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pucksandpower · 19 days

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Live Like We Want To

Charles Leclerc x Wolff!Reader x Lewis Hamilton

Summary: there’s only one thing harder than keeping a relationship between two of the paddock’s most prominent figures hidden … keeping a relationship between three of the paddock’s most prominent figures hidden

Warnings: 18+ content

Based on this request

The drivers settle on the awkwardly shaped white couch, microphones clipped carefully to the collars of their shirts, waiting for the pre-race press conference to begin.

Lewis fiddles with his Mercedes cap, lost in thought. Lando and Daniel banter back and forth, Lando ribbing Daniel about his recent attempts to be artsy on Instagram and Daniel giving as good as he gets.

The moderator steps up to begin the press conference. After a few standard questions about the track and the upgrades the teams have brought, it’s time for the driver questions.

A reporter looks over at Lewis. “Lewis, you and Y/N seem very close lately. There’s been speculation you two might be dating. What do you say about that?”

Lewis opens his mouth but before he can respond, Daniel jumps in. “Oh come on, we all know Lewis is way too old for Y/N! She needs someone younger and spicier.” He winks at the camera.

Lando chuckles. “Too right, mate. Y/N deserves a fun guy who actually knows how to have a good time, not someone almost eligible for a senior discount.”

Lewis forces out a rehearsed laugh. “Hey now, I’m not that old!”

“Face it, the age gap is just too much. She needs someone closer to her own age, like me!” Lando says with a grin.

“You?” Daniel scoffs. “Please, Y/N needs a real man to show her a good time, not some baby-faced kid.”

“Who are you calling a kid?” Lando shoots back. “I’m mature for my age!”

Max, who has been quiet up until now, suddenly pipes up. “Actually, I think Y/N and I would make a great match ...”

The other drivers swivel their heads to look at him. “You?” Daniel says in disbelief.

“Why not?” Max shrugs. “We’ve got a connection.”

Lewis grits his teeth, struggling to stay quiet. He wants to tell them all to back off, that you’re taken. But he knows he can’t reveal the truth about your relationship, as much as it pains him to stay silent.

Lando laughs. “Mate, she’s way out of your league!”

“Oh yeah? I could get her if I wanted to,” Max says defensively.

Daniel grins and claps Max on the back. “Ooh, those are fighting words! You don’t stand a chance.”

Max crosses his arms. “Maybe she likes a bad boy. I’m more exciting than any of you.”

“Exciting? You?” Lando pretends to yawn. “All you ever think about off the track is sim racing! That’s not exciting, it’s dull.”

“Hey! Sim racing is very intense and takes a lot of skill,” Max says indignantly.

Lewis has finally had enough. “Alright guys, maybe we should change the subject. I’m sure Y/N can decide for herself who she wants to spend time with, without all of us bickering over her.”

Lando ignores Lewis and looks back at Max, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I bet I could get Y/N to go out with me before you can.”

“You’re so on!” Max says.

Daniel shakes his head. “Woah now, let’s leave the poor girl out of your competition. Especially since neither of you have a chance anyway.”

“Oh really? I suppose you think you’re the obvious choice?” Max says sarcastically.

“Obviously!” Daniel replies with a cocky grin.

As the three younger drivers continue with their posturing, Lewis pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. He catches the moderator’s eye and nods, signaling it’s time to move on.

The moderator clears his throat. “Alright, next question ...”

After the press conference ends, Lewis hurriedly gathers his things. As he’s walking out of the media center, Max catches up to him.

“No hard feelings about all that, mate?” Max says sheepishly.

Lewis musters up a smile. “Of course not. It was all in good fun.”

“Cool.” Max nods. “For what it’s worth, I don’t actually have a thing for Y/N. I was just messing around back there.”

“I know, I know,” Lewis says, clapping Max just a tad too hard on the shoulder before turning to go. Over his shoulder he calls out, “May the best man win!”

Max laughs and shakes his head as Lewis walks away.

Lewis enters the Mercedes garage and immediately spots you chatting with the engineers. His heart skips a beat like it always does when he sees you. A vision in a crop top and skinny jeans, your hair cascading over your shoulders as you lean over a data sheet, nodding intently.

So beautiful.

You glance up and spot Lewis. Your face lights up, a radiant smile spreading across it. Lewis grins back, the stress of the press conference fading away.

He waits until you’re done talking to the engineers, then pulls you discreetly aside. In an empty meeting room, Lewis wraps you in a tight embrace.

