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Mi Galleta (Part 4 - Oatmeal Raisin)

6.4K / Modern AU Grumpy Bouncer!Pero Tovar x Sunshine-Rich Girl!reader

Summary: Pero tries to get back in your good graces.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please), angst, reader is hard on herself, pining, pet names (Cookie, princesa, hermosa, etc.), standard warning for Biker!Pero even though this isn't a biker AU, reader can wear Pero's shirt, eventual smut, unprotected PiV, oral (f receiving), they are IN LOVE OKAY 🥹

A/N: It's a HEA, don't worry! Thank you so much to everyone who has followed along with this mini-series! I can't believe I completed something 🥹

Series Masterlist

Pero is desperate to see you and to serve his penance for whatever you may have heard, but you won’t return any of his messages and all his calls go straight to voicemail; he’s pretty sure he’s been blocked. Of course, he knows where you work and where you live, but he doesn’t want to scare you or make any of your spaces feel unsafe by showing up unwanted and unannounced, so he doesn’t go to you. But it’s killing him.

You don’t come to the restaurant and neither do your friends. In fact, the closest Pero comes to you for a month is when he spots Dorothy leaving one of Lin’s sister restaurants. He had stopped by to grab some paper work when he sees her getting her coat from the coat check; after he calls her name, he watches her internally debate whether or not to ignore him, eventually separating from her party to stalk over to where he's awkwardly waiting.

“How is she?” he begs, unable to muster even a greeting or something remotely more eloquent.

Dorothy extends her hand and points her index finger directly into his chest, the force with which she pokes him shoving him back, “Leave her alone or I’ll make your life a living hell.”

She stomps off without another word, and he’s left feeling even worse than before; he can only imagine that Dorothy’s ire is reflective of yours.

He has to talk to you, has to know what you heard those assholes say so he can explain and soothe away the hurt caused. But he doesn’t know how.

---

It’s worse than Pero thinks. He’s broken you. You remember sharing with him your insecurities surrounding letting your family’s wealth, or money in general, define you; Pero had nodded sympathetically as you explained how important it is for you to carve something into this world beyond the privilege that’s so plainly etched into your very presence. It would be one thing if he thought you silly. But this… to know that money is all he saw when he looked at you? To hear Pero, William and those men reduce you to nothing more than a rich bitch, and write you off as unworthy of respect, undeserving of true affection? It made you feel dirty. Your money made you dirty.

You’re humiliated. And your heart is broken.

You’re hard on yourself. How could you have been so stupid? Did you really think a few cookies and a kind smile would truly win over a man who abhorred snobbery? He must have pegged you for an empty, vapid trophy fuck the first time he met you when you were just some entitled brat who wanted to eat at a fancy restaurant. Why would he ever think differently of you? How stupid of you to think he might.

Once in a while, you will recall Pero’s whispered sweet nothings and his soft touches, and your eyes will well up immediately. He had fooled you so good. You wonder if it disgusted him to pretend to care for you when he actually found you pathetic. Or did it amuse him how easily you had fallen for his charms? Did he laugh at your dumb naïve heart? You hate yourself a little for being so stupid.

And you hate yourself a lot for still missing him.

“Guess what?” asks your boss, excited.

“What?” you can’t help but grin. Greg is a good boss. He’s mentored and trained you, and for the past few years, he’s treated you like his co-lead on the team, giving you the opportunities and responsibilities to help you rise in your career; broadcasting your value to the firm by seeking and relying on your opinions and decisions. He’s a good egg. You’re really lucky.

“Joanna is coming to town!”

Ahhh… Joanna is Greg’s boss. She’s a good boss too, just a bit more restrained in her positive feedback than Greg would probably like; more than once you’ve surmised that Greg cultivated with you the type of mentor-mentee relationship that he had hoped for with Joanna. Still, she’s an important figure at the firm and Greg loves impressing her.

“That’s great! Where are we going for lunch?” your eyes twinkle; if there was one thing Joanna likes, it was going out to eat on the company’s dime.

“Well… I need to ask a favour.”

“Ask away,” you smile, if you can help Greg get on Joanna’s good side, you’re happy to do it.

“I know you’ve been to that restaurant Lin? The one on Cardero and has the rave reviews for its fusion food? Joanna read about it and wants to go.”

Your heart drops the moment he says the name of the restaurant, but you successfully keep a placid expression in place and nod.

“I heard it’s hard to get into. Impossible. No, actually, I can’t even find out how to do it? Do you have any idea? Or… do you think you could get us in?” Greg puts his hands up in prayer and makes a puppy dog face at you, complete with comical pout.

It’s been almost two months since the day you had run away from Lin; no, since the day when those disgusting words and the sound of Pero’s cruel laugh had chased you out. You and your friends haven’t been back, and to be honest, you haven’t done much going out since. Eloise and Dorothy were perfectly happy to stay in with you, watch old movies, drink wine and wallow, but you hadn’t wanted them to miss out on the city scene; besides, as you reminded them, it was their job to go out. So, at your insistence, they had gone back to the social scene, leaving you at home with your still very broken heart. The idea of seeing Pero, of asking him for a favour, gives you a stomach ache just thinking about it. Would he laugh in your face? Pretend he didn’t know you? Some other equally awful possibility your imagination isn’t masochistic enough to come up with? Probably. But, Dorothy did say she had a run in with Pero at another restaurant a couple of weeks ago; perhaps he no longer worked at Lin. You wrestle internally with whether or not you want that to be true, but agree with Greg that it’s worth you giving it a try.

Pero barely registers when a group of patrons file into the lobby, most of them stepping aside into the waiting area, probably waiting for all of their party to show up. He gives them a cursory glance while maintaining his glowering expression; he counts seven (so far) office workers. After less than a minute, a man and a tall woman who’s impeccably dressed, walk in. The man is chatting excitably to her, and she is giving him polite responses while taking in the surroundings of the lobby with an air of condescension. Unexpectedly, they also move aside to join the group that’s waiting. Pero would have thought these two were heading up the party, but he doesn’t have any time to register his surprise because the figure that was hidden by theirs, revealed when they moved to the side, is yours.

Although you’re not making eye contact with him, you do continue walking towards him and Pero’s heart leaps into his throat; he holds his breath until you reach his desk.

“Hi,” you finally raise your eyes to look at him.

“Hi,” he exhales. His heart hurts. Your eyes seem dimmed, and you look like you’re trying to make yourself small, like you would rather be anywhere but here.

“I’m sorry to have to ask. My boss’ boss is in town,” you give a small smile when you look over and nod in their direction before turning back to Pero, “She really wanted to eat here, and my boss really wants to impress her. Do you think it would be possible? I’m sorry to ask this of you.”

Pero can’t stop looking at you. You’re more beautiful than he remembered. And still so sweet and kind. Even now, it’s clear you don’t want to be here, but you’re extending yourself to help someone else. He wishes you knew you didn’t have to apologize. He would never deny you anything, happily give you anything you desired, “It’s not a problem, you don’t need to apologize. How many are you? I’ll call up to Leah to expect you.”

“Leah?!” your face lights up knowing that one of people you were closest to at the restaurant is working today, “Oh! I’m so glad! We’re ten, thank you.”

So thrilled and relieved to see your smile, Pero can’t help but break out into a grin himself, breaking the illusion of the fearsome bouncer he’s supposed to be, “She’ll be glad to see you as well. Come on, call your party over.”

After everyone has filed into the elevator, you step in last and watch as Pero reaches in to press the button; for the first time today, you really look at him and mouth, “Thank you.”

Upstairs, you find Leah waiting for you with a big smile and an even bigger hug; after an enthusiastic greeting to you and your party, she leads you to one of the best tables in the restaurant. You see Greg giving you a discreet thumbs up as Joanna looks around the large dining room, marveling at the elegant décor.

“We would like to offer you our Chef’s tasting menu today. It’s 12-courses, chef’s choice of his favourite dishes.”

“Oh!“ you look at Greg unsure, and he in turn also looks very unsure, especially when he sees Joanna smiling broadly; it sounds very expensive, maybe too expensive for a corporate lunch. You’re just contemplating how you can manage to discreetly cover some of the cost when Leah shocks you, “Everything today is complimentary, please don’t be shy. It’s everyone at Lin’s pleasure to have you as our guests.”

“Leah,” you start to protest, but she shushes you with a knowing look in her eye and a conspiratorial smile.

“That sounds wonderful!” exclaims Joanna, and when you see how she beams, impressed, at Greg, you nod in assent at Leah, who grins back at you. After she leaves to put in everyone’s drink order, you excuse yourself and follow her.

“LEAH!!” you hiss, when you catch-up to her next to the kitchen.

“Yes?” she looks up at you with an innocent expression.

“That’s too much! Let me pay for some of this!”

“No can do, hun. I’m under strict orders to spare no expense for your table today. Give your boss’ boss the VIP experience.”

“Oh Leah,” you soften.

“He misses you.”

You don’t have a response to that.

“And he’s been a miserable grump to everyone at the restaurant.”

This you can easily believe, “I’m sorry, Leah. He… broke my heart.”

She looks at you like maybe she knows something you don’t, but also with something like sympathy; after another hug she makes a silly shooing motion with her hands, “Go on back to the table. Drinks and the first course will be out shortly.”

Lunch is superb. Each course more tantalizing than the last. One might have thought 12 courses was too many, but each dish is perfectly portioned and sequenced so that the flavours of each course build upon the one previous, culminating in one very satisfying meal. Elevating the food to another level is the impeccable service and attention that you and your table receives. It seems like your party is attended to by more than twice the usual staff; each person’s needs anticipated before they can even voice them, leaving them wanting for nothing. At one point, you choke down a chuckle because it reminds of you those regency dinner scenes where each diner has a footman standing right behind them; it’s almost too much, but Joanna is eating it up. Greg is elated, and you couldn’t be more pleased at seeing him triumph.

When the after-meal coffee and tea is served, a giant cookie is wedged between your cup and its saucer; ginger molasses, your favourite. You take a nibble and it’s heavenly.

“Hey! How come the rest of us don’t get cookies?” jokes one of your teammates. You look around and realize it’s true, you’re the only one that got a cookie.

Leah is quick to answer, “It’s an apology cookie. For our lackluster performance the last time she was here.”

You know the true meaning behind the gesture and these words, but you can’t help but shake your head, “Don’t be ridiculous, no apology is necessary. And even if one was warranted, which it is NOT, today’s exemplary service and food would have been more than enough. We couldn’t be more impressed. Thank you so, so much.”

Your table mates echo your sentiments and thanks.

Before you leave you leave the restaurant with your team, you force Leah to process a generous tip for all the staff on your card; she tries to protest but stops when you give her a scowl that you think would rival Pero’s. Giving her a hug goodbye, coupled with a promise that you’ll try to come back soon, you ride the elevator back downstairs a jumble of emotions.

There’s no doubt in your mind that the special treatment your table received today was at Pero’s behest, but why would he bother? It was enough that he had granted your party access, nothing else had been expected or needed; but the staff had gone out of their way to make sure your experience had been special, that Joanna was impressed and wowed. You sneak a look at Greg’s expression next to you; he’s positively glowing. You decide that you could drive yourself crazy trying to understand Pero’s motivations, but the important thing was that he had gone to great lengths for you when he didn’t need to and you’re extremely grateful.

You find that you don’t dread seeing him now the same way you did when you came in earlier, actually looking forward to thanking him for the kindness he has just shown you and your co-workers.

You’re the last to leave elevator and by the time Pero’s desk comes into view, you see that half of your teammates have already exited the building. Ahead of you, Greg is earnestly shaking Pero’s hand, thanking him for his hospitality and singing the praises of the restaurant. When you see Pero’s kind expression and the sincerity with which he clasps Greg’s hand in thanks, your already softening heart melts a little more.

Finally, it’s your turn. Pero’s been waiting for you. Waiting since the elevator doors closed earlier. Waiting since the day he knew you were last in this very lobby. Your eyes don’t leave his as you approach; he thinks the expression in your eyes is a little softer than earlier, a little bit of the light that he’s missed is back. For a what feels like an eternity, neither of you say anything, then simultaneously,

“Cookie…”

“Thank you.” Pero gestures for you to go first.

“Pero, thank you. The lunch was such a success and an incredible dining experience in and of itself. I know it was all because of you. Thank you.”

“Cookie. Not me. It was because of you. Everything was for you,” Pero’s tone soft and pleading. He doesn’t want to scare you away, but he can barely contain his emotions. To have you here before him, your sweet face looking at him like you with something that isn’t the imagined hate that’s been haunting him – it's all he’s been hoping for for the past two months.

You don’t know what to say. Why would he do this for me?

About to thank him again, you’re stopped when Pero holds something out to you. It’s an empty container. The one previously filled with the snickerdoodles you had forgotten on his desk the last time you were in this lobby. Everything comes rushing back now. Your chest tightens at the memory of the crass and demeaning words you overheard and the harshness of Pero’s cruel laughter that still rings in your ears. And just like that, your good mood is shattered, much like your heart.

You take the container back, hands shaking, and mumble another thanks; leaving quickly before you start to cry.

Pero stares at your retreating form, knowing that you’re hurting and feeling helpless that he can’t do anything but be the cause.

---

You’re unable to concentrate on anything once you get back to work, still reeling from the whiplash of emotions you’ve experience since seeing Pero again. Luckily, despite your boss’ boss’ presence, the entire department seems to have collectively decided to forgo doing any work for the rest of the day, instead chatting happily about the experience at Lin and upcoming weekend plans. Glad for everyone’s distracted state, you attempt to process your feelings. Toying mindlessly with the cleaned container that was returned to you today, you open it when you feel the slight weight of something move inside. Reaching in, you find a piece of paper, folded several times; when unfurled, you realize it’s a letter.

Cookie,

I’m so sorry. I don’t know what you overheard the day you left me the cookies that came in this container, but I have to apologize for your ears ever being exposed to anything so offensive and vile; I won’t give it any credence by repeating any of it.

The people responsible no longer work here and have not since the moment William and I were able to express our disgust for their comments. If for even a second you felt that there was any truth to what was said about you, I am truly sorry – I cannot bear it actually, because, princesa, you mean more to me than you can fathom.

I would do anything for you. Serve you willingly. Do anything to see you smile or bring you a moment’s joy. Cookie, I love you. I didn’t want the first time I said it to be in a letter, but it’s possible this may be my only chance, so here it is. I love you.

I think I’ve loved you since the moment I met you; the day you came in looking for Lin felt like first day of the rest of my life. What did I ever do to deserve you even looking my way? I’m just a grumpy asshole. But you’ve lit up my life every day since you entered it.

I didn’t know life could be so sweet until I met you, my Cookie.

Te amo, princesa,

Pero

You read it three times. So he did think what was said about you was horrible. But then… why did he laugh with them? At you? You suppose that if he truly thought you as worthless as those men, he wouldn’t feel one way or another that you overheard. Oh. His feelings. You look over those words in the letter again. I love you.

I love you.

The words swim in your head and make you dizzy. If he loved you, why did he never come to see you? Beg for you to hear his side of the story? Why did he let you think he was perfectly content for you to walk out of his life? He loves you?

But you had loved him too, didn’t you? Before that day, and if you’re honest with yourself, maybe even since. You had loved how soft he would turn just for you. Loved his passion, how dedicated he was at a job he clearly loved. How he took every opportunity to make you feel special. How he made you laugh. How he showed you the core of who he was: generous, loyal, kind. How he praised those exact traits in you.

The rest of the afternoon is a blur, your mind full of Pero and your chest bubbling over with conflicting and confusing emotions. At the first opportunity that presents itself, you clock out early, bid farewell to your co-workers, and walk as fast as you can to Pero’s building. Opening the door with more force than necessary, you march straight up to Pero’s desk; he sits up straighter, surprised at your appearance. You slap his letter down on his desk in front of him and practically yell, “You love me??!?” and promptly burst into tears, the whirlwind of feelings you’ve been holding in all day finally overwhelming you.

Pero is up on his feet in an instant, wrapping his arms around you and crushing you to his chest, hands stroking your hair and back in what he hopes is a soothing manner. Slowly, never letting you go, he walks the two of you towards the front doors; once there, he locks each lock, including the ground pins, never letting his touch stray from your body, his gaze from your sad face. Then tucking you under his shoulder and once again wrapping his arms around you as you continue to cry soft tears, he takes you upstairs. As the elevator door opens, you hear Leah’s greeting cut short when she sees who it is. She barely gets two words in, “Pero, what ha-,” before he very definitively orders, “Leah, send everyone home, please. We’re not opening tonight. Tell everyone they will be paid and to consider it a night off.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and Leah leaves swiftly to carry out his orders.

All the wait staff who had been setting up the dining room for dinner service scatter upon you and Pero entering; he guides you to the back of the room and sits on a cushioned bench, gently pulling you down onto his lap. You remained buried into his neck, letting him calmingly rub your neck, back and legs until your sobs subside.

When you finally lift your head and look at him, eyes still glassy with tears, Pero gently dries your wet cheeks with his thumbs before answering your question, “Yes, Cookie, I love you.”

“But why,” you feel another sob welling up from your chest, “… why did you never try to come see me? Talk to me? Why was I so easy to leave?”

“Oh fuck, Cookie,” Pero presses a soft kiss to your forehead as fresh tears cascade down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry. I should have. I should have tried every day. I should have begged on my knees. I wanted to. I just didn’t want to scare you or force you to see me if you hated me. But it killed me. I regret not trying everyday to get you back. I’m sorry, baby.”

He tells you about not wanting to make you feel unsafe by showing up when you didn’t expect him, and you have to admit that that was quite thoughtful. “And it wasn’t easy to be without you, princesa. I’ve missed you every day. Your laugh. And your voice. And all the sweet and funny things you say that brighten up my day. Knowing that you were hurt and that I couldn’t do anything, I felt so fucking useless.”

You glace up at him, nervous and pitiful the way you whisper, “You laughed, Pero.”

