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cl6teen · 4 months

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affection, ln4 ❀ chapter ii. the need to know

masterlist || chapter i || chapter iii

summary: [4.5k words] drunken nights spent in lando’s townhouse are an ode to your friendship, and maybe just a little bit more.

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

contains: lando and reader are in denial, self friendzoning, lots of reminiscing and fluff, lando taking care of reader, very lazy smut, one night stands, oblivious flirting, talks of sex, intoxication, unprotected sex, pull and pray.

note: not proofread, this can be read as a stand-alone or as part of my affection series, however this is not a required read for said series. (sorry for such a long wait! exams were rough and this was difficult to write for some reason)

❀ silverstone ❀

The overarching sounds of EDM and conversation ring through Lando’s ears in a destructive harmony that’s sure to hit him tomorrow morning in the form of a stupid migraine. Still, he pushes through the sea of bodies crowding around, trying to huddle in close enough to him to hopefully snag a photo of ‘Silverstone’s P2 driver’. It has a nice ring to it, since you said that with Max in this competition, P2 is the new P1, so he should be nothing more proud of his performance.

Prideful he was, enough to confidently down shots with today’s true winner, forgetting how the Dutchman always lets as loose as he can during these after parties. And while they didn’t seem to hit whilst manning the dj turn-tables for the last hour or so, the newfound alcohol in his system was certainly making itself known now.

His hands run through brown tufts of hair as he scans the club entrance for you, “Y/n?”

“Over here.”

You’ve sat yourself in an armchair close to the women’s washroom, where you nurse a half-full lukewarm bottle of water in your hands before taking yet another prolonged sip.

“You look like shit.” He chuckles, leaning down to fix the strands of your hair that stray from the rest.

“Tell me about it,” you roll your eyes playfully, a laugh escapes you both, “you’re not one to talk, either.”

Fair point, he shrugs. With tousled hair that manages to go in every direction except for what it was originally in, sunglasses threatening to fall off the bridge of his nose, and the faint red lipstick marks stained on his unbuttoned white collar, Lando looks far from put together. He’s impossible, how can he have the nerve to talk to how you look on a night out while he was so quick to leave you with Oscar (who you had no problems being with—he just didn’t seem to be the party type) after receiving a shameless once over from a leggy blonde passing your group by upon arrival.

“So, where’s tonight’s girl?” He stares when you passively fold your arms into each other and question, completely unaware of how the movement pushes your chest together. He clicks his tongue, stop looking, Lando.

“Hell if I know.” He sighs in fake disappointment, in hopes of cutting that conversation off as quickly as it was introduced, “you’re staying at mine tonight.”

Okay, you nod. You don’t question it—you never do. Instead you sit quietly and watch him swipe around on his phone, no doubt shooting Max (Fewtrell) a quick text to let him know you were both leaving before calling up an Uber Black. Was this normal? To go home with Lando after a long night out? To you, the answer was always yes—hell, if you need him, say the word and he’s on the way, isn’t that what friends were for?

But other people can’t fathom the idea, they look at the two of you with doubtful eyes after explaining that although you can’t seem to go anywhere without one another, Lando’s just a friend. You sigh in exasperation at the thought, Lando Norris isn’t dateable; at least, not to you. He texts you about the girls he’s on dates with and nitpicks about how their breath smells, or how they had food in their teeth, or the potent perfume they drench themselves in to the point of inducing headaches in people they pass by. He’s whiney, and picky, and—

Lando’s fingers snap in your face and bring you out of your stupor, “What’s got you thinking so hard?”

“Nothing.” Your little jump earns you a perplexed look from Lando, who can only stare you down, “nothing, just want to get some rest.”

“The car is here, but it’s a little walk across the street.” He notices the heels toppled over each other next to the chair—you truly are a mess. “Do you have your purse?” You nod, flimsily holding the bag up for him to see.

Lando is no Superman, he knows that well after an ambitious jump off a bunk bed and straight into an ER visit and a three month cast at the age of ten; but now he feels like he’s got the power to do it all, looping the straps of your heels on a finger and hoisting you into his arms bridal style. It’s far from a pretty sight, but it still manages to grab the attention of partygoers nearby, who point and whisper and gush at the scene in front of them. “People will see, Lando.” You look up at him through dark lashes in an unfamiliar way that gets his gears turning—more than anything, he just wants to get you to this car.

“Yeah, but that’s okay.” He smiles nervously, letting you burrow your head into the crook of his neck to hide from the nipping British breezes outside. It's probably anything but okay; pictures might make their way around, and make both his life and your own a pain in the ass, but he can’t rain it on you like that.

The subtle aroma of your perfume invades his senses, and all of a sudden he’s become so hyper aware of his touch on your skin, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest—he shakes his head.

In Lando’s mind, you’re but one thing to him; a friend—one he intends to keep like that.

—

Silent car rides in the backseat have never been Lando’s thing, not when he’s drunk, not when he can’t use his phone because he has to watch you. He’s not complaining, really—but there’s a fleeting moment of relief when forty minutes later, the two of you find way to the steps of his townhome, and he's fumbling around in his pockets for the keys while you stay huddled close to him to keep warm despite already sporting his jacket.

He’s profane as he fiddles with the door handle. You’re lucky he’s sweet enough to give you his clothing, because even though he practically threw it at you after listening to your nonstop whines about the cold, and how he ‘wasn’t even fazed by it’, he is actually freezing now.

“Tonight was…”

Rough, Fun, you both say in tandem; Lando’s enthusiasm is unsurprising, he finds himself at home in these situations. Work hard, play harder, he would say—it makes sense, his job is high stakes, stressful, the media is a pain in the ass; you would look forward to the fun bit too.

However, you’re not Lando, you don’t vacation in Ibiza or party with Max Verstappen on weekends—you travel to Thailand and read on rafts, but your best friend making podium during a home race is more than enough reason to show face for the night, so you make your peace with it and thank whoever that you’re home now.

“I need to change out of this,” you refer to the dress you’ve spent the entire after party readjusting and pulling down only to tug back up. “Lend me a shirt?”

“Did you really need to ask?” He speaks from a hunched over position while clumsily taking off his shoes. “You know where my room is.”

It’s a painfully familiar place; Lando’s never around enough to change it up anyway. When was the last time you were here? Maybe two years ago, during summer break, your memory is too foggy, but not to the point where you can forget your first time visiting. You and Lando were nineteen and twenty, and he wanted to use his well earned ‘Y/n’s daddy’ funded bonus on something practical. A house was not what you had in mind, but twenty five year old Carlos had a bottle of wine and a pipe dream of a three person housewarming party (one your father wasn’t too stoked to hear about, no doubt). It ended just as expected, wine drunk and full on that no bake cookie dough, albeit against the wishes of the drivers’ nutritionists, and you somehow bundled up in Lando’s brand new King bed while the other two found their comforts in plastic wrapped couches tucked away in the living room.

The only thing different in Lando’s bedroom are the bedsheets (thankfully), and frames full of podiums that showcase just how far he's come.

The smile you fight while reminiscing falters when you reach to tug at your zipper and fail. For what you spent on it, the list of inconveniences following your dress just seems to grow.

“Lan!” An exasperated huff escapes you, “could you come in for a moment?”

“My zipper, it’s stuck and I can't get it.” You want to cringe at your words, it’s a cliche—one of the many the universe seems to put you two in. Turning away from him, you move your hair out the way to expose your back, “do you mind?”

His fingers feel warm on your back, it’s a foreign feeling that creeps over the expanse of your nerves and has your breath hitched uncomfortably in the back of your throat. Something is just…different—maybe the alcohol, but you’ve been drunk around Lando one too many times and never has it ended like this, with his fingers nervously fiddling with the metal zipper, tugging at your dress material while gently trying to yank it down.

“Lando, that hurts.” you breathe for the first time in what feels like ages.

He kisses his teeth in frustration, placing a firm hand on your waist to keep you from squirming around, “You need to stay still.” The thickness of his accent becomes more apparent with each word.

You feel so weak, letting just a simple touch bully you into submission, silently you nod. The zipper's journey down is agonizing and slow, for both of you; at this moment, Lando wants nothing more than to leave the room, yet his feet seem glued to the ground he stands on. It’s dimly lit, but you can still feel eyes burning holes into your bare skin, up from the nape of your neck and down to the top of your hips that the lace material underneath clings to.

He watches the thin straps of your dress struggle to stay atop your shoulders and fall down your arms, further exposing the skin of your back—he sees a tattoo, one that he convinced you to get in Vegas last year, it looks good, better than he thought it would.

“—did you hear me? Are you done?”

He should leave.

“Yeah, yup. I just got it down,” and as quick as he came, it feels like Lando’s miles away, “I’m gonna go now, just…grab whatever shirt you would like.”

–

“Hey.” You say quietly, padding your way to the kitchen island.

Okay. Things seem a lot more normal between you two. Maybe all that was needed to fix whatever tension between you both was a fresh change of clothes and some bright lighting.

“You hungry?” He prompts, leaning against quartz counters with the world famous boyish smile signature to Lando himself. “I can make us a little snack before bed, just to lighten the hangover you’ll probably get tomorrow.”

You hum sweetly, the time reads 1:53 am—it’s earlier than you thought, time always blurs together when you’re drunk. “Could you get me a glass of water please?”

“Here you are, missy.”

You scrunch your nose up at his tone, “any name but that.” He laughs obnoxiously, proud of how he manages to get under your skin in a way only he can.

The sizzling sounds of grilled cheese on the pan accompanied by the dull hum of a faulty ceiling light are the only ones in the kitchen (you’re constantly telling him to get it fixed, but Lando never seems to follow up on your suggestions, opting for the answer of ‘I don’t even live here like that anymore’). Sipping from your glass, the lipstick stain on his collar catches your eye again—you’re curious, why didn’t he just go home with her?

“So what happened with the girl?”

“What?” He turns to look at you, brows furrowed into a knot. It’s not until you make a little gesture to the base of your neck that he looks down at his own to see what you mean. “Oh, her, what was her name again…Abby, Aria—no, Amy. She was too…onto me, only talked about racing and the other drivers. Don’t get me wrong I like, love, racing, but I want to have a natural conversation.” he searches for the right comparison, “like how you and me flow.”

You and me.

Empathetic, you sigh into your hands, Lando is simple, adjacently, he likes things that are simple; routine and normal, like you two. “Lando, if you keep comparing girls to me you’re going to chase them away.” You think his attitude will be his undoing, but he says if it hasn’t happened now there’s no chance of it happening ever. “Even worse, they’ll think I'm your girlfriend.”

He shrugs calmly, so normal about the entire idea, “Max says they already think that.”

“Yeah well,” you huff out in mild annoyance, stuttering over your words at the thought of Lando discussing your relationship status with someone. “Max doesn’t know everything.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t date you in a million years,” mouthing off, he turns to look at you with a sour face, “too snobby.”

“You talk like you’re not daddy’s money too.” The reaction of your middle finger poking out is almost reflexive. “You’re not my type anyway.”

“That’s a lie. You thought I was cute when I first met you.” It is a lie, a painfully bad one at that—Lando has always been a cutie; though, his constant need to annoy you in some way seemed to drown that aspect of himself out.

“And then your personality came to light.”

The witted banter between you always comes naturally—he would poke and prod at your last fiber of patience with him until you finally find yourself giving your attention to his words and firing something back that would be surefire dig deep had it not been aimed at somebody like Lando.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t think I’m hot.” Sniggering, he shoots you a teasing wink, “don’t worry, I think you’re hot too.”

“I know that, everyone thinks I’m hot.”

He scoffs to himself, he says you’re a narcissist, you say it’s not narcissistic if it’s true.

The spurt of banter is short lived, and soon enough you’re back to hearing the hum of the kitchen lights. It’s peaceful enough, better than the crescendo of club music from an hour ago.

But you’re inebriated—and needing to talk to keep yourself from falling asleep while waiting on Lando, you start, “Have you ever thought about it?”

“About what?”

“You and me,” you repeat his words from earlier, but they’re not laced with the cool and calm confidence Lando had—instead, they’re shaky. You’re unsure if you want to know the answer to your own question.

“Like…dating?” The pitch of his accent goes higher in confusion.

“Uhm, not dating per say…” you down your saliva to slow yourself before continuing, with the liquid courage flowing through your veins, the mental filter that once barricaded stupid nonsense from revealing itself is nowhere to be seen; which sucks because you could really use it right now.

“Do you mean hooking up?” Lando takes the meek stare you give as a yes, and your sudden shyness has him wanting to press you for more, “Have you?”

Have you thought about it? Screwing Lando Norris? Embarrassingly so, you’ve always wanted to sleep with an F1 driver (to know what makes these girls so insane for them, that’s what you tell yourself), but you prefer to keep those fantasies in your head, locked away in an untouchable space where nobody can reach. Still, it would be a lie to say it hadn’t crossed your mind—even if you harbor no romantic feelings towards him, people don’t usually mind sleeping with someone they find physically attractive.

“And what if I have?” You probe, arms folding into each other as you watch Lando watch you out of the corner of his eyes.

You’ll put him into a lot of trouble soon enough, and he dreads the day you do. “You’re funny.”

“So it never crossed your mind?”

Of course it has, look at you—unbelievably pretty even while piss-drunk and dressed in an old wrinkled t-shirt riding up your thighs. Though, he would never tell you that to your face; it would do him more worse than good. Lando might not love you in that sense, but he is a single man with an appreciative eye; he thinks many of the other drivers on the grid can attest to the fact that you’re stunning, some even going as far as using him as a means of snagging your number. He does you the favor of turning them down in your stead, though, because you would never get with any of them—he’s sure of it.

At least, that’s what he hopes.

“Every guy has thought about hooking up with his best female friend, at least once.” He shrugs, not seeming to care about the way your mouth hangs open at his nonchalant vulgarity. Lando doesn’t actually know if it’s the truth, but he sure as hell feels that way about you, wrong or not. You don’t notice, but he’s already turned the stove burner off before facing you with a jerkish smirk, “what, did you want to try tonight?”

“Jesus, goodnight.” You shove at his left shoulder and try to make a b-line back to his bedroom, only to be held back by Lando's outstretched arm that wraps itself around your shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” he’s quick to plead, and he’s equally as quick to overlook the plans of goosebumps that settle across your body at his touch. “What I said was a dick move, I admit it.” Through a fanned breath, he heaves out, “but seriously, hm? What’s got you thinking about all that?”

What has got you thinking about all of this? The shots of Patron making its home in the pits of your stomach mixed with rumors that never seem to die down, maybe. There should be a warning sign, Patron & gossip: can lead to shamelessly flirting and innocently talking about topics like hookups and sex—with Lando Norris no less.

And Lando…

He’s better than this, he knows he’s better than this, letting your suggestions lurch him into a debauched daydream of the two of you coming to a head in the bedroom of his home, skin hot from fleeting touches instead of warm alcohol, hands grabbing underneath the shirt hung over your body and finally being able to do what no other man could—

“It’s not going to happen.”

—do for you.

You bring him out of his thoughts when you quickly dismiss the entire idea (disappointingly so), “I brought it up because I’m…bored, and drunk.” the tone of your voice goes high enough to pan your mumbled words out as a question, even you sound unconvinced of yourself.

Lando recognizes your doubts just as you do. “You suuuure about that?” He says in a way that has you giggling schoolgirlishly into his arms and makes this a little more not-so-awkward. “You know you don’t need to lie to me.”

While there's probably some truth to his reassuring words, he’s being bad, he wants this—maybe even more than you do, you can tell. It makes you a bit more still, knowing that he’s also, to some extent, got a hard on for you in a one-off sense. Meanwhile, Lando’s mind is going a mile a minute (it’s characteristic of someone who actually goes a mile a minute for a living), carefully observing your expressions to see what it is you’re thinking—to some degree he is a gentleman, if you say the words, he’ll forget anything was ever mentioned.

But boy does he want it.

Glassy eyes seem to pierce yours for what seems like an eternity, “Lando…” You hope your voice is calmer than how you feel, but it’s not promising; the world around you feels standstill—like you can’t even breathe for air.

“Don’t say my name like that.” He mumbles, eyes softening at how your body relaxes into his own. The two of you dance around the point of no return, still, magnetically you gravitate towards it. You want to embrace it tonight, and worry about the mess brewing tomorrow.

“Fucking hell.” He curses in the endearing way only a Brit can, arm circling the small of your back and lips ghosting against your own, “it’s just a one time thing.”

“Just this once…”

Just this once is what you tell yourselves when his lips catch your own, tongue languidly breaching your mouth whilst pulling you closer into him as you fall into his touch and wrap your arms around his neck. It’s just this once that he’ll push away plates and keys to pick you up and sit you on the kitchen counters for you to entangle your fingers within his curls, moaning for more as he kisses his way around your neck.

It’s just this once you’ll sleep with him.

—

Lando, like with everything else, is a massive tease. You should complain, but the feeling of warm hands hiking up your t-shirt short circuits your nerves and limits whatever capability you have to bite back, so you take it all; the ghostly touches, trailing kisses along your jaw, and hands wandering from the crux of your neck down to your entrance.

It aches so unfamiliarly, cotton panties are tugged haphazardly to the side and your pussy is wet and overstimulated.

Yes, that’s the word you’ve been looking for. It’s all so overstimulating, the fading pulsations of your last orgasm brought on from having two thick fingers scissoring out of you, the puffiness of your nipples still sensitive from Lando’s ongoing oral fixation, and the feeling of his dick messily slotting itself between folds and up against your clit, it’s all just so much.

“Lando…” You whine, “c’mon.”

He mocks you with a haughty smile, repeating his name shamelessly in a pitch much higher than your own. There’s little to be embarrassed about, yet you feel so exposed, in both a literal and figurative sense. He’s drawn two orgasms out of you with such ease, like your body is as simple to navigate as a track, all without even fucking you properly. Somewhere deep down you’re grateful he’s so observant; it’s a wildly different experience than what you’re used to in every way possible.

“Did you want me to do something? You need to use your words.” He feigns ignorance, like he doesn’t feel the clinging drag of your naked hips against his crotch. Right now, there is nothing nice about Lando—he’s brought you to the edge and left you to plead for him to dig his hands into the meat of your thighs and finally fuck you as promised.

And with eyes barred shut, you do ask for it, muttering a quaint just put it in with a hushed whimper that shoots straight through him, fueling some kind of excessive desire to give it to you straight.

“Lan!” Your instincts to twitch take hold of you when you feel the tip inch into you, stretching you out more than anything else.

“Relax.” He soothes not only you, lazily thumbing your clit to distract your body from the unnerving stretch of him bottoming out, but also himself; there’s a prayer he’s mumbling at the back of his mind, asking for strength to keep him from succumbing to the biting grip your walls welcome him with, he could cum on entry alone. “That feel good?”

It feels great, but you can’t find the words to talk, so you opt for the drawn out whine that amplifies to a full moan when he finds his rhythm. You guess Lando fucks like he races, wild but calculated, hard and fast. His thrusts push you up closer to the headboard, and you think you see stars with each one. Lando’s dilated eyes are focused on the way your boobs move in tandem with his hips, which roll into your own unforgivingly.

If this is what he gets when he does well, he needs to get those wins and that championship, as soon as possible.

“Just like that, Lan.” You exhale out, fingers darting to grapple at his wild brown tufts, “I want more of you. Need it.”

To hear you say you need him, it makes him somewhat insane. His body is eager to close in on your own, lips ghosting over your jaw and inching closer to your ear as a hand gently finds its way to your neck.

“You feel so perfect.” He’s so breathless, practically whining into your ears about just how good you feel, It doesn’t reach you, you’re too focused on feeling every inch of dick buried into you. It feels like he’s mushing up your insides, hitting spongy walls that desperately cling to him. Every thrust is harder than his last, and the way the trimmed hair resting above his base brushes against your clit provides all the extra stimulation that has your head lazily rolling to the side.

You’re not sure when you cum, but you do. It’s wet and his name is hot on your tongue, as if you’re cheering him on to fuck you through your orgasm, and who is he to deny you? Lando’s undoubtedly happy to see the pleasure he’s giving you, his eyes blowing wide at the feeling of his lower abdomen growing soaked by your arousal.

“Look at you,” he marvels, prideful and horny, “ever done that before?”

You haven’t—it freaks you out, yet despite all of your hurried apologies and groans of embarrassment, Lando finds himself dipping his head into the crux of your neck to suppress a groan. You’re so pretty it hurts him, his hips bore deeper into yours, hoping to get closer than humanly possible.

When he kisses you, your legs slither around his waist as if to cage him. You’ll be the death of him—the two of you are playing a dangerous game, and you both know it.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he smiles against your lips, and your body melts like putty, malleable enough for him to pry your legs from its digging into his back and push them closer towards you by your thighs.

His pace noticeably falters when you flutter around him. You’re muttering something about coming inside, pleading for it—but he pays you no mind; you’re intoxicated by the feeling of dopamine, and as much as he would love it, the feeling of stuffing you full, he’s a smarter man than that.

He cums with a guttural fuck, barely managing to rip himself away from your clutches and spill himself onto your stomach—and you just watch, doe eyed and jolted by the warm feeling on your skin. You both pant heavily against one another, until all you can hear is the noise of the London night leaking in from an ajar window.

“Hey.” He lazes out, rubbing circles on your thigh.

“Hi.”

“This can’t—” happen again, get out to anyone—there’s so much he could say, but you would rather not hear it. Not tonight.

“Yeah.”

❀❀

tags: @babyvinnie @leclercdream @im-an-overthinker@ririyulife @1655clean @sukisheadlights @harrysdimple05 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday

(if bolded i couldn’t tag you i’m so sorry!)