“Hi baby,” he murmurs, nuzzling your hair.

You cling to him. “I missed you. How was the press conference?”

Lewis hesitates. “It was … interesting.”

You pull back to look at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Well, there were some questions about us. Our relationship.”

Your eyes widen. “What did you say?”

“Nothing! Don’t worry, I didn’t reveal anything. But the other drivers jumped in with their opinions.”

You groan. “Do I even want to know?”

Lewis runs an agitated hand through his hair. “Well, apparently I’m way too old for you. Daniel, Lando, and Max all started competing over who would be your best match.”

You snort. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I know, I know,” Lewis says. “I wanted to tell them you’re mine, but ...”

“You did the right thing keeping quiet,” you say gently, taking his hands in yours. “We knew this wouldn’t be easy, keeping our relationship a secret.”

Lewis sighs. “I just hate not being able to claim you as my girlfriend in public. Having to pretend I don’t care when other guys flirt with you.”

You squeeze his hands supportively. “I know. But my dad would freak if he knew I was dating you. He’s so overprotective. And the press would have a field day if they found out Lewis Hamilton was seeing Toto Wolff’s daughter.”

“You’re right,” Lewis says. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

You smile softly at him. “Just think, one day we won’t have to hide anymore. We’ll be out and proud for the whole world to see.”

Lewis grins. “I look forward to that day.” He pauses, gazing at you tenderly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Lewis glances around quickly before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. All the stress and frustration of pretending melts away as your lips meet.

You come up for air a few moments later, both flushed. “We should get back before someone notices we’re gone,” you murmur.

Lewis nods reluctantly. “See you after quali?”

“Definitely.” You give him one more quick peck then slip out of the room, back to the bustle of the paddock.

Lewis watches you leave, his heart full.

One day there will be no more hiding. One day you’ll be free to share your love with the world.

He just has to be patient. You’re worth the wait.

***

You’re sitting outside of Mercedes hospitality between practice sessions, chatting with Mick Schumacher. Mick is eagerly telling you about his experience getting to take the W15 out in FP1 that morning when Charles Leclerc wanders over.

“Hello Y/N, Mick,” Charles says with an easy smile.

“Oh hey Charles, what’s up?” You say casually, hoping he makes this quick. Ever since that silly press conference, Charles has been popping up everywhere trying to get your attention.

“Not much. You’re looking beautiful as always,” Charles says, ignoring Mick and focusing his gaze on you.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Um, thanks?”

Mick glances between you two and starts to stand up. “I’ll give you guys some space.”

“No, stay!” You say quickly, grabbing Mick’s arm. You turn back to Charles. “Did you need something?”

“Just wanted to come say hi, see how you’re doing.” Charles drags over a chair and sits down close beside you. Too close.

You slide your chair away ever so slightly. “I’m fine, thanks. Just hanging with Mick.”

Charles nods, but his eyes stay fixed on you. “Have you given any more thought to grabbing dinner sometime? I know this great little restaurant in the city, very private and intimate.”

“That’s really nice of you, but I’ll have to pass,” you say politely. Mick looks back and forth between you two, a faint smirk on his face.

Charles pouts. “Come on, it would be fun! No pressure, just two friends enjoying a nice meal.”

You resist the urge to laugh. Does he really think you’re that naive? “Sorry Charles, but I’m going to be really busy this weekend. Raincheck?” You have no intention of ever taking him up on the offer, but maybe it will get him to back off for now.

“Playing hard to get? I like it,” Charles winks.

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying what you really think. Time for a subject change. “So, you feeling good about the race this weekend?”

Charles sighs, finally moving away from the topic of dating you. “I think the car has potential, but Red Bull are still the ones to beat.”

You nod. “Very true. They have been especially dominant here the past few years.”

“We’ll see what happens. Maybe I can get pole and shock them all,” Charles says with a smile.

You chat about racing for a few more minutes before glancing at your phone. “Oh shoot, I have to get going. Meeting with my manager.” You stand up quickly. “See you later Charles. Bye Mick!”

Charles grabs your hand as you start to walk away. “Leaving already? At least let me walk you to your garage.”

You pull your hand back, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “I’m fine, thanks. Stay and chat with Mick!” You give them a little wave before briskly walking off.

As you make your way through the paddock you hear footsteps behind you. Glancing back you see Charles jogging to catch up with you. You bite back a groan.