Pero looks confused until you explain what you heard. His eyes widen in comprehension, realizing that all this time, it wasn’t just the foul words that you had overheard that had hurt you, but the idea, the certainty, that he had felt the same way as those morons. His heart drops to his stomach. He cannot get down on his knees fast enough to beg your forgiveness. Gently lifting you off his lap, he slides to the ground onto his knees and takes your hands, laying them on your lap clasped in his.

“Pero, you don’t have to…” this is unnecessary, you think.

But to Pero it isn’t unnecessary. In fact, it’s entirely necessary that he assumes this position of reverence and humility. His expression solemn but desperate as he explains, trying to walk you through the events that you only partially overheard. Needing you to understand that the laughter you heard wasn’t conciliatory, but an uncontrolled outburst stemming from his own anger. As he speaks, you feel as if you were there with him, feeling the rage he felt at you being disrespected and insulted vibrating through his hands. When he finishes, Pero’s exhausted at having relived those moments; the fury he felt once again fresh in his chest, but this time paired with shame that he ever allowed you to go about your life thinking he had felt anything but love and veneration for you. He lays his head on your hands, ready to receive whatever harsh judgment you rain down on him. He deserves it.

When he feels your soft hands move to stroke his face and run gently through his hair, he looks up to see you gazing back at him softly, eyes filled with tears again, “Oh Pero, I’m so sorry.”

Confused, he frowns a little, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Cookie.”

Shaking your head, you have to disagree, “I shouldn’t have doubted you, Pero. You’ve shown me so many times how genuine and honourable you are, I should have given you the benefit of the doubt and let you explain rather than assuming the worst. You deserved more from me.”

He can’t have this, you taking any blame for your own hurt; rising to his feet and pulling you up with him, he whispers, “I should have tried every day to explain. To take better care of your heart. You deserved more from me.” Then he kisses you and your heart explodes; every emotion you feel: love, regret, relief, gratefulness, joy, all spill over and your lips desperately try to calligraph what you’re unable to say onto Pero’s. He kisses you with the hunger and longing of a man far too long parched, one having just stumbled upon the oasis of your forgiveness.

“How come Leah said we’re clos--,” William’s voice cuts through your dream-like bubble. Pero looks up at his friend, who reads the situation for what it is immediately. Your heart softens further upon seeing William, realizing you had misjudged him as well. William is all smiles, his good nature not easily affected as he claps Pero’s shoulder and demonstrates happiness for his friend’s obvious joy.

“If Leah can call everyone back, how about we still open, pay everyone double for the confusion, and I call in someone to cover the front door tonight?” offers William, and Pero easily assents with a nod of his head.

“Wait,” you say, pushing back slightly from Pero’s arms so you can look between both men, “…the two of you can just open or close the restaurant whenever you want?”

Pero and William glance at each other as you continue, “…and you make the pay decisions? Like paying people for not working… or double?”

You look right at Pero, “And you have the authority to fire dishwashers and busboys?”

Pero takes a deep breath, “Cookie, there’s something I have to tell you.”

You’re looking at both him and William with such a high degree of incredulousness, Pero thinks that this is perhaps the first time he’s ever been on the receiving end of a look as stern as the ones he’s used to giving. William looks sheepish and gives Pero a wide-eyed side glance that clearly says: Can’t help you, brother. Sighing, Pero bites the bullet, “William and I… we’re not just the host and bouncer of Lin… we’re the owners.”

You take a step back and cross your arms, tilting your head and raising your eyebrows, silent while you take this in.

“The restaurant is named after Lin Mae, William’s wife… and it’s not the only restaurant we own. We have a restaurant group in the city… and in a few other cities as well,” finishes Pero, afraid to meet your eye.

“Let me get this straight,” you say very deliberately and slowly, “you’re an internationally celebrated restauranteur… and you let me cook for you??!” You punch Pero hard in the arm before covering your face in embarrassment.

Both William and Pero chuckle and Pero rubs his big strong hands up and down your arms, soothingly, “I love your cooking, Cookie.”

Voice still muffled behind your hands, you sigh, “Don’t patronize me.”

“I would never, princesa,” Pero pulls you close and presses loving kisses to your temple, “Truly, I’ve loved everything you ever made me.”

“Your cookies are the best,” chimes in William, “my favourite were the salted caramel.”

You didn’t know Pero had shared your cookie bribes, but the fact that William’s favourite were Pero’s least makes you smile a little.

A new thought strikes you, “Is this why I’ve never been to your place?”

At this, Pero does look ashamed, “Oh Cookie, I’m sorry. I knew if you saw my place, the jig would be up.”

You wave goodbye to William as you and Pero head to the locker room to grab his belongings before leaving; after Pero’s confessions today, you won’t make the mistake of assuming any ill intent on his part again, but you are curious, “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“I didn’t intend on keeping it from you, I swear,” says Pero, thoughtfully, “but I can’t say it wasn’t a little bit liberating to have you get to know just me, without all the bells and whistles. It’s very rare to be seen for who I am, and not what I do or what I have.”

This, you can understand well, and you know Pero knows you do. You snuggle in closer to him, listening to the steady beating of Pero’s heart for the whole of the elevator ride. As you exit the building and walk towards his bike, Pero does apologize, “But I should have told you the truth sooner, Cookie. I’m not sure why I didn’t, except that things were going well and I didn’t want anything to change.”

He looks a little like a wounded puppy, and you decide that the two of you have wasted enough time on regrets so you lace your fingers behind his neck and pull him down for a deep, tender kiss. “You’re forgiven, Pero,” you purr into his mouth, “for everything.”

“Do you want to go to my place now?” Pero smiles against your lips.

Eyes brightening, you nod. For some reason, going to Pero’s home for the first time feels like the start of a new beginning, and you can’t help but bounce a little in excitement as Pero lowers his helmet over your head. The feeling of wearing a bike helmet, Pero’s helmet in particular, and getting ready to ride on the back of his bike again, drives home for you the realness of your reconnection. You sigh in contentment as you anticipate the familiar hum of the motor beneath you. Pero revels in a similar sentiment, unable to believe the good fortune that when he takes off tonight, it will once again be with the feeling of your arms wrapped snugly around his midsection.

Speeding past your apartment and riding further north, Pero eventually pulls into a garage beneath a luxury high-rise in one of the city’s most exclusive areas. You chuckle when you realize it’s about a block away from where Dorothy lives. During the elevator’s long ride up, you jokingly ask if Pero’s ever had any near misses with Dorothy in the neighbourhood, and his laughter while he shakes his head leads you to believe he has.

When the elevator doors open to a private foyer with only one locked doorway, you realize, he lives in the penthouse, the fucker! Your breath is taken away the moment Pero opens his front door: floor to ceiling windows border the open concept space so you can admire a near 180 degree view of the city just from where you stand. The room has a simple, modern aesthetic, but you’re not fooled by the minimalist look of the furniture – your keen eye can tell that everything in this room has been thoughtfully selected for its quality, fit and function. Though understated, the luxurious feel of the décor is evident; everything has its place, fitting together elegantly. You spy a few personal touches of Pero’s, including a model of a Ducati motorcycle that looks familiar even in its miniature form. But what truly leaves you awestruck is the kitchen: the cabinets and appliances are primarily stainless steel, giving it a professional industrial look, but the accent surfaces of marble and white lacquer tie in the space with the rest of the apartment’s sleek feel. It’s huge. And well loved, you can tell. You hungrily eye all the cool kitchen gadgets and appliances resting along the counter tops and the large marble island that centers the design. Your mouth might water a little at the thought of all the delicious food that has been prepared here.

“Hungry, Cookie?” asks Pero, amused as if he can read your mind.

Turning towards him, you see how relaxed and at home he looks among all this understated luxury, and not for the first time, you find yourself stunned by how devastatingly handsome he is. Throwing yourself at him, your mouth connects with his, open and willing, “Yes, Pero. I’m hungry.”

After removing each others’ clothing in a frenzy, giggling while tossing garments behind and over furniture, flinging some to the far corners of the room, Pero gently lays you down on his plush carpet, ready to worship you. He takes his time kissing and licking each line and curve of your body, reacquainting himself with every dip and valley, as if he could ever have truly forgotten their taste. Each shudder and whimper he pulls from you a small victory for him that your body has missed him too.

By the time Pero buries his face between your legs, you’re boneless and aching, a sticky mess already painting the inside of your thighs as you cry out for Pero to give you some relief. Your hands tug and pull at his hair, your words drip with soft pleas, then desperate demands, but nothing with hurry Pero. He’s on a mission to seek penance from your pussy and nothing will deter him. Every lick and stroke of his tongue an apology, each flick and circle of your clit an atonement for his wrongs, his two, then three fingers curl inside you pleading for forgiveness. You grant it with your back arched and your mouth open in a soundless scream, forgetting why you had ever even been apart.

When he finally enters you, it’s slow and sweet, arms bracing your head and fingers stroking your hair as he whispers words of love and praise.

“Missed you so much, Cookie.”

“Feel so good around me, princesa. Never going to leave this perfect cunt again.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Your eyes never leave his, even when they fill with tears. He just feels so good. And you missed him so much. Now he’s yours again. He was always yours. And he loves you. And you love him, too. You sing it so he knows.

It’s slow and sweet, until it’s not. The urgency of Pero’s thrusts is accompanied by the crushing of his lips to yours. As your tongues dance, your fingers do the same on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the summit. Every drive of Pero’s hips bottoms him out deep in your cunt, the force of which you absorb with pleasure, crying out for more, more, more. He gladly delivers - he’ll never deny you anything ever. So long as you remain his, everything that’s his is yours for the taking, “Take it, princesa. Take my cock like the good girl you are.” You do as he commands, taking it all until you come, clenching down so hard on his length that Pero’s own fall isn’t far behind. Both still panting and lightheaded from your twin highs, you hold each other close with Pero softening inside you, kissing and whispering I love you until you both come back down to Earth.

---

Padding into Pero’s kitchen wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts, you wrap your arms around Pero’s waist as he lifts the cookies from the baking sheet with a spatula. Handing you a warm cookie, he watches you in anticipation as you take a bite. The reversal of your roles from when you first met not lost on him.

The sweet taste on your tongue is heavenly, “10/10. Ginger molasses, my favourite,” you beam, “This tastes a lot like the one at the restaurant.”

“Of course it does, Cookie,” Pero answers, as if it’s obvious. He continues to transfer the remaining cookies to the cooling rack, “Who do you think gave the recipe to the kitchen? I had them start to bake them a while ago. Just wanted to have something at the restaurant that reminded me of you.”

“That so sweet,” you coo, reaching for a second cookie.

“And maybe subconsciously I thought, bake it and she will come.”

Munching down on the sweet treat, you quip, “You really have Joanna to thank you that. She’s the one who wanted to come to Lin today.”

“I mean, if we’re going to get technical about it, the person I really have to thank is Dorothy, since she’s the one who wanted to eat at Lin in the first place,” shrugs Pero.

“Should I invite her over?” you giggle, only half joking.

“Why not? But maybe put some pants on first,” chuckles Pero, as he turns to clean the dirty baking tools in the sink.

Giggling as you head to Pero’s closet to find a pair of sweatpants, you type out a message on your phone: Dorie, you’ll never guess where I am!

2 years later

“… the bride was a vision in custom off the shoulder, full length Vera Wang. The bridesmaids wore matching vintage Gucci from Tom Ford’s 1996 collection. Not to be outdone, the groom, elusive restauranteur Pero Tovar, impressed in his custom black and white Zegna tuxedo. Guests were in for a special surprise and honour; the reception of the joyous nuptials was held in the restaurateur’s newest addition to his culinary empire with the celebrations serving as the restaurant’s private opening. Per a statement from the groom and his business partner, William Garin’s representatives, the restaurant, which will have its public opening following the happy couple’s honeymoon, is named ‘Mi Galleta’ as a gift to his new wife.”

#pero tovar #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #modern!pero tovar #modern au #no y/n

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angelbeastmadman · 4 months

Text

Done

Finnick Odair x Reader

summary: Upon arriving in District 13 you get a strange sense of dejavu but you refuse to relive the past here.

warnings: none

The flight to 13 had been eventful to say the least. Between Katniss’ (attempted) attack on Haymitch and Finnick passing out not long after, you hadn’t had time to catch your breath.

Every single second in the arena had felt like hours. You hadn’t slept and could barely stand to eat. All of your energy went to watching Finnick as he did the same with you.

It was purely selfish on your part. When Plutarch had come to you both about a rebel plan to get a selection of the victors, including the ever so important Mockingjay, out of the arena, you knew then and there you had to do everything in your power to keep Finnick safe until the calvary arrived.

It hadn’t been easy either. Not with poisonous fog or vicious monkey mutts or the rest of the tributes who were in the dark on the entire plan. Honestly, it wasn’t all that surprising that once things had calmed down with Katniss, and after being rescued from three days of non-stop adrenaline, Finnick had quite literally shut down, finally succumbing to the stress on his body.

At first, you lost your ever loving shit. Did he have an injury you didn’t know about? Did the district 13 soldiers on the hovercraft do something to him after you were lifted from the arena? It wasn’t until after Haymitch stepped in that you realized your fiancé was breathing perfectly normal and there was no blood or anything to suggest injury. But you couldn’t help it. For years you had watched the Capitol and Snow abuse him. It was impossible not to be overprotective and overreactive. He was everything to you.

The real problems came, though, once you landed in 13. Immediately, soldiers acting as guards separated you from Finnick and when you fought back with every ounce of willpower you had left in your exhausted body they only stood their ground. At some point you could remember hearing Haymitch drop some very choice words to them before heading in the direction you’d seen them take Finnick. You screamed for what must have been a full hour before you were finally graced with the presence of one Alma Coin.

“I was told you wanted to see me.” She narrowed her eyes in a way that reminded you eerily of Snow when he wanted something from you. She was seated at a cold, metal table while you were standing and yet you couldn’t help but physically feel the difference in power.

“No.” You said plainly, not breaking eye contact. “I wanted to see Finnick.”

“He’s being evaluated.” She stated simply. “We need to be sure he’s ready to begin training immediately and your presence will hinder that assessment.”

“Training?”

“He is a solider now.” Coin looked at you as if you’d gone dumb. You should’ve known. After years of working for the Capitol, Finnick as the their darling and you as a spy for Snow, you’d traded one prison for another. “Of course, I didn’t expect you to take on combative duty, you aren’t much of a fighter yourself. But Finnick will do well in District 13’s defenses.”

Years of abuse and fear and chains both literal and metaphorical rushed you and you snapped.

“Finnick will not be a solider for you.” Your voice had gone cold, dark and a little authoritarian. It made Coin blink although she hid her surprise well. You’d have missed it if you hadn’t acquired an affinity for reading people in the Capitol. She probably expected you to yell, become hysterical. But she hadn’t prepared for stone cold determination. “We have spent years serving tyrants and I’ll be damned if we continue here. We risked our lives to save your Mockingjay. Finnick was poisoned by fog, I took a bite from a mutt, we were boarder line electrocuted.”

“And we appreciate your dedication to the cause-”

“My only dedication is to Finnick.” You cut off her weak attempts at regaining the power at the shift in the room. “And you’ve decided to keep him barred away from me.”

“You make it sound like you’re prisoners here.” She says in an attempt at redirecting you.

“Aren’t we?” It’s a challenge and based on the subtle shift of her jaw you can tell she heard it. “You obviously need us, or rather, the information we both have, so let me tell you how this is going to go. You’re going to allow me to see my fiancé, you’re going to let us both recover from our taxing experience protecting your Mockingjay in peace and you’re not going to even breathe a word of sending Finnick into battle again. We’ve both done our parts for your revolution, it’s your turn to do something productive.”

After your tangent you feel dizzy. Despite your time in the Capitol, confrontation wasn’t your strong suit. That’s why you were a spy and not a solider. The only other time you had ever challenged authority was when you and Finnick had started getting closer after your games and you learned about what Snow made him do. You’d demanded he release Finnick from his duties in the Capitol in exchange for your services as his own personal spy. Luckily, the president had seen your skills in your games and how you hid from every tribute, taking them out from locations so hidden that even the game markers sometimes had difficulty finding you without looking for your tracker on the monitor.

But you couldn’t help it. This was Finnick. This was years of being used and abused and feeling unsafe at every moment. You’d be damned if you continued to live under the thumb of another person any longer.

Coin must have weighted her options in the time it took you to stop everything in your vision from vibrating because she gave one definitive nod. “Deal.” You schooled your features despite the shock you felt. “If you both provide me with the information on everything and everyone we need and agree to film a few pieces of propaganda exposing the Capitol’s abuse of its victors, then I suppose Finnick can be dismissed from combative duties.”

You were weary of Coin, but she had called in a few of her most important people and sworn to the agreement in front of them. You could tell, though, that she was a little bitter about it because she made a point of saying how she had plenty of better fighters to take Finnick’s place.

Without any further struggle you were being led throughout the hospital wing to him. You had to wonder if Coin ever really expected you and Finnick to agree to fighting for her or if your challenge of authority was too inconvenient and she simply needed it to go away more than she needed Finnick to be a solider. Either way you sent a prayer to whoever was listening and fought the urge to rush past the soldier escorting you and find Finnick yourself.

Once you turned a few more corners it wasn’t hard to pinpoint where he was exactly. You could hear him shouting all the way down the hall. The tone in his voice must have conveyed danger because a second later a nurse came flying from the room and towards your escort. “He wants to see her. He’s becoming escalated.”

You didn’t waste any time ducking around the soldier who was now trying to calm the anxious nurse. You weren’t too surprised with how worked up she was, you had learned your scary, dark voice from Finnick himself.

“Finnick!” You shouted, finally pushing through the door of his room. His head snapped up at the sound and you threw yourself in his arms where he sat on the edge of the bed. He immediately dropped the rope he was working, which had been given to him by Haymitch when he woke up in a panic over not seeing you immediately. He’d knotted it so many times in the last hour you’d been trying to get back to him that it was already fraying at the edges.

His arms trapped you to him as your hands carded through his hair. “Didn’t see you when I woke up.” He mumbled into your neck, the wetness on your exposed skin betraying the few tears he couldn’t keep at bay. You couldn’t blame him, just like when he’d passed out, his body was finally catching up to the stress of the past days.

