to rest on the same wavelength as the same thought swirls in and out of two opposite gender heads.

I wanna fuck you.

“Yeah! Yeah, it can be,” your legs cross to lessen the pulsing between your legs.

“I kind of get it! History is so broad that it throws people off a bit,” Midoriya presses a palm to his aching cock as discreetly as possible.

The two of you try to avoid letting your need spill over past inappropriate boundaries. You both don’t realize that notion was abandoned the second first eye contact was made. Lunch passes by quickly, and you’re thankful. That was a bit too tense, and your male counterpart seems to be exhausted from the mental energy of ignoring something so potent. So heady.

“That nasty little Annie is going to supervise my cycling class, so I’m going to the pool today! You should come with me; you’ll never believe what she did the other day when I was struggling with my nightgown….”

Kotoe leads your four person group to the elevators, but your nana tells her she likes to walk after breakfast, so you mourn the loss of Midoriya as nonchalantly as possible. A big ego was annoying, and he didn’t need to know that you were dying to see under his pants. Honestly, even just getting to talk alone would be nice. 

“Well, Kotoe, I’ll meet you back at the pool after my nap.”

Your grandmother silently gives you a look that tells you everything you need to know about the pool situation.

Get your swimsuit!

It’s not too hot out that when you take a step the ground pierces your foot with its heat. The sun is shining just enough to cast a warm, soft glow on honeyed skin; it’s making you look too good, you feared. What if Midoriya was a nervous guy? Your ego shoots to the sky as you secure your jewelry and make your way to the pool with your nana.

Midoriya thought he might’ve had you beat, that maybe he’d get the edge in the game you two were playing where you’d feel more flushed than him. He certainly played a good hand, muscles rippling in black swim shorts highlighting his lean body. Freckles dotted his skin, and he felt embarrassed at ogling himself in the mirror.

“Kotoeee! I love your bathing suit; where’d you get the damn thing?!”

Nana runs off quickly, having debriefed you in the elevator that she intended to leave you and Midoriya “to it.” You’d vehemently denied the allegations of something like this happening, but there was a decent chance with how you and him were looking at each other that her suspicions were correct.

Your stuff is set by the chatty old ladies, and Midoriya takes the time to sidle up close to you. Squinting at him, he really does look good up close.

“Hi.”

“Hey. Do you want to swim with me?”

“What are we, five?”

He laughs lightly, shrugging and rubbing at the nape of his neck.

“Well, it’s not like there’s anything else to do! Not here, anyways,” and you feel your cheek twitch with the urge to smile.

He’s… saucy. And maybe you like it, a lot.

“If you say it like that, you can admit that no other girls wanna swim with you,” and he scoffs playfully at you before standing up, “but sure, I’ll hop in for a bit.”

The two of you make your way to the water. Midoriya gets in first, and he extends an arm to help you in like a proper gentleman.

“Are you always this kind?”

“I’m just on my best behavior,” and he grins like a shark.

Water swishes around you two, droplets hiding each other’s best features like a love potion. The grannies are still talking, and there are splashes from other patrons using the facility. Nothing can happen now, even if you want to jump his bones badly.

“I think the class starts soon, the water weights one?”

“What even is that class? What’s the point?”

Midoriya circles like you’re dancing, so you bat your eyes lashes and take a thumb to your lip. It makes him laugh, and you suddenly feel yourself dropping the act.

“No, no, I like it! And it’s, uhm, they lift weights to strengthen their bones! But it’s easier on their joints. My Obaasan also likes getting some fresh air,” he flicks his hair back, and the water rolls down his skin seamlessly, “maybe we could do something on our own.”

Raunchy daydreams smack you in the face; he could fuck you here. He could bend you over the water edge, eat your pussy and make you cream right in the pool chair just feet away! Maybe he’s sucking on your clit, pulling on your nipple, or maybe he’d rock his cock deep into you just because you begged for it!

“Yeah,” his eyes trace the soft edges of your curves, and you feel so high on feeling desired, “where could we go?”

Your question is interrupted with a loud, unfortunate, shrieky exclaim of, “Midoriya!” that shakes both you and the man in question enough to cause ripples in the water. Two heads turn towards the pair of grannies, now suited up in swimsuits that go to their knobby knees, plus bulky goggles.

“Go check for some floaties in the back room, please! I might really need them this time!”

Midoriya doesn’t even make a face but nods in understanding before turning guiltily to you, “...I guess I’ll be right back?”

This seems like a set-up. Back room? For floaties? Midoriya doesn’t seem to have picked up that this is the moment, but you have.

“Well, why don’t I just come with you?”

The grandmothers have gone back to their own personal conversation (gossiping), so you assume it’s okay. Midoriya gives a tentative look to Kotoe, before looking you back in your eyes and nodding. Ah, now he gets it.

You both are giddy as soaking wet bodies slip out of the pool easily and pad like excited puppies down to the deserted storage closet. Midoriya lets you duck in first, flip-flops clacking against the pavement as you flick on the dim lights and wait for the show to begin. Then, the green-haired boy eagerly locks the door and turns to look at you with lustful eyes.

“So!”

“You know, this is extremely typical, right?”

He grows closer as if wanting to slowly overpower you with every step. You remain firm in your pink flip-flops.

“Even if it is typical, I can’t help but feel lucky,” and he oozes attractiveness.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. How often do you get to kiss a pretty girl?”

Maybe it’s the sparkle in his eyes or how he bounces on the balls of his feet. 

“Mmph!—”

The two of you crash into each other, your hands flying to tangle in his unique tresses, and you can almost hear the “SMOOCH!” sound as the two of you have your first heated kiss; breaking the ice-cold layer of tension. The kiss was groundbreaking, earth-shattering, and your foreheads dipped and pressed together as you heaved for breaths.

Your first kiss with him.

It’s practically perfect, and it's ending could be considered admirable because it was so cliche. Someone had called out towards the storage closet, and the two of you ran out of there like the guilty criminals you were. The thrill kept you moving like a wild animal. You loved it; the two of you loved it.

That memory didn’t leave you, not when you parted ways or thought about keeping your lips as they were so you wouldn’t forget that you’d kissed him. Maybe you were too into a fling, a fleeting romance, but having someone you could call yours felt fulfilling. Whatever happened to moving on with life?

No, you’d changed your mind. Who cared about doing career things in an old folks home? You could do that any time, good dick doesn’t always come around.

Adrenaline was still thrumming in your veins as you kept going about your day as if the feeling of his soft lips on yours wasn’t being replayed every ten seconds; it was so perfectly taboo and hot. You wondered if he was thinking the same things, maybe taking a hand and palming his half-chub in his swim shorts because he just couldn’t hold back and wait anymore.

The two of you shared looks for the rest of the swim class as you leisurely tanned your golden skin while Midoriya lounged around (fetching equipment as needed.) His new “job” grew quickly on you, the ability to get an eyeful of strained muscles and bulging thighs that jogged ’round and ’round the pool like a carousel felt like a reward.

Your grandmother draws you close with a hand motion, bony fingers clasped to the ledge as you draw closer, “oh good, you heard me! Could you bring me my bag? I left it in the locker room!”