“Y/N, wait up!” Charles calls after you. He hurries to your side, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, I just thought I should properly apologize for being so forward back there. I don’t want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable.”

You stop walking and turn to face him. “It’s okay, Charles. I know you didn’t mean any harm.”

He looks relieved. “Good, I’m glad. The last thing I want is to upset you.” He shuffles his feet, looking down shyly. “I really do think you’re amazing, Y/N. Any guy would be so lucky to be with you.”

You soften a bit. As persistent as he is, you know Charles is a good guy at heart. “Thank you. I think you’ll find the right girl someday.”

“Well, I was rather hoping the right girl was standing in front of me now,” Charles says earnestly.

You shake your head. “Charles ...”

“I know, I’m being too bold again,” he says. “Please, just consider it? One dinner. If you hate it and never want to see me again, I’ll accept that.”

You hesitate. Maybe it would be easier to just go, let him down gently in person. But no … that’s too risky. If word got out it could compromise everything with Lewis. As much as you want to set Charles straight, you just have to keep playing hard to get.

“Like I said, just too busy right now,” you say firmly. “I should get to my meeting.”

Charles nods, looking slightly dejected. “Of course. Well, the offer stands. I’m not giving up that easily.” He smiles and heads off with a small wave.

Over the next two days Charles remains persistent, finding excuses to talk to you in the paddock and complimenting you endlessly on social media. You continue dodging his invitations, letting him down as gently as you can.

Sunday morning you’re doing a photoshoot for British Vogue, posing on the track. Charles happens to walk by as you’re finishing up. He saunters over and leans on the barrier, watching you intently. The photographer notices him hovering and suggests you take a quick picture together.

Charles immediately hops the barrier and throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close. You plaster on a smile as the camera flashes.

“Beautiful! What an attractive couple,” the photographer gushes.

You extricate yourself from Charles’ grip. “We’re not … I mean we’re just friends,” you mutter.

“My mistake!” The photographer says. Charles just grins.

After the photoshoot ends you try to make a quick exit but Charles catches up and falls into step beside you.

“One picture together and we’re already mistaken for a couple! It must be a sign,” Charles says playfully.

You resist rolling your eyes again. “Clearly you’re not getting the message here. I’m not interested in anything beyond friendship.”

Charles just smiles wider. “Ah, but friendship is the basis for any lasting romance. I’m happy to start as friends and see where it goes.”

You stop walking and turn to him. Time for some straight talk. “Charles. Listen to me. I do not want to date you. At all. Please stop asking.”

Charles’ smile finally falters slightly. “I see. My apologies, I clearly misread the situation.”

You feel a twinge of guilt at his crestfallen face. “It’s alright. I know you didn’t mean any harm. Let’s just forget it and move on.”

Charles nods, looking thoughtful. For a moment you think maybe he’s finally going to back off. But after a pause he says, “Well, since romance is off the table for now, friendship it is.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Is this guy for real?

Oblivious to your incredulous expression, Charles just keeps talking. “The season’s almost over, but I look forward to seeing much more of you next year when Lewis is my new teammate.” He winks.

It takes you a second to process his words. When they sink in your eyes go wide. “Wait, Lewis is joining Ferrari next season?”

“Oh, has it not been announced yet?” Charles grins mischievously. “My mistake. Forget I said anything.”

You grab his arm. “Charles, tell me!”

He mimes zipping his lips.

You groan in frustration. “Ugh, fine. Keep your secret for now.” You’ll get the truth out of Lewis later.

Charles just smiles innocently. “See you around, friend.” He strolls off with a little wave, finally leaving you in peace.

You shake your head as you watch him go. Next year is sure to be interesting with Charles around. But you take comfort knowing that no matter what, you and Lewis can get through it together.

***

The 2025 season kicks off in Melbourne. You’re wandering the paddock under the bright Australian sun, dodging TV crews and trying not to get run over by the team scooters zipping every which way.

As you pass by the Ferrari garage you peek inside, spotting Lewis talking to some engineers. He glances up and meets your eye, giving you a subtle smile before returning to his conversation.

Your heart flutters at the sight of him. It’s been nonstop media obligations since arriving in Albert Park and you haven’t had a moment alone with Lewis yet. Between his big move to Ferrari and the speculation about your relationship, you’ve been the center of attention.

You linger nearby, hoping to snag a private moment with Lewis. As you hover just outside the garage you hear footsteps approaching. Glancing over you see Charles strolling up, looking effortlessly cool in his team kit.