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #f1 x female reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 x you

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deerwithamullet · 2 years

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idk if i've said this on here before but i hold a special place in my heart for homophobic queer people

u can't escape it

ur one of us, queer

i love you

#i just feel bad for people like that #they make me angry and sad #like self destructive children #mullets drunken ramblings

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oneforthemunny · 1 month

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take as needed |bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader|

prompt: a hectic week at the hideout has you burnt out, fed up, and on the path of destruction. eddie is in your path, and tries to course correct.

contains: minors dni. smut. dom!eddie x sub!reader tones this time. soft!dom!eddie. emotional release spanking. masturbation male. angst, fighting, they're kinda mean to each other but ends in fluff. based off this blurb from a while ago.

"Behind you." Veronica held the beers over you, shimmying through the crowded back area towards her customers at the end of the bar.

It was way too busy for The Hideout- for Hawkins. College was out for the summertime, all the college kids that fled as fast as they could after graduation were dragged back for the summer. Most of them would rather be at some stuffy bar that with their families, and you couldn't blame them, so they found there way here. On a Friday night, slammed and the karaoke machine in full effect from nine til midnight. Thankfully, you got off at ten, only an hour of enduring the screeching off note wails of the drunken patrons.

"Great song choice, man. Super metal." You looked up to see Eddie, all black even in the summer heat, sliding behind the bar, fist bumping the drunk kid who'd belted Welcome to the Jungle complete with the filthy moans into the mic. It had made everyone laugh, hoot and yell out encouragements at him. Everyone but you, it just irritated you.

"Hey there, pretty girl." Eddie muttered, grabbing your waist while he slid past you. "When you get a chance, can you make me a drink, please?"

"I'm super busy right now, Ed." You huffed, fishing a pen out of your back pocket, setting it on the bar for the drunk sorority girl to sign.

"I know, baby," Eddie cooed, ringed hands rubbing down you arms gently. You knew the act was to soothe you, calm you down, but it did nothing to relax you, only pissing you off further. "Whenever you get a chance. 'm on my break. You need any help? Wha'dya need me to do? How can I help?"

"No." You grit, shoving the ice scoop into the clumped, melting ice with a rather hard shove. "Can you just get out from behind here? It's crowded enough, Ed. 'M boiling and you're in my way."

"Easy, ease up." Eddie frowned at you. "Just trying to see if you need any help."

"I'm fine." You slammed the glass down on the counter, Veronica's eyes cutting over towards you carefully. You'd been on edge all night, frustrated and annoyed from the moment you walked in, such a contrast to your usual very sweet and bubbly demeanor. The customers seemed to notice too, seeing as your tips were practically cut in half, even on a busy night.

You tilted the bottle up, not even bother to properly measure the amount of vodka you were dousing into the drink. Veronica raised her brows at Eddie, shaking her head gently. You pressed the lemonade tap before turning to him. "I'll make your drink if I have time."

"I got it." Veronica offered, pulling two glasses out. "What do you want, Ed-"

"-I can make it, Veronica." You sneered, jamming a straw in the drink and adding it to the tab. "Just gimme a goddam second."

"Hey," Eddie's eyes narrowed at you. "What's gotten into you? Take a fucking chill pill and relax."

"I am relaxed." You sneered, slamming the drink on the counter in front of the wide eyed girl. "You are pissing me off."

"Hey, the both of you," Ellen huffed from her place behind you. "Why don't you both go on your fifteen." She suggested. "Cool off, alright?"

Eddie didn't give you a chance to protest, wrapping his arm around your bicep lightly, dragging you back towards the kitchen. You grumbled the whole way, whining about your tips, scuffing your feet along the sticky tile, until Eddie pushed the back door open.

"...and fucking Veronica has been taking all the regulars tonight, and I get all these young fucks who don't tip. Fucking bitch, like, she knows that's not fair-"

"-What is your problem tonight?" Eddie frowned.

You blinked, a scoff leaving your lips. "Me? What's my problem? Are you- are you fucking serious?"

"Yeah. You're being mean tonight. What's going on?" Eddie's jaw clenched, teeth grinding together.

"Oh, fuck you, Eddie. I am not being fucking mean, you're such a-"

"Hey," His ringed hand caught your jaw easily, light but firm. "Enough of whatever you're pissed about, alright? You gotta get yourself together. You're being mean to everyone. Not a good look. Killing the vibe, babe."

Your lips pursed, shoving him off of you. "You're a fucking piece of shit, you know that?" You sneered, reaching for the handle of the door. "I'm killing the vibe- fuck you! I'll kill the vibe if I want to."

Eddie's hand smacked onto the door, shutting it before you opened it completely. "What has got you acting like this?" Eddie demanded. You shoved him again, reaching for the handle. "Hey, stop it. I'm being serious, alright? Did someone mess with you? You're supposed to tell me or Ellen. I'll take care of them you know I will. Won't let them mess with you. Just- Can you tell me what's going on with you. Why are you being so mean tonight?"

"You're so fucking annoying." You huffed. "Nothing it wrong with me. You're just pissing me off."

"Yeah? Well, you're pissin' me off, too." Eddie snapped. You faltered at his biting tone. "Pissing me off, and everybody else off with your horrible little attitude."

"I don't have an attitude." You mumbled.

Eddie scoffed. "Yeah fucking right. You've been awful all night, and honestly, I'm sick of it. So is everyone else, so you better stop it now. Alright?"

It was your turn to scoff, a heavy eye roll accompanied. "Yeah? Or what? Huh? What the fuck are you or anyone else gonna do huh? Send me home? Cut me? Please, be my fucking guest."

Eddie moved, pinning you to the door, hands on yours, closing around them firmly. "If you don't quit acting so bitchy and mean, then I'm gonna treat you mean. Give you a taste of your own medicine." Eddie growled, eyes pointed in a fiery glare that had your knees buckling.

"You got me? Keep this shitty little attitude up, and I'm gonna drag you to the back and give you an attitude adjustment. That what you want?"

Your heart jumped at the threat, tummy flipping and pooling with warmth. "Y-You're not going to-" Your voice shook, Eddie's challenging look cutting you off further.

"No? You sure? You really think I won't? Keep it up." Eddie snarled, letting your hands go. "I'm sure everyone would love to see you get put in your place after how awful you've been tonight."

You let out a shuddering breath, watching him reach for his reds, sifting through the pack, curls falling in front of his face. Eddie turned to you, cigarette around his lips. "What?" He asked, flicking the lighter. "You want one?"

Your nose scrunched, grabbing the door handle and yanking it open furiously. Eddie rolled his neck, inhaling deeply. It was going to be a long night.

Though your attitude subdued through most of the night, enough that at least you weren't so hateful outwardly, not slinging mean comments. Instead, you took to glaring, shooting daggers at Eddie. Thankfully, the bar died down enough for the two of you to go home in time, Ellen giving Eddie a wary look over your head while you wrote your time.

"Fuckin' asshole." You sneered, sifting through the wadded bills, flicking the cash into the drawer.

"What's wrong?" Ellen asked, passing the check to the group of girls across the bar.

"That jackass only tipped a dollar." You grit, tucking the singular bill into your bra. "Six beers and four shots, and he tips a dollar? What a piece of shit."

Ellen's lips pursed. "Well, maybe if you were nicer-"

"-I was nice." You snapped defensively.

Eddie's shoulders tensed at your tone, even from his place by the door he could hear it, much clearer now that the place had started to clear out.

Ellen's brow raised, looking at you then to Eddie. He could feel his face flush, mortified at your attitude. "You know what? It's died down, and you..." Ellen shook her head. "Veronica and I can close up tonight. You can go home early."

You scoffed, dumping the glasses into the tray. "I don't have a ride. I came with Eddie. It's fine, I'll start the-"

"-No, Ed!" Ellen waved him over. "You two go home early, alright? Last calls in an hour, it's dying down. We got it."

Eddie wanted to die, melt into the floor. He felt like he was in grade school again, getting in trouble because someone was talking to him, grouped in with the trouble when he was innocent.

You didn't argue, huffing when you split the tips in the jar, stomping away towards the back. "Ellen, hey, I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with her tonight. I think she's just in a bad mood-"

"-That's an understatement, Munson." Ellen grumbled, eyes rolling. "Did you two fight or something on the way here?"

"No, we didn't-"

"-Because I'm glad you two are together. I think you're real cute, but if it's going to effect your work like this. I'll have to stop scheduling you two together." Ellen gave him a pointed look. "And that's really gonna be a pain in my ass."

Eddie swallowed, hands buzzing, twisting his rings nervously. "No, I get that. It won't- You don't need to do that. I'll get it under control. This was just a one time thing. She's just having a bad day."

Ellen held his gaze, a stern glare that had Eddie's heart picking up, cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I hope so. I'm choosing to believe you because I agree, that," Ellen waved towards the back where you were no doubt sulking. "Is out of character."

Eddie nodded, muttering a sigh filled apology. Ellen waved him off. "Hey just make sure you two are good on Tuesday, alright? We'll start fresh. Have a good weekend."

"You too. And you, Veronica, thank you." Eddie waved, pushing the swinging doors towards the back.

He found you next to the lockers, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, foot tapping in annoyance. "What took you so long?" You snapped.

Eddie flinched, blinking back at you in disbelief. "What?"

"I've been waiting. It took you forever." You huffed. "You usually run out of here and tonight, when I'm already in a bad mood, you take forever? Are you just trying to piss me off?"

"Are you?" Eddie snapped. Your eyes widened, face falling at his tone, furious, annoyed.

"What?" You swallowed.

Eddie shook his head at you, grabbing the lock on his locker, spinning the combination. "You're..." Eddie scoffed lightly.

"What? I'm what?" You clicked your tongue in annoyance.

"You're being a real asshole tonight." Eddie looked over his shoulder at you. "Embarrassing, acting like this. Getting sent home early? How are you not embarrassed?"

Heat filled your chest, heavy and suffocating, different that the bubbling rage from before. "I thought you'd be ready to crawl in a hole after Ellen sent you home." Eddie flung the metal door open, letting it hit the others with a loud clank! that had you flinching.

"Then you get me sent home too, and you've got the fucking audacity to be mean? To talk to me like that?" Eddie glared at you over his shoulder. Your frame shrunk, heart pounding in your ears. It was the most subdued you'd been all night.

"I-I didn't get you sent home-"

"-The fuck you didn't." Eddie scoffed, grabbing his keys, his wallet out of the locker, smacking it shut. "You wanna know what was taking to long? I was talking to Ellen. She was telling me if we can't keep our personal life out of work, we can't work together. I was trying to tell her that we didn't get into a fight, and she didn't believe me."

Eddie took a step towards you, time card in hand. "She couldn't believe you were just mean like that unprovoked." Eddie shoved the card in the clock. "So what? You mad at me? Is that what's going on?"

"No." You muttered, looking down at your beat up sneakers, covered with sticky stains from the night.

"So what then? Care to tell me what's wrong? I mean, shit, we're getting sent home now. Feel like you should let me in on what's goin' on." Eddie threw his hands up, keys rattling between his fingers.

"Nothing's wrong-" You sneered, barely registering the ringed hand that caught your chin. Fingers squeezing your cheek in a firm grasp, pulling your gaze to Eddie's.

His eyes lidded, nostrils flaring down at you. "You better watch it." Eddie gritted. "Keep this shit up, and I'll lock that door and fix that attitude in here."

Your tummy flipped, swallowing thickly around the lump in your throat. Agitation fizzled into arousal at the threat. You cursed yourself for feeling that way.

Eddie's eyes squinted, head tipping towards yours slightly. "That what you want?" He huffed, hand still firm on your cheeks. "You acted like this because you wanted me to be mean to you-"

"-No." You sneered, wiggling in his grasp, scared he could feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "That's not why."

"So tell me why." Eddie's hand loosened, eyes still pinning you with his gaze. "Tell me what's goin' on."

Your chest sunk with a heavy guilt. Burnt out from tireless hours of work, cranky from lack of sleep, annoyed that Ellen let Pat off for the week when the place had never been busier. All of it eating away at you throughout the week until you finally snapped.

"I just wanna go home." Your tone was softer than before, still teetering on huffy. "I don't want to be in this place for another second. I'm so sick of being here."

Eddie nodded, tongue sliding over his teeth. Keys clenched in his hand, he stayed silent. The car ride uncomfortable silent, neither of you speaking first, the hum of the radio the only refuge.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?" Eddie broke the silence after nearly an hour. The two of you had gotten back to his trailer, going your separate ways to cool down. He finished a cigarette on the steps, let you do whatever you needed to inside.

He found you by the sink, scrubbing your makeup off. Mascara and eyeliner smeared down your lids, normally, he'd laugh. Squeeze your sides and tell you how metal you looked, silly and playful until you were giggling with him.

Not tonight.

A part of you wished he would have. It would have made you feel better.

That gnawing feeling of uncomfortableness was eating you alive from the inside out. Had your chest feeling tight, skin crawling with irritation. It had only grown worse, now that you were left to reflect on the night- on how you acted.

Eddie moved into the mirror behind you, pulling his shirt off, tossing it in the hamper. You brought the wash cloth back to your face, cleaning the smeared makeup from under your eyes.

Eddie's shoulders slumped. "C'mon." He sighed, softer this time. "What's wrong, baby?" His hands slid over your arms, pressing a small kiss to your shoulder. "Tell me what's goin' on. I know something's wrong."

Your nose burned, pressing the warm washcloth to it. "I don't know." You muttered, opening the mirror, plucking the faded lilac case from the shelf.

"I just... I don't know." Your eyes rounded, locking with Eddie's through the mirror. "I just- I don't know how to describe it. I just feel off?"

Eddie nodded slowly, hands resting on your back gently. "Off, how?" Eddie hummed, arms wrapping around your body, pulling you into him. You didn't fight him, melting into his embrace instead. "Tell me what's wrong, honey. I just want you to feel better."

Your head tilted back to his chest, his arms heavy over your frame. "Just off." You muttered. "I feel like I need to just get everything out. Hit the reset button because I'm just so- so, bleh."

Eddie's lips curled gently, swaying you lightly in his arms. "I just am, like, unsettled. I'm so tired from work, but then I get home and I can't sleep, and then people are so fuckin' rude-"

"-Who's rude to you?" Eddie pressed, frowning behind you.

"Just the kids." You roll your eyes, shoulders tensing. "Snotty college kids. They think they're better than you or something."

"So come get me when they do that." Eddie's chin hooked over your shoulder lightly. "I'll take care of them. Kick 'em out."

"Then we'd have nobody." You shook your head lightly. "It's just- I don't know. I just feel really off." You paused, craning your neck to look at Eddie. "I feel like I need to get it all out."

Eddie stilled. "You-You want me to help you with that?" He knew what you were asking. "You want me to... To spank you?" It wasn't the first time you'd done this, still his cheeks burned at the word.

Your sex life was far from vanilla, teetering on outright debaucherous at times. He was no stranger to being mean to you in the bedroom, just like you weren't to him. Still, when you'd asked him the first time, to give you emotional release in this way, it felt a little odd to him at times. To bring pain to you, even if you asked, when all he wanted to do was smother you with affection.

Still, he'd do anything for you. You knew that, he did too.

It was why he swayed so easily. Your eyes rounding, lashes batting so sweetly up at him. "It really would help me feel better." His heart skipped, a sweet tone he'd been longing for all night. "I really think it would help."

Eddie nodded, hands sliding down your arms again, squeezing your elbows gently. You picked the hairbrush off the counter, handing it to him, taking his free hand and guiding him to the bedroom.

He let you settle over his lap, wiggling until you felt comfortable, a pillow under your face. Eddie twirled the hair brush in his hand, fidgeting while you settled. It was still new. How hard did he hit in this scenario? Did he soothe you? Scold you? Say anything at all? When you were playing, it was easier. In a headspace that came naturally with the moment.

"Ok," You hummed, turning to look at him, cheek pressed to the pillow. "'m ready."

Eddie hesitated. "You- And you're gonna tell me, right? When you want me to stop?"

"Yes." You nodded gently. "Just don't stop until I'm crying."

Eddie's cock throbbed, a roller coaster like drop in his stomach at your words. "Baby, I'm serious-"

"-I am too." You frowned. "Eddie, I promise I will tell you if it's too much, but... just please? Until I'm crying then you can stop."

"O-Ok," Eddie's breath stuttered, hand smoothing over your pantie clad ass, cheeky cotton panties that had his brain trailing off. "I'm gonna, I'm starting."

You settled back into the pillow, Eddie's hand rubbing down your back soothingly. Your free hand snaked up, folding over the middle of your back, fingers wiggling at Eddie's. A sweet gesture that made his heart swell, interlocking his fingers with yours, pinning your hand gently to your back.

The hair brush's smooth wood pressed to your ass, tapping in a warning that had your hips clenching lightly. Eddie hesitated, bringing the hairbrush up, then lower, readjusting his aim, before letting it fall. A soft clap met with a tiny grunt from you.

"You can do harder than that, Ed." You muttered.

"Harder? Are you sure?" Eddie hoped you couldn't feel his heart beating. "I don't wanna hurt you when you're not feeling good, baby."

"You're not hurting me. You're helping me. I swear." You said softly, squeezing his hand gently, reassuringly. "You can do harder than that. I'll let you know if it's too much."

Eddie brought the hairbrush higher, sending it soaring down with a firm smack that had your breath hitching. He waited, your hips squirming in his lap.

"That was good. Just like that, Ed." You whispered, taking a deep breath in through the burn in your nose.

Two identical hits fell to each of your cheeks, a tiny squeak of a cry coming from you. Your grip tightening against his hand with every fall of the hairbrush. Eddie was more confident, fell into a rhythm that felt more comfortable.

Hips wiggling, tiny whimpers and cries coming from you, rotating from cheek to cheek, lower then higher. Eddie brought the hairbrush down, a flick in his wrist that was sharper, stinging against your skin.

A tiny hitch, a sniffle that sounded watery had his ears perking. Eddie paused, feeling the hitch in your chest. "Keep going." You gritted, a white knuckled grip around his hand. "Keep going, Ed. Please."

Eddie brought the hair brush down again, twice, sharp flicks that had you crying out- a real cry, broken and breathy. Unsure, Eddie shushed you sweetly, letting the hair brush fall onto your upturned ass again.

"Shh, it's alright. You're doin' good, sweetheart. Let it out." Eddie rasped, cracking the hairbrush down again. "Doin' good for me."

The next fall of the hairbrush had a cry breaking though your throat, tears springing in your waterline, threatening to fall. The bubble in your chest filling fuller and fuller, close to bursting with the building irritation on your ass.

"You're doin' good. I know you've got to be feeling better." Eddie soothed. "You still good? Need me to stop."

"No," You cried, shaking your head. "K-Keep going, Eddie, please, keep going. D-Do it fast. Fast ones."

Eddie let the hair bursh rain down in quick successions, all over your ass, sharp smacks that had you gritting your teeth in irritation, eyes clenching shut until finally, you felt a wave wash over you. Heavy with emotions, it crashed into you, body shaking in sobs.

Face pressed into the pillow, you cried into the soft cotton, rubbing your face against the pillow case to soothe yourself. Eddie slowed, stopping when your hand loosened in his, body slack and shaking with sobs.

Eddie held you, arms tight around you though it felt like it was more for him. Soft coos and whispers, a hand rubbing down your spine. He hoped you couldn't feel his erection pressing into you. He felt torn, arousal he couldn't help but felt wrong when you were crying. Sobs so deep, stuttering in your chest and rocking your frame.

He hadn't realized how exhausted you were, a pang of guilt ringing through his chest when you started to slump in his arms. Usually, he'd get you calmed down, finish off the night between your legs, to make you feel better or maybe him.

Tonight, he let you settling into the mattress, rolling you onto your side, tucking the pillow under your knees, how you always slept. He wasn't sure how it was comfortable, teased you about it the first time he saw it. "It helps with my back, I swear." You had giggled, hiking a leg up over the pillow and settling into the mattress. Eddie didn't care how you slept, honestly, if it meant you'd sleep next to him.

Settling you under the blankets, Eddie carried the hair brush back into the bathroom, setting it back on the vanity's counter. He pulled the Jergens off the shelf, hand wrapping around his length, relieving himself. Tomorrow, he'd take care of you, spend the day in bed with you if you wanted, hopeful but certain that you'd be better in the morning.

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cr4yolaas · 1 month

Text

for lovers who hesitate — tsukishima kei

synopsis: you find your old academic rival at your new job. every bone in your body says it’s fate, but everything else seems to be stopping you.

notes: puking cuz idk how i feel abt this one. i worked on this all thru out my trip and there was a lot of scrapping and rewriting and deleting the entire thing and rewriting it again, but i think this version is the best i could get it to. i <3 tsukishima kei

tags: fluff → angst → fluff, self-indulgent long fic, reader smokes, reader has trauma w/ their parents, mainly fem reader oriented but gn pronouns used, reader has self-destructive habits, themes of self-doubt from both, tsukishima is probably ooc, slow burn but not really, the most awkward love confession ever, mitski rdr x radiohead tsukishima (sorry), proofread but not really

tsukishima kei, for once, was at a loss for words.

there you stood beneath the bright green foliage, your face marred by the heatwaves of the sun and still all too familiar. he thought, for a moment, that he had the wrong person — you had taken on a rougher appearance, but his body, heart, and soul still recognized you. and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to speak to you.

where had the last decade gone?

he coughed into his fist and walked past you, feigning ignorance to your arrival. when you followed after him with a keycard of your own, he found himself flustered.

no words were exchanged. he was playing the silent game with you, although he quietly hoped you would say something first.

and thus, he continued his shift as usual, with the added oddity of you shadowing him alongside his boss. he just couldn’t find the proper words to place on his tongue, nor the right gestures to show that he did want to talk, he just didn’t know how to.

but truthfully, what was one supposed to say in such a situation?