“Sure thing, I’ll only be a sec!”

Quickly, you head towards the women’s locker room and spot the flowered print pool bag. You snatch it up and make your way back, feet slowing their speed, when you see an unfamiliar face sticking out like a sore thumb.

She was pretty, blonde, with a thin neck that made you envy her allure from where you stood. Not only that, but definitely flirting with a resting Midoriya.

“Here, nana…”

“Thank you! What are you looking at—” your grandmother makes the same frowning expression as you, “oh, right. She’s getting in between you and your future husband, you know! She just waltzed on over like she owned the place, and he fell for it, hook, line, and sinker! Don’t tell Kotoe, but you ought to…”

Her rambling goes muffled and indiscernible, and you feel your hand clench at your side. You stormed over to the spot without even considering the consequences and grinned widely. She gives you a skeptical eye before batting curled lashes towards Midoriya.

“So, what were you saying about working out together?”

Nervous green eyes flick to yours, gauging your level of emotion from the deep recesses of your eyes. Midoriya can’t see anything. In fact, it’s more like you’re looking through him as he sputters his way through an excuse of being “really busy, so maybe we should wait till we make actual plans!”

He was good, and maybe it was the fact he was the first attractive boy you’d seen in the several weeks of being with your grandmother. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t been properly fucked in a minute, so you were a loose screw about to make everything fall apart.

‘I see,” and you shrug at him, “we should wait till we make actual plans too! You know, just so we can be sure.”

Then, you prissily walk off, determined to not seem shaken by the seeming turn of events being that IZUKU MIDORIYA was a man-whore, one hundred percent. He just wanted to rile you up, and two could most certainly play at that game. You’d just have to show him what he was missing out on, all because he wasn’t too sure he wanted you. You’d make him sure.

He’d kissed you for god’s sake! You fumed alone in the elevator, grumbling things no one would ever hear.

The plan had worked spectacularly. There was no way Midoriya was actually going to go for the blonde that seemed eager to be alone with him now that the swimming class was over. Sure, he’d smooth-talked her, but it was all for you. He could tell that there was something you were hiding from him in all your shy looks and glossy lips.

“Was that your girlfriend? She looked rude,” Ayaka grinned wildly, “she’s not right?”

“It doesn’t really matter what she is,” and he stands gingerly, all shy and nervous, “I-I have to go now!”

Ayaka tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and her arms push her breasts up obscenely.

“You really gotta go?”

The awkwardness is back, and it seemed that the boy could only be flirty when it came to you. Now, he was a fish out of water flopping around on the deck.

“Yup! I’ll see you later, or whatever!”

He’d finally figured it out, aside from the awkwardness of forcing jealousy within you. You were a brat! He couldn’t wait to see how this developed, the greedy part of him hoping you’d make another move because he wanted to see you again. Badly.

“...Bye!”

You didn’t leave his mind, and he wondered what the two of you could do together. Did you like ice cream? Games? Yeah, sometimes he thought with his dick but other times… Well, you were the exact type of girl he’d love to take out.

He had no idea that as part of your newly created plan… you planned to kiss Hitoshi Shinsou right in front of him.

-

Shinsou was calm, collected, and rarely ever smiled. You hadn’t been lying when you’d said that boys like Midoriya were few and far between, so you’d already recognized potential suitors (meaning you’d told your best friends, in ranked form, the cutest boys at the UA Retirement Home.)

You’d decided Shinsou was one of the cuter ones considering you didn’t see him all the time. His face was pleasant to look at whenever you saw him working his shift, and he was plopped at the desk today with no one around… it seemed like today would be the day.

You and Midoriya hadn’t spoken in two days since you last saw him potentially entertaining the advances of some blonde girl. You weren’t stupid, after the heat of the moment and going over the situation one more time, it was clear. He wanted to tease you, make you feel the fire burning inside you grow hotter and hotter.

“Hey, Shinsou!” 

It was time to get him back in a major way. You push your torso an inch or two across the desk to smile at the purple-haired boy and let your head fall to the side. It was unclear whether or not it was actually having an effect, but you trekked along.

“Morning, what are you doing here?”

He already looks closed off, and you’re hoping he doesn’t hate you by the end of this.

“I just wanted to say hi! A girl can’t just hang out by the front desk?”

“No, actually,” his finger taps a sticker on the glass barrier between you, an obnoxious sticker reading “NO LOITERING” sitting there to mock you, “there is. See?”

…

“Oh! Well, I mean, well,” you look around frantically, the heat of embarrassment crippling you to where you stood.

“Look, if you just tell me, then maybe I can–” and the two of you are yelping as you push past the swinging door that separates Shinsou from other residents, “what the hell?! What are you doing?”

It suddenly feels like a huge mistake, and if you could swallow your anxieties, maybe this would’ve gone over easier. The position you two are in now, it feels warm. Steamy. His eye bags are less prominent when he’s slouched beneath you in his desk chair. Slender legs manspreading, and you could easily settle yourself on top of him if you felt like getting it on from behind the front desk.

“I just wanted… to see what it all looks like from behind here! Very, very nice. Did your boss get you that mug?”

“You need to leave,” and he sighs, but every action is gentle as he takes your arm, “what’s making you act so weird?”

Had anyone else been watching, they would have assumed the two of you were up to pure shenanigans. Midoriya yawns, eyes sleepy from his daytime nap as he trods towards the eating hall to peruse the options.

Midoriya hoped you weren’t genuinely upset about anything. Considering your demeanor and attitude, it seemed like something you would’ve liked, would’ve wanted. Maybe he went too far; it agonized him to think about it.

“Please, Shinsou! Don’t kick me out,” you’re grappling with his limbs, and you try to stand firmly, “you can’t treat a guest like this! I’ll make a scene!”

“You caused the scene!” 

The commotion is growing louder, making the green-haired boy’s head tilt because the voices sound too familiar. His feet turn right, heading towards the hall's entrance, and it’s unmistakable that you had been the feminine voice whining. 

“I know, but I had to do something!”

“Do what?”

Midoriya barely rounds the corner when you bend over, ass sticking up in the air, and plant a firm kiss on Shinsou’s lips. He doesn’t move but lets a soft groan slip as your hands trace the tops of his shoulders.

You’re crazy, he realizes. Just from watching you kiss Shinsou, he assumes he’s probably crazy, too, because it does nothing but make his cock throb. The two of you pull away, and you’re wiping your lips with the back of your hand. He wishes he could spy on what you were saying to him, using all your best tantalizing moves to keep Shinsou in a partial state of shock; you’re taking small steps back past the swinging door and nodding reassuringly.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah. I’ll see you…?”

“Uh-huh! Bye!”

Midoriya had ducked behind a wall, but your footsteps were growing closer and closer. Then, you’re a blur past him, but he can make out your face. It’s the face of sadism, of one that grins while you walk past him because you know that he knows you have the taste of Shinsou on your tongue and that you’re the one who gave him the bulge in his sweatpants. 

He quickly grabs onto your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“Yes?”

“You know what you’re doing, right? Do you really wanna play this game?”