“Well hello there,” Charles says with a grin. “Come to wish me luck before qualifying?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back. “You caught me. I snuck over to send positive vibes your way.”

Charles chuckles. “I knew you couldn’t resist coming to see me.”

You shake your head amusedly. Same old Charles. “Actually I was looking for Lew-” you stop yourself just in time. “Um, just wandering around saying hi to everyone!”

Charles’ eyes gleam knowingly but he doesn’t call you out on your near slip-up. “Of course. We’re happy to have Lewis join the Ferrari family. Should be a fun season.”

You nod. “Definitely. I might have to frequent the Ferrari garage more often,” you add teasingly.

“You’ll always be welcome here,” Charles says. “In fact, there’s an open seat on my side of the garage. You’re more than welcome to join.” He smiles invitingly.

You hesitate, tempted despite yourself. Before you can respond you hear Lewis calling Charles from inside the garage.

“Charles! The debrief is starting soon, let’s go.”

Charles turns back to you with an exaggerated sigh. “Duty calls. But think about my offer, yeah? Plenty of races left this season for you to cheer on your favorite driver.” He winks before jogging into the garage.

You catch Lewis’ eye as Charles brushes past him. Lewis gives you a questioning look, silently asking if you’re okay. You smile reassuringly before blowing him a subtle kiss and walking away.

Over the next few races you find yourself spending more time with Ferrari than you expected. You tell yourself it’s just to support Lewis in his first season with a new team, but a small voice in your head whispers that it’s really to see Charles.

Despite your better judgment, you can’t deny enjoying Charles’ flirty banter and shameless pursuit of you. And clearly he doesn’t intend to back down now that Lewis is his teammate. If anything, Charles seems more determined than ever to win your affection.

By the time the Chinese Grand Prix rolls around, you’re dangerously close to having a full blown crush on Charles. Sitting in the Ferrari garage watching him joke around with the mechanics, you have to refrain from staring at him too obviously.

After qualifying, you wait around hoping Lewis or Charles have time to sneak away for a bit. You spot Lewis first and flag him down. He follows you to a secluded spot behind the paddock.

“Great lap today,” you say, rising on tiptoes to kiss him congratulations.

Lewis smiles against your lips but you can tell his mind is elsewhere. “Thanks love. Listen, can we talk?”

You pull back, brow furrowing in concern. “Of course, what’s up?”

Lewis runs a hand over his face. “I wanted to ask how you’re feeling about this whole situation with Charles.”

You tense up slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And if I’m being honest … I’ve noticed some looks going the other direction as well.” Lewis keeps his voice neutral and non-accusatory.

You bite your lip. No point lying to him. “I’m sorry. I tried to ignore him at first but he’s just so charming and persistent. I swear nothing has happened between us though!” You add hastily.

Lewis rubs your shoulder reassuringly. “I believe you, don’t worry. But it seems there might be some mutual attraction there, even if you haven’t acted upon it. I think we should discuss that openly.”

You nod slowly. As nerve wracking as this conversation is, you appreciate Lewis’ calm approach. No jealousy or accusations, just honest communication.

“You’re right,” you say. “I’ve been trying really hard not to, but I can’t deny feeling drawn to Charles.” You look down, ashamed to admit it out loud.

Lewis lifts your chin gently. “Hey, it’s okay. Emotions aren’t always rational. I’m not upset with you.”

You smile gratefully. “You’re the best, you know that? What did I do to deserve someone so understanding?”

“Just got lucky I guess,” Lewis says with a wink, making you laugh. His expression turns serious again. “But we should figure out what to do moving forward. Any ideas?”

You take a deep breath. Time to put all cards on the table. “Well, there is one possibility. But it’s a bit unconventional ...”

Lewis raises his eyebrows. “I’m open to anything. What were you thinking?”

You rush out your words before you lose your nerve. “What if we brought Charles into the relationship? As in, invited him to be with us?”

Lewis’ eyes widen in surprise but he doesn’t immediately shoot down the suggestion. “You mean the three of us, together? Huh.”

He looks thoughtful. You fidget nervously awaiting his verdict. This could make or break everything.

Finally Lewis meets your anxious gaze. “I admit that’s not what I was envisioning … but I’m not opposed to at least exploring it.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Really? You’d be open to trying?”

Lewis nods slowly. “If we all discussed it openly and set clear boundaries, I would consider it. I want you to be happy, Y/N. Even if that means expanding our relationship.”