“They separated me from you.” You sighed, never stopping your hands from their calming motions. “I talked to President Coin, I can tell you about it later, but I’m not leaving your side again.”

Finnick tightened his hold on your waist. “Good.” He pulled back just enough to look at your face and it almost broke you. His panic was still evident in his features and you smoothed out all the worry lines with your fingers. “Are we done?”

You knew what he meant. Are we done fighting? Are we done running? Are we done sacrificing?

“Yeah, Finn.” You felt the first tear since a break down you’d had at the announcement of the Quarter Quell roll down your cheek and off your chin. “We’re done.”

He brushed a few strands of hair back from your face. “Don’t cry, honey.” He said despite the wetness of his own eyes and he tugged you onto the bed with him. Your head barely had time to settle onto his chest before you yourself gave into exhaustion.

#finnick odair #finnick x you #finnick imagine #the hunger games #hunger games #fanfic #fanfiction

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 8 months

Text

Something There (Chapter 7)

6.5k words

Roy Kent x Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, angst, slut-shaming and double standards, misogynist graffiti, pining, angst

Series Masterlist

I passed by that sign every day on my way to the Dog Track. Normally, it gave me a surge of pride when I saw it, this reminder of something I felt so proud and honored to be part of. But now, with those blood-red letters, it made my already broken heart die a little more.

It wasn’t as if this kind of treatment was new. Whenever my teams didn’t perform as well as expected or hoped for, suddenly we weren’t talented. Or we were dumb bitches. Or we were all on our periods. Not like when the men underperformed; then it was every excuse in the book from the horrible refs to the weather to their kitman used the wrong detergent that week.

But unlike all those other times, now I had actually done something to earn this treatment.

It wasn’t like I regretted sleeping with Roy. It was nice. He was nice. And if he was any other guy with any other job and any other reputation, I’d probably consider repeating the encounter. A few times, actually. But those ugly red letters reminded me of why it was one of the stupidest things I’d ever done.

“Come on,” Lucas urged, placing a hand on my arm. “Don’t want to be late.”

Don’t want to be late. Ha. More like don’t want to go to work today. Don’t want to face everyone at Nelson Road. Don’t want to be seen in public.

Don’t want to see Roy Kent.

Of course, I couldn’t avoid any of those things, thanks to the text Rebecca had sent me the night before, the text where she sent me that stupid, stupid article and told me to go straight to her office in the morning. Lucas and I wordlessly parted ways so he could go prepare for training while I trudged up to Rebecca’s office.

I stared at the door when I arrived upstairs. I wasn’t sure if I should knock. Or head in. Or turn around, run home, and pack my suitcase to head back to the States. Just as I was pondering the consequences of that last one, someone cleared their throat behind me.

And I’d have known that sound anywhere.

Roy’s eyes were pained when I turned to look at him. Mine were probably the same.

“Alright?” Before I could figure out an answer, he grimaced. “Fuck. Stupid fucking question.” He crossed his arms and shook his head. “I… It’s just… fuck.” His voice was that low, angry growl he used to use when we fought.

Never thought I’d miss fighting with Roy Kent.

The door opening caused me to jump, sending me a step closer to Roy, narrowly avoiding bumping into him. Rebecca’s face was stony as she looked us over, perfectly pink lips in a straight line. Her eyes, though, were soft, full of pity, especially when she caught sight of the miserable expression I assumed I wore.

“Best come in,” she murmured, nodding towards her office. She shut the door behind us, watching Roy and me carefully as we all took the seats around her desk. She leaned her elbows on her desk, eyes darting back and forth between Roy and myself. Finally, she opened her mouth. “I know that as your boss, it truly isn’t my business,” she started slowly. “But, considering the publicity that comes with your jobs, we should all agree on the best course of action. Now, as your friend, you don’t have to tell me if you-”

“We slept together.”

Roy’s mouth fell open as he stared at me, as if he couldn’t believe I’d said it so plainly. Rebecca simply raised her eyebrows at me.

I shrugged, forcing myself to look Roy in the eye. “What? Why deny anything? It’s what happened.” I turned back to Rebecca. “If they already have those pictures, there’s no use pretending. It’ll make us look pathetic if we try to lie. So unless you want us to deny anything happened, and then get caught in the lie when our stories don’t match, or they come up with photos of me leaving Kent’s place in the morning, let’s stick to the truth.” I let out a deep breath. “Kent and I slept together. It was consensual. We were both single at the time. The end.”

Rebecca cleared her throat. “Well. And, just for the sake of transparency between the three of us, was this a one-time thing? Or is this a regular occurrence?”

“A one-time thing,” I immediately replied, not looking at Roy. “That’s all.”

“Right.” Rebecca’s eyes flashed to Roy before returning to me. “I’ll call Keeley. We’ll work on a game plan, keep an eye on the headlines.” She sighed. “I’d love to say this’ll blow over in a day or so but… considering who you are-” She nodded to Roy. “-and the… uniqueness of your position-” She gestured towards me. “-this will probably be something we’ll be hearing about for a bit. Especially in the local press.” She shook her head. “Neither of you deserve this, of course. Believe me, I know quite a bit about how you feel, although I’m sure it’s no consolation.” She offered me a sad smile. “Why don’t you head on down to your team? I’m sure they’re anxious to see how you’re doing.”

I stood, not needing an excuse to get out of that room. With nothing but a small nod to Rebecca, I turned and did my best not to sprint out of the room, desperate to get away from those sad brown eyes.

Rebecca stared at Roy as they listened to the door close, leaving the two of them alone. It had been a while since they’d had a proper chat, just the two of them, but it seemed that Rebecca was still an expert in making Roy squirm with just a quirked eyebrow.

“One-time thing?”

“Hmmph.” Roy slouched in his chair and crossed his arms, wondering how long Rebecca would keep him in her office.

She tilted her head, pity evident on her face. “You… you don’t want it to be a one-time thing, do you Roy?”

Roy let out a growl of a sigh. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I want,” he murmured. “It’s about her. This is her reputation, her career they’re fucking with. It’s different for her than for me. I need to respect what she wants.”

Rebecca’s face crumpled, her heart breaking at the pain she could see on her dear friend’s face. No amount of pep talks could help him now. At least, not one from her.

“I’m sorry, Roy,” was all she could manage. “I’m truly sorry.”

Feeling that this was enough of a dismissal, he stood and waved absently as he left her office. He slogged down to the changing room, where the Greyhounds were changing, their conversations much quieter than he was used to. That low chattering came to a stop the moment he entered the room, confirming that the guys had indeed been talking about him. He sighed and closed the door to the office, wanting a moment with just his team.

“Alright,” he started, gaze on the ceiling before looking at the fellas. “So, I’m sure you’ve all seen those stupid fucking photos. We’re not talking about that shit because it’s no one’s fucking business, and it was vile for someone to publish them. I hear any of you mention that shit, you’re suspended, because it’ll be hard to play with broken legs.” His voice lowered as he took in the faces of the Greyhounds- sadness, disgust, pity, anger. He knew his threats weren’t necessary, but he needed to feel like he was doing something. “And if any one of you breathes a fucking word of this to any of the Whippets or Coach Buck, you’ll be off this fucking team, and I will make it my personal mission to keep you out of the Premier League for the rest of your fucking life. Understand?”

After a moment of silence, Isaac stood up from his perch on the bench. “No one talks to the press,” he commanded. “Tell them they can fuck right off with their bullshit. We don’t condone this invasion of privacy or the misogyny they’re hurling at Coach Buck. We support her, and we support the Whippets, alright?”

Sam nodded. “We’ve got your back, Roy. Every single one of us. We all agree that this is disgusting.”

“Is she okay?” Jamie slouched in the corner of the changing room, looking at Roy as if the manager was an injured puppy.

Roy stared at Jamie, the striker’s timid voice ringing in his ears. Finally, he cleared his throat and yanked open his office door. “Weight room in five,” he barked. “Time to get to work.”

The Whippets were already on the field when I finally joined Lucas on the sideline. My walk from Rebecca’s office to the pitch was torture; no one would look me in the eye, a far cry from the wide smiles and waves I received walking through the Dog Track after each Whippet victory.

Lucas watched me carefully as I took my place beside him, tugging the sleeves of my Richmond jacket over my hands. The team slowed when they saw me but continued their drill; surely Lucas had spoken to them while I was upstairs.

“Bring them in,” I murmured, tugging the baseball hat I wore over my eyes.

“You don’t have to-”

I shook my head. “Bring them in.”

At the sound of the whistle, the Whippets jogged over, clustering around us with wide eyes and concerned frowns. I held their gazes, refusing to let my face tilt downwards. Once they were all together and quiet, I opened my mouth.

“We’re a team,” I started slowly. “And teams are built on trust and honesty. So, I’m not going to play pretend with you ladies. There’s photos, of me. And Coach Kent.” Some of the girls exchanged glances, but no one looked too shocked; they’d surely all already seen them. “Nothing scandalous, just us going into his house after the charity gala. But people can connect the dots. And people are starting to say shit about me.” I cleared my throat. “But my priority is you. The Whippets. So, let’s just keep our heads in the game, play the Richmond way, and be the team I know we are. Good deal?”

Kira Malone spoke up first. “We got you, Coach.”

The wholehearted murmurs of agreement finally had the lump in my throat threatening to turn into tears. “Thank you, Captain. Appreciate it.” I turned to Lucas, not trusting myself to look at the team for another moment. “Coach?”

Immediately, Lucas was calling for the ladies to return to training, which they promptly did. Once they were out of earshot, I let out the shaky breath I’d been holding. Lucas reached out and took my hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

“We’ve got you.”

As much as I’d dreaded coming to work, I had to admit it was kind of nice having something to focus my energy and attention on. It was nice thinking about something other than headlines saying things like “America’s Sweet-Tart Scores with Kent” or “He’s Here, He’s There, He’s Every-f*cking-where- including Coach Buck’s Bed!” I wasn’t sure what was worse: the headlines that screamed my name, or the headlines that didn’t bother giving me one.

It was evening when I got a text from George letting me know he’d be picking me up in five. He’d been great about the whole thing; we were having drinks when I got Rebecca’s text alerting me to the photos. He immediately offered to take me home and didn’t mind when I told him I wanted to be alone- which really meant I wanted to call Lucas and sit numbly in my best friend’s arms for an hour.

I gathered my things, looking forward to the relaxing night of movies and takeout George had offered to help take my mind off things. He really was the nicest guy I’d ever gone out with, really respectful and polite. The kind of guy who’d have my parents thrilled. The kind of guy who’d happily sit in the stands and watch my games. The kind of guy who made me feel comfortable and safe.

“Oi.”

That voice had me stopping dead in my tracks as I stepped into the parking lot. Roy Kent walked over from his car, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes scanning my face for any sign of whether or not I was going to run away from him. It was definitely a tempting option.

“So,” he started once he’d reached me, “I… I told my guys they’re not to say a fucking word about anything. Not to each other, not to the press, not to you. They’re idiots, but they’re not stupid.” He stared at me, his jaw clenched. “I… I am really fucking sorry.”

“Please stop apologizing,” I murmured, clutching my bag tightly. “You did nothing wrong, Kent.”

He nodded, as if he was trying to convince himself. “I know. Neither did you.” He took a deep breath. “Listen, that night was-”

“Ready to go?”

While Roy was talking to me, George’s car had pulled up next to us, and he was leaning out the window with that boyish grin, his eyes trained on my face pointedly. I swore I saw this eyes flicker to Roy for a fraction of a second, but I couldn’t be sure. What I was sure of was the way Roy tensed up the moment George’s voice reached us.

I gave my fellow manager a nod as I took a step towards George’s car. “I…. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

A grimace covered his face. “Yeah. Have a good night.”

With a little wave, I climbed into George’s car. My face flushed when George leaned over and planted a peck on my cheek; I stared straight ahead, not wanting to know if Roy saw, and not quite knowing why it bothered me. I slunk into my seat, glancing at the newspaper on the passenger seat floor.

“Love on the field? Coaches of AFC Richmond and its girls’ team caught in scandal!”

I sighed and leaned my head against the window, wishing that a night of movies and takeout could somehow make this whole mess disappear.

Doctor Sharon stared at Roy thoughtfully. It wasn’t like she didn’t know about what was happening; but goodness, to hear Roy mumble out the story about him and the manager he was clearly pining over and the debacle with these horrible photos was nothing short of pitiful. He’d spent much of their session ranting about his hatred for the press, how idiotic the headlines were, and how he wanted to punch the dicks of every photographer that had been lurking around the parking lot over the last week.

“… and now she’s got this, I dunno, fucking boyfriend,” Roy spat, his eyes glued to his shoes. “Fucking reporter, of all things. Prickiest prick that ever pricked.”

“I take it you don’t like him?” Doctor Sharon mused, raising an eyebrow.

Roy sat up a little. “He’s a prick,” Roy repeated.

Doctor Sharon nodded. “So I heard.” She stared at the gaffer for a moment. “Is that why you’re so angry? Her boyfriend isn’t a nice guy?”

There was a short pause before Roy opened his mouth again. “I just… I don’t fucking know.” He twiddled his thumbs. “She said she wanted space,” he sighed. “And I figured that she just wasn’t looking to date right now. Focus on coaching.” He blinked rapidly, his gruff voice quieting. “Guess now I know she just wasn’t interested in dating me.”

“And you wanted to date her?”

After a moment of staring at his shoes, Roy nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I did.” His voice was thick. “I think… we would’ve been good together.”

A small smile appeared on Doctor Sharon’s face. “Thought you two hated each other?”

Her teasing tone was rewarded with the sight of Roy’s mouth lifting in the corner. “I thought so too,” he chuckled hollowly. “But I dunno. We were starting to get along. She’s fucking great with Pheobe. She split that charity money with me.” His eyes shifted, full of thoughts. “We had a good time at the gala.” He nodded. “She made me laugh. Dancing with her was nice. And afterwards, we just, you know, had a drink, talked about football.” He sighed, a heavy sound that filled the office. “Talked about being injured, retiring, all that shit. It was, I don’t fucking know, real. She fucking understood. Didn’t look at me with pity.” He looked away from Doctor Sharon’s face, his own face reddening. “And the… other stuff was pretty nice too.” Another sigh escaped his lips. “Just, for the first time since Keeley, I felt like I might have found someone. Someone who, I dunno.” He looked Doctor Sharon in the eye. “You know?”

“A partner?” Doctor Sharon offered.

“Yeah.” Roy cleared his throat. “A partner.”

Roy wasn’t sure how he felt when he left Doctor Sharon’s office. He didn’t feel better, but at least he didn’t feel worse. Mostly he felt heard, which he had to admit was nice. As he made his way back down to his office to pack up his things, the wheels in his head started turning. One of the things he told Doctor Sharon was how fucking helpless he felt, how he felt like he wanted to do something.

When he reached his office, that something occurred to him.

He pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Roy?” Trent Crimm’s voice was filled with confusion. “Something wrong?”

“You’re really asking me that?” Roy’s eyebrow quirked with amusement. “You haven’t seen the fucking headlines?”

Trent laughed, and Roy could just picture the writer adjusting his glasses. “No, I have. I’m just a bit surprised you’re calling me. How’re you holding up by the way?”

Roy sat at his desk and leaned back. “Not answering that one,” he grumbled. He glanced at the empty Whippets’ office. “I… need a favor.”

“What’s up?”

He leaned his elbows on his desk. The wheels in his head were spinning faster than they had in a long time. “All this bullshit with those photos,” he said slowly. “Would you be able to… find out where that came from?” The long pause on Trent’s end had him continuing. “I know there’s like journalistic integrity- fucking oxymoron by the way- but I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“You’re not…” Trent cleared his throat. “… going to kill anyone are you?”

That year at the Dog Track had truly helped Trent understand Roy. “No, nothing like that,” Roy assured him. “I just… I don’t really know why I want to know,” he admitted, his gaze again on the office next door, on the chair she normally occupied. “I just need to know.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll buy you a new scrunchie or some shit,” he offered.

Trent’s laugh eased some of Roy’s tension. “Well if there’s a new scrunchie involved…” He paused. “But sure, Roy. I could do some sniffing around. Just don’t make me an accessory to murder, alright?”

“Promise,” Roy assured him. “Thanks, Trent.”

The parking lot had never been so filled with people before a Whippets game. I’d love to think it was because of our multitude of wins, or the charisma and skill of our players, or just because women’s soccer was growing in popularity. But once I saw the cameras, I knew better.

Sure enough, as Lucas and I walked towards the doors to the stadium, those people started shouting my name, along with questions about whether I’d slept with Roy Kent, if there was any tension at the Dog Track because of all this, how Roy was in bed. My personal favorite was, Have you guys done it here at Nelson Road?

Lucas placed a hand on my back and urged me inside, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face.

“Fucking scum,” he muttered as we made our way down the hall. “Let’s see them ask Kent those kinds of questions at the Greyhounds’ game tomorrow.”

I leaned my head on his shoulder as we made our way to our office. “Ignore them, Luke. Let’s just focus on getting the win.”

Even with the scandal, the stands were still packed. Or maybe it was because of the scandal; while standing in the tunnel, I swore I could “slag” being shouted over and over again from one section of the stadium.

“Fuck,” I whispered, gripping Lucas’s hand tightly.

He shook his head at me. “This is ridiculous,” he spat, tugging out his phone with his free hand. “I’ll text Rebecca, they need to be fucking thrown out.”

Doing my best to focus on the task at hand, I released Lucas and stepped out onto the green, keeping my eyes on the Whippets. When I heard particularly loud chanting begin, I blocked it out, straining to pick out a familiar voice. Keeley’s. Rebecca’s. Higgins’s. Hell, even Roy Kent’s growl would have been welcomed. But this certain chanting was so loud, it was almost enough to make me turn around and spend the game in the changing room- something I’d never dream of doing.

Maybe the papers were right. Maybe my career was over.