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

you believed that tsukishima hated you. and you wouldn’t blame him.

when you applied for this job, you had no expectations going into it, save for the hope of a higher salary and a lighter load than your previous job. what you had not anticipated was to stand face to face with the man you swore to hate in your youth.

a sliver of hope embedded itself within you; an overwhelming desire to perhaps refurbish a long lost relationship had taken root. but when he looked away so persistently and spoke not a word to you, that sliver dissipated into meaningless sand.

you continued your work as best as possible. it was a routine job — set up the displays for the day, guide whatever visitors came around, and leave in the afternoon. but when a certain blonde was sneaking glances at you and somehow always in your vicinity, it proved to be easier said than done.

you were too afraid to admit that his presence was refreshing. that, in the midst of the mundane and borderline unhealthy cycle you had formulated within the past handful of years following graduation, he had proven to be an odd factor; he stood as a disruptor to the routine. it was unwelcome. and even still, you craved it and more.

tsukishima kei had always been a constant in your life. you just didn’t expect him to reappear so soon, so suddenly.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

it was a wednesday. an uneventful shift had come to an end. and just as you rid yourself of your work attire, a verbal invitation to a work party was sent your way.

the prospect of it was almost laughable. you were under the impression that the body of employees in a museum would be too reserved to host parties such as this, and you were quickly proven otherwise. thus, you accepted instantly.

as soon as you sat down, you regretted it just as quickly.

the moon had just barely begun to hang bright in the sky, and yet the table was already full of drunken coworkers that you hadn’t seen before. loud chatter filled the room, as if this table was the only one in the establishment. it was overbearing.

before you could take even a sip of your drink, you excused yourself under the pretense of needing to use the restroom. instead, you escaped outside, the gentle breeze reestablishing your senses and reeling you back in.

he was also there.

“oh,” he exclaimed softly. his eyes drifted away from yours, the warmth of his cheeks illuminated by the dim lamp above. oh was the first word he had ever spoken to you since graduation. you nearly laughed.

“hello,” you offered quietly, still testing the waters of conversation. your gaze fell to his fingers, slim and cherry-kissed and blemished, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “um… i didn’t expect to see you here…?”

tsukishima laughed lightly at your tone, as if to conceal his own anxieties. “likewise.” he watched as you pulled out a cigarette, the stick meeting your lips like it were more than natural. “did you come all this way to stalk me? or to follow me? after all those years of silence?” he teased, although a tinge of bitterness dripped from his words.

you shook your head aggressively. “no, no, i just…” you bit at your lip for a moment before continuing. “i’m taking a break from my actual job. i needed to wind down before i return.”

tsukishima hummed at your response, evidently oblivious to your lie. he looked at you for a moment too long, his eyes grazing over each alteration and unfamiliar feature. he could not help but admire you in this light — the soft strings of moonlight in contrast with the neon signs glaring against your complexion painted an image he hadn’t seen in ages.

for the first time in a long time, tsukishima kei thought you were unbearably pretty.

what he didn’t catch wind of was your nervous shuffles and your incessant skin-picking as you stood beside him. he didn’t realize that the cigarette was a distractor, a tool to pull you back in. and he failed to acknowledge the stutter in your voice as you spoke to him, for it hadn’t crossed his mind once that you thought he disliked you. not that it would matter to him, anyways.

it’s too soon, he thought to himself. this is stupid, he argued. i’d mess it up if i did anything reckless, he reasoned. all of which were excuses to fight against the overwhelming reality of his vulnerability.

you turned your head away, the extended silence whittling away at whatever confidence you once bore. tsukishima watched with framed eyes and a calculative stare, as if scrutinizing each and every action you took. unbeknownst to you, it was the exact opposite of that.

the soft call of your name from inside the bar pulled your attention away, much to his dismay. he witnessed your frame disappear through the doors, your eyes flitting towards his so quickly he might’ve imagined it.

this was foolish. tsukishima decided that much. but despite his claims of how stupid it was, he was getting reeled in faster than he could pull out.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

despite how hard he tried to display his ignorance, tsukishima was caring at his core.

silent glances exchanged between shifts morphed into small conversations shared whenever possible, as if the tension that previously barred you from interaction had dissipated into nothingness.

at some point, he dropped off a neatly wrapped bento box to your desk, the fabric littered with small dinosaur doodles.

“what is this?” you questioned, an amused lilt to your voice. you failed to notice the way pink rose to his ears, too enamored by the intricate arrangement of veggies and rice.

“don’t think anything of it. i just had leftover food and didn’t want to waste it.” the excuse slipped through his lips as if it were truth, earning him a soft smile from you.

there were butterflies whipping their wings against his ribcage so aggressively they might have bulged out from his skin.

eventually, you invited him out for a walk to the convenience store nearby during your break. and after that, it became routine. with an umbrella in one hand and his wallet in another, tsukishima walked with you down the street to buy onigiri and sandwiches and sometimes a sweet treat nearly every day, and that shared hour became his favorite part of work.

it was silly.

you sat beside him in the booth, your blistered hands carefully unwrapping the plastic from your meal. to your left sat a can of soda. and to your right, he was there.

“i need to stop living off of these,” you complained while motioning towards the onigiri in your grasp.

tsukishima shook his head. “what else would you eat?”

“your bento boxes,” you commented absentmindedly, your bites becoming larger as you neared the center of the rice. “i liked it, when you gave it to me that one time. you should make it again.”

he looked away, his chin resting atop the sweat of his palm. slowly, he turned towards you. “it’s just a bento box. surely you can handle making one.”

“oh, shut up!” you laughed while shoving him lightly. “the fact that you can even make one is shocking. all you have in that head is volleyball and shit.”

“our old test scores say otherwise,” he quipped. the shift in your eyes left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“whatever,” you muttered before leaving to throw out your trash. a pit grew in tsukishima’s stomach.

the blonde mustered the last of his resolve and made an offer. “i’ll teach you how to make one.”

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

of all the things tsukishima was bracing himself to see, a thinly-walled apartment that was less than well-maintained was the last thing he was prepared for.

you came out from your bedroom in clothes that were far more casual than his, your hair disheveled and your steps uneven. “sorry for the mess,” you uttered while bending down to pick up a hoodie sprawled across the floor, alongside a plastic bag that looked empty. he could only watch in awe.

he placed his bag down on your counter before arranging the ingredients, each brought from his own home. the clatter of your rushed cleaning echoed behind him. and when you finally stood beside the man, he could not contain his grin.

tsukishima decided to hold his tongue. instead, he opted to gently guide your hands through each step, the perspiration collecting on his skin a stark contrast from the rough texture of yours. he realized how little you knew, despite your insistence that you were more than knowledgeable in what you were doing — it showed in your unstable cutting and your hesitance when preparing the pot for boiling — but he refrained from commenting, in fear of disrupting the peace he’d constructed.

on the other hand, you were horrified.

to admit that you were inferior to him in yet another aspect uprooted the envy you had burrowed deep within yourself, and you were terrified of letting it overspill. he was so calm — at least, that was what it looked like — and you’d be damned to ruin it.

mitski’s soft hums reverberated in the background, your shaky chopping filling in the rest of the noise. it was almost satirical — the solemn melodies coated your bare bones and rendered you silent, a strong juxtaposition to the warmth exuded from the closeness of your skin to his. neither of you did anything to interfere, save for an earlier comment from the man questioning your music taste.

(“then what do you listen to?”

“… radiohead.”

“wow. as if that’s any better than mitski.”)

tsukishima found himself smiling at your pride in your creation. messy, yes. but within each ingredient lay a remnant of him, and that was enough.

a stream of small talk emerged into you sitting on the couch together. the music dimmed down to white noise and an old romcom that had only two star ratings played on your TV, the poor quality adding to the humor. your legs leaned against his beneath the blanket. and there was peace.

tsukishima knew what it was. he knew what this would blossom into, and he could only hope and pray he didn’t mess it up in some way. your quiet yet crude commentary disappeared into the tender air, and he remained silent, as if absorbing each syllable that fell from your lips.

it was so quiet, and so vulnerable, and so delicate that he felt like he was going to explode.

he didn’t question it when your head fell onto his shoulder. he didn’t make fun of you when your colorful reviews on each scene turned into sleepy ramblings. and he didn’t say a word when you dozed off against him, your whole body against his.

instead, he looked around. he took note of the dust collecting on the cabinets, the water marks on the windows, the clothes and food and plastic scattered all over your living room, the dead plant on the shelf, and the half-empty pack of cigarettes sitting on the arm of the couch. it was all a far, far cry from the cleanliness and stability of his own home, and yet, he thought to himself, this is so like them. and he thought, i could live in here, if it were with them. and again, he thought, this could be a home.

tsukishima kei was of the belief that he did not have a type. but as he observed your house and reflected on its singular (?) inhabitant, he figured that this was his type. his type was your quiet laughs and your sharp remarks and your wrinkled clothes and the scent of cigarettes that always seemed to cling to you. his type was you.

he exchanged one last glance to your sleeping figure before getting up and leaving you to rest. not without wrapping up your lunch for tomorrow, and not without a small smile on his lips.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

hell came to you on a thursday morning — the day following whatever had happened between you and tsukishima. you hadn’t put on your uniform just yet, and your belongings sat outside of your locker.

your boss scrambled into the office, his brows furrowed and his larger hands closing the door as quickly as he could without slamming it. the sweat that collected between his wrinkles shined beneath the dim lights. his breaths were haggard and rushed and shallow.

for the first time in a long time, you felt fear.

“there’s people who want to talk to you outside,” he whispered. “they want to talk to you now.”

there was no one else in the building. no one other than you, your boss, and the people who were so adamant on speaking to you.

so why was it so loud as soon as you stepped out?

the eyes of your mother came into your vision first. then, the stare of your father. and finally, their faces blended into one large picture that made sense.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

withered hands slammed against the table. you watched the papers and the dinosaur trinkets rattle. “that’s no way to speak to your parents.” you could feel it — the air seeping out of your lungs, depriving you of breath; the trembling in your palms; the cloudiness in your peripherals. you could hear them, but you couldn’t hear them. at some point, their vocabulary was solely financial, and at another point, it grew cruel and violent, akin to wild dogs gnawing away at your skin. you didn’t know where it was going. the hastened footsteps of an unidentifiable coworker neared, and the shaky breaths of your boss behind the door grew louder and louder.

you needed to leave.

your feet led you away before your mind could. the yelling softened, until finally, the only sound was the chirp of birds and the whirring of cars.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tsukishima didn’t see you for a week. he didn’t hear any mention of your name, didn’t find your face in a crowd, didn’t feel the vibrations of your voice against his chest. you had disappeared, and no one told him why. it wasn’t until your name didn’t show up on the schedule that something clicked.

it was cruel. you were cruel, he decided.

tadashi sat on the couch while his roommate leaned against the counter. the hum of the air conditioning blinded the blonde’s senses.

“i don’t fucking know what i did,” tsukishima groaned into his palms for the twentieth time that night. “they just left. they quit and i can’t even contact them because i was stupid enough to not ask for their number or email or anything. i don’t- i don’t fucking know, ‘dashi, i don’t.”

“i’m sure they had some good reason,” his friend attempted. “i don’t think they’d do that if it weren’t within some sensible limit. it was fucked, yeah, but… i don’t know. i think they’ll come back when the time is right.”

it was tiring. it was tiring to be left alone not just once, but twice. and it was tiring to have it hurt so much more the second time.

tsukishima ran a hand through his hair. “it’s so stupid.” another groan spilled from his tongue. “i’m so fucking tired of this.”

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

this was just about the fourth job you had applied for.

the museum could no longer be a part of your routine — instead, it morphed into loud nights and bustling men and the clinking of glass; it emerged from quiet and gentle tours around dinosaur exhibits to noisy cheers and yelling and the more-than-occasional bottle thrown at your head; it turned into pure, devastating loneliness.

it was compact. it was suffocating. it was overwhelming. it was everything the museum was not. but you could not return there, no matter how much you ached for it.

you were avoiding him. avoiding everyone.

a gentle nudge from a blurred face reminded you that your shift was over for the night, coupled with an apology for the gash that formed on your head from another drunken man who had no outlet for his anger other than you. with heavy steps, you trudged back home, thankful for the week’s pay and the free food and drinks.

it was quiet.

the lights were off, and the LED numbers on the microwave read way past midnight. a dull pounding resided in your chest.

just the other day, it was so vibrant. you were alive, and so was he, and it was going well. but it was wrong. you realized that much when your parents came to remind you, and you realized it again as you quit the same day.

the thumping in your chest spread to your head, and your back met the wall with a force that was sure to upset your neighbors. carefully, daintily, you slid down, your body reaching the floor gently.

you missed him. but it was wrong.

that night, for the first time in a long while, you cried.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tucked away in a small alley in sendai resided an establishment with only three tables and a bar that was worn down from years of use. and behind it, tsukishima found you.

he was only out for a walk. at least, that was what it was until his feet brought him elsewhere and he stood face-to-face with the most suspicious of buildings. and when he saw you, it felt as if all the anger and guilt and distress that riddled his bones and flesh and blood withered away, as if it hadn’t coalesced within his veins over the past month.

before you could hide, his hand snaked around your wrist, his touch light yet desperate. “can we talk?”

talking entailed bringing him back to your apartment. and by extension, it included him witnessing your house somehow being worse than before.

tsukishima found himself sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, and you found yourself sprawled across said couch. he picked at the blisters on his fingers before quietly asking, “why did you do that?”

he could hear your nervous habits — the shifting, the fidgeting, the harsh lip biting. “i don’t know.”

“bullshit,” he muttered under his breath.

you turned over onto your side to face his back. “my parents found me,” you explained meekly. improper guidance leads to destructive tendencies. tsukishima kei, in his high school years, was deemed your only obstacle to complete succession — always a few points ahead, a few questions ahead, a few steps ahead — and your poor influence from youth only fueled such a fire. and so, you felt that it was reasonable to loathe him. your judgement was clouded beyond repair.

tsukishima listened. he listened to every detail, every portion of your retelling of each segment of your childhood, and your teen years, and your silly hatred for him. he listened to you talk about what you did after graduation — how you got into a good university but dropped out and hopped between a multitude of jobs (thus proving your claim at the work party to be a lie), and how you were constantly escaping from both the stress and your parents.

he listened so intently that it was overbearing. you didn’t tell him that. instead, you talked and talked and talked until you sculpted him into someone who knew your entire life, as if he were there from the beginning.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered through stubborn tears. you hated it — how exposing it was, how you had practically dumped everything onto him in one go, how you couldn’t help but beg for forgiveness in the end. most of all, you hated how easily he gave you his forgiveness.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tsukishima didn’t leave your house at all that week. you found no energy to complain.

in the morning, you’d find him cleaning whatever disaster you left behind, whether it was the pile of laundry on your bed or the collection of full trash bags next to the front door or the food (or rather, the lack thereof) in your fridge. he was silent all the while, and that hurt more than any berating he could have done.

“why are you still here?” you asked him one night. you had finally moved from the couch to the bed, and tsukishima couldn’t be any prouder. (any movement at all was enough to be proud of, he felt). “you shouldn’t want to be here.”

you watched him heave a heavy breath as his shoulders drooped. “because i want you,” he admitted, his voice unmistakably tender and soft and ridden with a youthfulness that he unearthed from deep within himself. “i want to be with you and i want you to be happy and i just want us to be happy together, for once.”

he spoke of his affections so fluently, as if he were born to share them with you. and still, every bone in your body was whispering otherwise.

even so, tsukishima promised that he would be willing to wait. even if it meant watching you down an unreasonable amount of beer at an unreasonable hour.

he promised to sit through it all with you, even if it meant listening to you call his name out in long, drawn-out tones. even if it meant hearing you confess your long-harbored affection for him. even if it meant hearing you say that you never told him, not even in high school, because you felt like you didn’t deserve to tell him.

tsukishima didn’t understand.

he failed to comprehend how you didn’t feel deserving, when his whole body, mind, and soul was bound to you; when, in the depths of the night, he’d burn pink in the night at the mere thought of you; when he was so uncharacteristically smitten for you. he didn’t get it. he didn’t think he ever would.

not that he said anything about it — at least, not in that moment. not when you were inexplicably drunk, to the point where you couldn’t move a limb without tumbling over.

but, without a doubt, he went to bed with a stupid grin and a berry-kissed face.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

it took another couple of weeks before tsukishima would see you at work again. you entered through the doors as if you never left, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be excited or neutral or anything else, because his guts only knew tenderness with you at that point — all the fake ignorance and stubbornness and denial had been cast aside.

you basked in a shared silence in the locker room, until you finally admitted that you were, in fact, healing. to some degree, at least. you asked him to come over again under the pretense of seeing how clean your house was. you detailed every segment of your life, from when he last saw you to your entrance into the museum, including how you made yourself breakfast for the first time in forever and how you drank a cup of water almost every day. and he was so overwhelmingly proud, so much so that it spilled over and he couldn’t contain himself.

“i love you,” he blurted out, his rushed admission cutting off your rambling. you whipped your head towards him, but he was looking everywhere except for you.

“what?” you exclaimed.

“i said i love you. i’m in love with you. what don’t you get?”

your jaw hung open, just like that of a fish. “wait- what the fuck?” much to his amusement, you jumped up and began pacing around the room. “i like- well, i guess, love,” you paused, the vocabulary uncomfortable on your teeth. “you too, but like- what the fuck? who told you that?”

“you did.”

“what?”

tsukishima kei was laughing. he was laughing at you, and yet, you weren’t as angry as you expected to be. he was laughing, and all you could do was relish in the noise.

“so,” he hummed delightfully, an amused smirk on his lips. “am i still coming over?”

you (begrudgingly) agreed. again, he laughed — this time, at the heat rising to your face.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

through the cracks between your blinds, silk strands of sunlight crawled through, a soft reminder of the morning. beside you, a mountain of warmth lay, with his glasses still on his face and his hoodie misshapen on his body.

tsukishima was always the first to rise. he would wait for your eyes to flit open gently before getting up and making breakfast, despite your protests that your food was probably better than his. he never listened.

the splatter of coffee into your cup served as the only noise in the room, save for the dull noise of the morning news on the TV and the cars passing by outside the window. you watched intently as the blonde set up the table, his lip drawn in a tight line but his eyes shimmering with contentment. “eat up,” he spoke quietly as he took a seat in front of you.

tsukishima kei was, by no means, a cruel person. he was just a little rough on the edges and occasionally didn’t quite know how to say things without being mean. but as he sat with you, eating breakfast made by him in your shared apartment; as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your forehead before leaving to change, ignoring your groans about the remnants of syrup on his lips; as he drove you to work as the sun settled in the sky; you realized he was simply a man in love.

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trashmouth-richie · 6 months

Text

⋆·˚ ༘ * eddie x female reader

⋆·˚ ༘ * summary: what happens, when eddie makes plans without you?

⋆·˚ ༘ * tw: 18+ only, unprotected p in v! toxic relationship behavior, choking, reader is kind of crazy but it’s explained at the end, breaking shit, mean!reader, drinking, weed, knife use, pet names, nicknames.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 1.7k words, not proof read, pretend it is.

Saturdays were usually your nights together. Spending the night at his trailer because it was guaranteed that Wayne would be gone.

But tonight Eddie said he had “plans with the boys”.

So imagine your surprise when Robin called you up and asked why you weren’t at Steve’s party, but Eddie was?

The ten minute drive felt like sixty seconds of pure rage filled hell. You only saw red, steam shot from your ears like a cartoon.

And when you pulled up to Steve’s enormous house, Robin was right, because Eddie’s van was sitting out front.

Your blood boiled and your cheeks felt like fire. Heart hammering in your chest, you slammed the gear shift into park before the car could even come to a full stop.

You didn’t care that he was here with his friends, what you cared about was the normal posse of skanky girls who were at Steve’s parties, one strawberry blonde in particular that rubbed you every way of wrong. Chrissy.

She was always hanging on Eddie any chance she got, batting her eyelashes, acting dumb to get his help in math. You’re so smart she’d whisper to him— even though the straight F’s on his paper definitely didn’t stand for Fantastic.

Jason had dumped her and rumor had it she was looking to get back at him the biggest way she knew how, and that was t getting with the freak.

Your freak.

The sharp black points on your heeled boots clicked along the sidewalk as you stalked towards the house whistling an angelic sort of tune, swinging the wooden bat by your side.

Jonathan was outside the lavish home, smoking a fatty and leaning against the raised brick garden bed. Upon first glance he waved, all drunken smiles and lazy greetings.

It wasn’t until he saw what was in your hand that he finally pieces it together, and you asked him sweetly to kindly get Eddie because you had a message for him.

The driver's side window broke with little to no effort, a few swings and it shattered into a pretty spider web of splintered glass, covering Eddie’s driver seat.

The whistled tune never stopped from your puckered lips. Not when you flicked open the pocket knife and punctured the rubber tires, or when you carved a long jagged scratch into the paint down the aluminum body.

It wasn’t until you were standing on the hood of the van, crashing the bat into the windshield did you hear the front door to Steve’s swing open, music fading through the night with each body shoving their way through the door, gasping at your surprise gift for your boyfriend.

Someone, Jeff, you think— hollers for Eddie and you plant your ass on the hood, leaving a dent for sure by the way you plopped down like it was a trampoline. With legs crossed and twisting the bat between your palms, you wait patiently for the man of the hour to finally arrive, a smile on your black painted lips.

By now there’s a decent sized crowd, all gaping mouths and wide eyes, some laughing but mostly struck with fear out of the freaks girl.

He walks down the concrete steps, his heavy boots thudding against the hard ground. You can see the muscles in his jaw tense from where you are sitting, his knuckles tighten into a fist and his shoulders broaden and angle back, like he's trying like hell, not to yell out right by the look of the destruction you caused to his van.

“Hi baby,” you greet, sugary sweet like you just brought him balloons on his birthday, “having a fun night?”

Eddie is seething, nostrils flared as he tries to even his breathing, “what did you do Lil?”

“What?” You ask, turning your body to look at the glass splintered on the windshield and smashed on the ground, “oh, you mean all this? It’s pretty right?”

Eddie drags his tongue across the front of teeth, sucking in a breath, “you’re kidding right?”

Unhooking your crossed leg you slam your heel into one of his headlights, the satisfying crunch of the plastic pieces littering to the ground, you smile pretty up at him, but he doesn’t bat an eye, “oh Eddie,” you tsk, “I don’t like jokes… or being,” the tip of the bat hits the other headlight with a crunch, “… lied to.”