You throw your arms around him. “Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to have your support with this.”

Lewis hugs you tight. “Of course, love. We’re in this together.”

You chat excitedly about the possibility of bringing Charles into your private world. It’s risky, but maybe just crazy enough to work.

“Why don’t we invite him up to the penthouse tonight and see how the chemistry is?” Lewis suggests.

Your pulse quickens at the thought. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Lewis kisses you softly. “Alright then, it’s a date. I think you should go talk to Charles.”

Tonight will determine if you move forward as a trio or close the door on this tantalizing new dynamic. Either way, you’re grateful to be exploring it together with the man you love.

***

You smooth down your dress for the tenth time, nerves and excitement warring within you.

Tonight’s the night.

Taking a deep breath, you glance around the penthouse one more time. Candles cast a soft glow, music plays quietly in the background, and wine chills on the counter. Time to see if this fantasy can become a reality.

Lewis emerges from the bedroom looking unfairly hot, designer shirt hugging his muscular frame. He wraps you in his arms from behind, meeting your anxious gaze in the floor-length mirror.

“You ready for this, love?” He asks, lips brushing your neck.

You shiver and lean back into him. “I think so. Are you sure you’re okay with it though? We can call it off if you’ve changed your mind.”

Lewis smiles reassuringly. “I haven’t. We’ll take it slow and see how it feels. No pressure.”

You smile back gratefully. “Have I mentioned lately how amazing you are?”

“Mm, feel free to say it more,” Lewis teases, making you giggle. He kisses you tenderly. “Let’s do this.”

Right on cue, the doorbell rings. You and Lewis exchange one more weighted look before going to answer it.

You open the door to find Charles standing there, looking ridiculously handsome as always. His eyes widen almost comically as he sees Lewis over your shoulder.

“Lewis! What are you doing here?” Charles stammers out.

You bite your lip to hide a smile. “Why don’t you come in?”

Still looking baffled, Charles steps inside. You lead him to the sleek living room, Charles glancing around in confusion.

“Have a seat,” Lewis says kindly. Charles perches on the edge of the grey suede couch, visibly wondering what the hell is going on. You and Lewis sit across from him on the loveseat.

“So … is one of you going to explain what’s happening?” Charles asks slowly.

You look to Lewis. “Maybe you should start?”

Lewis nods and turns to Charles. “Right, so I’m sure you’re very confused about all this. But there’s something Y/N and I need to tell you.”

He reaches over and takes your hand. You give it a supportive squeeze.

“Y/N and I are together. Romantically,” Lewis reveals. “We’ve been dating in secret for over two years now.”

Charles’ eyes bug out of his head. “You two are … WHAT? Since when?”

“Since midway through the 2022 season,” you explain gently.

“But … but ...” Charles splutters. He looks between you and Lewis, dumbfounded. It would be comical if you weren’t so nervous.

“I know this must be shocking to hear,” you say. “We’ve had to keep it very quiet.”

Charles drags a hand through his hair. “I don’t understand. If you’re together, why am I here?”

You glance at Lewis. “Go on,” he says with an encouraging nod.

You turn back to Charles. “Well, the thing is … we’re very attracted to you too, Charles.”

Charles freezes, eyes zeroing in on you. “You … you are?” He whispers.

You nod, holding his gaze. “I tried to ignore it, but I have feelings for you. And Lewis and I have discussed exploring what it would be like if the three of us … were together.”

Charles just stares, mouth agape. You start to worry you’ve broken him.

“Charles?” You prompt gently. “Thoughts?”

Charles visibly shakes himself. “I just … I need a minute here,” he mutters. He puts his head in his hands, taking a few deep breaths.

You nod understandingly and fall silent, letting the information sink in. After a tense minute, Charles lifts his head.

“So you two want to try some kind of … polyamorous relationship? With me as your shared boyfriend?”

“Only if you’re interested,” Lewis clarifies. “We know it’s unconventional.”

Charles chews his lip thoughtfully. “And you would be okay sharing her?” He asks Lewis.

Lewis squeezes your hand. “It’s not about possessing her. It’s about all of us wanting to explore something together. I trust you both.”

Your heart swells with love for this incredible man. Charles looks touched as well.

“I appreciate you putting your trust in me,” Charles says earnestly. “This is a lot to process but … I’m open to trying.” He looks between you and Lewis. “I want this. If you’ll have me.”