Dammit. I couldn’t cry on the field. I’d seen A League of Their Own; there’s no crying in baseball, and not in soccer either. The only tears I shed in uniform were tears of joy when I won. But the shouts, the knowledge that apparently everyone in Richmond, everyone in England, thought I was a slut for one admittedly lovely night with Roy freaking Kent, was enough to have me breaking my no crying in soccer rule.

“Bucky,” Lucas said, apparently not for the first time. “Bucky.” He was turned around, facing the seats behind the dugout.

I blinked rapidly and looked at my assistant coach, who was- wait, was he smiling?

Lucas was shaking his head, an amused chuckle escaping his wide mouth. He grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me around, pointing about halfway up the stands. The sight had me almost breaking my no crying rule, but for a completely different reason.

About two dozen men were on their feet, shouting “Let’s go Whippets!” and clapping rhythmically. I recognized the giant grins of Jamie Tartt, Dani Rojas, Isaac McAdoo, Colin Hughes- all the Greyhounds, each one clad with a white Whippets jersey. When Jamie saw me watching them, he jumped up and down and started smacking the guys next to him. Quickly, they all turned around, showing off the back of their kits: each one was adorned with the number six- my old number when I represented the United States- and five simple letters: B-U-C-K-Y.

“What the hell are they doing?” I gasped, shaking my head.

“I think,” Lucas hummed, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and giving me a squeeze, “that they are letting you know they’ve got you.” He pulled me close. “We’ve all got you.”

Roy couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered as he looked at his phone while walking through the parking lot. Fuck, how he wished he’d been there on Saturday. When Isaac and Jamie came to him, expressing how they wanted some way to show the Whippets their support, Roy’d suggested they attend that weekend’s match. It was Isaac who came up with the idea to wear the team kits, and Jamie had thought of adding her name to the back. The guys had invited him to join them, of course, but he’d declined; he knew his presence would only add to the media circus the match would be.

The boys had provided Keeley with plenty of material for both teams’ social media. Sam had posted a video of a gorgeous Whippet goal with the caption “One of the best matches I’ve seen in a while! #RichmondWhippets”. There was Jamie’s selfie with a few players (including a blushing Kira Malone), simply saying “These girls got game!”. Particularly amusing was Colin’s picture with a Whippet from Wales, accompanied by a paragraph on Welsh independence and another paragraph on women’s sports.

But Roy’s favorite post had to be from Dani Rojas, a photo of him with the Whippets’ manager, with the simple caption “Ella es dorada 🥇”. She looked happy. Proud. Brave. Not to mention stunning in her blazer and red lipstick.

But he couldn’t focus on that. It was a new week of training, and he had a text from Rebecca summoning him to her office.

He winced on the stairs, his knee aching, and made a mental note to go easy on it all day. Could stress cause his injury to flare up? He’d have to look that up. He finally arrived at Rebecca’s office, strolling right in when he saw the open door.

Rebecca and Keeley sat on the couch, speaking in hushed tones. They perked up when they saw him, almost as if they hadn’t expected him to show up.

“Good morning, Roy,” Keeley chirped, clearly trying to keep her voice cheery. “Great game yesterday. You boys looked great.”

He grunted in response before turning to Rebecca. “You needed to talk to me?”

Rebecca sat up, straightening her blouse. “Just… checking in.” She offered that tense smile of hers, the one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How are you doing?”

Roy shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. I mean, I’m not the one getting all the shit press, am I?” He thought of the headlines and tweets he’d been seeing, double entendres and dirty rhymes and just straight up insults. Somehow, even worse, were the posts from idiots praising Roy for the whole thing, as if two adults having sex was some sort of accomplishment.

“Sure,” Rebecca said slowly. “But still. I know things aren’t exactly great for you right now.”

Right. It wasn’t a secret around Nelson Road that one of the managers was in the early stages of a relationship- and that manager definitely wasn’t Roy Kent. She wasn’t exactly flaunting things, but George often picked her up at work. He called her sometimes during the day, just to check in. Worst of all, the prick even brought her lunch to her office a couple of times, offering Roy a smug grin as he passed through the Greyhounds’ office.

Keeley knew Roy well enough to practically read his mind. “I’m sorry, Roy,” she sighed. “Just give it time. Things’ll get better, you’ll see.”

Roy shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling sick of this pity party his friends had decided to throw him. “If there’s nothing else, can I head to my office? So I can do my job?”

Amazingly enough, Rebecca smiled, a real smile. “Yes. There’s actually something in your office. A little surprise.” She glanced at Keeley, who suddenly broke into a matching grin. “Something that’s going to either cheer you up or positively piss you off.”

Frowning at the sudden attitude change, Roy nodded to the two women before walking out. Fucking weirdos.

He stalked down the stairs, down the hall, wondering what the hell Rebecca had meant about a surprise. Shit, had Keeley attempted to redecorate the offices again? Because he was still finding glitter from last time. He swore, if she replaced his chair with some fluffy monstrosity-

Roy froze when he opened the door and was greeted by a mustachioed smile.

“Howdy, Coach.”

“Right, so if we start Frankie and Brogan next week-”

Lucas and I froze in the doorway. There was an unfamiliar man in my office, staring at my Brandi Chastain poster. With everything going on, Rebecca was wary of letting reporters she didn’t trust wander around unsupervised; there was no way she’d let some stranger meander into my office.

“Excuse me,” I started, taking a step into my office. “Can I help-”

The man turned around, offering a broad grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Hi there.”

Without ever meeting him, I realized exactly who I was talking to. “Oh gosh, you’re Coach Lasso.”

“Guilty!” he chuckled, leaning forward to shake my hand, then Lucas’s. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be Snoop Doggie-Dogging in your office, just admirin’ your magazine here.” He nodded towards Brandi. “Great little piece of history you got up there.”

I nodded, still a bit dazed at the realization that I was finally face to face with the Ted Lasso. “Yeah, yeah, she’s one of my heroes.” I cleared my throat. “Oh, I’m-”

Ted shook his head. “Oh, I know exactly who y’all are,” he assured me. “I mean, when Becca- uh Rebecca- told me she was hirin’ y’all, I’m embarrassed to admit I only sort of knew your name from when you were in the World Cup. But my son Henry, well when he watches American soccer, he prefers to watch the NWSL. So, he gave me a proper education on all things Coach Buck.” Somehow, his smile widened, filling his face even more than his mustache did. “Don’t suppose I can get an autograph for him while I’m here? Kid’s pretty jealous I get to meet ya.”

Don’t suppose I can get an autograph for him while I’m here?

He had no idea how badly I needed those words.

“Oh, yeah, definitely.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “No worries, I can do that.”

In my peripheral vision, I could see Roy enter the Greyhounds’ office. Our eyes locked for a fraction of a moment, the way they seemed to be doing a lot these days, before we both quickly broke eye contact- the way we seemed to be doing a lot these days.

I cleared my throat and smiled at Ted. “Listen, we’ve got to get to training. And I know you probably want to spend time with Beard and Rebecca and…” My eyes shot to Roy again, trailing over his bearded face as he focused on something on his desk. “….everyone.” I made myself look at Ted, whose expression was amused. “But, uh, think I could buy you a drink while you’re in town? American manager to American manager?”

Ted shrugged. “Shoot, those guys’ve all seen me a million times. Why don’t we grab that drink tomorrow night? Say, there’s this one place I love, the Crown and Anchor. You know it?”

“Uh, yeah, been there once or twice.” I shook Ted’s hand. “It’s a date, Coach Lasso.”

His brown eyes sparkled teasingly. “A date? Don’t forget my corsage then!”

Roy’s stomach twisted as he walked from the park to his car after his workout with Jamie. It was unfair, so fucking unfair. What had she done wrong that he hadn’t? They’d both danced. They’d both gone into his house. They’d both had whiskey and commiserated over their finished playing careers. They’d both had an incredible night together. And yet, she was the only one being punished for it.

With a heaving growl, he reached up and grabbed at the corners of the poster. He’d apologize to Rebecca later; he just couldn’t bear to see those vulgar words, not when they were aimed at her. He pulled down as hard as he could, harder than was really necessary, relishing the harsh ripping sounds. As he crumpled up the poster into a ball, he heard another sound: click, click, click.

He whipped around; sure enough, a camera was aimed at him, held by some young guy in a backwards baseball cap. The kid blinked at Roy, as if he didn’t expect the gaffer to look at him. When Roy took a few steps in his direction, the photographer took the same number of steps backwards.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Roy spat as he picked up his pace, closing the distance between them. Without thinking, he threw the balled-up poster at the photographer, not hard enough to cause any injury, but hard enough that it bounced off and rolled a respectable distance away.

“M-my job-”

Roy’s laugh was sharp. “Your job?” He pointed at the spot where the poster had been. “You pricks are making her job- my job- harder to do, you fucking know that?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “We’re just trying to coach fucking football, but we’ve got you twats acting like we’re Brangelina or some shit.” He shook his head, picking up the trash he’d thrown. “This fucking shit written on the poster? That’s your fault. Every. Single. One. Of. You.” He roughly brushed past the photographer and shoved the ball into a trash bin. “You can all go fuck yourselves.”

By the time he arrived at work, Roy was mostly calmer. For Roy, at least. He was unsurprised to see Ted was already at Nelson Road; he was amused to realize his old coworker was coming from Rebecca’s office.

“Morning, Ted,” Roy rumbled, quirking a thick eyebrow at the American.

Ted’s face reddened at the sight of Roy. “Good morning, Roy.” He fell into step beside his former player. “Mind if I join you?” Roy’s grunt was good enough for him. Ted pointed at a photo of the Whippets squad as they passed it. “Amazing, this whole women’s team thing. Becca’s really outdone herself. Keeley too,” he quickly added. His smile turned teasing. “How’re the fellas doing with it? Bein’ respectful, I hope?”

Roy nodded. “They’re fucking fine,” he assured Ted. “There’s some flirting sometimes, and Jamie’s got this weird will-they-won't-they thing going on with their captain. But everyone gets on just fine.”

“What about you?” Ted waggled his eyebrows at Roy as they entered the office. “Any cutie patootie Alex Morgan-type catch your eye?”

“No,” Roy answered, a bit too quickly as his gaze travelled to the empty Whippets office, where he’d watched Ted talk to their manager the day before.

Of course, Ted’s gaze followed his. “Ah.” His eyes lit up. “That coach of theirs sure is somethin’, ain’t she? Gold medal, World Cup, hell of an NWSL coach. And pretty darn easy on the eye, huh?” His face softened when he caught sight of Roy squirming. “And I haven’t heard all the scuttlebutt, but my understanding is something happened between her and a certain Greyhound?”

“Can we not fucking talk about this?” Roy mumbled, eyes darting to the door when he heard footsteps coming from the hallway.

“Later then,” Ted promised Roy as Beard and Nate came into view, lighting up at the sight of Ted. “We can talk about this later.”

Fucking hell. Roy hated knowing that Ted would keep his fucking word.

After training ended for the day, he rushed out of Nelson Road, hoping to avoid that talk Ted promised him. As he stepped into the parking lot, he saw a familiar ponytail, just before its wearer put up her hood to shield herself from a paparazzo.

“Come on, Bucky,” the photographer tutted as his camera clicked. “Just one smile, come on.”

Fists clenched, jaw set, Roy took a step towards them. “Oi. Fuck d’you think you’re doing?” It was aggravating how familiar this felt today; it was even worse to see it aimed at her.

The photographer aimed his camera at Roy. “Say cheese, Kent,” he hummed.

With a scowl, he stormed forward and, not for the first time in his life, snatched the offending camera. He ripped out the SD card. He let the camera drop to the floor with a crash before he held the card up to the paparazzo’s face and snapped it in half.

“Leave. Her. Alone,” he growled, shoving the SD card pieces into his jacket pocket. “She is a fucking Olympic gold medalist, you twat. Would you treat fucking Jason Kenny or Michael Phelps that way? I don’t fucking think so.” He pulled out his wallet and took out a few bills, throwing them on the floor with the broken camera. “Stop hounding her. Get a fucking life.”

Roy glowered as he watched the photographer scamper off without either the broken camera or the cash, back to whatever pit of hell he’d slinked out of. Once the scum was out of sight, Roy turned around to see a pair of wide eyes already staring at him. He grimaced at her, his tense shoulders softening.

“Shit, sorry,” he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you don’t need me to defend you. You can handle yourself. I know that.” When she didn’t say anything, he rambled on. “And I bet having me come to your rescue isn’t exactly the most helpful story to have in the press. But fuck.” He shrugged, kicking a stray rock. “Sick of the way they treat you,” he sighed. “Like you did some horrible thing. And then they either leave me alone or, worse, act like I won some prize. It’s fucking nuts.” He shook his head. “You don’t deserve- It’s all so- I’m just fucking-”

Roy nearly jumped out of his skin when she reached forward and touched his hand, gently taking it in hers and giving it a small squeeze.

“Thank you.”

His mouth went dry as he gulped, immediately missing the warmth of her hand as she pulled back. “You’re welcome,” he managed.

She glanced at her watch. “I gotta go,” she murmured. “Got a date.” There was a hint of a teasing lilt to her voice, one that was almost friendly enough to stop Roy’s heart from sinking at the word date.

“With your boyfriend?” It took all his strength not to spit out the word.

Her eyes somehow grew wider. “Oh, no, he’s not my boyfriend.” Fuck, she said that quickly. “And I was joking about the date thing. I’m actually taking Coach Lasso out for a beer.” She shrugged, a ghost of playfulness in her eye. “Find out what all the fuss is about. See what’s so great about him.”

Roy couldn’t help the way the corner of his mouth ticked upwards. “Let me know if you find out,” he joked, his heart fluttering at their first real conversation since the photos came out. “I’m still trying to understand it.”

Before she could say something- something clever, probably- the doors opened, and Ted emerged, raising an eyebrow when he saw the two managers standing so close to one another.

“You joining us for a pint, Roy?” Ted asked, nodding eagerly. “It’d be great if you did! Three’s Company, after all. We could use a Janet.” He turned to Bucky. “Unless you want to be Janet. Then we’d need a Chrissy.”

“Let me know if you figure out what the hell he just said,” Roy mumbled, giving her a gentle shove with his shoulder, not caring if Ted could hear him. “Good luck.”

“Bye, Roy.” She turned to Ted. “Let’s go get that pint.”

Roy watched as the two Americans walked off, immediately diving into an intense conversation about some 1970s sitcom. Despite the shit day he’d had, he couldn’t help but feel good when he climbed into his car. As he gripped the steering wheel, he stared at his hand, the one she’d touched. He couldn’t help the involuntary flex he gave, the words he’s not my boyfriend floating around in his head. Sure, he was still hurting, he was still in absolute agony. But for the first time in a while, probably since he first saw her with that prick journalist, Roy Kent also felt hope.

Taglist: @optimisticsandwichgladiator@reading-blogs@callmecasey81@ladygrey03@puckyou-forpuckssake@royalestrellas@shineforever19 @rae4725 @burnafter-reading @her-fandom-sanctum @infinetlyforgotten@giggling-sewer-ginger@whataloadofmalarkey@agentstarkid@kingleahhh@tortilla-maria1@geekgirl1996 @amatswimming @meg-ro@spicyraccoonlordking@spaghetti-dad187@needlesthreadandbuttons@elissaaa @imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme @reverieisaway@djskakakaksjsj-blog@thatonedogwithablog@allthetroubleiveseen@sunderland-6 @netflix-addict @paranormal-is-my-life@jill2629-blog@itsbuzzfeedbitch@pretzelactivist@amieinghigh@kashee-h@beingalive1@mythicalbinicorn@needyomega@kno-way-home@janalustare@sssatorus@its-a-rich-mans-world@confessionsofatotaldramaslut@hesitant-alien33@katie-sheep-111 @bonesbonesetc @seacactusplant@thebookwormlife @dreamscape22 @rae4725 @timelordhunterandmysterysolver@littleesilvia @anonurs @itswhateveripromise @chewymoustachio @gcidrvsh @katdahlali

#roy kent something there #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic

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jmagnabo92 · 3 months

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GGSB Fest 2024 - Battle Of Wills

@goodgodfathersiriusblack

Prompt - Scars

When Sirius sees Harry's scars from Umbridge, he's done and makes a decision to protect godson at all costs.

AO3

***

It’s one of those rare moments where Sirius gets to spend some time with Harry alone since the Order’s always watching them. He supposes it’s because it’s so late and no one’s around to stop them. Which seems fair and unfair at the same time.

Still, cooking with Harry seems to be the easiest way to get him to let his guard down and actually chat with Sirius. He figures that with everything with Arthur and the Order being dumb about the whole ‘possession thing’, Harry could use someone to talk to. Especially since it took so little prompting for him to talk to Sirius about what was on his mind.

He talks for ages as he continues the soup they’re making when Sirius catches sight of some scars on his hand. “What are those?”

Harry glances up as he lifts the onion he was chopping. “Er, onions?”

“No, no – the white on your hand,” Sirius states, catching it to get a closer look.

The words I must not tell lies are etched there.

“What is this?”

Harry shrugs and refocuses on the soup. “It’s nothing, just a battle of wills.”

“A battle of wills… with who?” Sirius questions. He knows of a few dark magic things that would cause something like this and one of those was a special quill… “You said Umbridge gave you lines.”

Harry hesitates before nodding. “She did.”

“And? She did make you write them with a blood quill?”

Harry looks up surprised. “Is that what it’s called? How do you know about it?”

“It’s dark magic, Harry,” Sirius states, plainly. “You have scars on your hand, and you’re worried about the name of the bloody quill?”

“I – well, I – McGonagall told me to keep my head down and – and Dumbledore’s not looking at me and – and you can’t do anything except storm the castle and get yourself kissed… so, I – Hermione gave me something that helped and – and…”

Sirius is downright furious. “That’s it. I don’t care about the repercussions of whatever nonsense is going on with the Ministry. You and I are leaving.”

“Leaving? Leaving for where?”

“I hold a citizenship in Canada – it’s a long story. I’ve been looking into it, and I can ask for asylum and get a proper trial. I only haven’t because it’ll take time and I wouldn’t be able to leave until I’ve gained freedom, but I couldn’t stand the thought of not being there for you in case something else happens. We’ll enroll you in their school. It’s a fine institution.”