“Fucking Christ, what are you even talking about?” Eddie spits as he looks to Jeff then to Gareth.

“Really? Then why did Robin call to say you were here with that bimbo Chrissy?”

The crowd ooo’s as Eddie stomps towards you, his face struck with anger, the browns of his eyes completely black as he glared down at you, his necklace still swaying as he leans forward into your space, only malice in his voice.

“Time to go,” he grunts, grabbing the bat from your hand and tossing it to the ground, “now.”

“Nah,” you say, looking past him and waving at Steve, he returns the wave with a confused look at a silent gasp at the look of Eddie’s van, “I’m just getting started.”

Steve tries to push everyone inside shows over! Let’s go! But nobody budges, waiting for the train wreck, unable to look away.

Eddie pulls you from the van by your feet, your bare ass skimming the hood as your skirt lifts up, sure to leave a burn, you land on your feet, waltzing over to aforementioned blonde and taking her drink from her, downing the horrific liquid in a gulp. She’s too stunned to speak as you twist back around to catch a glimpse of Eddie, shooting him a wink.

The knife tucked into the cute holder on your thigh comes out with a flick. Flashing the steel blade to Eddie, you wink before whipping back around to Chrissy just in time to catch her ponytail between your fingers. The knife cuts through her hair like a shear, close to her scalp beneath the emerald ponytail, her golden locks fisted limply in your hand.

The scream she lets out is blood curdling and ugly, but you don’t mistake the laugh coming from Robin or Steve as Chrissy runs inside, her cheer squad hurrying behind to help their friend.

“Wait! You forgot this!” You say shaking the blond strands towards the door, “I’m sure some glue or tape will hel—”

You're caught off guard as Eddie’s hand wraps around your wrist and starts dragging you away from the party back to his van. He wiggles the knife from your fingers and closes it on his hip, shoving it into his jacket.

The smile never left your lips, not even when your shoulder blades rest against the side of the van as Eddie crowds you in.

“Jesus Christ you’re fucking crazy, y’know that?” his words are mean but there’s a hint of something else on his lips, a smirk.

Your fingers move to his belt buckle, threading it through itself as you look up at him through your lashes, “you love it.”

His eyes roll tk the back of his head, and he takes a deep breath, animalistic instinct kicking in as you suck his thumb into your mouth.

“Fuck.”

Your thighs are wrapped around his waist in two seconds flat. He grunts as his thick fingers glide through your wet heat, finally noticing you weren’t wearing any panties he groans guttural and low.

His hand wraps around your throat and he smiles as you gasp for a little breath, eyes rolling into your skull as he cants his hips forward and his thick head pushes through your walls, filling you full.

Your lips attach to his neck, licking and biting hard enough that your teeth marks will bruise a perfect dental record into his skin. A nice match for the red lips tattooed on the left of his neck, an identical mark to yours.

“Shit,” he groans slamming into you harder and harder, shaking the van on its flat tires, broken glass hitting the ground like hail. “Always so fucking tight for me baby, fuck I love your pussy.”

You’re mewling into him, inhaling his words as he bites your lip, licking the blood from them and running it over his teeth.

The front door opens and shuts but neither of you stop, not even when the sobs from Chrissy get closer as her friends bell her into their car, parked right behind Eddie’s van.

Eddie’s face is buried into your neck and you catch Chrissy’s blue teared stare, horror on her face as you and Eddie both moan. “Mm fuck,” you say to her, eyes boring into hers, “like what you see, Christopher?”

The screaming huff from her mouth is heard around Hawkins as she slams the door to Heather's car, tires screeching as they tear out of Steve’s driveway.

Eddie chuckles into your skin and shakes his head. A smile on his face as he kisses you hard, pumping into you harder and before long you're both coming and moaning into the night, completely lost in your own world.

Later that night in Eddie’s bed, you're tangled naked and fresh from a shower beneath soft cotton sheets. His hands lazily work up and down your back, your arm propped up beneath your chin on his chest, “so, I did good, right?”

Eddie laughs and blows a ring of smoke into the air, “you were perfect my little vixen, I could barely contain myself when you were sitting on the hood like that, looked so fucking sexy, wanted to fuck you right there.”

You both laugh at the theatrics of the night, and you remember something that’s missing, “gonna need my knife back by the way, feels weird without it.”

Eddie points to his jacket crumbled on the floor next to a mountain of discarded clothing and leather boots, “it’s in my pocket, just keeping it safe.”

You roll your eyes with a tease and slither from the sheets, bare skinned beneath the yellow warm lamp, the jacket feels cool in your hands, silk pockets gentle on your fingers as your grab your knife and pull it out.

Examining it in your fingers it truly was the perfect gift from the man you adored, etched into the handle, a script he cut himself, “to my Lilith.”

liked this? consider a reblog like and comment! thanks for reading

another story in the same lilith au - here & here

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader

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moronkombat · 6 months

Note

Can you pls write Syzoth going down on reader with his long ass tongue

You loved your boyfriend. He a sweet and tender lover to you and knew how you make you the happiest person in all the realms. So grateful you were to have met him when you did and he grateful too. The two of you made quite the adorable couple, didn't you? Even now as you lay with your back arched and raised, your eyes rolling into your skull...yes Syzoth found you particular cute like this.

If only he could tell you just how sweet you looked writhing under him but his mouth already so busy tasting you. Lips move against you, mimicking a kiss to a...different type of lips. Hot breath pants against you, your taste leading him further into intoxication. It won't be long now until this shapeshifter completely drowns himself into a drunken stupor.

Teeth snag onto your thigh and you lurch and gasp for breath. Soft lips drag over where teeth have left their mark, an apology? Perhaps. You don't have the moment to think on it as his mouth is upon you again, taking so much of your mind away from you. What will sanity will he leave behind for you to grasp at?

Not much as it turns out. His lips are not alone in their pursuit for your undoing. Something has joined them, something wet, something long. What is this? A forked tip flickers over where you see stars and you cry out his name.

Syzoth merely groans and digs his nails into your fleshy thighs deeper and deeper. Your plea for him goes unanswered, it is his tongue that will command you now. Longer and longer it gets, wrapping around your thigh and squeezing the plush of your skin. Fingers spread you apart, breaking apart the last defense you had left.

There will be no mercy now. Not when his tongue begins its descent into your begging and wanting core. The bend of your back...how beautiful it is...Your hips lifting off from the bed but he will not let you escape. Rough hands force them back into place and a curled tongue twirls in tantalizing circles. He feels all of you, each and every bit of your quivering insides are his to feast upon.

Your words have transformed into mewling and pathetic sounds of desperation and release. You feel his face to pressed up against you there, his nose poking and prodding as he turns his head from side to side. His tongue mimics this, exploring inside you from left to right, up and down. Cheeks are stained now, damp and red from the overwhelming sense of destruction.

Colors begin to flash before your eyes, colors you have never seen before dance and spin. They surround you just as his tongue consumes you. There it moves again and again around where you cannot possibly resist. Stars burst, colors shine and your orgasm travels through every single little bit of you.

Both of you are panting now, both of you are shaking. He stares at you but your eyes are too lost in the rapture he created. Syzoth tilts his head oh so curiously.

"If you think I'm finished with you, think again"

You have no sense to think anymore. It would appear he taken that from you. Though, you didn't mind. Not when his tongue delves into you once more

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fanworks #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #syzoth #syzoth smut #syzoth x reader #syzoth x you #mk reptile

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celiastjamesoscar · 6 months

Text

Wish I Knew You

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader, established relationship

Summary: Unofficial meant many things to people, but to college students it meant one thing: party. But unofficial takes a turn when you get into a fight, and Sam has to walk you home.

Warnings: swearing, destruction of property, breaking and entering, light mention of drugs, drinking

AN: based off of an idea I ‘stole’ from @p0rkbun, I love ya!

My Masterlist

Word Count: 3.5K

“I know it’s unofficial, but please, you guys, be safe. Okay?” Sam pleaded as she looked at the group of kids before her. Technically, they weren’t kids, but in her eyes, most of them would still be those kids she used to babysit. Well, all of them but you.

You met Sam through Anika after she moved to New York, and you were instantly in love even though she wouldn’t even spare you a glance most of the time. Those big, brown eyes that held years of pain and agony brought you so much comfort whenever she would look at you. Her lips never smiled, so you made it your life mission to make her smile, even if it was just for a mere moment. And when you did make her smile after you went on a drunken tangent about how Isaac Newton deserved to die a virgin and how Dr. Pepper is the best soda, she knew that she was in too deep.

Dammit to hell with getting accepted into the best universities the country had to offer and all those scholarships you had received that paid for your schooling at Blackmore University. None of those things compared to the feeling you got in your chest when you saw that beautiful smile for the first time. It seemed like your entire world had stopped rotating and began to revolve around the single smile that didn’t last for more than three seconds, but it meant more to you than anything else.

After the night, the two of you grew closer, and after enough dinners together, you two started dating. It took you forever to break down all of Sam’s walls, but when you did, it was the most rewarding thing you had ever done. On late nights after she had worked a double, the only thing Sam wanted to do was come home and sleep. But when she pushed open her apartment door and saw you standing awkwardly in the hallway with a goofy grin on your lips and a bottle of wine, all the stress seemed to leave her body, being replaced with the need to be hold you.

You found it impossible to believe that people hated Sam: she was perfect in your eyes. Her soft, caring nature, whenever it was just the two of you, was something you couldn’t find anywhere else. Yes, Sam can be a bitch sometimes, but behind closed doors, she is putty in your hands. How she would sit next to you on the couch, softly tracing patterns on your thigh with her fingers, would make your chest flutter. When you two were in a group, she would always sit next to you- much to Tara’s disapproval, who is someone who doesn’t like sharing her sister- while placing a protective hand on your thigh.

The thoughts that ran around Sam’s mind were that she wished she knew you when she was young; maybe her life would be completely different. Perhaps she wouldn’t have started using drugs or ran away from home, but that’s all it was: what-ifs that might or might not have changed her life. Even though she wished for things to have been different, that she wished she would have met you at a different time, she was still glad that she had you in her life, and she refused to let you go any time soon.

So now, as you sit next to her sister getting ready to get plastered at frat parties for Halloween, Sam couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of anxiety crawling through her body.

“Yes, Sam, we promise to be safe. We will call you if you need anything,” Tara stated as she stood up from the couch, “Can we go now?”

With a small sigh, Sam closed her eyes and nodded her head. She just knew that allowing you guys to go out tonight would come back to bite her in the ass. “Please don’t drink too much,” Sam pleaded as she followed the group to the door, looking directly at you while she spoke, “I’m talking to you.”

You scoffed at your girlfriend’s accusation, “How dare you insinuate that I, of all people, would drink the most!”

“Because you will,” Mindy mumbled as she looked between you and Sam, unamused, “You always get out of hand when you drink.”

“No, I do not!” You shot back, but you knew arguing would get you nowhere.

Speaking up for the first time, Chad said, “Don’t worry, Sam. I will make sure that Y/N and Tara don’t drink too much; you have my word,” as he wrapped a loving arm around your shoulder.

With a small sigh, Sam nodded in defeat, “Alright, just be safe tonight, okay? No splitting up.” Before Sam could finish her sentence, Tara had shot up from the couch and left for the door. “Come on, you old people, the party’s not going to wait for us,” she exclaimed while opening the door and leaning against the door frame, tapping her foot with urgency.

The twins were quickly behind Tara, and when you went to follow, Sam grabbed your hand, “Hey, wait a minute.” When Sam spoke, the three noticed the way Sam’s dark eyes were pleading with you, so they decided to step out into the hallway to give the two of you some privacy.

“What’s up?” You asked with the softest smile that always made Sam’s knees weak. “Please, Y/N, be safe tonight. If you need anything, call me, okay?” The Latina asked as she gently placed her hands on your triceps, lovingly running her hands up and down.

“You know I will be, and I promise to call you if anything happens,” you replied while leaning forward, placing a soft kiss on top of Sam’s head, “Just think, this is a night to yourself. When was the last time you had that?”

Sam mumbled something underneath a breath that you missed. “I’m sorry, what was that?” You teased with a smile, watching as Sam rolled her eyes. “I said that I only enjoy my nights to myself when you are around,” the older girl admitted through clenched teeth.

“Damn, Sam. You can at least pretend to like me,” you joked with a small laugh.

“You know that I hate to admit these things, but you still make me do it.”

“You’re right! I love hearing my girlfriend give me constant affirmations about how much she loves me; it's the best!” You happily stated with a smile, and Sam laughed at your response.

“Whatever, just be safe tonight,” she said as her eyes looked you up and down, clearing having a distaste for your costume, “whatever the fuck you are.”

Naturally, you scoffed at her words, “I will have you know that I am one of the best historians out there.”

“Yeah, I doubt that,” Sam replied with a smile. It might not seem like much, but these small banters between the two of you were what she loved the most. She could be herself around you, and you would never judge her for it.

In the mood to be a smartass, you straightened your posture and pulled on your coat. You cleared your throat and began doing an impression of a Bolton accent, “It’s hard to believe I’m walking through the ruins of the first-ever city, because I’m not. That’s in Iraq, which is miles away, and fucking dangerous.”

Sam stared at you blankly for several seconds before she shook her head, “You’re a fucking idiot, and I cannot believe you are going as that lady.”

“Excuse me, ‘that lady’ is Philomena Cunk, who is the best damn historian on this planet,” you defended while making your way to the front door, Sam following behind you, “And my costume is certainly the best.”

Sam hummed as she opened the front door, “Yeah because it's so hard to beat,” she quickly looked at the three standing out in the hallway, “a half-assed pirate, a scarecrow, and Jack Skellington.”

“Hey now, I’m a cowboy, not a scarecrow,” Chad replied with a bit of hurt. “She doesn’t care what you are. Now come on, we have a party to go to,” Mindy sat as she threw an arm around Tara the pirate and started walking down the hallway with Chad several paces behind them.

Before you followed them, you quickly kissed Sam’s lips. “I love you,” you mumbled against them, and Sam kissed your words.

“I love you too,” she replied while pulling away. You blew her kiss as you started to catch up with the group, and Sam felt her heart flutter at the small gesture. Words could not even begin to express the love she had in her heart for you, but she hoped that one day she might be able to tell you. She wanted to tell you how her entire being ached for your touch whenever you were away, and she hated watching you leave. But she simply settled for watching you leave with her younger sister, off to have the fun that was promised when you start college.

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Whenever someone tells you that college is supposed to be the time of your life, they are fucking wrong. Hours and hours of studying material that you must teach yourself because your professors are too incompetent to teach it while you still pay them thousands of dollars is not fun. There is nothing ideal about college, and you hated every single second of it, but the part you loved the most was your friends.

Of course, you had friends in high school, but none meant this much to you. You would readily lay down your life for Tara, just as you would the twins. So, that’s why for the first time since the semester started, you finally felt your shoulders loosen and stress leave your body, just for some dipshit in a mask to ruin it.

It all happened quickly, according to Chad. One minute, you were taking shots with Tara, then the next, you were on top of a random guy, beating him to a pulp. It took Chad and Mindy to pry you off the guy, yet you still fought against them, trying your hardest to get your hands on that fucker.

“I’m good, I’m good,” you slurred after Chad carried you out of the frat house, but as soon as he placed you on the floor, you tried to run back into the house. “Hey! Stop it!” He shouted, quickly grabbing you before you could make it up the front porch steps, “Sit down and breathe.” Your head was spinning, and you could barely stand, but you had to get your hands on that fucker.

Grumbling under your breath, you listened to the man and sat down on the grass as Tara came to sit by you. “What happened?” She asked while picking up your dominant hand, lightly tracing her fingers over your bloodied knuckles.

You didn’t want to worry Tara that the piece of shit man was saying false accusations about Sam; you knew it would ruin her night. So, you decided to lie. “He said that the only correct way to eat cereal is to pour the milk first, then the cereal.”

A small laugh came from Tara’s lips as she let go of your hand and pulled out her phone. “You know, I don’t know what’s worse: how crazy you defend cereal or that you nearly killed a man dressed up as Philomena Cunk.”

You chuckled beside her and sat in silence as you watched her call her sister, asking the older Carpenter to come pick you up. You felt bad for not being the one to call Sam, but you knew that if you called her, she would ask what happened, and you couldn’t lie to that sweet and kind woman. Those soft, dark eyes that smiled for her would break if you ever were to lie to her, and you couldn’t put her through that.

So, you sat in silence with the younger Carpenter as Chad and Mindy went back inside the frat house. Once they were out of earshot, Tara spoke up. “I know you lied to me.”

“About what?” You questioned, but you knew what she was talking about. “Tell me why you beat the shit out of that guy,” Tara pressed.

You shook your head and sucked in a deep breath, debating on if you should tell her or not. With a sigh, you down while speaking, “He was saying some shit about Sam, and I lost my cool. I’m sorry that I ruined your night.”

Several beats of silence passed before Tara grabbed your hand and interlaced her fingers with yours. “You know, When you and Sam first started dating, I was skeptical. You’re one of my closest friends, and Sam is my sister. But oh my god, after seeing how she looks at you, I knew that the two of you were meant to be. I’ve never seen Sam look at anyone the way she does with you and the way she smiles around you, Y/N. It's unbelievable; I’ve never seen her smile that much. What I mean to say is that Sam has a hard time with words, but that woman loves you so much. So thank you for defending her name because I know she would do the same thing for you,” Tara admitted with a soft smile, and before you could respond, the both of you saw a tall figure approaching you.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked with worry laced in her voice as soon as she got close enough to see your hand. She crouched beside you and took your hand out of Tara’s as she lightly traced her fingers over your knuckles, more worried about you than whoever you beat the shit out of.

“Your sweet, little Y/N who would never do any harm went apeshit on someone. It took both twins to pull her off of the poor guy,” Tara said as she stood from the ground and began walking into the house.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Sam questioned while eyeing her sister, who didn’t even look behind her as she shouted, “Back to the party!”

You laughed as you watched the younger Carpenter disappear into the house, “she’s a little shit, isn’t she?” You joked as you looked back at Sam, who glared at you, “What?”

You knew it was terrible, but you couldn’t help but find Sam extremely attractive whenever she was angry; it was probably why you liked to piss her off so much.

The older girl huffed as she stood up, pulling you up with her as well. “Don’t ‘what’ me; you know exactly what I’m mad about,” she said as she grabbed one of your arms and threw it over your shoulder. You just shrugged, not wanting to argue with Sam over the reason for your fight.

“I’m not that drunk, Sam. I can walk by myself,” you declared, but once Sam let go of your arm so you could prove your point, gravity seemed to have a vendetta against you, causing you to begin swaying from side to side.

“Mhm, yeah. Come on,” Sam sighed as she grabbed your arm and threw it over her shoulder again.

Naturally, the entire walk back to the apartment, you complained about Sam not needing to carry you, but you would never admit that you enjoyed seeing this softer side of her.

“So,” Sam asked when you two got away from the frat house, “What happened?”

You shrugged as you continued walking, “The guy was saying false information about how to eat cereal properly. That’s all.”

Now, Sam wasn’t an idiot, and she wasn’t born yesterday. She knew when you were lying, and she knew that you were. In your relationship, Sam always knew that you would be truthful, and her heart began to break at the thought of things changing between the two of you. She knew it was stupid, but she couldn’t help the anxiety at the idea of you no longer being honest with her.

As if you could sense her doubt, you spoke, “Sam, you know that I love you, right?” The Carpenter nodded her head, silently ushering you to continue. “Well, then you know that I would do anything to protect you, anything at all,” you proclaimed as you leaned over and placed a loving kiss on her forehead.

Several beats of silence passed as Sam was thinking about what you said. She knew that whatever happened between you and the dickhead was about the online controversies surrounding her, even though you didn’t say anything about it; she just knew.

A part of Sam felt guilty that you had the feeling of constantly needing to defend her name, which got you in a lot of trouble. But she also loved the idea of having someone who loved and cared for her enough to start fights over her, no matter how petty they were.

So, instead of asking you any more questions, Sam simply said, “I love you too,” and pulled you closer to her.

Falling into a comfortable silence, you walked for several minutes before you stopped dead in your tracks. “What the actual fuck is that?” You asked with a slight hint of venom in your voice.

You had stopped just outside a Barnes & Noble, glaring into the store’s display case. In that case, there was a small cardboard cutout of Gale Weathers, and behind her were copies of her notorious book that worsened Sam’s public image.

“You fucking bitch,” you hissed as you unwrapped Sam’s arm from you and walked up the glass window, pushing on it but getting nowhere. “Y/N, come on. It’s closed, and you’re drunk,” Sam said as she gently grabbed your hand, but you shook it off.

Without saying a word, you walked to the side of the store to pick up a brick. Before Sam could stop you, you threw the brick through the window, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Sam whisper-shouted as she tried to stop you from climbing into the store, but you were surprisingly strong in your intoxicated state. Once you entered the display area, you grabbed a signed copy of Gale’s book and ripped out several of the pages. You then began doing that to the rest of the books you could see, and once you were done, you moved to the cutout.

“You fucking bitch,” you hissed as you pushed the cutout, causing it to fall, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Fucking fuckass loser.”

Now, she knew it was terrible to be imagining this, but Sam couldn’t find it within herself to stop you from destroying Gale’s books. Truth be told, she wanted to join you, but she felt like you deserved to have this moment to yourself.

“I’ll fuck you up, little bitch,” you stated as you picked up the cutout and put it underneath your arm. “What are you doing?” Sam asked with a small laugh as she watched you carry the cardboard Gale Weathers from the store.

“Taking her home,” you slurred once you stepped onto the street, then you began walking toward Sam’s apartment. “Wrong way, dumbass,” Sam stated once you got halfway down the sidewalk.

Without saying a word, you turned on your heels and walked back to Sam. “Thank you,” you replied while the two of you began walking back in the correct direction, still holding Gale.