“What game?”

This will end with him fucking the shit out of you, and you know it. Midoriya feels his heart swell with dominance, pulling you closer so your hand can cup his cock in his shorts. He manually curls your fingers around his length, small puffs of air coming out of him as you submissively run your palm over the salacious hardness under his sweatpants. 

“I like when you touch me like that! Reminds me that even though you might go and kiss other guys….”

His hand brushes against your hip, thumb dipping just under your shorts and panties to feel the forbidden skin you hid from him.

“I just know that under these panties, you’re soaking.”

You feel relief that he doesn’t try to check because you know your hole is dripping and staining your cute pair of panties.

“I…”

Midoriya shushes you, an adorable smile on display as he firmly squeezes your ass cheek. He grunts as you put more pressure on his dick before taking your hand and squeezing it.

“Don’t talk. I just want you to think, cutie,” and he gets impossibly closer.

“Do you really think you’ll win?”

You don’t think you’ll win at all, and that’s the fun in it.

Midoriya sighs, feeling your hand stroke him over the fabric before breathing out and pulling away. He kisses your cheek, pointedly avoiding your lips.

“I’ll see you later.”

You’re left as shocked as Shinsou was.

-

“Have you noticed how often the kids have been hanging out together? I knew it, Kotoe. I knew they’d hit it off,” your grandmother smirks cockily, “where are they now, anyways?”

It had been true that you and Midoriya had been spending as much time as possible together since the Shinsou incident. It’s been a day since anything had happened, but you’d already shown your hand with tight workout shorts that cupped your ass perfectly that afternoon. You’d given your soon-to-be fling an eyeful, bending over with a sway in the hips so he could see the soft, tender flesh jiggle as you sweat all over yourself.

Even just your body seemed obscene, Midoriya couldn’t stop his eyes from tracking your hand towel as it dried in between the valley of your tits (that he wished so badly he could suck on) or when you took a heaving breath while wiping the sweat off from your forehead. Midoriya felt like a pervert; images of painting you in thick ropes of cum kept him hot-blooded.

“Oops, be careful!”

Midoriya wanted to push you, though. To really test your limits as far as teasing went. He’d tried all his best tips and tricks that he knew, but he wanted more. You saw it all, the thumb brushing his lip being the first strike of many. A hand on your thigh that every so often grew so close to your cunt before pulling away and giving you a wry shrug, “I just like having something to hold!”

Things like that.

“You look really good with cream on your face,” he hummed nonchalantly over a cup of hot chocolate.

“Huh?!”

He doesn’t even have the shame to pretend that he didn’t say what he said.

“I said, if you wanted cream on your face so bad, you should’ve just asked me instead.”

He’s even cocky enough to embellish a little. By dinnertime, you can’t stop wondering what his lips would feel like as he ate you like a man starved, slurping at your folds and tonguing you deep because he wanted to give you everything plus more.

Maybe he’d be willing to go a little further! If you could find somewhere private, maybe he’d cave to your soft eyes and alluring words. While your grandmothers choose what to eat at the bar, you’re busying yourself with tugging on Midoriya’s shirt sleeve.

“So…”

“So?”

“Um, do you wanna,” you didn’t start out too strong, but then he’s leaning in a microinch more and licking his lips, “wanna… find somewhere more private?”

The two of you aren’t being very inconspicuous, and your lips are parting for ones that don’t reach yours. A light laugh is heard beside you as your eyes flutter open. You frown.

“Private? Why would we do that?”

“Midoriya. C’mon,” you give a quick look at your surroundings and hope the elderly really are deaf, “we’ve been doing this, but what about a break? You know, I could help with what’s going on with you….”

He’ll give you one thing, you’re trying really hard. You look great, and he’s noticed the infrequent squeezing of your thighs. You’re probably dripping right now, all because he touched you a little and murmured about how much he wants you. 

“Baby,” and he pecks the knuckles of your hands, “it’s just not gonna happen, yet. You can be patient, right?”

Maybe you’ll explode, turn into flames and die of spontaneous combustion. This is torturous. Blasphemous.

“...But I don’t want to wait anymore!”

Then, a firm hand holds your face in his cheeks. Anyone could see you two, but Midoriya has the gall to grab your face and squeeze just a little. You’re mush, and you’re looking at him with starry eyes as he squishes your cheeks.

“Don’t make me have to really punish you,” and while he doesn’t sound threatening, you have half a mind to take him seriously.

Your face is released, and you almost want to grind down in your seat. Adjusting yourself, you pop a tater-tot in your mouth to try and distract yourself from your need. To your utter annoyance, the boy next to you elbows you.

“Besides, you already know that when we do fuck, you'll get everything you want, right? I haven’t forgotten about that kiss, I’m going to prove to you I’m better than him!”

He eats a piece of broccoli like it’s nothing, and you have to fight to hide your grin over your predicament. Midoriya gives you one last look. He fears the feelings inside him. Maybe he likes you like that. He settles to focus on his broccoli.

-

This game the two of you had been playing was getting rough. Time seemed to fly by, and suddenly you were looking at only a couple weeks left to stay with your grandmother. In turn, this meant that after these few weeks… what you and Midoriya had would cease to exist. You tried not to think about it.

Neither of you brought it up, but aside from every sexual advance, it seemed like the elephant in the room followed you wherever you went. Midoriya had started pulling your chair out for you, started to buy you gifts, and you suspected his soft touches were his biggest tell. Midoriya didn’t seem like the type to fight feelings, and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

Not because you didn’t like him, of course. You just didn’t know how to feel because you couldn’t fight these feelings if you tried.

“Do you wanna call me Izuku?”

“Huh?! Well, well, are you sure?”

“Yeah! We’re, um, we’re close, you know? So I don’t mind! I’d prefer it, coming from you,” it’s funny because the two of you are physically close too, essentially cuddling.

After familiarizing yourself with the entire facility, the two of you managed to find the ideal spots to hang out for some alone time! It was like walking a tightrope, was it going to be you who fell first when you sidled up real close to him? Or was it going to be him when he reached an arm around to comfortably hug your shoulder?

“Well, that does make sense! Okay, Izuku,” you wiggle your shoulders and say it so sweetly that he almost kisses you, “I like it! It suits you, at least when I’m saying it.”

You ham it up, stroking his cheek and murmuring his name like you’re a cheesy romance movie lead. He’s giggling as your hand brushes his sides to tickle him.

“Hey, come on! I told you something personal and now you’re going to tickle me?!”

“Of course I am! Don’t you know who I am?!”

It’s a blur, Izuku’s laughing and you’re telling him about the “tickle monster” that’d just appeared. Once coming down from the gusto of play fighting, something’s changed.

The two of you are stunned when you realize what has happened. Maybe it was Izuku’s fault for flying backwards or yours for following him diligently with wandering hands. The two of you seem to just fit, hips slotted against his own as you look down at him. You’d landed nearly perfectly in his lap, bated breath as both of you took in what it all meant.

“Oh, I know who you are.”

It’s tense.

“The tickle monster is going away, but you better be careful,” you say in a near whisper.

…It’s so tense.