He’s talking fast and quite frankly trying to do everything he can to stay focused on Harry and not go and kill Umbridge.

“And once I’m a free man again, I will press charges against Umbridge, Fudge and anyone else that allowed this to happen to you – not to mention everything else. I’m done, Harry. We’re getting out of here and I’m protecting you in whatever way I can. We’ve got to…”

“Wait, Sirius, I can’t just leave…”

“Yes, you can. I should’ve taken you last year when they forced you into the tournament… now, this is bad, Harry. It’s not giving you detention and wasting your time with lines – this is – this is dark magic that has permanently scarred you. You deserve better than that. And if Dumbledore or McGonagall is going around letting this happen, well, then, I can’t trust them to do right by you and if I can’t do anything because the Ministry is corrupt, then I’m going to have to go somewhere where it isn’t.”

Harry bites his lip uncertainly. “What about Voldemort?”

“He’s not your job, kid. He’s got like fifty years on you,” Sirius states. He’d been thinking about this for some time and all he could think about was how he really, really needed to be a good godfather and get his kid away from this nonsense – deadly nonsense.

Harry is quiet for a second, stirring the soup. “Are you sure about this? They won’t be able to force us back?”

“Definitely sure and no, they won’t.”

He looks up, suddenly sure. “Then, let’s do it.”

Sirius smiles. “Yes, let’s.”

And they do, a safe happily ever after.

#sirius black #harry james potter #sirius and harry #sirius and harry saturday #good godfather sirius black

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slayfics · 7 months

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Kansatoki and Yume have some girl talk.

Kansatoki Hikari my OC pictured on the left with Katsuki Bakugo.

Yume Hoshino @unofficialmuilover OC pictured on the right with Shoto Todoroki.

Pictures made with this picrew.

Kansatoki slid her door open slightly, keeping quiet to eavesdrop on the scene happening across from her dorm.

"I'm telling you Todoroki the spider is SO big! I can't kill it though, it's just not right to kill an innocent bug so you have to freeze it for me and take it out!" Yume pleaded to Shoto who was trailing behind her as she led the way to her dorm.

"Ok, show me where it is," Shoto obliged, following Yume to her room.

Once inside Yume turned around and smiled at Shoto. Shoto scanned the room looking a bit confused at Yume's sudden change in demeanor as she seemed to not be concerned about a spider anymore.

"I uh, I don't see it," He said to her looking dumbfounded.

"Oh! Uh right, the spider- guess it ran away..." She said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Ok well, goodbye then," Shoto said and began to leave the room.

"Wait!" Yume exclaimed, grabbing his arm. "Why don't you stay here and hang out in case it comes back!" She suggested.

"That would be against school rules. I shouldn't be here," He replied plainly.

"Yeah but- I mean..." She trailed off desperately trying to find another excuse to get Shoto to stay.

"Just let me know if you see it again Hoshino," He said and made his way back to the elevator to go back to the common room.

Yume let out a big disappointed sigh as he left.

Once Shoto was in the elevator and no longer in earshot Kansatoki let go of the laughter she was suppressing, her dorm door flew open and she boomed with laughter.

"Oh stop!" Yume yelled at her.

"A SPIDER!? For fucks sake Yume! That was low even for you!" Kansatoki said, practically rolling on the floor with laughter.

Yume walked over and threw herself on Kansatoki's bed.

"UGH!" She screamed in frustration. "I don't know what to do Kansa!" Yume complained.

Kansatoki shut her dorm door and joined her friend sitting on the bed.

"How did you do with Bakugo?" Yume asked, looking at her friend.

"HU?!" Kansatoki exclaimed, her cheeks slightly blushing.

"Oh, don't play dumb. Me and Ashido have both heard him in your room pretty late. I don't care how quiet he tries to whisper that husky voice travels through walls you know," Yume replied, causing her friend to cross her arms.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kansatoki replied defiantly.

"Oh come on, it's me," Yume said, shoving her friend's shoulder. "You can tell me."

"Yeah I know," Kansatoki said, softening up a bit.

"Just tell me your secrets, what should I do?" Yume pleaded with her friend for advice. By now she had tried several failed attempts at getting Shoto to hang out with her in her room, and even more failed attempts at trying to hang out in his.

"Just tell him your actual intentions. That you want to be alone with him," Kansatoki laughed and gave her friend a wink.

Yume covered her face feeling it flush, "Kansa I don't know," the thought of marching up to Shoto and being so blunt made her stomach flutter. "Is that what you did with Bakugo?" She asked, removing her hands from her face.

"What?! No!" Kansatoki said, her face flushing again.

"Then how do you expect me to!" Yume exclaimed.

"Look, obviously Todoroki is very different from Bakugo. He isn't going to pick up on hints. You're going to have to slap him with the honest truth for him to understand what is really going on." Kansatoki explained to her friend.

"UGH-!" Yume grumbled again in frustration.

"Hey don't blame me. I told you pretty boys were boring the moment you told me you liked him," Kansatoki replied to her friend's frustration.

"Right because the dumpster fire of a boy you like is soooo much better,"

"At least there is never a dull moment with him," Kansatoki said, sticking her tongue out at her friend. "I'm just saying you better confess your feelings fast, you chose to like the most popular boy in our class with the ladies. I've noticed other girls looking at him, you know." Kansatoki poked her friend playfully.

"Hmpf- must be nice for you not to have anyone look twice at Bakugo. In the words of Present Mic he has a face 'only a mother could love'," Yume laughed teasing her friend back.

"Hey cut it out, he's not so bad... besides no one knows him like I do," Kansatoki said, swinging her legs back and forth off the bed.

"I'm just messing with you," Yume said, smiling at her friend. "So, what other advice do you have for me then?" Yume asked.

"Hmm," Kansatoki placed a finger under her chin thinking. "Maybe make him jealous? Stop trying so hard with him and flirt with some other boys for a change," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Wouldn't that go over his head too?" Yume asked.

"Yeah probably," Kasnatoki said laughing.

"I know! Can't you get one of the other boys in on it?!" Yume asked, her eyes lighting up. "That way it's really obvious! He'll have no choice but to get nervous about it!"

"Yeah I mean, I'm sure I could get Kaminari to do it. That desperate boy would probably do anything a girl asked him. Plus he'd probably like the attention," Kanasatoki laughed.

"Thank you, Kansa! You're the best!" Yume exclaimed excitedly.

"Yeah yeah, no need to thank me," Kansatoki said waving her hand, as her phone lit up on the bed. Kansatoki grabbed her phone and checked her messages. "I'll tell Kaminari about our master plan tomorrow, I got some stuff to do tonight," Kansatoki said, standing up off her bed and walking to the door.

"Wait what-?" Yume said, sitting up on the bed. "Wait no way- Don't tell me! Was that Bakugo that just texted you!? Is that where you're going?"

Kansatoki just shrugged her shoulders playfully at her friend, "Ok byeee-," she said walking out of the room. Leaving Yume alone in the dorm.

Thanks for reading! This was just a fun silly fic featuring mine and @unofficialmuilover OC! I had a great time writing it~

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tropes-and-tales-archives · 7 days

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More Precious Than Rubies: Part 5b

This is an alternate timeline story that has a Rafael Barba track and a Sonny Carisi track. The two paths split off in part 3.

WC: 4270

TW: Angst; end of relationship drama; sharing a bed but no sex; mild allusions to previous sex, so 18+ only just to be safe.

AN: The prompt was "You're overthinking - I'm yours. That's all I want to be."

Amanda knew what people thought of her. She’d heard the hateful words thrown her way her entire life – trash, slut, dumb blonde, and every variation between.

Truthfully, sometimes being underestimated worked for her. She solved many cases based on interrogations where she either flirted with the suspect or acted like a flighty idiot, and if it meant locking up some of the worst people she’d ever crossed paths with, well…she wasn’t that prideful.

And truthfully, she’d be the first to admit that her life was a mess. She had fled Atlanta PD completely traumatized by her repeated assaults at the hands of her captain, and she buried it all deep under booze and sex and gambling until it all became too much. She’d clean up her act for a while, then relapse, then hit rock bottom.

It was all she knew, honestly. She was her father’s daughter, after all.

But she was a good cop, and she tried to be a good partner, and when she saw Carisi come trudging back into the precinct with a fistful of shredded paper, she knew – with her detective’s instinct and her woman’s intuition – that she was somehow the cause of it.

She watched her partner as he sat down slowly at his desk. He was slumped there, his head hung, and he looked like he had his spirit completely broken in the span of a minute. He sat the pieces of torn paper on his desk reverently, like they were some sacred relic, and stared at them for a long while. Then he took an evidence bag out of his drawer and swept them in carefully before sealing and placing in his bag.

Amanda knew how torn up Carisi had been when you broke up with him. The man always talked about you when you were dating – how he couldn’t wait to get home to you, how you were brilliant and were going to be a force to be reckoned with once you passed the bar. How you made him laugh all the time and cheered him up when cases got him down. He made you sound like perfection, to the point where Amanda practically wanted to date you. She could do with a smart and supportive partner for once, and she would readily admit that you were pretty.

So when you broke up with him, it destroyed her partner. She tried to broach the subject a few times, but he’d just shrug irritably and change the subject.

At first, she assumed it was the same thing that plagued all of them: the job was too demanding and left no room for relationships. But more and more, she doubted it.

Carisi made a few off-hand comments about how Amanda needed to get her shit together, and she wondered if it stemmed from his breakup. And then you came back into their lives, and Carisi always jumped away from Amanda like a guilty husband caught with the babysitter.

And today, when you looked at Carisi with a smile but saw Amanda’s pregnant belly, the blonde detective was able to piece it all together. It was written plainly across your face as you turned and fled the bullpen. You thought Carisi was the father, and maybe you had suspected something between then when you dumped Carisi.

Still, Amanda gave it one last shot. “You want to grab a beer?” she asked as they both clocked out and left the precinct. “I’m driving.”

Carisi just shook his head irritably at her before replying. “No. I really want to be alone, ‘Manda,” he said. “Shoulda said ‘no’ more often,” he mumbled, and then he stalked away.

So it really was like that after all.

-----

Amanda just observed for a few weeks. Carisi never got less snippy with her, and when you came into the precinct, your eyes glazed over every time you looked in her direction. And whatever ground Carisi had gained with you – little smiles, small talk – was lost, and then some.

She waited and hoped the two of you would work it out on your own, because she didn’t have any relationship abilities whatsoever, but it never got better. She took a deep breath, wished she weren’t pregnant so that she could drink some liquid courage…then she marched (more of a slow amble, actually) down to your office.

She had called ahead and pretended to be an ADA who wanted to drop in and chat; she wasn’t going all the way over to your office just to have you no be there. But you would be in all afternoon, apparently, so she made an excuse to Liv and left alone.

Amanda rarely got nervous around other women, but she’d be lying if she said you didn’t intimidate her a little. You were smart, and you routinely tore into SVU’s cases, and you flustered Barba all the time. And Amanda didn’t have any girlfriends, so she had no common ground with you. Well, no common ground except Carisi.

The elevator was too fast, and before she knew it, she was standing outside your office. Your admin seemed to be off somewhere else, which meant that you’d be surprised. Amanda took a deep breath again, felt the acid churn of her now-constant heartburn, and knocked on your door.

“Come in,” you called out, muffled, and she opened the door. You looked up with a smile but it instantly fell the moment you registered who was walking into her office.

“Get out,” you said, and you stood up and pointed, but Amanda just shut the door behind her. She looked you over and admitted again to herself that you were pretty. She could see why Carisi liked you – you had a nice rack that strained your sleeveless blouse just a bit, and you always wore those pencil skirts that made your ass look amazing. There was documented evidence that Carisi was an ass man.

Amanda gestured to her stomach, playing the pregnancy card. “I need to sit,” she said apologetically, and she settled into the chair across from your desk. “And I need you to just listen for five minutes.”

She watched you clench your jaw, but you sat down too. You slide your phone’s lock screen off and glanced at the time. “You have five minutes,” you said, and your voice was tight with anger.

“Let’s get one thing clear right now,” Amanda started. “Carisi is not the father of my child, and we have never slept together. We’ve never kissed. The most physical we’ve ever been has been maybe a handful of hugs.”

You cocked an eyebrow at her, but didn’t say anything, so she continued.

“I know…” she started, but she trailed off for a moment. “It’s hard, being a female detective with a male partner. There’s an intimacy there because your life is on the line, and you’re expected to protect each other. But then, there’s girlfriends and boyfriends and spouses who make assumptions. Sometimes they’re right and sometimes they’re wrong.”

She trailed off again and swiped her hand across her forehead. She was sweating, and your office was small and stuffy. You looked her over and stood up without a word. You left your office for a moment, but came back with a bottle of water that you handed her without a word.

“Thanks,” Amanda said, and she was grateful. She drank half of it in one go, then continued, calmer.

“I know you think that I have designs on Carisi, but I don’t. Even if I did, I can’t compete with you. He talks non-stop about how smart and funny and gorgeous you are. And I’m a mess.”

You looked at her and cleared your throat. “I don’t believe in tearing other women down to build a woman up,” you said quietly. “Don’t talk badly about yourself to make me feel better.”

Amanda couldn’t help but smile at this. “Carisi always said you were kind to a fault.”

You snorted. “Well, I don’t like you, Rollins, so don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Fair enough.” But she still smiled as she continued, “Look, I love Carisi as a partner, but I’d never pursue him romantically or…sexually. And he wouldn’t pursue that with me, no matter how it looks. He loves you. He talks about you like you hung the moon, and that day you threw some torn up piece of paper at him…it really laid him low.”

“When we were dating, he was always with you. Helping you with your life,” you pointed out.

“I know. I never asked though. Carisi loves a project, and I’m a project.” Amanda shrugged. “I always tried to send him home, but he always told me that you understood because you were always helping people too. And my family – my momma and my sister – is a complete mess.”

Your stern face softened a bit at this. “Family is tough,” you conceded.

Amanda nodded. “And when he was with me, he was talking about you. Always. I know you so well, I feel like I was practically dating you. I know that you’re a shitty bowler, and that you can’t cook but still try. You snore and you love to read. You don’t really drink, but you have a trick of putting Coke in a rock glass with lime so that it looks like you drink, because you hate when people try to peer pressure you into drinking.”

You almost smiled at her. Amanda could see the corners of your lips twitching as you fought it. “You should buy me dinner first if you’re trying to flirt with me.”

Amanda laughed at this. “And you’re funny, and smart.” Her smile faded, and she looked you dead in the eye. “And he loves you so much, and when he’s had more than two beers, he talks about how he wanted – wants – to marry you and spend the rest of his life with you.” She watched your face as you considered this, and she finished the bottle of water and stood up, staggering a bit under her newly unwieldy body.

“Look, like I said, I love Carisi, and I assume you do, or did too. I want him to be happy. If you’re over it, then fine. But I wanted you to know where things stood.”

You stood up too and walked her out to the elevator. “I appreciate it.” You turned and looked her over with a considering glance. “It was ballsy, coming in here like this. I respect that.”

Amanda laughed and climbed onto the elevator. “Thanks, but I’m really just hoping you’ll ease up on me the next time you call me to the stand. Carisi never warned me that you were a fucking Pitbull in the courtroom.” She waved at you as the doors shut, and for the first time in a while, Amanda felt like she’d done something good for someone else.

********

Sonny pieced your letter back together, taping it carefully and reading as he went. Once it was assembled, he read it over and over until he had it memorized, and even though everything was ruined with you, he chanted certain lines to himself to cheer himself up. It started out “Dear Dominick,” which made him smile, because you only called him by his given name when you were mock-angry with him….or in bed.

It continued:

First, I have to thank you for the beautiful letter you wrote me. It made me feel like some girl in love in an old English novel, and it would have only been more perfect if I could have read it on the moor while the wind whipped my petticoats. Sadly, I read it in Brooklyn, which wasn’t as romantic.

I don’t want to focus on the end of our relationship either, but I do want to apologize for how I ended it. At the time, in the middle of it, it seemed appropriate, but as time soothed my anger, I realized how harsh I’d been. I wish I could go back and change how I handled it.

You know some of my history. You know about the boyfriend before you, and how I was pretty closed off when we first met. I wasn’t interested in dating at all, but there was something about you that gave me hope. You were, like your namesake, a beam of sunshine through dark clouds.

What you don’t know is my dysfunctional family, my parents’ terrible marriage that ended as badly as any marriage can….I keep that from everyone, even you – when we dated. But with some time and distance between us, I can admit that you gave me hope there too, that I might live to overcome my parents’ awful legacy. That I might have real love one day.

I think when we dated I was pretty open about what I loved about you, but I’ll reiterate here: you’ve got a heart as big as anyone, and I loved that first about you. How many cops get a law degree to become a better cop? Not many, I’d wager, but you did – and you did it to help some of the most helpless victims this system has. Your kindness and consideration shines through in everything you do. You help everyone – your family, your friends, your coworkers.

You’re smart. You put yourself through night school while working ridiculous hours, and you graduated with honors. I won’t accuse Manhattan’s SVU of being the most buttoned-up precinct I deal with, but I’m certain that the least terrible cases are yours (ha ha).

I could write at length about how handsome I think you are, but that’d be shallow and likely make you feel objectified, so I’ll just say that no matter how much I see you, I still get butterflies in my stomach when I see you again.

But what I love best about you is how you made me feel when we were together. I never slept so well as when I was with you, falling asleep in your arms. I always was able to drift off without nightmares, and I always felt safe curled up next to you.

I don’t know what the future holds. Sometimes everything seems so inconsequential in our line of work, the constant stream of misery. But there’s always a ray of hope, I’ve learned, beaming through those dark clouds like a ray of sunlight. So I live with optimism, and expect better days. And maybe you’ll be there in those better days.

It was signed simply with your name.

-----

Sonny didn’t see you aside from a handful of times in the precinct, and you looked past him as if he didn’t exist. He was exhausted and heart-sore and hopeless, but a college classmate was getting married in Jersey, so he took a long weekend and went to that. Maybe filet mignon and an open bar could help him heal.