“Are you taking her home to kill her?” The Latina asked while looking down at the cutout, struggling to keep a straight face with this unusual situation.

“What kind of fucking animal do you take me for? No, I'm not going to kill her!” You exclaimed, “But I am kidding her.”

The sound of Sam’s laughter caused an eruption of butterflies to flutter throughout your chest. Even though you were drunk and probably wouldn’t remember most of this night, hell, there was a good chance you wouldn’t even remember ‘kidnapping’ Gale Weathers, but you knew you would never forget the sound of your woman’s laughter.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s get you home so you can torture Gale,” Sam joked as she wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into her side.

She didn’t care that you would be on the news tomorrow morning for the destruction of property; she was just glad you were happy while doing it. It wasn’t every day that Sam got to witness you lose your shit, especially on an inanimate object, but she loved seeing this side of you. She wouldn’t change your relationship for anything, no matter what it was. Sam loved you with her body and soul, and she would never give that up.

The only thing she wished was different was that she knew you when she was young. She would stay up most nights wondering how different her life would have been if she had met you when she was 18, a fresh runaway from home. Before she got into all the hard drugs, she still struggled despite being three years sober. But as she listened to you threaten fake Gale while stating how much you loved the woman you were dating, Sam couldn’t be happier with you.

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Taglist: @elduster @silentwolfsstuff @maskthedwarf @canvascoloredin

#sam carpenter #scream #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter x female reader #Tara carpenter #melissa barrera #Spotify

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randomshyperson · 9 months

Text

Enchanted - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: The new Avengers welcome party takes an unexpected turn. Wanda is delighted and tries to make a friend. | Based on “Enchanted” by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: mutual pining, really fluffy, emo wanda being a shy mess with a crush, they are both teenagers in this btw, hints of social anxiety. | Words: 4.913k

A/N-> Yes, I’m writing about worthy!Reader again, sue me. It has a certain resemblance to an abandoned one that I posted here a while ago, but this time they are strangers to friends. This is also totally influenced by the new version of this song.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Song-Based Collection

-&-

The party setting was not one that Wanda would choose as a favorite, and frankly, she had little desire to be there.

But Steve and Natasha insisted she joins, after all, there were reasons to celebrate besides the almost obligatory socializing and marketing for Earth's most famous team of heroes; their latest villain, Ultron, had been successfully exterminated. And in addition to the conflicts, there were new members on the team. Given the circumstances, and the recent destruction of her home country, neither reason would be enough to get her out of her room, but it was Natasha who convinced her to celebrate what truly mattered: Pietro was alive.

Somehow, the twin managed to make the broken leg an extra charm to his character, and the crouched figure dressed in an expensive suit courtesy of Stark Industries - an image that would make the teenage version of Pietro Maximoff have a fit of outrage - turned into the soul of the party. Unlike her brother who seemed overjoyed by the spotlight, Wanda hurried to find a corner as soon as she entered the tower hall packed with guests, her heart racing for every glance and flash of photographers interested in the newest Avengers.

The evening wore on with polite celebrations and a battle of egos conversations; it all seemed very political to Wanda, but not in the same way as it had on her rebellious afternoons in Sokovia, with all the ink and posters and protests, and more about fake smiles and passive-aggressive accusations, people in suits reminding themselves of the cost of the Avengers' existence, and an almost drunken Tony Stark bragging that money was no problem.

It was exhausting in its entirety, but Wanda managed to find a decent and entertaining distraction which was watching Pietro and Sam bicker for the attention of the guests. At the same time, Natasha kept her company at the bar.

The widow's voice calling her attention made her take her eyes from her twin supported on crutches to her newest teammate. Wanda was still a bit uneasy around Natasha - Her own guilt about the confrontation in which she invaded the other's memories, in addition to the moment of being scolded for a borrowed jacket made her feel embarrassed, even though Natasha had been very kind around her since then and had even been the person to lend her the red dress she wore tonight.

"You were tense all night, Maximoff." Commented Natasha not teasing her, but as a friendly remark that made Wanda sigh. The redhead glanced at Pietro before turning her attention back to the younger girl, her gaze softer. "It was just a scare, Wanda. He'll recover, and before you can miss him, your brother will be causing trouble again."

The joke drew a smile from her, weak but still true. Wanda tried to take Natasha's words to heart, hoping that the reaffirmation would push away all the nightmares she'd had with the memories of her brother bleeding in a destroyed Sokovia, dreams created by her fears that her brother's masked savior wouldn't have arrived in time.

Natasha cursed suddenly, and Wanda stared at her curiously, only to discover the widow staring at something behind them, at the entrance to a party that was emptying as the night wore on.

“"What the hell is this little shit doing here?" Grumbled the widow and Wanda frowned, surprised that although it was a swear word, the anger didn't carry over into Natasha's gaze. She looked more worried than anything else.

Looking back, Wanda saw a singular figure. The band T-shirt, even if hidden under a pallet, brought a faded, confident tone to the figure who greeted with polite smiles and made their way to the bar with such familiarity that Wanda immediately understood that whoever the person was, they had been to the Tower many times before.

But Natasha came out from behind the bar at a hard step and met you halfway, close enough for Wanda to see how Nat grabbed your wrist and hear the words whispered in a scolding tone.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?"

Your posture was not intimidated one bit - You freed yourself from the tug effortlessly, smiling and adjusting your jacket.

"I was invited, of course."

Natasha narrowed her eyes, assessing your response during the seconds you looked around, smiling and waving to a few people. "I'm going to kill Tony."

You sighed impatiently. "Come on, Mom, it's just a party-"

The term made Wanda's eyes widen, almost unable to resist the urge to raise her head and fully expose her spying on the conversation. Natasha didn't let you finish, walking off at a harsh pace toward the iron man on the other side of the room.

With a roll of your eyes, you ignored that and made your way to the bar.

Wanda noticed a few things quickly as you reached out beside her to grab a bottle of booze from behind the counter. The first was that you were certainly not the legal American age to be drinking and this explained the checking glances you threw around before stealing the drink, and the second was that your complicit smile toward her made her heart forget how to beat properly.

"Sorry about that, Natasha is quite the doting type of mom." That was the first thing you said to her, as you moved close enough for Wanda to swallow dryly at the intrusion of your perfume into her senses, intoxicatingly attractive. You smiled again, propping your elbow on the counter beside you to extend your hand to her. "I am Y/N, by the way. And you're Wanda Maximoff, right?"

Jesus, keep it together. She thought, feeling her face heat up at the attention.

If Pietro saw the disaster, he would be laughing at her face, and knowing that her brother was just a few feet away ready to mock her, made Wanda suddenly gain a little confidence.

She confirmed who she was and as she shook your hand, she added, "I didn't know Natasha had any children."

You chuckled relaxedly. "It's complicated." You replied, releasing her hand to grab the beer bottle you left resting on the bar. "She's not my birth mother, I'm more like a souvenir"

Wanda frowned at your rather vague answer, ready to inquire when before you could take a sip of your drink, someone took it from you from behind your shoulder - It was Clint Barton, also wearing a suit and with a smug expression of repression.

"I'll take this." He chuckled, ignoring your sigh of protest and approaching to greet Wanda quickly before turning his attention back to you. "And may I ask what you're doing here, kiddo?"

You snorted impatiently, putting your hands in your pockets. "What do people do at parties, Barton?" You returned naughtily, but Clint grinned, shaking his head.

"You know Natasha is going to give you a hard time for this... in addiction to drinking-"

"What drinking? You didn't even let me taste it." You interrupt grumpily and roll your eyes when to further irritate you, Clint takes a long gulp. With a sigh, you lift your chin toward Wanda. "I'm just getting to know the new Avengers, it's not a crime to make friends." You commented, offering Wanda a wink that made her swallow dryly.

Great, of all the people she could meet in a new country, she was going to have a crush on the Black Widow's daughter. Her luck always improving.

"Kiddo, you know the rules-" Clint tried to reason, but you huffed impatiently again.

"God, you guys are such hypocrites!" Despite the clear irritation, your tone remained controlled. "The Maximoffs are what, months older than me? Yeah, Barton, I read Fury's files. Honestly, this is ridiculous! Stark is also trying to recruit that fourteen-year-old vigilante, but suddenly if I want to join the team it's the most dangerous thing in the world! I only came for the party, but I'd be happy to get a thank you for the last mess you put yourselves in! I don't know, like a "thanks Y/N for saving my life" instead of a "you're too young to be here", Uncle." Your venting made the man lower his head, sighing in agreement.

The archer tried to call you over to ease things, but you had already left the scene, annoyance stamped on your expression. With another sigh, this time in defeat, Clint returned the bottle to the bar and touched Wanda gently on the elbow.

"It wasn't the best way to meet her, but I hope you don't get a bad impression." He tried to joke, but Wanda only needed five seconds to reflect on your words to understand exactly who you were.

"Clint, she's helped us in Sokovia, didn’t she?" Inquired the girl with a certain desperation. "She’s the one that saved Pietro?"

Barton smiled proudly. " Yeah, that's her." He confirmed to which Wanda sighed softly. So many days wondering how she could find and thank the mysterious person who ensured her brother's safety and the closest thing to a father figure she had at the moment, only to have you stand in front of her and get tongue-tied.

You disappeared in the midst of so many guests, and Wanda gave up searching with her gaze when Clint called her back to get her attention.

"You'll have time to say thanks." He commented realizing the whole thing and smiling softly. "If Y/N gets what she's been pushing at for years, you two should be roommates. And well, whenever she's not at school, she's around."

Wanda absorbed the words attentively, feeling her curiosity rise. "Oh, really? And how old is she again?"

"She wasn't exaggerating, Maximoff, she really is only a few months younger than you and your brother." Clint replied casually. Although he was looking around, old habits of an agent, he seemed willing to talk to Wanda. "The only reason she's not the youngest Avenger is because Natasha doesn't want her to be on the team."

The information makes Wanda frown. "Why is that?"

Clint smiles, shrugging. "Safety, of course." He gently rebuts. "Aliens and bio-nuclear warfare isn't exactly the right place for a teenager."

"Still here I am.'" Wanda retorted without sounding really annoyed. Clint hesitated before sighing.

"It's different, Wanda."

"Of course, Clint." She retorted with a fresh bitterness on the edge of her stomach. "She matters."

Barton grimaced, moving a little closer and staring her in the eye. "Don't jump to conclusions without knowing the full story." He began. "These are different situations. You and Pietro are enhanced young people without a country to go back to. And of course your safety matters to me. But we've had this conversation before, Maximoff. When you faced that army, you chose to be an Avenger, even though you can resign from this position whenever you want, you are a very strong girl who I would trust on a battlefield. But Y/N is 17 years old and the most action she's seen in her life was at the drive-in of The Future Terminator ." Clint commented but Wanda looked away, catching your figure again, this time greeting Pietro who recognized you far more easily than she did. The hug he gave you made her look at Clint seriously.

"I think you give her little credence." She retorted, impressed with her confidence in defending someone she didn't even know. "She made a difference in the last fight."

Clint laughed dryly. "She's already won you over, hasn't she? She's a born talent." He teased, smiling at the pink tint to her cheeks. "And speaking of talent, I have to admit, that kid has plenty of it. Natasha trained her of course, but never let her go into real action. And well, she's always been very observant. Tony has a sweet spot for her, taught her everything he knows, and if you ask me, he spoils her a little. But I can't blame him, she gives us those puppy dog eyes and it seems like no time has passed. We're all old and she gets what she wants from those soft adults."

The warmth and nostalgia of the veteran's words made Wanda smile as well. She let a moment pass before commenting:

"Earlier, Y/N said something about being... souvenir." And the phrase drew a hearty laugh from Clint.

He shook his head in disbelief before retorting, "It's a long story..."

"It's not like I have anywhere else to go." Wanda jokes it's kind of dry humor, but it makes Clint chuckle weakly. He settles into the chair next to her and assumes a thoughtful expression.

"Well, I guess it all started in Budapest..."

It's not like she needed any more reasons to like you, but nonetheless, Clint gave all of them and more. The story was brief but much appreciated; Natasha found you by chance, the joke about being Souvenir now made sense and Wanda wanted to laugh at your dry sense of humor so similar to hers. A professional Russian spy is given a second chance and while she is trying to gain the trust of the people around her, she encounters an angry child during an infiltration and elimination operation. Unlike everyone on the team of military and guilty billionaires, you were just a civilian with no options. Born into a family made up of people who made all the wrong choices and compromised your safety. Enter the Shield, with two agents who were determined to bring the only survivor home.

Wanda immediately understood Natasha's responsibilities and desperate desire for your safety.

Clint's narrative grew vaguer, and he got quieter as he drank more. Wanda didn't need telepathy to know that the archer was thinking about his own kids, and with a tired smile, he took a last sip of his beer and offered her a pat on the shoulder.

"Time for me to go home, Wanda." He commented, looking around at the practically empty party room now. They had been so wrapped up in stories about the past that he had barely seen the party ending. "Whatever you need, give me a call, okay?"

Clint's goodbyes were always like this, and Wanda just returned the smile.

Alone at the bar, she decided to make her way to her twin brother who was now sitting on one of the couches. The whole way there, she tried to keep her racing heart in check on account of the person in the opposite seat.

"[...] And all that for her to kick me out of bed the next day!" The end of Sam's story drew laughter from the group, and Wanda tried to go unnoticed and find a corner, but once you were close enough, you adjusted yourself on the couch.

"Hey, there's space here." You offered gently, tapping the free spot next to you and with all the attention on her, Wanda could only accept the invitation quickly, squeezing in next to you on the couch.

Sam, who didn't mind the momentary attention stolen, continued to tell stories of failed date nights, tales funny and embarrassing enough to keep the group entertained. Wanda was too busy trying not to look like a complete mess and hiding her own expression from her curious brother to pay attention to them.

Before she could realize it, she had stood beside you in complete silence for half an hour, just listening and forcing smiles whenever Pietro tried to include her in the conversation at the mention of some memory they shared. The party officially ended as the night wore on until only those who were part of the team were left in the room. And well, you.

"Hey kiddo, come on, I'll drive you home." It was Natasha already with a jacket over her dress and keys in hand. The information that there was a home beyond the tower stuck in Wanda's mind, and she had to force herself to stop imagining what the black widow's ordinary life as a single mother would be like.

Instead of getting up, you sank further into the sofa, stretching both arms out on the support of the furniture. Wanda was sure her face was the color of Natasha's hair, but she didn't dare look above her own lap, being sure that Pietro would notice if she did.

"Thanks, Mom, but I'm going to stay a little longer."

Natasha sighed wearily. "Kid, please." She insisted but you didn't lose your slouched posture.

Instead, you let your arm fall over Wanda and Sam, each on your side. "I just made new friends, come on!" You justified, squeezing them both for a moment. Wanda bit the inside of her cheek hard, "And tomorrow is the weekend!"

The widow didn't look persuaded at all, but a certain iron man mimicked the gesture you made with the other two, hugging Natasha sideways as his free hand brought out a little cocktail.

"Don't be so grumpy, Romanoff." Tony teased. "It's not like Y/N is twelve. In fact, I already bought her an eighteen birthday present."

The information made you get excited, and get up to try to get more information out of your uncle about that surprise gift.

Wanda let out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding when she no longer had your arm around her, and as she raised her eyes and met her twin's curious gaze, she knew the color of her cheeks had worsened.

When Thor was drunk enough to keep talking about Asgard, and Natasha's keys were hanging over the hammer on the table, you yawned in the middle of a joke.

Steve chuckled, shaking out his hair and exchanging a quick glance with the widow talking to Agent Hill across the room.

"It's late, let's call it a night, Avengers." Announced the captain, receiving a chorus in protest but far too tired to counter more willingly.

Wanda herself was missing her heels, practically asleep against the shoulder of her twin brother, who was in one last round of improvised poker with the Falcon.

"Party killer." Tony teased with his eyes closed - He had been woken from his nap by the voice of the captain, who laughed at the comment before offering his hand to encourage you to get up from the couch.

The next few minutes were a blur in Wanda's mind until everything came back into focus at once. She was holding the crutches with her magic and helping her brother to stand when she heard you mutter something about sleeping in the tower. Suddenly, your sleepy figure tripped over the table leg, and instead of a tragic accident with the hammer static in the center, everything crashed to the floor.

The Mjolnir rolled a few inches away from your body, and you laughed embarrassedly, half of Tony Stark's punch in your jacket.

"Damn, let's hope she didn't scratch your toy." Joked Sam, but Thor was half pale looking at you in shock.

It was Rogers who lifted you like a knight to the rescue, but when he tried to duck to retrieve the hammer, the item didn't care to flinch.

Suddenly the whole group understood what had happened while you were distracted by the punch damage to your new suit.

"Sorry, Uncle Tony, I think it's going to stain..." You muttered upset, raising your eyes to the room of adults staring at you and breaking into a confused laugh. "What?"

Thor swallowed dryly. "Hm, kid, can you... pick up the hammer for me?"

You shrugged, ducking down at the same moment. "Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to knock it over." And you lifted it without any difficulty, extending it to Thor who looked about to pass out and didn't make a move. You made a confused face. Opening your mouth to question, you had no chance to do so as Thor was already looking at Natasha.

"We have to talk." He pointed at you next. "The three of us."

Nat sighed and grabbed the hammer from your hand, tossing it into Thor's lap who caught it just in time to avoid hitting him in his most sensitive parts, grimacing at the redhead.

"See? It's no big deal. I can lift it too, so don't even try to give me that look."

"Natasha-"

"No. She's a kid, Thor! Don't even start, we're leaving!"

"Romanoff!" Insisted the god, but he had to get up to follow the figure of Nat, who had grabbed your hand and was practicing running away down the tower.

The rest of the team stood in an embarrassing silence, being able to hear the heated discussion in the hallway of the other three for the next few minutes until Steve cleared his throat.

"I think it's best if we each go to bed..."

"Shush, popsicle." Cut Tony impatiently. "We just found new rulers of Asgard."

"Yeah, let us hear it." Insisted Sam and Steve got no support from anyone else, everyone too curious to give privacy to the discussion that seemed close to ending.

A moment later, Thor returned with a smile on his face, and next to him, a widow with her arms crossed. "We have a proposition to make." Announced the blond man, giving the smaller one a gentle nudge.

Natasha sighed stubbornly. "It's against all my wishes-"

Thor snorted good-naturedly, nudging Natasha's face like an older brother and ignoring the other's protest to excitedly tell the room: "Everyone has seen that little Romanoff can lift the hammer, and well, this is the greatest proof of honor, strength, and dignity a warrior can have and I think it's more than enough to give that girl a chance to be part of the team like she's always wanted since she was a rude little brat-

"Thank you, Uncle." You cut in with a laugh as you came into the scene again. Wanda saw that you were now out of your wet suit, the t-shirt gave way to what looked like one of the social shirts of the party waiters and was clearly an improvised outfit by the way half the buttons were still being buttoned.

Thor suddenly wrapped you in a corner hug, looking very proud and the gesture made you chuckle. "They grow up so fast, don't they?" He commented tearfully, to which you shook your head.

"I would still finish school, and there's college too, but Thor thinks he could train me like the Asgardians. That is of course, if you guys would accept me into the team. What do you say?"

The group grinned affectionately, and as Steve Rogers sniffled softly, Tony opened his arms excitedly.

"Of course, you can be an Avenger! Come here!"

As the adults moved to hug you tight, the new members stood watching politely, smiling at the scene. Pietro, now standing next to his sister, leaned in to whisper:

"I saw the way you look at her.” He said, and Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, trying to hide any reaction. "You totally have a crush."

"Shut up." She snapped sullenly, ignoring her brother's chuckle.

Your inclusion in the team gave energy for one last round of drinks - non-alcoholic for the underage trio - in celebration. And around three in the morning now, Wanda could barely keep her eyes open.

She walked Pietro back to his room, worried that he would stumble on the way and ignoring her brother's jokes that he would speed up before he could hit the floor, and only after he was comfortable under the sheets did she leave the room towards her own.

She eventually found out that Clint didn't lie. In fact, you were her roommate, and well, she felt a little embarrassed to interrupt a moment of reconciliation between you and your mother, who was kissing your forehead before letting you go to rest. The widow also offered a smile to Wanda who nodded absently, and thus, the two of you were left alone in the hallway.

"Hey, Maximoff."

The brunette smiled, scratching her eyes softly. "Hey, new Avenger." She managed to joke, eliciting a shy giggle from you. It was clear that you were pleased and excited, and Wanda wished she could say that she wasn't affected one bit by the gleam in your eyes, but that would be a lie.

"I'm still sort of digesting that one. It seems surreal." You comment, scratching behind the back of your neck. Steve's act of ruffling your hair left earlier that evening gave you an air of domesticity that made Wanda's breathing catch. Damn it, Pietro was right. She was a goner. "I know the situation is quite different, but I guess you must be nervous too, right? Your brother at least, acknowledged that he is."

Wanda blinks in surprise, stealing a glance at Pietro's door. He hadn't confessed this to her, but it made sense that despite everything, he was nervous about becoming a real superhero.

"Yeah, I guess." She retorts, crossing her arms. "I think it feels more real when we're fighting together."

You chuckled softly, hiding your hands in your pockets. "Don't let my mother hear you. She's still processing that part." You joked, getting a soft laugh from the other, the sound bringing a soft color to your cheeks that Wanda doesn't notice, too busy hiding her own. "Hey, total change of subject but do you go to school?"

She blinks in confusion, "What...?"

"It's just that it would be cool to go with you!" You quickly clarify. "Since we're similar ages, I figured we could be classmates..."

Wanda shifts the weight of her foot awkwardly, clearing her throat. "Hm, I fell behind." She interrupts, frowning slightly. "You know, the schools stop with the conflicts and the bombings. And then Hydra came and the tests and it didn't make sense for either me or Pietro to keep studying anymore..."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Sorry." You mutter clearly embarrassed that you brought up the subject. Wanda uncrosses her arms, not knowing what to do with her hands. "God, I'm so stupid."

"It's okay, you were just curious." She tries to reassure you, receiving a nod and a forced smile.