“What do I have to be scared of? You’re just a brat.”

Your heart is beating, and this is too considering you’re chest to chest. Every touch, laugh, and first kiss replays in your memory like a flashback. The smell of anticipation hangs in the air, and you smile because this is finally it.

And he beats you to the chase, lips puckered as he finally kisses you with the passion of the first one after leaving you wanting for too long. He tastes like peppermint, and it’s so hot. Gasping breaths are taken; hormones at an all-time high because you can’t get enough of him now that you know he’s yours.

“Fuck,” he pants, “we can’t do it here.”

You’re still trying to mouth at his jaw, desperate to continue planting heated bursts of love across every inch of his skin. His hands come to your waist, and you’re frowning cutely as if your favorite toy was taken.

“If we’re quiet, no one’s even gonna come….”

Izuku’s nervous. He’s been waiting for so long. Hell, he has the most beautiful girl sitting pretty in his lap, eager to get naked, and yet he’s still hesitating. Your manicured nail tilts his head away from the double doors and back to your panting face.

“We don’t have to,” you say calmly, but you suddenly feel so vulnerable.

Suddenly Izuku realizes you’re about to slip from his grasp like melted butter. It all makes sense. 

“No. I’ll fuck you here! We just…need to be quiet, okay?”

“Okay!”

Both mouths go back to sliding against each other, and your teeth tug his lip just so see the redness bloom under the thin skin. All you can hear are the slick sounds of the two of you making out, and your hips start tilting into Izuku’s bulge before you can try to contain yourself.

“We should…” he seems to contemplate your position, “hm. Get on your back, baby.”

Honestly, the couch isn’t the greatest. The narrowness makes you nervous, but the strong arm that nearly lifts you onto your back gives you starry eyes; you can’t complain. One of Izuku’s legs supports him from the floor and for some reason, it all feels so intimate. The way you offer a shy smile and how he pecks your nose so sweetly you almost don’t hear it.

He holds himself up above you, and you can actually see his freckles up close now. He has so many, and each one is wonderful.

Then, his head dives down into the curve of your neck with the swiftness of a cheetah. His teeth graze your pulse point, your back arching and breath hitching as he suckles until a tender purple bruise appears.

“Izuku!”

His cock throbs at how you moan his name.

“Shh! I don’t want to have to keep you quiet, right? Ah…”

His hips grind into yours easily with a fervor that only comes from days of teasing and sexual repression. 

“Want you to take off my shirt, ‘zuku,” you mumble weakly, arms already winding around his neck for support as he dry humps you like a fuckdoll.

“Mhm, I will, I will! Just wanna feel you for a second; you’re so fucking warm.”

You’re soaking through your panties. He’s found a good angle, the two of you whimpering together as he mimics fucking you deep and slow. If he was inside you, you’re sure he’d be balls deep with your legs over his shoulders.

But there was no time, and you’re bringing him back to your lips with a twist. If you didn’t reign him in, you were sure the two of you would cum in your pants, and that wasn’t enough. His hand is brought to your chest, squeezing over the fabric so you can squeal in between his tongue that licks into your mouth.

“Play with my tits, only wanna feel you on me,” you can’t even stop talking when his hand travels under your soft cardigan to tug the cups of your bra down, “want you to be the only one that touches me like this.”

He’s transfixed, rough palm skirting over your nipple in a way that makes you shudder.

“You’re so sensitive…”

Your leg is pushed to the floor as Midoriya flips your skirt up.

“I knew it. You’re soaking from me. You’re telling me all these things, but,” and your chest is spilling out from your bra cups as he fully exposes you, “I knew I was yours the minute I saw you.”

If you weren’t in the process of tugging the boy’s mouth closer to your tit, you might’ve picked up on the near-love confession he’d murmured into the fat of your breasts. It’s so heady, so exhilarating knowing someone could walk in on your sticky thighs spread while Izuku gropes your chest.

“Mmph, Izuku! I need more.”

“I know, and we need to hurry this along too…”

It’s a regret he’s forced to pull away from your upper half. Markings dot areas all over your chest and he shudders with empathetic pleasure, knowing you’ll be walking around with skin he defiled is so deeply arousing. You’ll walk around after he stretches you with his pulsing cock, dragging you back onto him like you were made for it. No one would know a thing, and it makes Midoriya tug his belt off with a sense of urgency.

You watch carefully as his thick fingers make quick work on his belt. You can’t help yourself from letting a wandering hand stroke your soaked pussy, adding the slightest amount of pressure on your clit with slow, deliberate circles. His eyes catch yours and then your trembling hand. You feel caught, hand pausing while you turn cherry red.

“No, no. Why’d you stop? Keep going.”

He unbuttons his jeans, but his hands go to palm himself instead of sliding the zipper down like you want.

“Izuku?”

“Get yourself all wet for me, pretty. I wanna see how you touch yourself.”

It’s maybe one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard, and it’s even more attractive when a strong hand drags your hand down to your swollen cunt.

“Are you that bad at being good? You heard me.”

His voice has the same bite it always does. Friendly but in no doubt in charge. Your body temperature rises, and it’s almost embarrassing to get yourself off knowing he’s watching you like a hawk.

He even laughs when your hips jolt, “you can rub harder than that.”

“Why don’t you try?!”

The words don’t come out half as strong as you’d like. Rather, you sound pathetic because his groans are spurring your fingers to pull your panties to the side and actually touch yourself for real. The tips of your fingers are slick, and lewd sounds are echoing as you pump a finger into your gummy walls.

“I’m sure you’re just as good. I mean, you had every day to practice! Shit,” he sighs and dips a hand under his jeans, “wish I had time to use my mouth on you. I bet you taste so good, too.”

You spread your lips to expose your dripping hole, clenching around nothing and leaving a syrupy trail of wetness on your fingers. Izuku trembles, hand gripping the base of his cock as you nearly weep for him.

“I want you to fill me, Izuku. My fingers aren’t enough; I need you here,” and you lay a hand on your lower stomach, “wanna feel you here.”

After begging so cutely and winding yourself up so much that you’re nearly grinding onto the couch cushion, you hope it works. You even move to cup your breast for good measure.

“Don’t you wanna see how good I’d squeeze you?”

It hangs in the air for a moment before Midoriya nods hastily.

“Okay. Yes, okay!”

He digs through his wallet, pulling out a foil square and pushing his boxers down to alleviate the pressure bearing down at him. Sharp teeth rip the foil apart while you take mental notes on the boy before you.

It’s certainly not a disappointment! The mushroom head leaks precum like a fountain. Beading at the slit and eventually bubbling over, it’s so enticing that you’re willing to take him into your mouth just for one second.

Instead, you grab the condom with your hand, and both of you work together to roll it on. He hisses at the contact of your hand gripping his so you can’t help but give a tug just to hear him gasp.

“You’ll make me cum if you do that! Don’t,” he chuckles, swatting your hand away.

“Are you even gonna last more than a minute?”

“Will you?”

The two of you giggle as you maneuver yourself, spreading slick thighs and Izuku splaying your lower half against his. He hisses when his cock slides through your dripping folds, “I’m gonna love this pussy.”