He skipped the ceremony outright. He normally loved weddings, crying with the best of them, but he didn’t have the heart to watch two people commit themselves to each other. He had wanted that with you. He turned up to the reception early, some swanky country club that probably cost thousand of dollars a year in membership fees. He found his seat at a table jammed into the corner, and then he scanned the rest of the tables place cards for familiar names. And saw yours.

His stomach dipped to see it. No “and guest” after your name either. Sonny dreaded the day you turned up at the precinct with a ring on your finger or with a new last name. He knew now that he was out of the picture, it was only a matter of time. But for now, at least, you seemed to be flying solo.

You were three tables over from his. Since he was early, he grabbed a beer from the bar and went to explore the grounds. He found a quiet spot near the tennis courts, and he sat and drank his beer while he reminisced.

-----

You and Sonny had attended one wedding while you were together. It was his best friend from high school, and you’d been sweetly shy as he introduced you to all of his friends (and an ex-girlfriend) from his youth. You’d been nervous but eventually relaxed, laughing and dancing and begging everyone for their most embarrassing Sonny stories, and everyone was all too happy to oblige. You fit in immediately, as he assumed you would.

You only got cranky during the garter and bouquet toss, and you refused to go to the floor when the rest of the unmarried women went out there. Afterwards, when Sonny drove you both back to the hotel, you gave him an earful about stupid wedding traditions.

“So you’d never want to get married then?” he asked as he keyed the hotel room door open and held it for you.

“A wedding and a marriage are completely different things,” you pointed out, and you poked him in the middle of his chest to drive it home.

“So you’d never want to have your new husband sit you in the middle of a dance floor, all eyes on you, as he removed the garter from your leg to some sexy song?” he asked, and as he did, he hooked his own hand under the hem of your skirt and trailed it up over your knee before letting it drift to the inside of your thigh.

Your breath hitched in your chest, and you leaned into his touch. “That sounds terrible. Is my new grandma-in-law watching?”

“She is,” he replied. He leaned in to whisper in your ear. “And she highly suspects that you claimed her innocent grandson’s virginity before you were married. So she already thinks the worst about you.”

You huffed against him as you laughed. “I’ll have to set her straight at the next family holiday dinner.”

He walked you backwards until you were forced to sit on the edge of the bed, and he knelt in front of you. He spread his hand under the skirt of your dress, grasping the soft flesh of your inner thigh and letting his fingertips graze dangerously close to his target.

“I don’t think the garter goes that high, Dominick,” you said, and your voice had a strained quality to it.

“Hmm,” he said, and he pulled his hand away. “Maybe your new husband would be drunk. Too many shots on the party bus. Nervous because it was a big day.” He pushed your skirt up slowly, slowly. He glanced up and saw you watching him from under your heavy eyelids. “Maybe he’d embarrass you by trying to pull the garter off of you with his teeth.”

You had laughed at that, but it was cut short when he pressed his mouth to the inside of your knee, and before long, as his mouth trailed higher and higher, you were moaning and then gasping and then eventually screaming his name.

-----

Sonny finished his beer and then dragged his feet back towards the reception, but it was already crowded, so he took his seat. He craned his neck and saw you, or your back, at least. You were in a blue dress, and judging by the way your neck was bent and your shoulders slumped, you weren’t have a great time either.

He got through dinner, and he braced himself with more beers, only going to the bar after you’d gone. He didn’t want to ruin the evening for you by running into you.

But you’d obviously noticed him at some point. He was sitting alone at his table as everyone else danced or mingled, and he saw you approach him in the now-dark reception hall. You granted him a tight smile and then held out a fresh bottle of beer, which he accepted.

“Can I sit?” you asked, and Sonny pulled out the chair beside him for you. You settled in and turned to give him that same, tight smile.

“How are you?” he asked after a moment, and you shrugged.

“Okay. Tired. It was a long week.” You glanced at him. “You know how it is.”

He nodded. “It’s never-ending.”

You both sat in silence and watched the dancing for a while. “Amanda came to my office,” you finally said, and Sonny flinched.

“I didn’t tell her to…” he started, but you waved him off.

“I know.” You sighed. “I’m sorry I made an assumption, Sonny.”

He turned to face you, and he was pained by how sad you looked. “I know why you made the assumption.” He shook his head. “I screwed up so much and…”

“Stop.” You laid a hand on his arm tentatively, and Sonny tried to ignore how it felt to have you touch him, even through his suit jacket and shirt underneath it. “No more of that.”

He just stared at you, completely unsure what to do. You looked back at him. Finally, you turned to watch the dancing, but you shifted your hand until it was grasping his. He turned his palm so that he could properly hold your hand, and you both sat like that for a few songs.

“What song do you think they’ll play for the garter removal?” he asked.

You snorted. “I think the bigger question is, ‘is the groom drunk enough to try removing it with his teeth?’”

“Only if his judgmental grandmother is watching.” He turned to look at you, and you had a dreamy look on your face, like you were remembering that time in the hotel after his friend’s wedding. After Sonny had gone down on you, you’d had sex – or more appropriately, made love. It had been languid and slow-paced, and as he had moved in you, it was the first time you said that you loved him. You had been slow to say it, so he had known that you meant it when you finally did.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked, pleading.

You only sighed. “I don’t want to talk, Sonny. I don’t want to think. I talk so much. I talk to clients and prosecutors all day. I think too much. I can never turn my brain off. I just want a good night’s sleep and no talking.” You squeezed his hand. “Can we do that instead and talk some other time?”

Sonny could only nod. His throat felt so tight that he thought he might cry if he tried to talk. You smiled at him, and you led him to your table so that you could grab your purse, and then you both left.

He was quiet in the car ride to your hotel, and quiet in the elevator, and quiet when you unlocked your door and threw the bolt when you shut it. He watched you wordlessly as you kicked off your shoes and removed your earring and necklace. Then he watched as you sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him.

“Is this okay, Sonny?” you asked softly, and he nodded again. He kicked his own shoes off and shed his suit jacket and tie and belt. He hesitated a moment.

“Do you want to put your pajamas on?” he asked, and you laughed lightly.

“You should know better than anyone that I don’t wear pajamas in the summer.”

He felt a stirring below the belt but willed it away. “You want my t-shirt?”

You thought about it and then said yes, so when you were finally settled in the bed together, you were in his t-shirt and your panties, and he was in his boxer briefs. And it, oddly enough, wasn’t sexy – but it was intimate. There was some clumsy moments, but you eventually settled into a familiar position: each of you on your side, facing each other, heads close and knees touching.

You peered at him in the darkness. “Is this too weird? I thought maybe it might be weird. I wanted to talk to you, but didn’t really want to talk, but then I thought it’d be strange to pretend like I didn’t see you…” You sighed and paused. “I don’t know how to handle this, Sonny. We broke up and didn’t see each other for a year, and then you wrote me a letter and I wrote a letter, and then Amanda came to see me, and I don’t know what to do or think…”

“This isn’t weird,” he said with a shake of his head. “I missed this.” His voice broke on the final word, and he shut his eyes to keep from tearing up. “And you’re overthinking – I’m yours. That’s all I want to be. We can talk later, but that’s all that really matters to me. I’m yours.”

He felt your hand reach up and stroke his head, soothing him in that way you had. He had missed your touch, and it had been so long that it felt decadent to have you dragging your nails against his scalp as you hummed at him.

He reached up and stilled your hand, then pressed it to his mouth. Then he pulled you to him, holding you tight and just reveling in the moment. He didn’t press his luck – he didn’t talk anymore, and he didn’t try to escalate it your touching to anything sexual. He wrapped his arms around you, and you sighed contently and hugged him back, and you both fell asleep like that. Sonny, remembering your letter, hoped that you felt safe in his arms, and that any dreams you had were sweet ones.

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #tropes and tales

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scmg11 · 2 years

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CHARLIE WATSON x READER

FIXING YOU (PART 4)

A/N: HELLO HELLO HELLO! Here's, by popular demand, Fixing You Part 4! I hope you enjoy it 😉

Sending love ❤️

Summary: Y/N and Charlie have an interesting meeting on the cliff. Then they have revenge and get chased down by the police. Then something happens that leads them into an intriguing talk (or so).

Warnings: just heavy kissing.

Word count: 6533 words.

"We’re almost there." Charlie announced as she took a turn to the left and slowed down the car, her smiling face scrunching up in a confused expression when she noticed far too many people on her always deserted spot. It wasn’t exactly her own but normally she was the only one there, no one ever came up here, so it considered it a special place. But it seemed like now a lot of people hung around this place too.

"What’s happening?" Y/N asked bemused, her eyes sweeping around the cliff full of people, before settling them on the brunette sporting the same expression.

"I don’t know. Usually no one comes here. I thought no one knew about this place."

The two opened the car doors and exited the vehicle, slowly approaching a group of people hyping up someone they were surrounding in a circle. "Is this a new trend? Partying on cliffs?"

"I don’t think so." Charlie drawled her words while suspiciously trying to see who was in the middle of the group not too far from them.

"C’mon Tripp! You can do it!" A boy screamed as the group opened up and a shirtless Tripp came into vision, screaming and jumping up enthusiastically.

"Oh great, it’s the douchebag that decided to take his shirt off at the pier just because he has abs." Y/N scoffed with a roll of her eyes, annoyance clear in her voice as she eyed the boy up and down in disgust. "I have abs too but I’m not showing them around just because I have them like him." While Y/N was too busy sending daggers towards Tripp with her head shaking side to side in disapproval, Charlie’s eyes involuntarily settled on Y/N’s clothed abdomen, causing her stomach to flutter wildly at the too many, not completely innocent, images flooding her mind.

"Hey, I know you." Charlie was pulled out of her dirty mind when Tripp walked towards her, "you were in the diving team. You were good." Charlie tried with all herself to keep her blank, emotionless face on as she kept at bay her emotions, her memories immediately going to her dad, all the while trying not to punch Tripp in the face. "Wanna have a competition? The first who dives in the ocean first wins."

Charlie couldn’t respond to him, her brain was busy spiraling out of control, but Tripp didn’t seem to mind, he just plainly turned around and high-fived one of his dumb friends who howled in enthusiasm. She started to back away from all of that but was stopped by Bumblebee that opened the car door and pushed her forward, turning up the radio volume to let her hear ‘you got the touch, you got the power’. Her chest started to heave wildly as she tried with all herself to breath normally, but it seemed a pretty difficult task when panic was raising up fast. "Charlie? Everything okay?"

"Hey you, are you ready?" When Charlie stayed put, her furrowed, troubled expression only deepening a lot more, Tripp scoffed and shook his head with such an annoying smirk on that Y/N wanted to erase it from his stupid face with a big punch, "I knew you were a weirdo." And then he just started running and jumped down the cliff and diving into the ocean below, with his stupid friends and everyone else gathered there cheering him loudly.

"Let’s go Charlie." Y/N grabbed Charlie’s arm to pull her out of her mind, meeting her eyes when she finally got her attention and nodded towards Bumblebee, before releasing her bicep and walking into the yellow Beetle. Just before Charlie could drive away, Tina knocked on the car window and signaled Charlie to roll it down.

"Nice car. Where did you find it? In the junkyard?" Tina spoke up with an innocent face on, in the background her two idiots of friends laughed loudly at her joke, meanwhile Charlie stayed frozen with her hands on the steering wheel, looking into her eyes with a blank stare, and Y/N sent daggers towards the blonde as her anger boiled silently in her chest. "You should ask your dad to buy you a new car. Oh wait-" Tina’s clearly fake, sorry pout was what angered Y/N to no end, but when she laughed alongside her friends while Charlie just smiled humorlessly into space ahead of her, something possessed over Y/N, causing her to gaze at Charlie for a brief moment, before opening the car door and walking towards Tina.

"Oh wait Tina, there’s something on your face!" Y/N acted up really well, morphing her furious face into a worried one as she approached the still laughing blonde and her friends.

"Oh no no no! What is it?" Tina asked alarmed as soon as she saw Y/N’s expression, meanwhile Charlie kept looking at the scene in an eerie silence, her eyebrows slightly furrowed at the sudden worry Y/N was showing towards Tina.

"Bee, start the engine." Y/N whispered to Bumblebee right before she rounded him and approached Tina, the yellow beetle doing what Y/N asked and causing Charlie to look at him suspiciously, before focusing her attention back on Y/N now right in front of a frightened Tina. "Don’t move." Y/N drawled her words, her eyes moving quickly all over Tina’s face then lifting her ice cream up to inspect it too. "You have something on your face."

"Oh my god, where?!" Tina asked alarmed, trying to be as still as possible as Y/N kept examining her face quietly.

"Right here." And then Y/N, in a swift motion slammed Tina’s ice cream right into her face and clothes, and while the blonde was busy gasping and screaming at the sudden move, Y/N jumped over Bumblebee’s hood and slipped into the passenger seat, "Bumblebee, go go go!" And then the robot speed away in reverse, splashing some mud on Tina’s clothes, causing her screams to increase in volume, before swiveling quickly and hurrying away from the cliff.

Charlie was still sit frozen in her seat, looking ahead with her mouth hung open and her arms now right beside her thighs. "What the hell just happened?"

"I just slapped some ice cream into Tina. She deserved it, if not more. But I didn’t want to punch her in the face and then have to fight everyone around me. I would have easily won, but why waste energy with a bitch like her, am I right?" Y/N asked with an airy laugh, tilting her head towards the brunette and finding her with her eyes brimming with tears looking right back at her. "Are you okay?"

Charlie didn’t answer her, she just jumped into Y/N’s arms and hugged her tightly, letting a few tears escape her eyes and sniffling quietly into Y/N’s neck. "Thank you so much."

"You don’t have to thank me, Char. She needs to stop harassing you for no apparent reason. You’re too kind to tell her to fuck off or punch her in her stupid face, so that’s where I take over." Y/N joked with a proud nod of her head when they pulled away from the hug, basking in the gentle giggle Charlie emitted, before boldly kissing her left cheek, still riding some adrenaline from standing up for the brunette.

"You are amazing." Charlie kissed her cheek back, very close to her mouth, and lingered her lips there a few seconds before cuddling into her and enjoying the view that passed by them. "Hey, Bee. Slow down a bit, let’s enjoy this amazing sight." Charlie looked at the steering wheel watching their speed decrease steadily, not noticing that Y/N was staring at her as she murmured a soft, ‘yeah, beautiful’.

"Okay, we have eggs and paper toilet. Ready?" Y/N asked as she balanced everything on one hand to close Bumblebee’s door, right before he morphed into his robotic form, and walking towards the waiting brunette.

"Bee, when you are upset with someone, you hung toilet paper on their trees and house and throw some rotten eggs on their cars to have some revenge. Here look." Y/N handed Charlie a toilet paper roll and watched her threw one perfectly on a three, totally ignoring her bicep standing up from the exertion and passing another toilet paper roll to Charlie. "Wanna try?"

Bumblebee nodded enthusiastically and accepted with what Y/N and Charlie considered an excited smile a toilet paper roll, before throwing it with definitely too much strength past Tina’s house. "Wait Bee-" Bumblebee was too ecstatic to hear Y/N, so he simply grabbed the whole toilet paper package and threw it on Tina’s house, a few rolls descending all over the roof, the others piling down in front of her entrance and front yard. Y/N and Charlie laughed quietly at Bumblebee’s clumsiness but nodded at his work of art. "Nice job buddy."

"Okay now the eggs." Charlie opened the carton and offered the first one to Y/N, who happily grabbed one and threw it on Tina’s new car.

"M’lady." Y/N grabbed the egg cartoon from Charlie’s hands to let her throw a few eggs too, before it got snatched from her hands by the robot and watched with her mouth open in shock Bumblebee walking towards Tina’s car and slamming 20 eggs on her car, then spreading them nicely with his hands all over the roof. "Oh my god!"

"Shit!" Y/N and Charlie tried to laugh as quietly as they could while watching Bumblebee ruin Tina’s car, before staring in stupor at the yellow robot when he started punching the car and smashing it with too much enthusiasm caused by their approving laughs. Tina’s car’s alarm blared up loudly and a few lights could be seen being switched on from the loud noise into the house, so Y/N and Charlie ducked down behind a few bushes and signaled for Bumblebee to join them to hide, but the yellow beetle turned Tina’s now completely ruined car to its right side and ducked down. "No Bee, come over here!"

Bumblebee quickly morphed back into a car and both girls swiftly entered the vehicle before speeding away from Tina’s house a second before the blonde could open her front door and notice the complete mess that was her front yard. "Holy shit! That was exciting!"

"Hell yeah! Fuck she almost caught us." Charlie screamed in enthusiasm, slapping Y/N’s shoulder gently as their chest heaved wildly from too much adrenaline. "Bee good shot buddy!" Charlie laughed loudly alongside Y/N when Bumblebee honked two times and speed up.

"You can slow down now, Bee." Y/N had just finished her sentence when blue and red lights appeared out of nowhere and the sound of the police siren echoed around the otherwise silent road. "Fuck!"

"Bee, slow down." Charlie repeated the Y/H/C girl’s words alarmed, looking behind her to see a police car chasing after them. "Bee! Holy shit!" Charlie screamed in panic when she noticed the yellow beetle was far from slowing down, just speeding up more, trying to obviously loose the police.

"Oh no, no. Holy fucking shit, no!" Y/N breathed out anxiously, not really wanting to go in jail because a stupid robot from outer space didn’t stop as required in this situation. "Charlie, what are we gonna do?!"

"Well we can definitely not stop now. They would ask too many questions." Charlie tried to reason even if her mind was spinning out of control, too much occupied with freaking out about police chasing after them. "Oh my god, Bee!" Charlie screamed in panic when she saw a car coming right at them, but a second before they could crash into it, Bumblebee decided to use the wall as a road, speeding up enough to drive upside down, their fastened seats belts preventing Y/N and Charlie to fall down onto the car roof.

"Holy shit this is so cool!" Y/N marveled at the crazy situation she got into, before widening her eyes when she noticed a barrier not too far away from them, grabbing instinctively Charlie’s hand and squeezing it for dear life, "Bee! The barrier!"