It was your turn to switch the weight of your feet and to take your hands out of your pockets to cross your arms. "Sorry, sometimes I speak without thinking. And I think too much, so often the lines slip out before I finish thinking about them... Anyway, I read your file, and I know the basics of history so of course it was inappropriate to ask such a stupid question and-"

"Y/N." Wanda interrupted you with a somewhat impressed laugh. She had just realized that you were as clumsy with social interactions as she was. What a great pair you would make. "It's no problem, really. It's... sweet that you care about my education. I think Stark is taking care of it, with the whole paperwork thing, you know? We'll probably have a tutor, me and Pietro, I say."

"Sure, that makes sense." You comment with a sigh. "And tutors give homework, right? I'll be around, we'll be able to help each other and everything."

Wanda chuckles tenderly, nodding. She's exhausted, but she doesn't want this night to ever end. "That's a great idea, detka." She lets the nickname slip, begging the gods that you let it go. But of course, you choke and turn pink, consequently bringing warmth to the other's face.

There is a timid pause between you before you mutter.

"My mother taught me a bunch of foreign languages growing up." You recount quietly, staring at your feet as Wanda stares at a dot in the hallway. "But I wanted to learn Sokovian to meet the new Avengers. It's cool if you want to call me that...I like it."

With her face very flushed and her heart racing in her throat, Wanda could only nod and hum in agreement, her shyness drawing a small laugh from you.

"Risking a second inappropriate question tonight but you wouldn't have a phone, would you?" you quibble, to which Wanda quickly denies. You nod. "I figured not yet. I'll get one for you, and for Pietro too. That way we can keep in touch, you know? I can send you memes, or homework cheats. Or movie recommendations. We can even create a superhero Instagram page for you."

Wanda giggled shortly, nodding clumsily at the tenderness of your gaze and the concern for her entertainment. "You are so silly..."

You narrowed your eyes in amusement, pointing at her. "Let's see if you'll say that when I turn you into a social influencer." You joked getting another hearty laugh from her.

During the next pause, filled with complicit giggles, Wanda knows you are staring and you are doing the same and before it gets awkward, you clear your throat and break the charm, returning some of the space you broke by instinct during the conversation.

"It's late, we should get to bed before the captain comes to do it." You remark and Wanda nods in agreement, even though she wishes she stayed.

"We'll see each other tomorrow. Right?"

You agree so quickly that your neck snaps. "Of course, t-tomorrow. Yeah, 'can't wait." Wanda smiles tenderly, nodding before walking away to her own door.

She enters first, biting back a silly smile that struggles to fill her own face.

Alone in the hallway, you have the same problem.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff

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jadewritesficshere · 11 months

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Happy Birthday

Steve Harrington x female!reader

Summary: Steve gets a video from you for his birthday.

Warnings: masturbation (male and female), f masturbation on video, pet name (baby), no use of y/n

18+ only

Steve sighed contentedly as he flopped onto the couch. He propped his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. He surveyed the destruction across his living room and smiled. Balloons were strewn about, streamers falling off the walls, and random cups that had been forgotten. Robin had thrown a surprise party, and though part of him thought he was too old for a party being in his 20s, he couldn't help but feel elated. Cherished even.

He glanced at the pile of gifts he had received. Eddie had gotten him an album, Nancy had given him more clothes in yellow, and Robin had gotten him tickets to a hockey game. You had given him three movies: one was a favorite of his, the other a new release he had wanted to watch, and then a home movie. You had asked him to watch it alone, claiming it was too embarrassing to show everyone and that you had been emotional in it. You made him promise, and Steve tried not to break his promises.

Steve hoped you were emotional because you confessed you liked him. Steve and you had a flirty relationship, but neither of you had "officially" said anything. One drunken make out session kiss was enough to fuel his fantasies for months, a kiss that you didn't seem to remember. Steve wasn't sure if he should bring it up, afraid of rejection. He wondered if you were silent for the same reason, or if you didn't even remember.

However, you could be emotional because one of the times you had your camera, you had found a stray dog. Both you and Robin were bawling about how the dog had been abandoned, leaving him as he wrestled with the dog from hell. Steve cursed that stupid rat dog, he would even curse the breed if he knew it, as it had scratched him relentlessly. Giving the dog a bath was funny in retrospect, but at the time Steve was fuming over this dog soaking both him and Robin and causing Robin to somehow fall into the tub, yanking Steve down with it. Of course, you were recording the whole time. The only good part was hearing your laugh.

Or maybe it was the time everyone had went to the lake. A seagull, which made no sense to Steve as it was the lake and not the sea, had stolen Eddie's sandwich. Eddie had taken off chasing the bird, yelling and cursing the whole way. Steve remembered laughing so hard he was crying, and he remembered the way your face had beamed at him. The way you pushed the hair out of his eyes.

Or it could be the party where everyone had gotten drunk, except for him. Sure, he had done a few keg stands in his days, but he wanted someone to be sober to take care of you. You had been rambling about something before stopping and calling him "pretty". He had blushed and tried to deny it, somehow making you think that he didn't find himself pretty. You had started trying to convince him, getting more sad that he felt bad about himself. Which Steve didn't feel bad about himself, but he wasn't going to complain as you gave him compliment after compliment. You even wrapped your arms around him and cuddled him. You were so warm in his embrace. How he wanted to embrace you in other ways.

Steve snapped the VHS case open and stared at the tape. He was alone now and his mind was going crazy with what ifs. He probably was overthinking it. He popped the VHS in the player and grabbed the remote before sitting back on the couch. He hit the power on and-

Steve's eyes widened and he dropped the remote. He wasn't sure what he was expecting but seeing your chest in red lacy lingerie was not it. The swells of your breasts pushed up slightly. He wanted to kiss and suck at your chest. Red lace contrasting against your skin. Your chest moving up and down as you breathed. Your hand comes into view and gently grasps your breast, squeezing it. Steve wished it was his hand.

Steve inhaled deeply and his hand shook. Holy. Fuck. His jeans were unbearably tight as he watched you slowly remove the bra. Your nipples were hardened-God, how he wanted to lick and tease them. You pinched one and let out a moan. Steve wanted to make you moan like that, but just hearing you? He was harder than he ever had been in his life. You sounded sweeter then anything he could imagine. You sounded like an angel, and he was in Heaven.

Steve unbuttoned his jeans and peeled them down enough for his cock to bob up and hit his navel. He was already leaking. He spit in his hand and wrapped it around his hardened length. He focused back on you and-

Steve moaned. You had moved the camera down to the red lacy panties you were wearing. "See that Baby?" You were out of breath, barely speaking above a whisper as you traced a finger over your clothed pussy. A damp spot was noticeable in the fabric and you sighed as your finger traced over the spot," See how wet I am for you, Baby?"

Steve's eyes closed instinctively before he snapped them open. He didn't want to miss a second of this. Steve's hips bucked into his hand as he stroked up and down his dick. On screen, you removed your panties, and his mouth watered. Steve bit his lip as he got a clear view of your pussy. You were so wet; he wanted to lick every drop. He wanted to taste your arousal. He wanted to hear you scream and writhe against his tongue as you came. He wanted his face covered in your release.

Your fingers on screen played with your clit before circling your weeping hole. One of your fingers easily slid in due to how wet you were. Steve moaned at the site of you adding another finger and pumping in and out. You moaned and ground against your hand. You added another finger and Steve couldn't help but think of how small your hands were and that it wouldn't even prepare you for his dick. As you picked up your pace and started to buck your hips wildly, Steve sped up to be at the same pace as you. He imagined that it was his cock spreading you open. How wet you would be. How warm. How tight. Your mouth dropping open in pleasure, your whimpers under him (or over him he wasn't picky).

"Steve!" You let out a gasp and moaned on screen, fingers getting drenched by your release. "Oh fuck shit fuck," Steve rasped out in between whines as he came all over his hand. His chest was heaving. Brain foggy from pleasure. His hair was stuck to his forehead from sweat. Steve sighed as he grabbed a napkin off the table and cleaned his hand, rubbing at the hem of his shirt that had gotten dirty. He looked back up on the screen to see your smirk. "Call me Stevie, next time you could do this to me yourself." The screen went black as you covered it with your hand. He could faintly hear,"Oh God what did I just do fuck ok this is fine, he'll like it right?" It took Steve all of two seconds to jump up and grab his car keys to head to you. Oh he definitely liked it. Fuck calling you though. The only calling that would be happening tonight was you calling his name.

#Not me having a part two already been started #Listen yall Steve deserves a great birthday first off cause I know his parents never really cared #But secondly that man deserves to be wined dined and fucked #Anyways uh have this #Is this self indulgent? Bro you telling me you don't want Steve to get off to the thought of you 🤨#Anywho keep an eye out for part 2 i guess uh its gonna be awhile #But I got the start of it but uh I have like 6 other WIPs rn so #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #Steve Harrington x female!reader #Steve Harrington/female!reader #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington/reader #Steve Harrington/you #Stranger Things fic #Jade is Talking

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slickfordain · 1 year

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𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐔, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐊𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐢'𝐚𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝. 💀💀

Male!reader, cult AU, done with everything reader, Unknown God is called Asmoday— Yandere themed, Khaenri’ah lore theory from diff people implied in by yours truly ✨me/Fyu✨. I made male!reader because fuck I lost all my ask inboxes 😭

Nothing could be more terrifying, than the creator himself finding out about the destruction of Khaenri’ah that had the Archons immediately down on their knees. They were horrified, because, most likely the Archons never wanted to destroy it in the first place— it was Celestia! Surely you’d understand!

…

But all you were doing, was chugging down your cola/Pepsi down your throat, your eyebags being visible;; which was easy enough for you to make a bitch resting face. ❝That was my favorite nation… Took me four years, now it’s ruined…❞ You sounded oh-so Godly upsetting, it’s tearing the Archons’ souls at this. ❝Your grace no! We didn’t mean it, I swear!❞ Barbatos was clinging onto your waist, Beelzebul was clinging onto your arm;; and Morax clung onto the other arm, gently trying to make sure you’re not choking from the drink by now.

❝Your grace we promise it wasn’t our doing…!❞

❝Yes!! Listen to the Shogun! It’s Celestia’s doing! That filthy palace, right?! Asmoday deserves a punishment too!❞ Barbatos agreed with the electro Archon’s words, for the first time, as you gave out a huff at their antics. You’re too tired, too exhausted. ❝Jesus… What’s the point in living if my four years creation is already ruined…❞

Just by hearing that made everyone in Teyvat absolutely mortified. Yes, mind you that not only can the Archons hear this;; but everyone around Teyvat. Since you exist, your voice is simply in everyone’s ears;; especially the unknown God’s.

❝And why the fuck is everyone killing the monsters- my babies used to be humans, everything was so normal— what happened when I died??? 💔💔❞

The Archons couldn’t take it anymore, and bursted into … A waterfall. Their eyes were crying out I tell ya.

❝WAAAAAA— OUR GRACE NO!! I DIDN’T KILL ANYONE I SWEAR;; IT’S ALL MORAX’S FAULT!❞

❝Pardon me? I believe the drunken bard was the one who demolished every single men and women who tried running away, and don’t get me started on the Raiden.❞

❝You dare accusing my sister?! Your grace! I’ve always been loyal to eternity and kept my promise! Do not trust these fools, they’re lying about my sister Makoto!❞

Even their crying was spread throughout Teyvat. And never in anyone’s life in Inazuma, had they thought the Raiden Shogun would be so… Whiny and, well, emotional. Especially in Liyue who has never seen Rex Lapis’ Archon form being this emotional as well. Childe was at the brink of choking and almost dying. /real

Snezhnaya was so close to victory if you took their side as well. The more the Archons fought one another for you, this means you’d love them more. And the more you love them— the more you could destroy Celestia with Tsaritsa!! Hold on I think Tsaritsa is going love love crazy with a huge blush—

But in all honesty, this makes Dainsleif so fucking angry. They DARED casually talking and whining to you as if they can order you around to punish someone! As much as he hates Celestia’s guts, your appearance came first. Filthy Archons… He knew he should’ve tried killing them the day Asmoday’s attack went feral over Khaenri’ah…

And as for Kaeya and Albedo, those two were definitely going to grab Venti and attack him like feral men who’d do anything for their divine. You.

Everyone was so unsure of how to feel about the Archons. Killing a nation because of what? Their nature? If Celestia truly did send them off to kill the innocents… Then that meant… They’ve been killing humans this entire time.

Xiangling and other children are definitely going to throw up from the thought of it, as they have to be comforted by other people who gave them a light pat on the back. Even for Xiao, who has been more traumatized for realizing that the robots were also made from Khaenri’ah to not destroy nations, but to destroy the heavenly principles and Celestia. All this time… They’ve tried attacking innocents who didn’t even try bothering them, they bothered them first.

Yeah. Horrified nations is definitely set upon the place. And I think, Aether is going to take his frustration out on the Archons once they get back. Not only did they not help him to find his sister, Aether has been completely lied to!

But no worries… Aether will be helped by you right? You must be so… Soooooo tired of them… He will do anything in your hands, he will obey, if it meant he could be helped by you. He’d be so blessed if that were to be the case.

If his sister leaves him for the Abyss one more fucking time, he wouldn’t blame her— but would give up at this very point seeing that Lumine wouldn’t choose him over Abyss. Nahida was right. She belonged to this world, and he was just a traveller through different dimensions.

But then… Who was he truly, if Lumine was never from his own world from the beginning? Who was he to you?

He has heard about your story, your tales… How you always wore a cloak with designed hood over your head;; how you died by such brutal creatures who tried taking over Teyvat. You were a pretty boy, that he wasn’t going to lie about. You were strong, a bit too strong. You’re too overpowered that you didn’t even need to lift a finger, just say in your head that you wanna delete someone and boom. Deleted. Completely erased.

(And you don’t even fight, 💀 lucky bastard)

No matter… That was not the time to think about, right?

The nations aren’t even sure anymore if they should forgive the Archons. For they have sinned and destroyed your favorite creations, Khaenri’ah and it’s people. There was no way they’d ever get your forgiveness.

Which is a lie because you would forgive them but you will be so frustrated trying to remake Khaenri’ah ahahaha— oh yeah while also beating Celestia up by deleting it.

Also ew I’m stuck in a restaurant

#various x reader #various #yandere x reader #sagau genshin #genshin impact sagau #yandere sagau #sagau cult au #yandere sagau genshin impact #sagau x reader #sagau brainrot

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leclercss · 10 months

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Tainted Love, Part 4 (Charles Leclerc ft Lewis Hamilton)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: thank you guys for the love for this story so far. i'm hoping i can keep it exciting and enjoyable. pray for my creativity x

word count: it's a longer one, 6.4k

taglist: @ironmaiden1313, @ru-kru, @buendiabebeta, @flwr-quicksilver, @ravioli19, @julesandro, @hornedravenclaws, @thatobsessedreader @pinkangelavenue, @queenofshinigamis, @notleclerc, @paullinne, @bisexualbith, @strolleclercs, @cl16gf, @estapa94, @yunnie-f1, @headinthecloudssblog, @girlintheredscarf, @taylenas2

Now that you had broken a rule in your and Lewis' arrangement, you were expecting all-out warfare and destruction. So far your predictions were wrong, all you had gotten was the silent treatment.

In your short war against Lewis, your home had become so hostile that you've been working overtime the last few days to avoid being in the flat other than to sleep, shower and eat. Lewis had taken a different approach and had been going to the gym, or fucking other girls, you weren't entirely sure how he spent his time but you wouldn't be surprised by him taking up either option. Or both.

Either way, he comes home, drops his bag by the front door, plays with Roscoe and downs a protein shake before taking a shower and going to bed. All without saying a word to you.

You weren't hurt by this. Lewis had unintentionally (or intentionally, you were never sure) been ignoring you in your relationship for several months and so this wasn't going to hurt you. But what did hurt you was that even Roscoe was starting to ignore you and had been spending less time with you these last few days. He stuck by Lewis' side as your husband took every opportunity to make you feel like an outsider.

Well, I guess we know who's getting Roscoe if we were to divorce.

You had at some point used Whitney's home as a refuge, which you were secretly grateful for. She had known that you and Lewis were going through a tough time but you had never told her the exact reasons. Especially the ones that had unfolded in the last few days. You weren't ready for another round of I-told-you-so's when it came to your relationship with Lewis.

She still had no idea about your open relationship. Nor was she aware of your fling with Charles after you had left the club that night. For all she knew, you had danced with and kissed Charles in a drunken moment after a fight with your husband. No biggie.

And when you rocked up to her apartment shortly after your argument with Lewis, she seemed to be none the wiser. You were there to grab your belongings after all.

"Look at you. Making out with a hot Frenchie before having angry sex with your husband," she teased. "Told you girls night would be a good idea".

"What are you talking about?" you scoffed as you had gathered the belongings you had left behind.

Sex with Lewis? Like that was on the cards these days.

"I recognise hate sex when I see it. I mean, look at those hickeys on your neck," Whitney laughed.

Shit! You had noticed them when you left Charles’ and you were going to cover them up when you got home but then you got so lost in your argument with Lewis that you got changed as quickly as you could before you left for Whitney's.

"Oh yeah," you laugh sheepishly. "I forgot he left those on my neck".

Dammit, Charles! If Whitney had noticed them then Lewis definitely would have noticed. Great, even more ammunition for him to use against you. You pull up the collar of your shirt in a pathetic attempt to hide the markings on your neck.

"It's fine. Max always used to leave marks on me when we used to have makeup sex," Whitney tells you. "He was always up for that kind of stuff when we argued".

You laugh to yourself at the memory of Whitney's ex, Max. A sweet and funny guy until you pissed him off and then he became a hot-headed Dutchman. You were all too familiar with them from growing up in Belgium.

"How was the sex, by the way?"

"What?" You're completely out of the loop when it comes to the conversation from your brief trip down memory lane.

"The sex? With Lewis?"

"Oh!! Yeah, it was good," you lie. "Pretty hot. He got really into it".

Whitney cackles. "Well, I'm not surprised. The way you two have been arguing lately you were due a hot and heavy go at it."

You roll your eyes when she's not looking and take the first opportunity you can to move the conversation away from you and Lewis. "Enough about me. What about that guy you brought home?"

Whitney blushes as she's clearly having flashbacks. "It was good. Better than I thought, to be honest. I'm actually seeing him again this Friday," she gushes.

"Oh, do tell".

"Well, he's having a house party this Friday for his birthday and invited me. You should totally come," she sounds so excited. Before you even get a chance to respond, she's already beaten you to it.

"You need to come. I think he lives with that sexy guy with the dimples. You know, the one that you kissed?" She teases. You're tempted to throw the cushion that's beside you at her head. You loved your best friend but boy, did she never let you forget your actions.

"Whitney, don't!" you plead. You've just moved on from the Lewis conversation. You really didn't need to get into a conversation about Charles with her.

But she dismisses your pleas, "Oh, come on! It was just a kiss. One that you seemed pretty into, by the way. And besides, it's not like you fucked him."

Yeah, about that...

"Anyway, you're having a shit time at home with Lewis. Maybe you guys need to have some social time apart until things cool down. Plus, there's nothing wrong with having a sexy French guy flirting with you every now and again".

"They're Monegasque, Whitney," you whine. Charles had told you that it was one of his pet peeves when someone got his nationality wrong.

"As if there's a difference. But you're coming to that party".

You were slowly edging closer to Friday and as the week continued, so did the cold front you were receiving from Lewis. Before he was just blatantly ignoring you but now he was just being downright petty. He'd been constantly texting and giggling whenever he was in the same room as you. Leaving and coming back to the apartment at all hours. Speaking obnoxiously loud on the phone with his friends about going out and partying this weekend. You're pretty sure you even saw him pull a woman's thong out of his backpack at one point.

And I'm the one that's supposed to be 10 years younger than him? you had thought to yourself at the time. If you had rolled your eyes any further they'd be permanently at the back of your head.

Whatever tactic Lewis was going for you weren't sure. Was he trying to make you feel guilty? Have some regrets? Possibly even to make you jealous?

You had even started to think in the other direction.

Was he just so shocked that you finally made a ballsy move in your marriage that he didn't know how to react? Because prior to last weekend it would have been so unimaginable that you would do something without thinking how it would affect Lewis. You had spent most of your relationship being infatuated with him after all.

Or, god forbid, he was genuinely hurt that you had slept with someone other than him so easily. And he was trying to process the hurt and confusion that he was feeling, even if he didn't have a leg to stand on.

Whatever his motive was - it was unclear. This was behaviour from Lewis that you had never experienced before. And so, rather than engage with him in a game you didn't have the energy or knowledge to partake in, you used it as an opportunity to explore your own thoughts and feelings.

You were still undecided about if you should go to Joris' party on Friday or not. It could be a recipe for disaster and result in further hatred from Lewis. But a part of you was still curious. Charles was most likely going to be there and you hadn't seen or spoken to him since you had left his apartment last weekend.

You were keen to see him again. The night and morning that you had spent with him almost felt surreal. Whenever you had a moment, your mind would flicker back to him and you thought about all of the things that you found attractive about him:

His accent. His scent.

Those dimples.

His adorable laugh which ranged from a light chuckle to sometimes sounding like a seal was dying.

His toned body.

The way he called you amour.

His warm breath hitting you as he moved on top of you.

His tongue slipping into your mouth.

You had to catch yourself a few times as you were finding yourself replaying the events from the weekend in your head. The more of these moments you had, the more you realised you had to settle this sense of curiosity once and for all.

And so you had texted Charles asking if you guys could meet in person. He had agreed and you had decided to meet after work on Thursday.

As you made your way to the entrance of the bar that you had agreed to meet in, you were hit with a wave of nerves. Seeing him again sans alcohol had you doubting yourself. Was this really a good idea? You were already in the doghouse.

But how much further into the doghouse could I be in right now?

Whatever sense of panic and doubt you were feeling left your body as soon as your eyes connected with Charles'. He was already sitting at a table and from the moment he noticed you walking in, his lights lit up and a bright smile immediately spread across his face.