Joy and arousal flood your body hearing those words. You glance at Lewis to confirm.

He smiles. “We want you, Charles.”

Charles’ eyes darken. He stands up from the couch and closes the distance between you. Gazing down at you, he brushes his fingers along your jaw. “Can I kiss you?” He asks softly.

You nod, heart hammering in your chest. Charles’ hand slides into your hair and he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is electric, your body lighting up everywhere you touch.

After a dizzying minute you break apart, flushed and breathless. Charles rests his forehead against yours, his eyes burning.

“I want you,” he whispers. “I want this.”

Your pulse racing, you turn and pull Lewis into a passionate kiss. You pour all your need and love into it, leaving no doubt that you want him just as much.

Lewis’ eyes are dark when you separate. Without a word, he stands and holds his hand out to Charles. Charles takes it immediately. They stare at each other for a weighted moment before Lewis reels him in for a searing kiss.

You can only watch, utterly mesmerized by the sight of the two gorgeous men exploring each other. They kiss aggressively, hands roaming over backs and arms. Finally they break apart, panting.

Charles turns to you, eyes blazing. In two strides he’s kneeling before you, hands on your thighs.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps out. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I want this. I want this so much,” you affirm breathlessly.

Charles surges up to capture your lips again. Lewis moves behind you, peppering kisses down your neck and shoulders. Sandwiched between them, you’ve never felt more alive.

You have a fleeting thought that you should slow down, take things step by step. But as their hands and lips worship your body, reason melts away.

Tonight you’ll explore each other fully and forge this new bond that transcends convention. Tomorrow you can discuss logistics.

Charles kisses you hungrily while Lewis deftly unzips your dress, letting it slip to the floor. His hands glide over your newly exposed skin as Charles trails kisses down your neck to your lace-clad breasts.

Lewis reaches around to unclasp your bra, freeing your breasts to Charles’ eager mouth. You gasp and arch into his touch as his tongue swirls around one nipple, then the other.

Lewis captures your lips in a passionate kiss, swallowing your moans of pleasure. His hands roam your body, caressing your hips and rear before slipping into your panties. You keen against his mouth as his fingers find your slick heat.

Charles kisses his way down your trembling body until he’s kneeling before you. Locking eyes with you, he slowly peels off your panties. Lewis moves behind you, arms wrapped around you, hands still working their magic between your legs.

Charles parts your thighs and dives in hungrily. You cry out at the feeling of his mouth on you, the dual sensations pushing you quickly to the edge. Your pleasured screams echo through the penthouse as you come undone between these two incredible men.

They lay you gently on the plush rug, hands and mouths continuing to ignite fires across your hypersensitive skin. You reach for them frantically, needing to feel them too. Together you undress them with eager hands until all three of you are bare and flushed with need.

Lewis kisses his way down your body until his head is between your legs, stubble scratching deliciously against your inner thighs. His talented tongue gets to work, licking and sucking your sensitive bud as you grasp his braids, back arching off the rug.

Charles moves up your body to take a hard nipple in his mouth, fingers tweaking and plucking the other. The near-overstimulation makes you see stars, crying out louder as Lewis’ fingers join his mouth in driving you to euphoria.

As you come down from your high, panting and trembling, Charles captures your lips in a messy kiss. You taste yourself and your favorite body oil on his tongue as he grinds his hard length against your hip. Guiding him up further, you take him in your mouth eagerly, reveling in his groans of pleasure.

Lewis slides up behind you, hardness nudging your entrance. He pushes into you slowly, filling you up exquisitely. You moan around Charles in your mouth as Lewis sets a steady rhythm. Charles’ eyes are nearly black watching Lewis take you from behind.

Charles gently pulls out of your mouth, moving down to kiss Lewis passionately. Their tongues tangle as Lewis continues rocking into you. The erotic sight makes you clench around Lewis. Sensing you’re close, he reaches around to circle your clit until you shatter again.

As you float back down, Lewis slips out from behind you and lays on his back. You straddle him eagerly, taking him back inside your slick heat. Charles moves in behind you, grasping your hips. Feeling his tip brush your back entrance, you glance back and nod consent.

Charles pushes into your other hole slowly as Lewis praises you for taking them both so well. Sandwiched between their hard bodies, filled so exquisitely, you feel worshipped and desired. They find a synchronized rhythm, driving you higher until you’re screaming out your pleasure again.