“C’mon,” you whine impatiently, “you’re being unfair–”

He’d had enough of your needy voice, and Izuku could feel all his self-control melt away like snow. First, he pushes the tip in just to keep you quiet (and it works, just as he imagined.) 

“Ngh! Ah, wait! Wait, wait…” you’re suddenly about to topple off the edge of pure pleasure if not for Izuku holding your hand in his.

“I-I can’t! Baby, I need to be inside you. You can take it, right?”

He’s pushing his thick dick further in you, and your breath skips in your throat because he’s stretching you so good and making such sinful noises.

“There ‘ya go! There… fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Izuku has to force himself to think of other things, to not think of your drooling pussy taking him in like he belonged there. To not think of how you kept wiggling for more; you couldn’t get enough of feeling him hit that spongy spot that felt so good inside you. He hasn’t even started thrusting yet, just huffing expletives in your ear as he forces himself to not shoot his load too early.

You already look fucked out, looking at him like he hung the moon and stars in the sky for you. You’re looking at him like you love him, and he snaps his hips forward so hard you jerk upwards against the cushions. Soft hands fly to cover your mouth, and you look so pathetic trying to keep quiet as he carves a space inside you for him and only him.

  Quiet little “ah, ah, ah!” come out of you in bursts, utterly helpless to the fact that you must stay silent while Izuku pounds you into the worn couch of your grandmother’s retirement home. It’s debauched. It’s so fucking hot.

“I’ve wanted you since the beginning, hah. I was waiting for the right time,” he rambles, but his gaze is stuck on the way he slides way deep into you just to feel his heaviness drag against your folds till it’s just the tip. Again and again, and he’s nearly salivating with the froth you cream on his base, “and you look so pretty and I wanna do more, I–”

You realize he needs to shut up while trying to regain your own bearings. You’re still being vigorously fucked, and you can hardly get a word in with how he punches his cock just deep enough the graze your womb.

It makes you cry out because it hurts so fucking good, and Midoriya is quick shush you like a baby.

“Izu–oh, fuck! Izuku! Izu,” your hand cups his cheek to bring his lips against yours, effectively keeping him quiet.

The natural body weight of Izuku’s body excites your nerves so much that you feel on fire.

“‘M not gonna last long,” he gives a stuttering whisper and sneaks a hand between your bodies, balls slapping lewdly against your ass as he drills into you, “wanna get you off though, hm? Gotta make my pretty girl cum, right?”

He has no idea if he’s just muttering bullshit at this point, but it seems to work considering your increase in volume (something he can’t be bothered to fix.) Izuku wipes his hand on his shirt and rubs slow, small circles on your clit. It’s so methodical. It’s so targeted that you clench harder and harder.

“‘M gonna cum–gonna cream all over you,” your folds flutter so enticingly around him.

“You’re such a good girl, ngh! Cum around my cock; you deserve it..!”

You cum with a wail, no doubt soaking Izuku as he hunkers down onto you and grinds messily into you.

“W-Wish I could fill you up!! You’re so–so perfect.”

“Cum with me, ‘zuku,” you whisper as you comb your fingers through the sweaty hair stuck to his forehead.

Izuku muffles his groan into the crook of your neck, spilling his load in the rubber and sighing as the euphoria washes over him. The two of you take a moment to catch your breath, and you cringe at how the back of your shirt is stuck with sweat from your unexpected tryst. The boy on top of you can barely hold himself up, shaky hands tugging the condom off and tucking himself back into his jeans.

“Oh no!”

There’s a clear wet spot on his jeans, no doubt from barely undressing and thus spilling remnants of your cum together. Part of you wishes you could lick it off, and you have to shut your legs to keep your oversensitive clit from throbbing.

“Oh! That’s… okay. Um, is there a trash can near?...”

It makes you want to laugh at how he looks so boyish now in the post-coital glow. Adjusting your panties, after much deliberation of taking them off since they were soaked, you sit back and rest a hand on Izuku’s knee.

“I think there’s one right outside the main exit,” and then you’re leaning forward to kiss his nose, “...do you wanna go on a date?”

“You can’t say that while I’m still holding the condom that I just fucked you with!”

The two of you laugh before he softly kisses your shiny lips, “but okay.”

By next summer, your grandmothers are wondering how many kids the two of you will have.

[cherthegoddess]

Request for an Evan Buckley imagine: y/n is also a firefighter at the 118, but she gets trapped in a fire while the building is partly collapsing and the 118 has to go in to save her 😎

Burning Love

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings: This was written with a black reader in mind but anyone can read it!

Word Count: 1.1k+

Burning Love

“Nothing like a factory fire to start the day,” Y/n said with a grin to Buck. “Yeah as long as you don’t do anything reckless.” Hen laughs loudly at his remark. “That’s funny coming from you Buckaroo.” Y/n shot back sticking out her tongue. Both Y/n and Buck were known to pull the heroics not caring if they got hurt in the end. Y/n more so after her near-death experience during an earthquake. 

The crackles and snaps could be heard as they pulled into the scene. Cap began barking out orders quickly as he assessed the fire. A hand sanitizer factory sparked a fire that was quickly going up in flames. The sprinklers jammed. Workers, along with other stations, are firefighters walking out from the burning building. “Hen! Chimney! Head on over to the workers! See what the other paramedics need help with.  Buck! Y/n! See if there are any more workers inside. Eddie! Let’s try to get this fire tamed! And try to see why these sprinklers aren’t working.” The crew quickly got to work moving into the spaces that they were told by Bobby. Buck and Y/n make their way to the blazing inferno to look at where they could enter. One of Station 124 firefighters walked past with a person coughing on their arm. “There’s a few more people inside!” The firefighter yelled. Y/n and Buck nod, making their way inside gear strapped securely to them. 

The room was covered in flames. There was not much that the fire did not touch. Luckily the hand sanitizer was one of them. “Let’s find these people and get outta here before these flames get worse.” Buck yelled over to Y/n She nodded and started moving, “Is anyone in here?!” They moved further into the building. “Over here! We’re over here!” Behind a couple of boxes lay a man and a woman. The woman was trapped under a pillar, clearly with a broken leg at the least. The chalky flames made their face covered in ash. The man tried his best to pull the pillar up, but he was unsuccessful. “What’s your name?” Y/n called out as both Buck and her ran over. “I’m Max and this is Saddie. Please help us, I’ve been trying to get this beam off of her but I can’t.” They quickly got into action, pushing the beam up not before making sure there wasn’t any other damage. They pulled Saddie’s body out, Buck allowing her to grab his shoulders. “Is there anyone else in this building?” The two shook their heads no. Max could walk so they made their way to the exit. Something caught Y/n’s eye and without Buck noticing she went to go see if there was someone else. Sure enough, there lay a woman trapped in what looked like some sort of machinery. Y/n clicked her walkie, “Guys I’m gonna be out soon. I found one more woman!” There was a pause before a response. “Y/n you were supposed to be evacuated with Buck,” Cap said sternly. “Sorry Cap! I promise I’ll be out soon.” Y/n starts working to feel the woman’s pulse. It was steady even in her unconscious state. She begins pushing the machinery off of the woman, but the woman starts to wake up and in pain. “Ma’am, I promise I’m going to get you out from under there.” The woman groans. Once the pieces were completely off of the woman, Y/n did her best to keep her up and started walking towards the exit. “Okay, Cap I’m on my way out!” She spoke too soon as the fire got stronger and catching some of the hand sanitizers lighting them up as well. “Cap, we may have a problem. The hand sanitizers caught flame and I don’t think we can get outta here. What’s the eta on the sprinklers?” The woman began to cough. “Y/n, I thought I told you not to play hero.” It was Buck this time. He wasn’t his usual goofy self this time either. He was clearly upset and worried about her. “You should know me by now Buck, I don’t listen. That’s beside the point, the sprinklers?” The flames get stronger. “We’re still trying to get them going. In the meantime try to find an alternate way out.” Bobby responds. Y/n looks around, there are just too many flames. The woman’s condition slowly starts to worsen as the smoke gets stronger. 