The yellow beetle promptly descended from the wall and resumed driving on the road, making the two girls sigh out of relief but never letting the other’s hand go. "Oh no! Bee there’s an interruption for roadworks! Bee the cars!" Charlie closed her eyes and clasped hard Y/N’s hand, only for her brown irises to open curiously when she noticed her seat belt got unfastened and she started shifting in her seat. "Oh shit." Bumblebee was half morphed into his robotic self as he tried to fit between the roadworks and the car in front of them, all the while moving Y/N’s and Charlie’s seats and causing them to be extremely close to each other, their noses brushing together and their lips almost touching. Charlie had very little time to notice YN’s free hand laid on her left boob, but when she tried to act on pure instinct to close that small gap between their lips, Bumblebee returned to his yellow beetle form and lost the police that stopped at the roadworks while they exited the tunnel. The two girls sat in silence, processing what just happened with the whole being chased by the police and the almost kiss that happened. Y/N hoped with all herself that Charlie didn’t notice her hand on her chest. She didn’t purposefully put her hand on her boob, but when Bumblebee moved them, the limited space and them squished together forced her hand to stay there. She could have removed it, but she couldn’t. She was too much shocked from the fact that she was actually groping Charlie Watson while also being a breath away from kissing her during a police chasing to actually move. But, alas, the moment, as short as it was, ended too soon for both girls’ likings.

"Hey, do you wanna stay here tonight? I have too much adrenaline that I think I won’t be able to sleep." Charlie asked after a minute of being sat in silence in the car, Bumblebee now safely parked in her garage.

"S-sure! I just need to go to my house to tell my mom about it and grab a few things for the night." Y/N noticed her voice was a few octaves lower than usual but she told herself it was due to her screaming in fright from Bumblebee’s dangerous ride and not for something else. They both exited the car and when Y/N started her walk to get out of the garage and go to her house, Charlie stayed put, wringing her hands nervously. The wanted to all herself to follow the girl, not wanting to stay away from her for too long, but she didn’t know if Y/N wanted to be alone for a little bit, so she stood frozen on her spot. When Y/N was almost out of the garage, she turned around and pointed the exit with her head, a small, shy smile gracing her beautiful features. "What are you doing there? Let’s go!"

Charlie mentally slapped herself at the dumb, big grin Y/N’s words triggered as she walked towards Y/N and followed her into her house. "Hello Miss Y/L/N." Charlie waved her hand shyly after Y/N asked her mom if she could stay at her house and pointed at her behind herself.

"Oh dear, call me Sharon. Go have fun on your sleepover. Oh and Charlie, keep her away from troubles, she kinda has a pull to them." Y/N’s mom cracked a joke, causing a small laugh to leave the brunette’s lips as Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"I will, don’t worry. It was nice meeting you." Charlie nodded at Y/N’s mom and was ready to follow Y/N out of her house when they were stopped right before they were walking out of the door.

"I’m leaving tomorrow morning, but when I come back you should totally stay for dinner."

"It would be a pleasure."

"Okay, call me when you arrive mom. I love you." Y/N turned around and walked back towards her mom to hugged her tightly once again while Charlie watched with her chest warming up at the cute moment the two were having, a gentle smile settling on her lips. "Let’s go."

As soon as they entered Charlie’s house, they grabbed something to eat and walked into Charlie’s room, Y/N going into the bathroom to change into her pjs, that consisted in grey shorts and a worn out black t-shirt, Charlie wearing just the same with her black shorts and white tee, before settling on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. "That was- something."

"It was amazing but frightening. Holy shit, did you see when Bumblebee started driving on the ceiling?! I never though it was possible. I spent the whole time thinking we would have crushed somewhere, but we didn’t! And when he shrank to drive between the roadworks and the cars on the other side?! Amazing!"

Charlie chuckled at Y/N’s cute rambling, her chest fluttering at the adorable sight before deciding to be a bit bolder and bring up Y/N groping her. "You grabbed my boob."

"What?" Y/N’s tried, but she was sure she failed, to prevent her eyes to widen too visibly at the sudden statement, but Charlie took her by surprise by acknowledging the fact that she grabbed her boob in the car and she definitely notice, because of course she noticed.

"Don’t play dumb. I’m not mad." Charlie hoped that with her gentle smile she was easing some of Y/N’s nerves, but even though the girl was finding that sight so cute, nothing would ever help her relax when she got caught with her slip up.

"I’m so sorry! It wasn’t intentional. Bumblebee moved us too quickly and I obviously wasn’t expecting it, so when I moved my hand instinctively to prevent to fall off the seat, we were so close that my hand laid on your chest. I’m so so so sorry." Charlie nibbled on her bottom lip to subdue the big grin starting to form from Y/N’s adorable rambling she seemed to have set off with just a few words but couldn’t help the fluttering in her stomach at the memory of the feeling the Y/H/C girl’s hand sparked when it laid on her boob.

"Would you still be sorry if it was intentional?" Charlie asked boldly, not really knowing where the fuck she found this cheeky courage, but she sure as hell was going to take advantage of it as she reveled in the hard blush adorning the girl’s cheeks.

"I-I-I’m sorry, w-what?" Y/N cursed herself for stuttering, but how could she ask her brain to function properly when the brunette asked that kind of questions?

"Would you still be sorry if you grabbed my boob intentionally?"

Y/N knew what Charlie was doing, she was flirting. Normally, she would have flirted back, making the girl blush furiously before kissing her, but this was not the case. It was the other way around (minus the kiss). Charlie was reducing her into a stuttering, blushing mess with just a few teasing words, words that normally would have fueled her to flirt back and to act on them quickly. Y/N then stopped a moment to consider her options here. She could just crack a joke and make Charlie change the subject, but she seemed to be incapable of doing that. She didn’t want to change to subject. She wanted to talk about how good it felt to touch Charlie in that way and how much she wanted to do that again, intentionally this time. The intense stare Charlie was regarding her with, her brown eyes full of expectation and determination, their close proximity that somehow reduced when Y/N was too lost in her brain to notice, their hands almost touching and the comforting warmth emanating off Charlie, made Y/N come to a decision and spoke with a soft, whispered tone, "no."

"I’m sorry, what was that?" Charlie heard Y/N perfectly, her room was completely silent save for their soft breaths, but she just wanted Y/N to repeat that simple, single word that elicited so many emotions all at once Charlie almost felt overwhelmed and hoped she got them at bay enough to not be heard in her voice.

"No." Y/N repeated louder this time, staying put as she boldly leaned her hand on Charlie’s soft one and held their eye contact with such resolve, she almost amazed herself at her cheekiness.

"Would you do that again, right here, right now?" Charlie licked her dry lips after speaking up with her voice an octave lower and a bit trembling, anticipation already eating up at the pit of her stomach as she fidgeted almost imperceptibly in her spot for Y/N’s answer.

"Yes. But I would like to kiss you before that." The world then stopped for both of them, too busy to freak out in their minds to notice how their faces burned from their scorching blushes and their hands subconsciously entwined.

They let their loud, heavy breaths fill the silence as their hearts beat wildly in their ribcage, so much that the two girls were sure the other could hear their heartbeat. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Y/N felt her mind spin out of control at that validating question, but she got quickly brought back on earth when Charlie’s hand squeezed hers gently as her eyes sparkled with affection and willpower. With a grounding breath, Y/N slowly closed the gap between them, so happy that Charlie met her halfway, conveying even more how much she also really wanted that kiss to happen. Their lips moved over one another like they finally found the missing piece to their puzzles, slotting over slowly to really appreciate that moment, savoring and drinking the other up like they had been thirsty all their lives and had finally found their yearned water. Sadly, when air was necessary they reluctantly pulled away, not before sharing one more sweet peck, and leaned their foreheads together as they breath the other in contentedly, their overflowing happiness proven by their bright smiles etched on their a bit swollen mouths. "Would it be too cliché if I told you that that kiss was the best I’ve ever had?"

"Not at all. That was earth shattering." Charlie sighed out dreamily, letting wild butterflies fly around in her stomach as their noses brushed together and their lips ghosted over each other.

"You flatter me, Watson."

"Don’t get too cocky Y/LN, or that will be our first and last kiss." Charlie countered back with a fond roll of her eyes but the small smile on her red lips told Y/N she was only teasing.

"I don’t believe you one bit." Y/N argued, her smug grin broadening when she leaned their bodies impossibly closer and heard Charlie let out a soft gasp. "I’m sure that you will resist less than a minute before caving in for my kisses."

"Pft, please. You are getting too confident about your kissing skills." Charlie fought against every cell in her body to not surrender for Y/N’s teasing antics, wanting to at least prove to the girl that she wasn’t that disperate to kiss her - she totally was -.

"I’m not. I just like to ready body reactions to certain things and my closeness is making you fidget. When I lean just that tad bit so our lips almost touch, you gasp almost imperceptibly-" Y/N explained slowly, drawing each word with a tone an octave lower than usual, "and when I pull away you sigh softly and bit on your bottom lip." Y/N’s Y/E/C irises followed the movement of Charlie’s teeth sinking sinfully on those full, soft lips, craving with all of her being to replace the brunette’s teeth with her own.

C’mon Watson, flirt back. You can do it. "Well, it’s not like you’re composed and completely not affected by my kisses and body too. I can see your chest heaving profoundly and I bet my favorite wrench that if I do this-" Y/N gasped loudly when Charlie leaned down and bit softly on Y/N’s bottom lip, releasing it a few seconds later, but staying in close proximity to Y/N’s mouth, "you will gasp out loud." Charlie’s bright grin would have been the most cute thing that Y/N had ever seen if it wasn’t from the growing arousal and the unbearable need to kiss Charlie again clouding her mind with lust. But she can’t relent now. She wants Charlie to cave in first. She was almost sure she was going to win, but the next thing Charlie did made Y/N putty in her hands as she forced a loud moan from her, "and I’m pretty sure that if I do this-" Charlie boldly slipped her hand slowly caressing the girl’s spine down and grasp her ass hard, causing their bodies to flush together and their noses to bump slightly, while triggering a wail out of Y/N’s throat as her body completely surrendered to the brunette’s teasing, not even mad about how thin her resolve was around the brown eyed girl, "hm, I though you would have whimpered under your breath, but holy shit that moan was the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard."

"Shit Charlie, kiss me now."

"So I won."

"I don’t fucking care right now, all I care about is I want your lips on mine again, right in this moment." Y/N almost shouted in pure, raw need, keeping her voice as quiet as possible without waking up Charlie’s parents.

The brunette hummed happily as she brushed their lips together, her hand never stopping her soft and slow kneading, "I need to hear it."

"Charlie, I swear-"

"Say it." Charlie smug smirk was irritating Y/N to no end. She wanted those lips now.

"You fucking won. Now come here." Y/N sneaked her left hand around Charlie’s neck to bring their lips together in a bruising, fervent kiss as the other followed its own mind and slipped under Charlie’s tee to grab her bra-free boob and grasp it forcefully, both moaning delighted into the kiss as their blood boiled over with scorching arousal.

"Fuck." Charlie whispered out after they detached their lips with their lungs screaming for fresh hair, their wandering hands still clasped greedily around their bodies and never stopping their unrelenting movements.

"Yup, I’m not sorry about this." Y/N nodded in a daze as her eyes strayed from the almost black, brown pools and followed the kneading of her hand from over Charlie’s tee, shivers invading her body when a pebbled nipple brushed delightfully over her palm. Suddenly Y/N stopped her movements altogether and regarded Charlie with a soft, worried expression. "Is this okay?"

Charlie groaned in response at Y/N stopping her wonderful ministrations and from the kind, thoughtful question, "of course. This is perfect." Charlie whispered out with a soft smile, kissing Y/N gently on her lips before moving her hand caressing the girl’s neck to grasp her free hand gently, "in fact, I was thinking about you could do this." Charlie’s cheeky smirk flitted over her features as she pushed Y/N’s other hand under her t-shirt and laid it on her neglected breast, wailing under breath at the new sensations resulted.

"Holy fucking shit." Y/N was speechless in front of Charlie’s boldness, but she would lie if the said she wasn’t loving it. Moving her hand and arm to try to be as comfortable as she could, she tentatively massaged Charlie’s soft mound, watching with rapt attention her contracted abdomen from where her shit rode up due to both of her hands under it, but before she could match her other’s hand tempo, Charlie pushed them gently so she was lying on her back with Y/N straddling her hips, now both of the brunette’s hands slipped under her pants and grasping her ass greedily.

"Mh, now this is so much better."

"Indeed, babe." They both giggled despite their hands placements before diving right back in and resumed their kissing, switching between languid, slow kisses and frantic, needy ones. They never went past soft kneading and hard kissing, basking in their lustful but gentle bubble and not rushing anything. They still met about a week prior and they had their first kiss around an hour ago, they just gave in their lust and allowed touches to become more daring and their kisses to be deeper and needier, but they didn’t do anything that felt rushed. After slowing down, sharing just a few soft, gentle pecks and their hands in more appropriate places, they giggled gently at the crazy day they had and how wonderfully it ended, leaning over to slip their tongues into their mouths and kiss lazily. They jumped apart in fright not too long after when they heard the doorknob of Charlie’s bedroom door creak loudly in the silent room and put a great amount of distance between them just in time for a sleepy Sally to come into view.

"Oh Charlie you’re back." She squinted her eyes in the dim lit room, only illuminated by the Charlie’s nightstand lamp, and smiled at Y/N when she spotted her beside Charlie. "Oh Y/N, you’re here too."

"Is it okay if she stays here tonight?" Charlie asked shyly, her face sporting a crimson color for being almost caught making out with Y/N in her bed by her mom.

"Of course honey. Have fun girls and don’t stay up too late, okay?"

"We won’t mom."

"Goodnight Sally." Y/N finally found her voice as she smiled towards Charlie’s mom but not daring to meet her eyes because she was sure she would combust from too much embarrassment.

"Goodnight girls." And then Sally closed the bedroom door and both Y/N and Charlie let out loud breaths of relief, before bursting out laughing.

"Oh shit she almost walked in on us!"

"That would have been so embarrassing." Charlie spoke between soft giggles, her face hiding into Y/N’s neck as the girl engulfed her in her arms and flushed their bodies together.

"Are you kidding me? If she came a few minutes earlier she would have walked in on me groping your boobs in your bed. I would have fled the country to prevent her to kill me." Y/N looked in fright in the distance at the image and shivered wildly as she tried to get rid of those scenarios.

"How dramatic. My mom would have never done that. She accepts my sexuality and even if she would have made us a speech in the middle of the night about being careful and to be 100% sure to have sex, she would have been totally okay. She likes you."

"Wait really?"

"Yeah, she actually told me that yesterday. She thinks you are, and I quote, ‘a sweetheart. She is a good influence on you, young lady’."

"Wow, I’m honored really." Y/N felt her stomach flutter at this new information as a small shy smile flitted over her lips, "and about the whole speech about sex in the middle of the night? Were you serious?"

"Yeah." Charlie snorted at the widened eyes Y/N sported at her admission, "she actually did that when she caught me kiss a girl a last year. It was only one kiss and when I was in the car with her she totally went with ‘Charlie remember, always be careful. Sex is a really important step in life’ and I stopped her right away telling her it was only one simple kiss. I didn’t even see that girl again."

"Oh my god that would have been hilarious to watch." Y/N could picture perfectly a red faced Charlie in the car with her mom talking about sex.

"Don’t tell me. I think she just thought I spent my summer at summer camp having sex with that girl."

"I mean, did you?" Y/N cursed herself under her breath for letting her jealous side take over and ask that stupid question, but Charlie’s small, delighted smile told her she didn’t overstep a line.

"No. I spent my entire summer pining over her. And when I was ready to leave, dejected that I was too much of a chicken to ask her out, she came up to me and kissed me. Then my mom arrived. Brief but intense relationship." Charlie quipped, causing a soft snort to leave Y/N as she shook her head at the girl’s joke.

"Speaking of- uhm- relationships- w-would- I mean, you can say no- we can always wait- but- what I’m trying to s-say is-"

"Yes, it would be an honor to be your girlfriend." Charlie interrupted Y/N’s adorable rambling with a dazzling kiss before whispering her answer on her lips.

"Oh well, I was just trying to ask you out on a date, but I’m definitely liking this better." Y/N felt her stomach do somersaults at the inebriating giggle leaving Charlie and a smile flitted over her lips as she gazed down and into brown irises.

"You’re a dork."

"This dork is now your girlfriend miss Watson."

"And I’ve never felt so happy about something."

"Good morning family!" Charlie entered the kitchen with Y/N right behind her, sporting a wide smile and kissing each one of the three occupants of the table on their heads, before grabbing two pop tarts and pushing Y/N out of the kitchen and towards the garage, the girl waving and bidding Charlie’s family goodbye before entering the garage and closing the door.

"Is she on drugs?" Otis asked in a still shocked haze at her sister entrance, getting out of it when her mom slapped softly the back of his head with a fond sigh.

Y/N didn’t have time to turn around after closing the door that her back immediately came in contact with the wooden surface and a pair of dizzying lips wrapped over her own in a fierce, deep kiss. "Hi." Charlie whispered after pulling away, smiling shyly at Y/N, her cheeks tinted in a rosy hue and her teeth nibbling on her a bit swollen bottom lip.

"Hello to you too." The two girls stared into the other’s eyes intensely, their bottom lips trapped under their teeth to prevent their already big grins to broaden more, as their hands grasped at the other to almost make sure it was happening and it wasn’t a dream. Their staring contest was interrupted when they heard Bumblebee shift into his robotic form, causing them to focus their attention on him.

"Hey Bee."

"Hi buddy, sleep well?" The two spoke at the same time, noticing how the robot looked like he was glowing and smiling at them. "He saw, didn’t he?"

Then Bumblebee fumbled with the radio and a singing voice echoed around the room, "oh yeah!"

"Great!" Y/N chuckled at Bumblebee’s unique way to answer to question as she shook her head in amusement.