He was stunning. And you were reminded of it each time that you saw him.

He stood up from his seat as you made your way towards him and he opened his arms for you to fall into you. You obliged and rested your head against his chest as he held you for a few moments.

"Hi," your greeting was so blunt that you could feel Charles' chest vibrate against your head as he chuckled.

"Hi, [Y/N]," he laughed.

You lifted your head from his chest so you were now looking up at him and into his eyes.

"It's good to see you again, amour," he whispers as he moves his hands from around your body to cup your face.

He examines you before placing a delicate kiss on your lips. You feel like you're about to melt into him at just the slightest touch of his lips against yours.

"Hi, Charles".

You open your eyes and see that Charles' pretty green eyes are looking into yours deeply. He's been just as curious as you have over these last few days. Especially when it comes to the thought of what it would be like to see you again. To feel you. Were you as into him as he had originally thought?

After your embrace, you take a seat opposite him and your hand immediately reached for his across the table. You've only been here for a minute but you already feel like you need to have your bodies intertwined in some way. He laces his fingers through yours and gives your hand a light squeeze.

"How have you been, amour?" he asks you gently.

God, just hearing him say amour again makes you want to launch across the table and plant another kiss on his lips.

"I've been okay," you tell him. "It's been an interesting few days since I left yours on Saturday".

Charles smiles at you sympathetically. "I can imagine".

You sense a hint of nervousness in his body language as he asks you another question, "Does your husband know?"

"He does," you sigh. "I mean, I arrived home in the clothes that I left yours in. It was pretty obvious".

"And how did he react?"

You can't help but let out a laugh, which confuses Charles a little.

"Well, let's just say he hates me right now. But honestly, I don't really care," you tell him truthfully. "He's being insanely difficult but he's a hypocrite. He's done stuff like this for so long now that he's now just throwing his toys out of the pram. I don't think he ever expected me to prioritise my own feelings for once".

You take a sip of the drink that Charles had already ordered for you before arrived before continuing, "And it only confirms that I made the right decision to stay with you".

You can't help but smile as a sense of relief washes over Charles and he smiles back at you. "So you don't regret coming home with me?"

"Charles, it was the best decision I've made in a very long time".

To reassure him, you lean over the table and place a kiss on his lips. You stay there for a moment, slightly deepening the kiss before eventually pulling away. As much as you would like to, you can't tongue him down in the middle of a bar on a late-Thursday afternoon.

"And aside from the great sex," you laugh, pausing after you see Charles look ever so slightly more smug at your comment, "I also really enjoyed getting to know you."

"I really enjoyed getting to know you too, [Y/N]," he replies. His voice is so soft and genuine that a warm feeling rushes across your entire body. "I wanted to message you after you had left on Saturday but I wanted to give you the time and space you needed. I mean, your situation from what I can see is a lot more complicated than mine".

You nod. Complicated definitely felt like an understatement these days.

"But my feelings towards you aren't complicated. And I'd like to get to know you more," his voice is soft once again. His eyes are glued to your face. He's looking at you deeply, your fingers still laced with his.

You take in a breath before you reply with,

"I'd like that a lot, Charles".

You both lean in to meet each other in another kiss, this one a little more passionate than the previous ones you had shared today.

As you both move away, he presses his forehead against yours in another sign of affection.

You and Charles continued your conversation about getting to know each other. He did have a few more questions for you about your marriage. Before today you would have tried to dodge Charles' questions but after he so openly shared his feelings and intentions towards you, you felt like you owed him some reassurance. And that you and Lewis had some sort of agreement. You also weren't just stringing him along in some shitty affair to get back at your husband but you wanted to get to know him on a deeper level.

You'd also discussed the party that Joris was hosting the next day and Charles was more than keen for you to come but he noticed you still had some hesitations.

"How many of your friends know about us?" you asked him quietly.

"Just the guys that you met, Riccardo and Hugo. Joris knows too," he tells you. "I think some of the others would have known that I kissed you but I'm pretty sure they don't know that we slept together".

You hesitate a little, "How sure is pretty sure?"

"I mean, I told the guys not to say anything. It's not really their place to run around telling everyone your business," he replies. Your hands are in his and he's stroking the back of your hands with his thumbs to soothe you. "I also didn't want them to ruin my chances of seeing you again".

You relax a little and you can't help but to smile at him. "You're too good at this," you joke.

"I'm not always this good," he sounds honest but when you look at him and take in his beauty, you wonder how he couldn't be so good at this. "But with you, amour, it feels natural".

You jokingly roll your eyes but you feel warm and fuzzy inside. You're so easy when it comes to him. And for a moment, your mind flashes back to the beginning of your relationship with Lewis and how you so easily fell for his charm.

But Lewis was much older than you and way more experienced. With Charles, it's beginning to feel more natural, more authentic.

Before you could begin to compare the two further, Charles brings you back to attention.

"Your friend..."

"Whitney".

"Whitney," he carries on, "does she know?"

You shake your head a little. "Erm, no. She doesn't. She did see us kiss and stuff on the dance floor but she still thinks that I went home that night."

Charles nods, he seems quite understanding.

"And she thinks those love bites that you left on my neck are Lewis'. Just in case it comes up," you tease.

Charles drops his head in embarrassment. His cheeks flush a little but you can see he's trying to hide a smile. "Sorry about that".

Somehow you don't think he's sorry.

You both tease each other for a few moments before you become slightly more serious again. "She doesn't know the true nature of my relationship with Lewis right now. She just knows we're having a shit time".

"So I'm going to have to drag you to a private room if I want to kiss you tomorrow?"

You giggle as Charles flashes you a cheeky grin. "I think so".

You pulled out your best acting skills as you and Whitney made your way to Charles and Joris' apartment for the party the following evening, pretending as if you hadn't been here just seven days before.

"What apartment number is it?" you ask as you both stand downstairs at the main entrance.

807, you reply to yourself mentally.

"Err.... 807!" Whitney replies before punching in the apartment number.

A muffled voice accompanied by some thumping music tells you to come in before the door unlocks in front of you. As you wait in the lift with Whitney, you begin to think about how you'll interact with Charles tonight and not make it obvious that just one week ago he'd been fucking you in this very apartment for five hours straight.

Especially if you have a few drinks in you. Your composure was non existent after you got a few tequilas into your system.

"I swear to god, if tonight doesn't result in sex with the birthday boy, I've lost my touch," Whitney sighs. You hold back a laugh as you remain grateful for your friend's ability to always get you to snap back into reality. Even if that was discussing whether or not she'd be giving the birthday boy her own special type of gift.

As you approached the apartment door, you were both greeted by the birthday boy, Joris, who drunkenly threw his arms around the both of you.

"Come on in, ladies," he drunkenly yells in your ear. "Time to get drunk on my birthday".

He begins to drag the two of you into the apartment and into the kitchen where you're greeted with the sound of music blasting and the smell of alcohol.

"Looks like someone has already started," Whitney teases. You feel like a third wheel as Joris whispers something into her ear and Whitney starts giggling. Unfortunately, Joris still has his arm wrapped around you as they continue to flirt with one another.

You try to free yourself as one of the other guests hands you a cup of something but Joris has you trapped as him and Whitney continue their conversation.

"I'm going to leave you two to it," you hope your attempts of freeing yourself aren't too subtle but Joris and Whitney are already too into each other for them to even remember your existence.

A few minutes have passed and you've finally freed yourself from Whitney and Joris. You haven't told Charles that you were here yet since you and Whitney had gotten ready and come to the party together, not needing an opportunity for her to spot you texting Charles. You two were going to have to play it casual tonight.

Once you've poured yourself something that doesn't want to make you throw up, you begin to make your way into the living room to find some other company. As you make your way back into the hall, you bump into none other than Charles' friend from last week. Hugo.

"Heeeyyyy... isn't it long time no see?" he yells as he jokingly throws his arms around you. "Been a while since I've seen you here".

You try not to roll your eyes as he's clearly intoxicated and lightly poking fun at you.

"Nice to see you too," you reply dryly.

"Only joking, apparently I'm not supposed to be telling anyone that you and Charles are fucking," he continues, his words are slightly slurred. What time did these guys start drinking?

"Well, you're doing a very good job at it I must say," you say sarcastically. You look up at him and he's smiling down at you.

"Thank you," your sarcasm has completely gone over his head. "I've always been good at keeping secrets". His arms are still wrapped around you in a friendly hug. Just as you've managed to free yourself from one drunken embrace you've now found yourself in another.

"I'm going to just have a quick walk around, I'll catch you later, yeah?" you tell him and manage to free yourself from Hugo's grasp. As you make your way towards the living room he calls after you, "Your boyfriend is in the living room if you're looking for him".

This is going to be a long night.

Despite his lack of composure and subtlety, you thank Hugo before making your way into the living room in your search for Charles. You have a quick look around the living room, weaving your way through plenty of people. You can't see him. As you're about to turn and make your way back into the kitchen, you feel a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey you".

You quickly turn around and see Charles standing behind you with a smile on his face. You return the smile and feel grateful at the fact that he's clearly not as intoxicated as the rest of his friends.

"Hey," you greet him softly.

You take in his appearance and as usual, he's looking good. His brown hair is in its usual style and he's rocking a slight tan thanks to the rare London sun. He's wearing a baby blue linen shirt that has the first three buttons undone, his toned chest peaking through. You would have leaned in to kiss him already but you remind yourself that you two need to be on your best behaviour tonight - leaving no signs that you have been involved in any way.

Not that Charles' friend are sticking to that party line.

"Nice to see you again, Charles," you tell him, slightly blushing as he's amused by your staring.

"Thank you, [Y/N]," he says before leaning down to your ear and whispering, "You look beautiful, amour".

The rosiness returns to your cheeks.

You and Charles are trying to find ways to have a normal conversation with one another without wanting to display signs of affection when you hear loud, drunken voices make their way into the living room.

"Shots!"

The voice carries towards you and you see Joris make his way through the crowd of people with a tray of liquor in his hands. He spots Charles and manages to make his way over to him without spilling any alcohol, miraculously.

"Charles, bro, take a shot!"

As Charles takes a shot glass from the tray, Joris looks over to see you standing there and a grin instantly appears on his face.

"Aw, you found your girlfriend," Joris teases and you feel like you're about to shit yourself when you see Whitney following behind.

"Joris," Charles grits through his teeth in an attempt to shut his friend up but if you and Charles are planning on having an easy night with no teasing from your friends, this was not a great start.

"Ohh... look who it is," Whitney laughs as she looks between you and Charles. "Two more of these sambucas and she might kiss you again".

"Whitney!" it was your turn now to scold your friend. Charles quickly flashes you a look of sympathy.

"Come on, it was a joke. Just take a shot," she yells at you and gives you an elbow into the side. You obey her orders and take a shot glass from the tray.

You were definitely going to need more of these if you were going to get through this night.

"3... 2... 1..."

The four of you take a shot, wincing in the process. You're still getting over the vile taste of the sambuca when you feel Whitney grab your arm.

"Come on, [Y/N}, let's go to the bathroom," she says as she begins to drag you out of the living room. "We'll catch you guys in a bit".

Before you're completely dragged away, you look at Charles one last time, mouthing "Pray for me!" which earns a chuckle from Charles.

Once you and Whitney find your way to the bathroom, she locks the door before plonking herself down on the toilet.

"You've told - what's his name again, the hot Frenchie?" Whitney asks.

"Charles". And he's Monegasque.

"You've told Charles that you're married, right?" Whitney quizzes you. Her questioning soon accompanied by the sound of her peeing.

"Yeah, I have," you reply. You hope that your expression is neutral, enough to hide the sudden stress that you're feeling inside.

"Okay good!"

"Why do you ask?" you feel like you might regret asking this one.

"Because I'm pretty sure he was giving you, I wanna fuck you eyes".

You had managed to escape further questioning from Whitney as you successfully moved the conversation along to how she was going to end the night with Joris again.

After you'd left the bathroom, you'd enjoyed the evening with more alcohol and talking to random people at the party. You and Charles occasionally bumped into one another. As much as you wanted to spend most of your night with him, you often had to have surface level conversations and make eye contact with him from across the room.

But right now you were the closest you had been together all night since taking shots with Joris and Whitney. You currently found yourself sitting on the sofas with a few randoms, one of Charles' friends whose name you still hadn't gotten yet and an agitated Charles who was basically eye fucking you from the other sofa. You both were evidently frustrated, it's the longest you two had been around each other without being able to touch one another.

As you were stuck listening to one of Charles' friends rambling on about something football related, you noticed Charles take out his phone and type away aggressively. Once he finished his text, he locked his phone and returned to burning his eyes into your body.

Charles' drunken friend had now moved the conversation onto why he called himself a "Smooth Operator" when you saw your phone flash in your lap. You look down and see a text from Charles:

I can't take this any more, I miss you. Meet me in my bedroom x

You close your phone and briefly look over at Charles, slightly nodding to confirm his request, before you briefly continue your conversation with the "Smooth Operator". In the corner of your eye, you see Charles excuse himself and make his way towards his bedroom. You give yourself thirty seconds before telling this guy that you needed to go to the bathroom.

You try to avoid detection by Whitney and any of Charles' friends that knew about the two of you and eventually make your way to Charles' bedroom. His door is closed and you quietly push it open. You take a quick peak inside and as you're about to take a step in, you feel a hand grab onto your arm in the dark and pull you inside, shutting the door quickly after you.

"Merde, it's about time I got you to myself tonight," Charles growls as he presses you against the door. He wastes no time and, in the dark, he presses his lips onto yours hungrily.

You've barely had a chance to breathe since Charles pulled you into his room as his hands find their way onto your body. One hand finds it's way to your ass and begins grabbing at one of your cheeks like a possessed animal.

"Mmmm!"

Charles initially ignores the noise that you've made against his lip but when you grab onto his hair and pull onto the strands at the back of his head, he slowly pulls away from the kiss.

"Sorry, amour. I got a little carried away," he pants. "I've been waiting to do that all night".

You let out a little laugh, "It's okay, Charles. I've been dying to do the same thing".

As you both recover your breath from the heated kiss, Charles' hands are firmly placed on your ass. "I've been trying my best not to get my hands on this leather skirt all evening".

You giggle, a way to let him know you wore this tight skirt on purpose and find his lips once more in the dark. You wrap your arms around his neck and push your tongue into his mouth. The kiss is a little slower this time but the passion is very much still there.

As the kiss begins to heat up once more, Charles presses his body onto yours and you feel your back press against the bedroom door once more. You can't help but smile at the hard bulge you feel that's pushing against your hip. The poor guy is already needy.

Taking the initiative, your hands run down Charles’ chest and you slowly begin to unbutton his shirt. You reach for his belt and begin to tug at it, undoing the buckle. He lets out a soft moan against your lips.

As you unzip his jeans and begin to pull them down, you decide to tease him, "Do you want me to touch you, Charles?"

He bites down on your lip in retaliation and you let out a whine.

"Fuck!"

"Don't tease me when I'm this hard for you, amour," he tells you before moving his lips to your jaw line and towards your neck.

Looks like those marks will be making a reappearance this weekend.

You ignore Charles' demands and begin to rub him over his boxer briefs, his dick is almost solid at this point. You feel him moan against your neck and one of his hands rests above your head on the door to hold himself up.

You continue to rub him, not giving him skin-to-skin contact down below.

"Baby, please," he begs.

You're trying to hold back a smile and before you get a chance to tease him further, he grabs your hand and shoves it down his boxers so your hand is on his dick.

"Fuck!"

His groan is so deep in your ear that you can feel yourself starting to get wet from it. You realise that you've teased him long enough and begin moving your hand up and down against his shaft. You rub your thumb across the tip and feel a bit of pre cum.

"Oh fuck, [Y/N}, just like that," Charles pants in your ear. You follow his demands, slightly picking up the pace with your movements. He attaches his lips to your neck in an attempt to stifle his soft moans.

Eventually, you grow bored of just having his hard cock in your hand and so you pull yourself away from him. As you get down on your knees in front of him, Charles opens his eyes to complain.

"Baby, what the-"

You silence him by taking him into your mouth.

"Merde".

You pull your mouth off of him so you can spit on his dick before moving your hand up and down his shaft once more.

"Do you like that, baby?" your voice is sickeningly sweet.

"Oui".

You smile and take him in your mouth more, placing your hands on both of his thighs to keep you upright and you begin bobbing your head up and down. His dick hitting the back of your throat. As Charles' moans get a little louder, you feel him lift up your hair and make it into a ponytail so he has better control of your movements.

As your mouth continues to move up and down against his shaft, you peer up at him through your lashes and see that he's staring down at you. His mouth is slightly open in the shape of an "o" as he watches you down below. His head resting against the back of his bedroom door.

"You look so perfect like this, amour".

You've missed him calling you that. And so as a reward, you take him out of you mouth, making a popping sound in the process so you can move down to take one of his balls into your mouth. One of your hands moves back to his cock so it doesn't get lonely from your mouth.

Charles is clearly enjoying it as you feel him tug on your hair slightly, another deep moan leaving his mouth in pleasure.

You pay attention to the other ball for a while before taking him back into your mouth once more. Charles decided it's his turn to take control and places his hands at the back of your head and begins to lightly thrust into your mouth. His dick hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

"Oh God!"

His moaning is met with the sound of you slightly gagging as he hits the back of your throat. He continues thrusting into your mouth and you feel your eyes begin to water at the sensation, spit drooling down either side of your mouth.

Once the sensation becomes a little too much, you squeeze Charles' thighs so he can pull out of your mouth and you take in a deep breath. You feel your spit run down the side of your face and Charles looks at you with so much lust.

You place his cock into your hand once more for assistance and take him into your mouth, you're a little quicker this time with the movement, wanting him to climax.

He's starting to twitch in your mouth and you know he's close. His hands are still holding your hair into a pony tail but one of his thumbs is now caressing your cheek.

"Baby, you're so good at this," he whispers.

He lightly thrusts into your mouth once more to let you know he's almost there. Just a few seconds later, he lets out a grunt and aggressively pulls his dick out of your mouth. One hand grabs onto the hair on top of your head, pulling at it lightly, while the other finds its way to his shaft. He rubs it a few times.

"Put your tongue out, baby," he pants.

You obey, tongue out, and soon after his cum begins to fall into your mouth.

A number of fuck's and merde's roll of his tongue as he shoots the last of his cum into your mouth.

He lets go of the hair that he's grabbing onto and places it against the door so he can hold himself up right and recover from the pleasure you've just given him.

As he tries to get his breathing back to normal, you place a kiss against his lower stomach and stand up. You wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek. He lifts his head slightly so you have easier access to his lips and they meet once more in a kiss. His tongue is in your mouth and he can feel the taste of his own cum against it.

Despite the fact that he's still recovering from his climax, Charles doesn't want to leave you unsatisfied for long and begins to fiddle with the zip on your leather skirt, with you assisting him along the way.

As your skirt falls to your ankles, you open your legs slightly so Charles' hand can find its rightful place between your legs again.

"I can't wait to fuck you," he whispers against your lips as he quickly moves your underwear to the side. He pushes a finger through your folds to find itself in a pool of wetness.

He's about to stick a finger inside of you when you both suddenly become distracted by someone calling your name from the other side of the door.

It's Whitney.

Your eyes are wide open out of shock and you feel your heart begin to pound at the idea of being caught in a very compromising position with another man that isn't your husband. Especially by your best friend who has no clue about your situation.

You look into Charles' eyes out of panic. He places a finger to his lips as a gesture for you to stay quiet.

"[Y/N], are you here?" Whitney calls out.

You don't answer. You cling onto Charles and place your head into his neck.

Whitney is about to call your name out again when you hear someone else out in the corridor. You hear Joris' faint but drunken voice. You can't make out what he's saying but whatever he said, it's enough for Whitney to walk away from Charles' door and back down to the commotion and party in the rest of the flat. Once you're sure that she's gone, you look up at Charles.

"They're going to find us here," you whisper.

Charles nods. "I know. But I still need you so badly".

You both pause, allowing yourselves to think of a place for you to continue this away from any wandering partygoers.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you

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megalony · 3 months

Text

Beautiful Destruction

This is a new Evan Buckley series I am hoping to work on, I hope everyone will like it. Feedback always spurs me on and makes my day, let me know what you think.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff

911 Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: Evan's self-destruct behaviour lands him in therapy, where he connects with (Y/n). Everything starts changing when she transfers to the 118 and their worlds collide.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I thought it was you,"

A shiver ran down the base of Evan's spine and his fingers curled tighter around the paper cup in his hand.

He recognised that voice. He had heard that voice somewhere before; it was like trying to recall a memory hours after waking up. But Evan did know her. He had heard that sweet tone before, it was like a lullaby in the back of his mind.

His head turned to the right and his chest tightened for a moment when he felt a hand trail across the back of his shoulder and around his arm. He watched her move, swiftly, angelic, until she was standing on his left in front of the refreshment table with him. He noticed the height difference first; she barely came up to his shoulder and that rung a distant bell in the back of his mind. But when her head tilted up and he caught sight of those eyes, his lips quirked into a smile.

The Christmas party.

That was where he had heard that voice and seen those mesmerising eyes before. She was the girl he went home with.

Evan could barely remember that party if he was being totally honest with himself. He hadn't been on shift and the party had been held at a different station for a change. Evan had downed one too many drinks, giving himself liquid courage to talk to anyone who approached him. This girl had been the one. She struck up a conversation with him and before he knew what was happening, he found himself dragging her out of there.

He didn't know how he managed to find his way home but somehow they got there alright. The rest of the night was a blur, but it didn't take a genius to guess what had happened. It was what usually happened when Evan found himself drinking away his anxiety and going on self destruct.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Her voice serenaded Evan until he realised he was staring down at her with a tender smile, but not actually saying anything or acknowledging her.

His heart did another leap in his chest when she darted her eyes around before leaning in close to whisper, "Fire hose, right?"

Oh God, what had he said to her that night?