On the outside, Buck was pacing, waiting for someone to figure out how they could help Y/n. “Bobby, just let me go in! I need to help her.” Bobby looked sternly at Buck. “Buck, I know how you feel about her but I also know her. She’s a fighter.” Buck glares. He’s in love with her, has been for a while and he knew she was the one as soon as she walked into the station. Buck couldn’t lose her without her knowing that. 

Y/n back on the inside started to make a way out after finding a fire extinguisher nearby and putting it to work. The woman is slightly better, walking on her own. “Okay ma’am, I think we made a clear enough path that we can walk through.” The woman limps lightly over grabbing onto Y/n to walk steadily. “We’re getting out of here.”

Buck works with Eddie to fix the sprinklers since at every turn Cap stops him from going in. They just about had it when an explosion rang out. Buck and Eddie rushed over to see if Y/n was there and she wasn’t. Buck starts to tear up, mouth agape. “No, no, no” Eddie brings Buck into a bear hug as he cries. “Wait, Buck, look!” Eddie pulls him to turn around. And there she is, Y/n walking with the woman. And the sprinkler starts finally going off. Hen and Chimney rush to the two to check to see if they are okay. The woman gets taken away by Hen and Chimney. “Thanks, guys,” Y/n said as Hen tapped her on her back. “Glad you’re alive, kid.” Buck watched from a distance, in shock that she was alive. Y/n walks over to Buck with a smile. “I know you said not to do anything reckless, but you know I can’t help it. Besides, you know I always come back-” Her voice was covered with a kiss. His hands went straight for her cheeks. He slightly pulls away to apologize but she pulls him back in deepening it, her gloved hands gripping the ends of his hair. Chim and Hen whoop in the background and Bobby smiles at the scene. When they finally pull apart, they grin at each other. “Took you long enough Buckaroo. Been waiting a whole 6 months for that.” Buck laughs, I promise I’ll make up for all that I missed, but first a date.” Y/n nods and smiles pecking his lips again. “Chim you owe me 30,” Hen says with her hand out.

Soooo I kinda didn't do the last part but we love a woman who can save herself! I hope you like it even with the slight change! But please send more requests!

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[spoodrm4n]

But I Wouldn’t Let You (pt. 2 of And I Would Do It Again)

Parings: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: You wake up in the hospital, having no memory of how you ended up there or the fall of Star Court. Steve comforts you and stays with you while you heal. You both end up having a heart to heart at the end of the day. Angst to fluff! Takes place at the end of season 3, leading into season 4.

Warnings: angst, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, mentions of memory loss.

Word Count: 3.7K (not sure how it ended up being the same length as part one lol)

A/N: Started making this as soon as someone requested a part two. Thank you so much for all the positive comments on part one! I’m new to writing fics so the encouragement is appreciated! Thank you. 

READ PART ONE HERE

You blinked up at the white ceiling, the beep of the heart monitor grounding you and keeping you above water. The vision in your left eye was worse for wear, darkness overtaking a part of it. Your whole body felt sore and you had tried to move and sit up, but you decided against it as the pain flared up. You didn’t remember how you had gotten here– or how long you had even been here. You had woken up alone and the clock on the bedside table read 4:47am. You supposed you should’ve called in a nurse or doctor, but there was no button in sight. You had only been up for a few minutes before a doctor came in, Steve trailing a bit behind him. 

What was Steve doing here?

“Ms. Henderson, how are you feeling?” The doctor spoke and you stared dumbly up at him, swallowing. 

“I’m okay,” you spoke, voice hoarse. Steve came out from behind the doctor and handed you a water bottle. You took it and twisted the cap off quickly, drinking greedily. How long have you been here?

“That’s good. Feeling any pain anywhere?” The doctor asked, peering above his glasses at me and I shook my head once again, lying to him. You had started to feel the effects of the pain medicine wear off when you woke up. 

“What happened?” You choked out, sitting up on your elbows with a wince. Steve placed a hand on your upper back, easing you into the pillows behind you. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” The doctor asked and that made you a bit frustrated. You sat there for a minute, eyebrows furrowed in thought. You were at Scoops with Robin, Steve, and your little brother and you were figuring out something… a code. A Russian code. A secret Russian code and you all had found a secret underground Russian base. You remembered getting taken, getting interrogated and beaten half to death, escaping and getting shot. The details were fuzzy after that. 

“I-I was shot. That’s the last thing I can clearly remember. Everything is a bit fuzzy after that,” you shrugged. “How long have I been here? Is Dustin okay? Everyone else?” Concern gripped your throat and you felt your breaths become quicker at the thought of your brother being hurt– or even worse. Your ribs ached with every breath, thinking the worst as Steve rubbed your back.

“Dustin’s fine. Everyone’s fine, I promise.” Steve soothed, rubbing circles on your back. 

“What happened?” You raised your voice, wanting answers. The doctor sat down in a chair across from your bed, facing you. 

“This might be hard to believe…” You drank in his words. It all sounded absolutely insane, but you had just escaped from a Russian base hidden under Hawkins so you could believe it. They had told you that you had been asleep for a few days now and that the situation was under lock and key and that they planned on closing the lab down at the end of this month. 

“Is Max okay? I mean, that can’t be easy to deal with. And El? Who is taking care of her?” You turned to Steve once the doctor– who wasn’t even a doctor in the first place, was done explaining everything to you. 

“I’ll leave you two alone. You should be good to leave tomorrow afternoon.” With that he left and you and Steve were alone. He was sitting on the side of your bed, now facing you. 

“Max is holding up as well as she can. She’s tough. El is living with Joyce, Will, and Jonathan. I think they’re moving across the country to California in a month. We’ll check up on them once you’re well enough, yeah?” He reassured you. His hand had stopped rubbing circles on your back a while ago, now just resting there, thumb rubbing up and down slowly. You weren’t sure when Steve had gotten so intimate with you, but you weren’t really complaining. Your face was hot with a blush. “Dustin and Robin were here earlier with us, we all watched a movie. It was Star Wars– the one with the little teddy bears.” He imitated the little noises they made and you laughed. 