"Am I the only one who noticed that he is smiling at us?" Charlie asked inquisitively, eyeing Bumblebee’s robotic face and couldn’t understand how the hell was possible that he was grinning at them if his face was in an O shape. "He’s smiling at us." Charlie repeated as she shifted her gaze from Bumblebee to Y/N and asked silently if Y/N noticed it too, the girl nodding affirmatively as both focused their attention back on the yellow beetle.

Again, a shuffling sound bounced off the walls of the garage as the yellow robot found the words to answer to Charlie’s question, "I- am- happy- for you- two." A mix of different voices combined with a few sung words came out of Bumblebee, his answer immediately triggering big grins from the two girls, whose awed out loud at him and run up to engulf him in a hug, Bumblebee reciprocating the gesture right away.

"If I remember correctly, I promised you ice cream and churros."

"Yeah, I’m still waiting for you to make it up to me for your not-so-good joke."

Y/N hummed softly, walking closer to Charlie and sneaking her arms around the brunette’s waist to flush their bodies together, "I can think of a few different ways to make it up to you and they don’t necessarily involve ice cream and churros." Y/N wrapped her lips around Charlie’s ones languidly, her tongue slipping past them when she gasped at the sensual gesture and licking every angle of the girl’s mouth for just a few seconds before drawing back with labored breath.

"As much as tempting your proposal is, I really want a churro." Charlie kissed the adorable pout off Y/N’s face when that meant they had to stop kissing and smiled brightly at her, before her grin morphed into a cheeky one when her hands slid down her girlfriend’s ass and grasped it hard, "but we can always go somewhere where we can enact your proposal later." Charlie leaned down to kiss Y/N deeply, her tongue slipping past Y/N’s lips immediately, taking advantage of her slightly parted mouth, and both moaned delighted at the sensations the kiss sparked. "Let’s go before someone comes here and finds us making out with Bumblebee standing awkwardly beside us."

"That would be an hilarious but really difficult thing to explain." Y/N quipped, patting Bumblebee’s hood when the robot shifted into his beetle form, his doors already open for the two girls to enter the vehicle and honking softly to not startle Charlie’s family on the other room.

"Okay Bee, to the pier. Y/N is buying ice cream and churros!" Charlie excitedly told the robot, who just started driving and honked two times in enthusiasm.

"Just know that I want to treat you to a proper date too. Ice cream and churro seems too lame for a first date." Y/N turned her head around after a minute of enjoying the view passing by them to regard Charlie with a small, shy smile, her cheeks tinted with a slightly rosy color.

"I’m with you. It’s already perfect." Charlie admitted with a bashful grin, her eyes searching Y/N’s Y/E/C ones and staring into them deeply, conveying all her bottled up feelings.

"Cheesy, Watson. I liked it." Y/N leaned over Charlie to peck her lips softly, before sighing out happily and leaning away to bump their noses together cutely. Suddenly Y/N felt a force coming from her seat under herself that pushed her towards Charlie and caused her body to collide not-so-gently into the brunette’s one.

Charlie instinctively rounded her arms around her girlfriend’s body to stabilize her and smiled warmly down at her. "Easy there."

"I swear it wasn’t me. Bee!" Y/N detached her eyes from Charlie’s magnetic brown pools to reprimand the robot, who simply pushed her more into Charlie, causing a small squeal to leave Y/N’s mouth and a loud laugh to tumble out of Charlie’s throat.

"He knows too." Charlie spoke up after her giggles subsided a little, her tone suddenly serious, before her face erupted into a big grin and her brown irises stared affectionately at Y/N.

"Knows what?" Y/N asked curiously, wanting to know what he girlfriend meant with her serious tone as she nibbled her bottom lip from their inebriating proximity.

"That you belong into my arms."

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clinicallyinsanelovergirl · 2 years

Note

Hiiii it's the short anon again 👉👈 I LOVED the headcanons you gave about Henry with a short gf and now I wanna hear what you think of him being yandere/obsessive with her,, (if you're comfy writing about that! 🥺)

I saw I perfect opportunity to combine the two prompts, so here goes nothing! I hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Violence, cursing, Brenner being really creepy, unhealthy relationships dynamics

————————-

A steaming mug of coffee sat upon your desk. Your hands wrapped around the warm porcelain in order to stay warm. Your woolen cardigan was doing an awful job of keeping out the biting cold of the lab. A stack of files sat before you, yet your mind was too distracted to do any sort of work now.

You could barely move yourself from your chair, but you knew you had to. When Doctor Brenner asks to speak to someone, there’s no dodging that bullet. To put it plainly, you were fucked. Relationships between employees was heavily frowned upon here. Nurses and Orderlies alike disappeared after Brenner caught them in the act.

It wasn’t just the relationship between you and Peter that caused Brenner to reach out to you. Brenner saw that you were getting closer with a certain child. He made it clear that Eleven was his golden child. Anyone who began forming connections with her was a threat in his mind. The way he obsessed over her in his private time was strange. He would come by the hospital wing and pester the nurses about Eleven if she was in their care. But he never asked to speak with you one on one before.

Maybe you would finally be released from this sterilized hell. And you could take Peter with you. The two of you would move far away from Hawkins and live out your lives in some cottage on the edge of the woods. Maybe even start the bakery you dreamed about owning ever since you were a child. This would be your chance. Still, the thought of being one on one with Brenner made you uneasy.

Finally, you stood up from your chair and placed your mug back on your desk. As you crossed the small office to your door, you were surprised to see it opening. There stood Doctor Brenner with a unnervingly calm expression on his face. “Oh! Doctor Brenner I wasn’t expecting you here. I was just going to-” The Doctor just waved his hand as if to silence you. “I decided I would just meet you here. Come, take a walk with me.”

Wordlessly you joined the older man at his side and shut the door to your office. There was nothing you could say. All you could do was walk and bear the scolding you knew was in store for you. “I’ve heard rumors Dear…” The pet name the Doctor used for you made bile rise in your throat. You decided you would play dumb for now. There was something inside you the feared the consequences of your actions. Something told you that being fired wasn’t the only punishment you would be receiving.

“Rumors?” You try and mask the nervous tremor in your voice. A dark chuckle echoes through the empty hall. “Yes Dear. Rumors about you and Mister Ballard. To tell the truth, I don’t like what I’m hearing. But I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt.” His tone was gentle but his words were rather threatening.

The two came to a halt, Brenner reached out to the silver door handle. He stood there with the door open, motioning for you to go in. On the door a black sign read ‘Test Room 1’. It was an odd place to have a conversation, that was for sure. You softly thanked him as you walked in.

Standing before you were two orderlies dressed in their crisp white uniforms. What you didn’t see was the black batons hanging of their black belts at the ready. Seated in the corner of the room was another orderly, but he did not have the same weapon. “Doctor Brenner I don’t understand….what’s going on?”

The sound of the door locking shut echoed. You worried eyes fell upon the third blonde orderly that was seated in the far corner. For a moment a look of panic flashed over his features, but he quickly returned to his stone cold gaze. “As I said before. I have been hearing rumors. You’ve been sowing seeds of doubt in the children’s heads. You are causing problems.” You knew this wasn’t about the other children, this was all about Eleven.

One of the Orderlies that now flanked Doctor Brenner unclipped the baton that was hanging from his belt. “Have a seat.” It was more of a command than a suggestion. You took a seat on the hard-backed chair that was positioned to face away from the window. Your breathing trembled ever so slightly as the Orderlies grew closer to you. “You don’t care about the other children Brenner. So why pretend? This is all about Eleven.” You managed to find some sort of courage deep within you. It was rather satisfying to finally get your two cents in.

“You’re worried that maybe she might begin to-” That was when it happened. A searing pain went through your side. One of the men had hit you, and hit you hard. A cry of pain tore through your throat. Another hit was delivered to your chest causing you to scream once more.

“STOP THIS!” The two men looked up from you to see Peter practically barreling towards you. Brenner stood back and watched the scene unfold. He wasn’t planning to hurt you very badly, just enough to plainly see that Peter had a weakness. A sickening smirk curled onto the man’s aging lips. He motioned for the orderlies to step back to make room for Peter.

Peter almost immediately rushed to your side. He got to his knees so he could become eye level with you as you were sitting down. “Peter it hurts.” You whimpered to him. Your body still twitching with pain. “Sssh Sweetheart, it’ll be alright.” His tone was tender. At this point he didn’t care who was watching.

Peter stood back to his full height. His slipped his arms under your back and behind your knees before pulling you to his chest in a bridal style. Your soft sobs were muffled by Peter’s chest. You were in so much pain that it was a struggle to even keep your eyes open. He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead before looking up to Brenner.

The older man stood staring at the two of you with the same smirk on his face. Brenner had exactly what he wanted now. He practically held Peter on a leash with this new knowledge.

#henry creel #peter ballard #stranger things #henry creel x reader #001 #001 x reader #peter ballard x reader #vecna #henry/vecna/001 #jamie campbell bower

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taizi · 1 year

Note

If you’re still taking fic prompts, how about some good ol’ fashioned woodyangelo cos you write them so so well and I can never get enough of them both 💛

set in 2012 'verse, but the turtles are all different ages, like they are in rise <3

They weren’t sure about Woody at first. None of Mikey’s brothers were, it wasn’t just Leo.

The guy was just so… normal. He wasn’t thrown into their lives the way April and Casey both were. He didn’t prowl around dark alleys in the middle of the night, picking fights with crime lords and brain-shaped aliens in power mechs. His hobbies had absolutely nothing to do with sharp weapons or parkour.

So it just didn’t make sense. There was no common denominator. He had no stakes in the game. He could walk away from them at any time and upend their entire existence and it wouldn’t cost him anything. Just because he hasn’t yet doesn’t mean he won’t.

But it was a mistake to say as much to Mikey. ‘Mistake’ is putting it lightly.

Leo has absolutely never seen his littlest brother’s eyes turn so sharp. Mikey drew himself up like he was bracing himself for a knock-down, drag-out fight. It was like looking at a younger Raphael, except he burned hot, and apparently Mikey burned cold.

“You don’t like any of my friends,” Mikey said plainly. His arms were crossed and he wasn’t budging. “You call Mondo annoying right to his face, and you’re scared of Leatherhead because he’s stronger than you so you’re always weird and rude around him, and every time Renet comes to visit you look at her like you think she’s stupid. And I can tell, ‘cause it’s the same way you guys look at me.”

“Woah,” Donnie said, putting up his hands. His eyes were round and stunned. None of them had come into this conversation expecting it to spiral into an outright confrontation so fast. “We don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Sure,” Mikey said in a tone that made it sound like he was actually saying ‘yeah, right.’ His mouth was set in a firm line, brows drawn together under his mask. “So are you gonna tell me to stop hanging out with Woody? Is that what the point of this was?”

Originally? Yes. But Donnie was stricken, and Raph kept shooting sidelong stares at Leo that said Abort, Fearless, abort! as clearly as if he was shouting it. But more than that, it was the way Mikey was looking at him.

He looked like he was ready to get his feelings hurt, and it was the first time he’d ever looked at Leo like that in his entire life.

Leo was doing his best to lead the family without Splinter’s patient guiding hand, but there were days that he really struggled. Days that he’d give anything to see his father again, so he could ask for one more answer, one more moment of wisdom.

But he didn’t need anyone to tell him what the right answer was here.

“No, Angie,” Leo said quickly, the old nickname slipping out on its own. “I’m sorry I came at this so wrong. I just want you to be careful, okay? You know I—I worry.”

Mikey’s expression softened. Underneath the unfamiliar angry, defensive shell, he was still the sweet kid that brightened all of their days. He surged forward and Leo readily enveloped him in a snug hug, swaying him side-to-side in a playful way.

“It’s okay, Leo. I’m not very smart, but there are some things I know for sure. And I know Woody’s good.”

“Okay,” Donnie said, breaking up the hug with a brisk clap. Now he was the one who looked ready to go on a warpath. “We’re talking about that next. You are not stupid.”

“And I’m not scared of Leatherhead, that's dumb,” Raphael blurted, like he couldn’t go another second without saying it. So the Woody conversation quickly winged away in another direction, but they all ended up talking about things that needed talking about, and Leo soaked up their company the way other turtles basked in sunlight.

It would be easier if he could protect his brothers from every uncertainty and every stranger and every heartache, but doing that would sabotage all of the potentially good things, too. And Leo’s brothers deserved every good thing the world had to offer. What the world didn’t offer, Leo would take for them.

He still wasn’t sure about Woody—that hadn’t been cleared up at all—but he wasn’t going to deny Mikey anything that made him happy. Leo’s job as big brother and stand-in parent was to step in when things went wrong and make them right again. Until then, he would just pray they didn’t go wrong.

When Christmas Eve rolls around, the lair is packed. There’s music and cheesy Christmas movies and a rich spread of food. All of their friends make an appearance, even if they can’t stay. It’s so different from the Christmas celebrations of his childhood that it might as well be a scene from some alien planet. Splinter raised his sons with warmth and love, but he had been so alone in the world. Leo and his brothers are really lucky to have as many people to count among their family as they do.

He almost misses it entirely when Woody shows up. Maybe he would have, if Mikey hadn’t shouted out loud in pure glee. He watches his littlest brother jump down from Leatherhead’s shoulders and sprint across the lair at full ninja speed. Woody is laughing when they collide.

Leo isn’t close enough to hear their conversation over the noise of the party. Casey and Shinigami are doing karaoke now, for some godforsaken reason, and they could easily drown out everything else within a ten mile radius.

But he can see the brightness on both of their faces, the dimpled grin Woody’s wearing as he absorbs Mikey’s special brand of light, the easy, familiar way they lean into each other’s orbit.

They start to venture toward the kitchen, and like an act of gravity, Mikey’s closest friends peel away from the party to fall into step with them.

“—thought the movie tickets were my present!” Mikey is protesting, a big theatrical pout on his face. “The Force Awakens was amazing, and the theater was so cool!”

“The movie tickets were a red herring,” Woody replies. “My sister works there and it was really easy for her to get us in, especially because she’s been trying to get fired for weeks now. Your real present is actually in your house already. I had no idea how to get it down here by myself, so April and Karai helped me smuggle it in yesterday. I think they hid it in the pantry.”

Now it made sense why April has been guarding that particular corner of the kitchen so fiercely. Rockwell almost lost a hand when he went looking for some chips earlier. She tips her snowman-shaped mug at Woody in solidarity and he nods gravely back.

Leo is curious. He drifts over to join April when she moves over to stand just inside the doorway, propping up a wall. There’s a crooked smile on her face.

“You’ll want to see this,” she says, so certainly that Leo believes her.

The present, when they wrestle it out of the pantry and onto the kitchen island, is fairly big, and it’s easy to see how one skinny teenage boy would have struggled to get this into the tunnels by himself. Mondo immediately plucks the bow off the box and smacks it onto the top of his own head, because he’s—

Leo catches himself.

Because he’s a kid, Mikey’s age, mutated at fourteen years old and abandoned by his family and left to make his own way in the world. And maybe he’s annoying sometimes, but that’s not all he is.

“I’m a gift,” the gecko says proudly.

“To the world,” Renet and Woody say at the same time, utterly serious, and Mikey laughs.

He enlists Leatherhead’s help in unwrapping his present, because the metric ton of tape Woody used is no match for the alligator’s knife-point claws. Then all the paper comes off, and Mikey takes one look at what's underneath, and the smile falls right off his face.

It’s a KitchenAid Artisan stand mixer, in bright buttercup yellow, with a bunch of attachments included in the box. Leo stands a little taller, eyes narrow as he takes in the scene, trying to suss out what caused that expression on Mikey’s face.

He looks absolutely dumbfounded. He thumbs at a corner of the box like he’s making sure it’s real.

“It’s exactly the one I wanted,” Mikey says really quietly. He’s clearly overwhelmed. “I never said anything. How’d you know that?”

“C’mon, amigo, of course I knew,” Woody replies. He’s a little self-conscious now. “I had to do a lot of extra deliveries to save up for it. But I figured I had lots of Christmases to make up for. And I wanna be around for all the rest of them, too.”

Mikey sniffs, and then starts rubbing his eyes, his shoulders trembling.

“Aww, Mikey, nooo,” Renet says, sounding choked up, “if you cry I’m gonna, like, start bawling my eyes out! Please think of my eyeliner!”

“They don’t have waterproof makeup in the 79th Dimension?” Mondo asks judgmentally.

Leatherhead chuckles warmly, a low rumble that sounds more like a growl than laughter. He’s so laughably big he barely fits in their kitchen, but he fits. It has a lot to do with the way he smiles at Leo’s baby brother, like he knows exactly how special Mikey is.

All of Mikey’s friends look at him like that. Even Mondo, skating in circles around the kitchen island, is sort of grinning to himself.

“Can you stay the night?” Mikey asks wetly. “I’m gonna make homemade cinnamon rolls for breakfast with my new mixer.”

“Mikester,” Woody says, resting his weight on his elbows and leaning across the island to give Mikey his undivided attention, “I would literally rather die than miss your homemade cinnamon rolls.”

“Hard same,” Mondo adds.

Renet sighs, puts one arm around Mikey’s shoulders and the other around Leatherhead’s snout, tugs them both in really tight, and says, “This Christmas is one of my favorites. I come back to it all the time.”

“Stop trying to give me an existential crisis!” Woody demands, tossing a napkin at her. “I have enough of those on my own!”

Leo glances at April, and finds her already smiling back at him. The last stubborn guard around Leo’s heart folds, just like that. He gazes across the room at the ragtag little group his brother picked out for himself and realizes for the first time that he has a lot less to worry about than he thought he did.

Woody wasn’t forced into this subterranean life of secrecy and subterfuge and war. He could bail anytime he wanted and leave these abandoned subway tunnels behind for good, the way any normal person probably would, and there would be nothing that Leo could do to stop him.

He doesn’t have to stick around. Which makes it even more special that he’s still here.

And he looks at Mikey the way everyone who loves Mikey looks at him. Leo would know that look anywhere.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2k12 #woodyangelo #hamato michelangelo #hamato leonardo #woody dirkins #april o'neil #renet tilley #my writing #tmnt fic #prompt #anonymous

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