That was a nickname he got when he was first on the job and it wasn't something that had stuck, thankfully. Evan must have been a lot worse off than he thought.

His lips pulled into a worried smile and he tilted his head down and tried to control his hands so he could pour some coffee into his empty paper cup. His tongue darted out over his lips and he leaned across, silently filling her own cup when she held it out to him.

"I told you that, huh?"

"Not quite… that's the name you put with your number in my phone." It was hard for (Y/n) to stop her lips from curving into a grin around her cup as she took a swig of coffee. She had been pleasantly surprised to look through her phone the next morning and find that instead of his name, that was what he decided to save his contact number as.

"Let's change it to Evan, shall we?" He dragged his eyes over her shirt for a second before he looked back up at her smile.

(Y/n). Her name was (Y/n), he could remember that now.

Her number was in his phone but in his drunken state, Evan hadn't remembered to add her name in. They had exchanged a few messages since their hook up at Christmas, but neither of them had met up again. The Christmas and New Year period were very hard for their line of work and kept them both busy.

"I um, I haven't seen you here before. Are you okay?"

(Y/n) brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she turned her back to the table and looked over towards the middlle of the hall. The chairs were just being set up into a rough circle and the usual members of the group were plodding in. Not many people got a drink before their session started, everyone usually found their selected seat and got sat down straight away.

She hadn't seen Evan here before. (Y/n) hadn't been to many meetings, she started coming just before Christmas and Evan hadn't been here then or anytime since.

She debated reaching her hand out to touch his shoulder but refrained herself and moved her arm to wrap around her chest instead.

"My sister thought I could use some help, reccomended this place." Evan wouldn't have chosen to come here of his own volition, but he would do anything for his sister. And to stop her worries and calm her down, he came here when she gave him the leaflet and suggested it at least three times.

"I'm glad you're here."

Her words took Evan by surprise. His eyes followed her as she started to walk towards the seats, leaving Evan behind her with a loose jaw and swirling emotions flooding through his pupils.

With his cup in one hand and his other hand tucked into his back pocket, he followed after her with a slow pace and his heels dragging against the polished floor. He watched everyone take their seats and he moved to the empty space which just so happened to be directly opposite (Y/n).

It gave Evan a perfect view of the girl he had thought about more than once over these past few weeks.

He leaned to the right and placed his cup down beside his chair before he tried to get comfy. His back slouched down, his knees spread wide and his hands clasped together, hanging between his thighs. He didn't know how to sit or what to do with himself.

And Evan found his eyes dancing across to (Y/n) more than once.

She was sat with her legs crossed beneath her and her back set straight. Both her hands were planted on her knees and made her look like she was meditating, and maybe she was. Maybe that was her way of staying calm and getting through these sessions.

There weren't many people who enjoyed meeting a group of strangers and talking about their problems.

"Okay, we have a new face among us today. Would you like to introduce yourself?"

Evan lifted his head and looked around the room again. Everyone was sat down now, there were nine other people and the group leader here. He didn't want to be called out. It made him feel like he was back in school, like he was the new kid. He stuck out like a sore thumb to everyone here when all his life, Evan only wanted to fit in.

He stretched his fingers out and started to rub his palms up and down his trousers, wiping the sweat off his hands that were now cold and numb with panic.

He could feel his heart hammering away in his chest and the leaflet crumpled in his back pocket was burning its way through to his skin like he was sat on a meteorite.

"My name's Evan." He smiled despite himself and did a quick, unsettling sweep around the room, taking in the faces of the other nine people sat here with him.

Evan wasn't one for big introductions and he didn't know if he was supposed to go off into a big tangent straight away or wait until his turn. Evan needed to know how they did things here, what their sense of normal was and how he was supposed to act and open up. Were there topics they talked about? Was he supposed to say whatever was on his mind? What should he do?

"Welcome. We're all glad you're here."

Somehow, he doubted that. Evan doubted everyone in this hall would be pleased to have a new, unfamiliar face here to learn their secrets and terrors and silently judge them. He could just feel the unease they were all trying to keep well hidden. A stranger was sitting among them, they would have to open up to someone else who was new and strange and possibly a threat or a danger to their sanity.

The only thing that was calming Evan down from a panic attack was the fact that he knew someone here.

(Y/n). She was here, she had a reason for being here and she was getting help the same way Evan was now trying to do. This was a new world but Evan wasn't totally alone here like he thought he would be.

"I know it might be daunting, your first time here. Do you want to explain why you've decided to come today?"

Evan scrutinised the name written in biro on the session leader's name tag. Harold. He didn't look like a Harold, the name didn't suit him. He was a tall, lanky man in his forties with a receeding hairline and thick rimmed glasses that took up too much of his face. But he seemed kind. His eyes were compassionate which was something Evan didn't see a lot of.

With pursed lips, Evan straightened up in his chair and dug his nails into his knees to try and calm down the panic radiating through his system.

"I… I'm spiralling again, and I don't know what to do. My sister told me about this place. She uh, she found me passed out with bottles and broken picture frames scattered around, and I don't remember why."

His hand brushed beneath his nose before he leaned back and clicked his spine into place.

It hadn't been one of Evan's proudest moments, waking up sometime in the afternoon with Maddie hovering over him. He had fallen asleep on the couch, at least three different spirit bottles lying empty on the floor around him and most of his pictures broken and scattered on the floor. And Evan couldn't remember why he had gone into a rampage or what had set him off. He didn't remember most of the night.

Maddie gave him a choice. He started coming to meetings and tried to let people help him, or she would be round his apartment every day to keep an eye on him.

He wouldn't worry her like that so here he was.

"And what do you do, when you spiral?"

Evan wished he wasn't the first person to be talking today. He wanted to know why everyone else was here, what their triggers were and how they fell out of control.

This group was generalised. It wasn't an alcoholics anonymous or a gambling session or narcotics. It was for a range of people who worked within the emergency services. People who had stressful jobs who were struggling, mostly due to the job but also just because of life. This was a counselling session to try and help people learn different ways to cope and have an outlet to talk.

"I get destructive."

"How so?"

"I binge drink, usually when I'm anxious…" Evan let his eyes lift up from his hands for a few seconds. Long enough to latch his eyes onto (Y/n) and find that she was looking right at him. They seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Christmas. He had been drinking a lot at the Christmas party.

Was (Y/n) part of his self destruct that night? Did he take her home because he needed an outlet?

Then again, (Y/n) hadn't been her best self either. Did she do the same to him?

"I don't… I don't always care about my safety. I'm a fireman and I, I'll run into any situation without thinking it through. I guess, I see myself as disposable. Who cares what happens to me, right?"

Evan knew he had people who cared about him. He had his big sister, he had Eddie who was like a brother to him and he had Bobby and Athena who were like his surrogate parents, but that didn't help as much as Evan wanted it to. His life was never cared for, his sister raised him when his parents couldn't find the will to care about what happened to him.

People used and disposed of Evan like he was nothing, all of his relationships proved that.

When he spiralled, he got to the point of being at ease with running into a burning building and knowing he might not come back out. He didn't always listen to Bobby's orders, he went off of what he thought he should do and he acted before he could think everything through. Evan lived his life like dying wasn't a real problem.

He played roulette with his life and the possibility of getting hurt didn't phase or worry him like it should. He went numb to it after a while.

"What triggers these spirals, Evan?"

"The people around me. I get so scared of losing them… a friend of mine got hurt on the job and he almost died. He has a family, people who depend on him, but if it had been me, that would have been easier for everyone else."

Evan had gone off the rails when Eddie got shot a few months back. When he wasn't looking after Chris, he was drowning his sorrows and becoming less and less cautious and safe when he was on the job. If he had been the one to get shot, Chris's safety and environment wouldn't have been in danger. He would still have had Eddie come home to him. Eddie's parents weren't the best, but they cared about him.

No one would have to worry if it was Evan who had been shot. He wished he could have taken that bullet. It might have changed things for his own parents as well as how he viewed himself.

Harold seemed to sense that Evan wasn't willing to say much more about it before he nodded and shifted to face the rest of the group, taking the attention off of Evan.

"Thank you for sharing. Can anyone else relate to this self-destruct mode?"

"Sometimes."

(Y/n) bowed her head and started dragging her nails across the back of her hand, scratching the few scabs on her knuckles until they flaked off. She could understand Evan's need to have a drink and wash away the panic. She could relate to going on shift and becoming less self-aware and more open to the idea of being hurt.

"(Y/n), go ahead." The surprise was clear in Harold's voice. The past two sessions, (Y/n) had been as quiet as a door mouse and refused to speak. And the previous session, she had only said that something had happened at work. She wasn't willing to expand on that or explain how it made her feel and no one had pushed her.

But hearing Evan open up despite this being his first session, and relating to his situation, made (Y/n) more willing to talk today.

She dropped her legs down so her feet were touching the floor and kept her eyes on her hands. (Y/n) never knew where to look when she spoke and nine times out of ten, she ended up having awkward eye-contact with someone while she reeled off her monologue.

"I don't want to say how I self-destruct… but I'm willing to explain why."

"That's okay, tell us what's been going on."

"I'm a firefighter too and, we had a call out a few weeks ago… burning building, the usual evacuate tactic. But I got trapped, I needed help and a guy on the team, he chose to help someone else. I mean, I was okay in the end, I got out myself but… it cemented things for me."

"How so?"

"It proved they didn't pick me; my team were never going to pick me. No one had my back, you know?" (Y/n) rolled her lips together and swiped her sleeve across her eyes to collect the tears starting to fall. "How do I go back to work knowing it's me looking out for myself? So I destruct, and I- I don't want to, I don't want to be in pain but I think, if I destruct, someone will notice. Someone will have my back and stop me. No one does."

(Y/n) didn't want to explode on herself. She didn't want to end up hurting herself and putting herself in harm's way and rushing into a tough scene at work when she should hang back and wait. But the more she destructed herself, the more she thought someone would notice.

Someone would come to her aid and hold her and tell her it was okay because they had seen her and they would look out for her. And when no one came to her aid, the cycle repeated itself.

"Have you spoken to anyone at work about it?"

(Y/n) nodded. She wasn't willing to open up about that either. She didn't want to see their judgement if she told them she had requested a transfer to a different station.

It wasn't just because she had been left in danger, it was the fact that no one seemed willing to help her.

(Y/n) had begged for help over the radio, she was trapped and couldn't get out and the fire was directly above her on a floor that was about to collapse. She had to fight her own way out of that building. She couldn't go back to working alongside people who weren't willing to look out for her. (Y/n) wasn't able to always look out for herself in every situation and she couldn't keep defending herself when a team was supposed to share that effort and care for each other.

"And that's what irritates you, that need to be seen and heard and picked, to have someone put you first."

Harold's words sparked something within Evan and he couldn't stop himself from looking up at (Y/n). He clamped his teeth down on his tongue to refrain from speaking. It wasn't his place to talk or add an input, he was here to listen.

But he was so desperate to tell her.

To tell her that he would have her back. He would pick her, he would put her first if she was on his team. If she worked with him, (Y/n) would never have to fear that no one would come back for her. The 118 would have her back any day of the week, at work or not. She would never have to put herself in harm's way to be seen by them.

(Y/n) lifted her head but she was taken back by Evan's piercing gaze that tore through her. It was like he was trying to send her a silent message but she wasn't getting what he was saying.

Her hands started to scratch along her thighs and she looked down at her knees as she nodded.

"I just… I don't see how you can pick and choose. If we start deciding who lives and who dies, we shouldn't be in the job anymore." (Y/n) knew certain situations meant they had to pick who was a priority and who to help, but it wasn't always like that.

No one chose to come back for her, no one thought it was their duty. They decided (Y/n) wasn't worthy, they didn't pick her and they chose to stand back and to help someone else. Why was it okay to choose to go against her but it wasn't okay to choose to help her?

Their job was to save everyone, not be selective. The day they became selective over their casualties was the day they needed to quit.

"Am I not worth saving?"

"Everyone is worth saving, and that's why you're here. So we can save you."

(Y/n)was happy when the session ended. She liked coming here, talking things through helped, especially when she knew what she said was confidential and she never saw these outside of the meetings. It meant she wasn't at risk of them passing on what she said to other people in her life.

She slung her bag on her shoulder and walked towards the hall doors, throwing her cup in the bin before she walked out into the hallway. Everyone else was still inside grabbing a drink or having a little chat before they left.

(Y/n) crossed her arms over her chest and looked around, unsure whether to stand and collect herself here in the silent corridor or whether to just start her walk home.

"Hey," Her body jumped when a soft voice spoke in her ear and a hand landed on her shoulder.

She jolted to the left and looked up to see Evan towering over her, a timid smile on his face that made him look like a gentle giant. Her eyes followed him as he leaned his shoulders back against the wall and pressed one foot into the wall. His calm, relaxed stance made the tension fade away from (Y/n) and she nudged her shoulder into his with a small smile before she copied his stance and leaned her shoulders back.

"Hi."

"So… what are the rules here? Is this like AA, keep things anonymous, no talking outside of meetings?"

Evan didn't know how they did things here. He didn't know if things were supposed to be kept anonymous. They knew first names but no one said their last names here and he would guess that no one met up outside this meeting hall.

"I don't know, there's no specific rules about that. Why, wanna go for a drink?" (Y/n) tilted her head back and sunk her teeth down into her bottom lip while Evan slid his hand into his back pocket.

"Maybe."

"Your place or mine?"

Evan couldn't work out if she was being serious or if she was just humouring him and trying to break the air a little. The way she dropped her head onto his arm made him suck in a deep breath and when she looked up at him like that and batted those lashes at him, his knees went weak. He hoped she wasn't joking.

"You know if… if you were on my team, I'd pick you. You're worth saving." Evan dropped his chin down to his shoulder to look at her and he thought he'd said the wrong thing when he noticed her eyes were glazed over.

"Why?"

Her lips pressed together and her chin tilted up to meet Evan halfway when he leaned down to get as close as he could. (Y/n) could feel his nose nudging hers and the look in his eyes was almost frightening. Her head and neck started to shake when she felt his fingertip graze up her neck and around to her chin.

"You don't have to have a reason to be saved." He didn't have to have a reason. There was nothing to say that (Y/n) had to do something worthy in order for people to look out for her and help her. Evan would save her whether she was someone he knew or whether she was a complete stranger.

It was what everyone deserved. Every person deserved to be saved, that was the motto of their job, the rule they lived by. They couldn't pick and choose, they helped everyone regardless of who they were and what they did.

But Evan didn't have to have a reason, he instinctively knew he would always pick (Y/n) if she needed him to. He wouldn't leave her trapped and alone, he would go back for her.

He was surprised by her grip when her fingers scrunched up in his shirt and she reeled him closer until their lips touched.

Evan could taste the coffee on her tongue and the cherry lip balm coating her bottom lip. He could feel her nails scratching into his chest and her body pressing up against his until he was pinned back against the wall. His hands moved to cup her hips, both to keep her where she was and to steady her so she didn't slip against him. His hands scrunched around her curves and his nose bumped hers when he pushed down against her.

Maybe this wasn't the best idea.

They were two catalysts, ready to combine and explode and errupt all over the place. They weren't in the best mind frames right now and neither of them wanted to use the other. Evan used sex and alcohol and danger to combust and regulate and it wasn't something he was proud of. He didn't want to do that and hurt (Y/n) in the process.

But the way she was kissing him made it hard to resist. He loved the taste of her lips and the feeling he got when he sank his teeth down into her lip. He loved the way her hands grasped his shoulders when he turned them around so (Y/n) was the one with her back to the wall instead of him.

And he loved the feeling of swallowing up her words when she spoke in hushed, breathless pants against his lips. "So, your place or mine?"

***

"Buck, you coming? Bobby's got the new recruit downstairs."

Hen's voice pulled Evan from his thoughts and stopped him from dragging his fingers through his hair to the point he was almost gathering clumps between his fingers.

He lifted his head up and managed a smile, moving away from the table so he could follow her out the kitchen and over to the stairs. He forgot they were getting a new recruit.

In all fairness, Evan wasn't sure he wanted them to have a new recruit at the station. It took him a while to get used to new people and the last few recruits they had hadn't lasted very long. Lucy had been here for a month, if that. Ravi was in and out, always here and there and never around for long. The guy Hen referred to as 'Monday' was definitely out.

No one stuck around for long and Evan liked the team just the way it was. He didn't want to have to make a new friend and try to learn someone else's tactics and ways of doing the job. He didn't want someone else around to get in the way and slow them down and make things difficult.

Evan plodded down the stairs with his hands in his pockets and his head tilted down. He followed a foot behind Hen towards the fire truck where Eddie and Chimney were already gathered and waiting.

"Alright team, this is our newest member of the team, transferred over from the two-ninety. Meet (Y/n)."

Evan's head bolted up so fast he almost got whiplash when that made rang through his ears. His hands dug through his pockets into his thighs and his shoulders tensed up when he locked his eyes on that oh so familiar frame. He dragged his gaze up her body until he was looking into those piercing eyes that weren't holding their usual intrigue and hope.

There was something different in her eyes today; it wasn't quite panic, but it was close.

An almost cocky grin spread across Evan's face as he reached one hand up to rub his jaw and the corner of his mouth. He could feel all the words burning on the tip of his tongue. Every little quick remark and little jibe he could make to tease her and allude to something without actually admitting anything to the team.

He wouldn't do it to embarrass her, it was the playful side of Evan coming out to play. But everything he wanted to say fizzled out when he looked over at (Y/n) and she darted her eyes from side to side like she was trying to tell him something. He didn't know what she was trying to say, but he could see the nervousness radiating through her when she brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"This is Eddie, Chimney, Hen, and that's Buck."

"It's great to meet you all."

"Now I expect you all to make my daughter feel welcome at our station."

Evan could feel his mouth going dry and his throat began to close up as his eyes darted over to look at Bobby.

Oh God. That had to be a joke. Bobby had to be pulling their strings, trying to tease them and get one over on them. This couldn't be his daughter. He never said she was one of them, that she was a firefighter too. Bobby never mentioned what her name was or what she looked like or that she was so close by and about to transfer here.

How had Evan slept with Bobby's daughter- more than once, and not known?

He didn't catch (Y/n)'s last name when he was at the Christmas party, he couldn't have done or he would have known who she was and he wouldn't have taken her home out of respect for Bobby. He didn't know her name at their meeting either because they only said their first names. And no one really had contact outside of meetings.

This was great. He had slept with the Captain's daughter who was now going to be working with them. How could he work alongside her now? How could he remain professional? What was he supposed to do and say?

He didn't realise he was the only one still stood there until he looked up and everyone else was moving away. Hen and Chimney followed Bobby up the stairs, shouting after him and demanding an explanation while their captain laughed and carried on walking. And Eddie directed (Y/n) over to the locker room before he went ahead into the gym.

Moving from his frozen state, Evan picked up the pace until he was jogging past the ambulance and bolting into the locker room. He watched (Y/n) for a few seconds. She was stood with her back to him, putting her things in the locker on the far right that was spare.

"Hey," Evan leaned his right arm on the edge of her locker and jutted one hip out as his left hand moved to rest on his waist. He tilted his head to the side and brushed his forehead against his arm, waiting patiently until (Y/n) closed her locker.

She let herself drop to the left and slump into her locker, binding her arms across her chest. Her head stayed level with his chest and her eyes focused on the chain hanging around his neck to distract herself.

"You… are you really Bobby's daughter?"

"Hm. Is that a problem?" (Y/n)'s tone wasn't crude or insinuating but when she darted her eyes up, Evan could see the worry swirling around in them.

"No! No, but it complicates things… I should have asked your name at the party, I didn't think…" His hand moved from his hip to smooth over his temple. He could feel a headache forming behind his eyes making his upper lip curl in distaste. He shouldn't have let himself get so drunk he would take her home without even getting her last name or knowing anything about her.

"Maybe if I asked you yours I would have realised you were the Buck my dad always talks about."

It wasn't all Evan's fault. (Y/n) didn't ask him his last name either. He had introduced himself as Evan and that was enough. If he said he had a nickname of Buck or his last name was Buckley, (Y/n) might have figured out that he worked with her dad. That he was the kid her dad had taken a shine to and thought of as his son.

"Does Bobby know why you transferred here?" Evan couldn't believe Bobby would be so calm and collected if he knew (Y/n) was here because of what she talked about in their therapy session. He wouldn't be happy if he knew (Y/n) hadn't felt safe with her team and didn't feel like they were looking out for her.

"No. As far as you all know, I'm here for a fresh start with a good team."

"Okay." Evan scratched his jaw and clicked his neck into place before he leaned back down. He pressed s finger beneath (Y/n)'s chin and tilted her head up so their eyes were locked again. "You'll be alright here, we'll look out for you… I'll have your back."

"And I'll have yours." (Y/n) forced herself to smile as she reached her hand out and patted his chest.

That was that, then. They were going to be working alongside each other, and her dad. (Y/n) was integrating into a new team and whatever had gone on between her and Evan was going to be forgotten history. She would look out for him and keep him in line and he would look out for her and have her back. They would help each other out through this and their therapy sessions were going to be interesting.

Pushing off her locker, (Y/n)rubbed her sweating palms over her thighs and went to walk out the room. But she didn't get one foot past Evan before his hand moved out and cupped her chin. His finger stroked along her jaw and his thumb pressed into her cheek as he turned her head back so she was looking up at him again.

Adrenaline ignited in (Y/n)'s stomach and her fingertips started to turn numb when a clouded, hooded look took over Evan's eyes and his lips curved into a smile.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about this, either."

(Y/n) braced her hand out on the locker to stop her knees giving way when Evan swooped down and conquered her lips. She could feel his teeth scraping against her lower lip and his tongue swiped out before he started to suck on her upper lip. His fingers stayed caressing her jaw and she felt his other hand hold her hip so he could pull her closer.

Both her hands moved to steady herself on his chest and she drank in each breath he tried to take until she made him dizzy.

Things really were going to get interesting.

#evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #bobby nash #beautiful destruction

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