“Ah yes, my favorite Star Wars movie– the one with the teddy bears.” You mocked him, rolling your eyes. If only Dustin were here to witness this blasphemy. 

“You know, I think I know where your brother gets it from.” Steve narrowed his eyes at you, a pout on his lips.

“Woah, he’s way worse than me, that’s no debate.” You defended yourself.

“Do you remember anything before you passed out? Remember our conversation in the bathroom?” The tone of the room shifted completely. Steve’s voice was quieter now as he turned to look at you. His eyes scanning your face.

“I passed out in a bathroom? Gross,” You scoffed, shaking your head at the thought. “Those mall bathrooms are absolutely disgusting.” You tried to lighten the mood a bit, but failed.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Steve sighed and moved his arm from around your back. You frowned a bit at the loss of contact. “Y/N, I thought you were going to die. And I was scared shitless. I didn’t really know what to do when you just collapsed right in front of me. I couldn’t do anything to help you, I just had to watch and I felt so helpless. I was so scared.” His voice was just a whisper now. You felt your stomach flip uneasily at the thought of Steve watching you die. You didn’t want anyone to have to deal with that– especially him. “I had just gotten you and I thought in that same moment I lost you.” You could see the tears threatening to spill over. 

“What do you mean ‘you had just gotten me’?” You  tilted your head to the side just a bit, searching his face for an answer. You saw his face fall a bit before he was biting his lip. “Steve.” 

“God, it’s more nerve wracking the second time,” you heard him mutter under his breath. He took both of your hands in his, being careful of the IV in the back of your left hand. “I like you, a lot. I have for a while now.” And suddenly it was all coming back to you. 

His lips on yours, your hands holding onto the edge of the sink in the bathroom like a lifeline. His hands cradling your face ever so softly. His promise of a date, his guilt over your injuries and wishing they were his own, his confession, you passing out and him catching you before you hit the tile floor. 

You surged forward, crashing your lips onto his, hands moving from his hands to the back of his neck. Your fingers found their way through his hair and you were pulling at it, desperate. One of his hands found your waist and the other held the side of your head, fingers grazing your jaw and ear. Steve Harrington liked you. Steve Harrington was kissing you. Holy shit. He leaned back from the kiss, forehead resting against yours. 

“I really thought– for a god forsaken moment– that I had lost you.” He kept his eyes closed and you frowned as a tear slipped down his cheek. 

“I’m right here. I’m here, Stevie. I’m okay.” You reassured, hand moving to swipe the tear from his cheek. He opened his eyes then, coffee brown irises meeting your own. 

“I know. I know,” he said back, kissing you again; just to make sure you were really there in front of him.

...

You had been out of the lab’s hospital for almost a week now. You had received your fair share of visitors; Lucas, Max, Will, Mike, El, Jonathan, Nancy, and of course Robin. Steve had taken it upon himself to take care of you while your mom had to go to work, to which your mom had almost cried at the kind act. Dustin was checking up on you constantly, obviously shaken up from almost losing you as well, but he had to go back to school. Robin was over most nights after her Family Video shifts, often bringing a movie with her for you, Steve, Dustin, whoever was visiting at the time and herself to watch. 

“So I’m out of a job, is what you’re saying.” You groaned as Robin rambled about the mall incident being covered up by a fire. She was sitting on the foot of your bed, cross legged with this week's newspaper spread out in front of her on your bed. 

“I’d say so. Unless you want to scoop some ash into a cone for willing customers.” She smiled up at you and you shook your head, a smile on your face. “You could come work with me and Steve!” Robin suggested, eyebrows raised enthusiastically. 

“We’re getting the band back together?” Steve walked back into your room, a glass of water in hand and your pain meds in the other. He handed them to you and you kissed him on the cheek quickly in thanks. 

“Only if Y/N wants to. Which I’m not sure why she wouldn’t. We could totally convince Keith to hire you on. If I could convince him to hire Harrington, you would have no problem at all.” Robin jabbed at Steve and he rolled his eyes, sitting on the bed by you. Your mom was at work today and Dustin was over at Mike’s house along with the rest of the kids.

“I’ll apply in like a week's time. I mean, I feel better already. I really wanna go somewhere tonight. I haven’t been out in so long.” You groaned, throwing your hands up. 

“Um, false. You were out literally four days ago.” Steve argued, stealing the comic page of the newspaper from Robin. 

“Driving home from the lab doesn’t count Steve.” You glared at him. You loved Steve, but he was being a helicopter parent right now. 

“I’d say it does.” He shrugged, put the comic down and looked at you. You stared back, glaring at him, hoping that if you did it long enough he would relent. 

“Hardly, Harrington,” Robin spoke up and you pointed from her to Steve, emphasizing your point. 

“Steve, I need sunlight. I’m getting all depressed just sitting in here all day. Can we just go on a drive or something? It doesn’t have to be anything big, okay?” You begged, pouting. Steve looked at your puppy dog face for a minute more before he was sighing, running a hand through his hair. You had won this one. 

“You wanna come, Rob?” Steve got up from the bed, grabbing his keys from your dresser and shrugging his jacket on. 

“I have to be at Family Video in like half an hour, so I’ll have to pass.” Robin said, standing up and grabbing her bag from the foot of the bed. Steve came back over once he had slipped his shoes on and helped you up. You got to your feet slowly, hands steadying yourself on his shoulders. 

“I’ll drive you so you don’t have to walk. It’s no trouble.” Steve offered Robin as you moved to put a sweatshirt over your head. You huffed as you stretched your arms above your head and it pulled on the stitches of your healing bullet wound. Steve was helping you in an instant, lowering your arms a bit as he pulled the material over your head. “You okay?” He asked, seeing the pain written across your face. 

“Fine, just need these pain meds to kick in.” You mumbled, grabbing your white high tops and bending down slowly to put them on. 

“Hey, hey, let me.” Steve crouched down in front of you and you stood back up, arm cradling your side. 

“Okay, Henderson, you need to take it easy. You can’t be moving around like that,” Robin fussed, running her hands down the back of your sweatshirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. 

“I’m fine guys. I’m not going to just fall apart.” You groaned, swatting Robin’s hands away. You just wanted to feel normal again and you couldn’t really do that if all of your friends were constantly fussing over you. 

“I don’t know, Y/N. Could’ve fooled me,” Steve muttered, standing back up to face you. 

“Seriously. Can we just go?” You crossed your arms against your chest and started walking towards the front door to leave. Steve and Robin walked behind you, whispering amongst themselves. You walked out the front door and went to sit in the passenger seat of Steve’s car. You gently lowered yourself onto the seat, careful not to jostle your ribs or your stitches. You let out a breath as you got situated and Robin sat in the seat behind you, Steve in the driver’s seat. 

“You okay?” Steve looked you up and down, seeing how tense you sat and how your arm was wrapped around your torso. 

“Fine. Let’s go,” you supplied quickly, sinking a bit lower into the seat, willing the pain medication to kick in soon. Steve pulled out of your driveway and onto the street, on our way to Family Video to drop Robin off. 

“By the way, thank you, Robin, for picking up my shifts for the week. I really can’t thank you enough.” Steve spoke up over the radio after a minute. 

“It’s really no problem, Steve. Gotta take care of our bestest friend Y/N. No other cause I’d take a shift for.” She chuckled, patting you on the shoulder gently. You smiled at her in the rearview mirror. 

“Thank you guys. You really didn’t need to do any of this.” You felt like a burden suddenly, realizing you were making Robin work more hours and making Steve lose money. You could’ve handled being on your own. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. If Dustin were here right now he would be scolding the shit out of you for being guilty. And before you argue, I know that look,” Steve interrupted you, pointing a knowing finger at you. 

“I just mean that this shouldn’t be your guys’ responsibility.” I shrugged, glancing out the window at the scenery. 

“We wouldn’t have it any other way, Y/N. We love you and don’t mind taking care of you and keeping you company. You took a bullet for us; it’s the least we can do.” Robin argued as Steve pulled into the Family Video parking lots. She opened the door to get out. “I’ll see you both later tonight?” She raised an eyebrow, holding onto the car door, waiting for an answer. 

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up when your shifts done. See you then!” Steve called after her as she closed the door and bounded down the sidewalk towards the entrance. Steve put the car back in drive and the two of you were off, going down one of Hawkin’s many backroads. The car ride was silent as you turned over Robin’s words in your head. You took a bullet for us; it’s the least we can do. You had, hadn’t you? You started to think if you ever got the opportunity to go back and change the situation, reverse roles, maybe even stop yourself from getting involved in cracking the code in the first place, that you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t change a thing about it. You would take that beating again, that bullet again and again if it meant they came out okay. If it meant Steve came out okay. You felt sick to your stomach as you realized the depth of your feelings for him– or maybe it was the pain. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the nauseousness to go away. 

You felt the car come to a stop a few minutes later and opened your eyes, finding yourself at one of the deserted shores of Lovers Lake. You turned to Steve, finding that he was already looking at you. 

“What are you thinking about?” He broke the silence. You swallowed and turned to him, the pain medication finally kicking in, making your body relax a bit in the seat.

“I wouldn’t change anything I did.” You said simply, eyes locking onto his. 

“You wouldn’t change anything?” He tilted his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I meant what I said in the bathroom that night. I wouldn’t change anything. I would do it over and over again if it meant you guys were okay– you were okay. I would go through it all over again with a smile on my face because I know you would be okay.” You reiterated seriously. 

“Come on,” Steve was getting out of the car now, walking over to your side and opening the door for you. You looked up at him and he scooped you up into his arms and carried you down to the shore of the lake. He set you down gently and joined you, sitting beside you, legs touching. 

“Steve?” You questioned, waiting for his response. You could see a million thoughts flying through his head when you looked at his eyes. You could see the inner turmoil he was facing as his lips drew into a thin line and he gazed across the water. The sunshine reflected off of the surface, making it a shimmery teal.

“But I wouldn’t let you. I won’t let you, ever again.” He finally said, eyes still fixed on the small waves. “You’ll never get the chance again.”

“How can you be so sure?” You asked, fiddling with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. 

“Because I wouldn’t let you. I’d be better this time– faster, more aware, more careful.” He argued, shaking his head. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Steve.” You put a hand on his knee. 

“Like hell it wasn’t. I got you dragged into this mess because I couldn’t keep my damn voice down. I got drugged and tied up. It was my fault. And I won’t let it happen again.” He was louder now and you flinched a bit. He looked at you now and blinked. “After you passed out in the bathroom, I had to leave you there in the corner because of that damned Mind Flayer. I couldn’t help you right then or I would’ve gotten us both killed. Once we finally got help, they said you were critical– that if we had been one second later you would’ve been gone forever. Those three days you were in that lab I lost my mind. I was going crazy and I couldn’t do anything to help you and I told myself over and over that if we got lucky enough to make it out of this, I wouldn’t let you do anything like that ever again. I won’t let you.” Your heart broke as tears fell down his cheeks. You did the same as you did in the lab, swiping them away gently with your thumb. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I’m sorry, Steve.” You whispered, tears starting to fall from your own eyes. 

“You’re one of the few people that really know me and you actually care. People tend to not really give a shit about me– it’s not something I’m used to, so when someone finally did, I held onto it like a lifeline.” He admitted, sobs bubbling his throat. “I love you so much.” You felt yourself freeze up at his confession. You stared at him, mouth slightly agape, tears still running down your face. 

“Steve–” He cut you off, pulling you in for a kiss. You kissed back, a new mix of emotions pouring out as you replayed his confession over and over again. You found yourself smiling into the kiss, giddy as hell. You started giggling which turned into a full on laugh and Steve pulled away. You wheezed, not sure if your tears were still out of sadness or joy anymore. Your ribs hurt and you felt sore all over. 

“I can’t believe you’re laughing at me right now.” He whined, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“No, no, no. I’m not laughing at you. I-I just. I had to get shot for you to tell me you love me?” You said through your laughter. Steve cringed at the implications of your words. 

“I mean, no. But when you put it like that–”

“Steve.”

“What?” He looked utterly confused now. 

“I love you too.” You smiled, sobering from your laughter. 

“Only took you almost dying to get it out of you.” Steve rolled his eyes, pulling your face towards his and peppering you in soft kisses. Your face was still discolored from bruises, but he still thought you were incredibly beautiful. “You’re gorgeous, Y/N. I love you.” He said in between kisses. 

“I could get used to that,” you chuckled. He stopped kissing you after a minute.

“We should go back to my house. That medicine is making me tired,” you yawned, rubbing a hand over your face. Steve stood up beside you.

“Are you sure it wasn’t the emotional conversation we just dumped onto each other?” Steve laughed, giving you a hand up. You took it and stumbled to your feet. He hooked an arm around your shoulders and led you to the car. 

“Yeah… maybe that too,” you smiled. Steve opened the car door for you again and you ducked in, getting comfortable as Steve hopped in the drivers side. He started the car and turned the radio down, seeing you yawn for the third time. You shifted to where you were resting your head on your arm, eyes closing. 

You groaned as a pair of arms picked you up, jostling you from your sleep. Steve shushed you, closing the car door with his foot and carrying you to your room. He nudged the door open with his hip and laid you down in the bed, taking your shoes and sweatshirt off for you. You mumbled a quick ‘thanks’ to him and he smiled down at you. 

He kicked his own shoes off and took his keys out of his pocket, putting them back on the bedside table. He climbed in beside you and pulled the covers up on you both. You scooted closer to him, eyes still closed and half asleep. He pulled you into his chest, arms wrapping around you, being careful of your wound. He knew Dustin would get home in an hour or two and find him in bed with his sister and throw a fit, but with you in his arms, he couldn’t bring himself to care about the repercussions. 

“I love you, Y/N.” He said quietly, planting a kiss onto your temple. He was met with the sound of your steady breathing. He looked at the brown leather watch he always had on, checking the time he had before he had to go pick up Robin. He smiled when he saw he had a few hours and settled in, drinking in every second he had with you. 

He promised himself that he would never let it happen again, but he wouldn’t change a thing either.