Lewis follows you over the edge, your pulsing muscles milking him dry with a growl. Charles takes over, pounding into you relentlessly until he stills, spilling deep inside with a choked cry.

You collapse together in a satisfied, breathless tangle of limbs. Trading soft kisses and caresses, you bask in the afterglow of this new bond forged in passion. Staring into your boys’ sated eyes, you know you’ve found something extraordinary.

For now, you are content to let passion consume you, losing yourself in two sets of hands, two mouths worshipping every inch of you.

Tomorrow can wait. Tonight, your world has expanded to make room for three.

***

The new season is in full swing and your blossoming relationship could not be going better. Stealing moments alone is a challenge, but the time you spend together makes it all worthwhile.

The only downside is how difficult it is for Charles to hide his feelings for you in public. While Lewis has had practice concealing your relationship for years now, Charles is still learning restraint. His affection for you shines through in lingering looks and subtle touches that don’t go unnoticed.

During one pre-race press conference, things come to a head. You’re standing just off stage, watching proudly as Charles and Lewis field questions.

A reporter looks over at Charles. “Charles, we’ve noticed Y/N hanging around the Ferrari garage a lot this season. Any insight into why the daughter of the Mercedes team principal spends so much time with your team instead?”

Charles tenses, panic flashing across his face. Before he can respond, Pierre Gasly pipes up from the end of the table.

“She’s always welcome to spend time with Alpine too!” Pierre says with a playful wink your direction. “Our garage door is open for you anytime, chérie.”

Charles’ hand clenches into a fist under the table. You can see him biting his tongue, holding back from saying that you’re taken.

Lewis discretely reaches over and lays a calming hand on Charles’ arm. Charles takes a deep breath, the brief touch grounding him.

“Y/N is friends with many drivers, not just myself,” Charles says evenly. “She offers encouragement to everyone on the grid.”

You let out the breath you’d been holding. Crisis averted, for now. But the reporters look unsatisfied with Charles’ generic response.

One speaks up again. “Come on Charles, you two seem especially close lately. Anything you want to tell us about the nature of your relationship?”

Charles’ eyes flick towards you. He opens his mouth but hesitates.

Lewis jumps in. “Like Charles said, Y/N is a supportive friend to all the drivers. We’re lucky to have her around.” He steers the conversation to less dangerous waters and the questions about you cease.

After the press conference, Charles makes a beeline for you. Taking your hands, he searches your face anxiously.

“I’m so sorry. I nearly slipped up and exposed everything. I just couldn’t stand Pierre flirting with you like that.”

You smile reassuringly, touched by his protectiveness. “It’s okay, you stopped yourself in time. I know it’s not easy.”

Lewis joins you two in your hidden corner. He squeezes Charles’ shoulder comfortingly. “You handled it well, babe. I know firsthand how hard it is to stay silent.”

Charles sighs. “I don’t know how you’ve done this for so long. Lying about the woman I lo-” He stops himself. “About someone so important is torture.”

Your heart skips a beat. Lewis meets your gaze, equally affected by Charles’ unspoken words.

Taking Charles’ face in your hands, you kiss him sweetly. “I’m so lucky to have not just one, but two incredible men willing to go through all this for my sake. I promise, it won’t be forever.”

Charles relaxes into your touch. Lewis moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the top of your head. Charles covers Lewis’ hands with his own. The three of you share a quiet, tender moment before stepping back out into the bustle of race day.

That evening after the race, the three of you finally have time alone back at the hotel. Lewis pours champagne while you massage the tension from Charles’ shoulders.

“What Pierre said today was out of line,” you murmur. “But you have nothing to worry about. I’m all yours, in every way that matters.” You press a kiss to his neck.

Charles twists to capture your lips. “I know. It just drives me crazy seeing other men try to take what’s mine.” His tone is playful yet possessive in a way that makes you shiver.

“Let them flirt all they want,” Lewis says, handing Charles a glass of champagne. “She only has eyes for us.”

You and Charles both smile at Lewis’ quiet confidence. Taking your glass, you raise it in a toast. “To the apples of my eye. Here’s to a long future together.”

You clink glasses and sip, eyes locking over the rims. Setting your glass aside, you take each of their hands in yours.

“I know keeping this secret isn’t easy. But it will be so worth it in the end, when we can stop hiding and be together openly. We just have to be patient a little longer.”

Lewis squeezes your hand, emotion shining in his eyes. “You’re worth the wait, darling.”

Charles cradles your face adoringly. “A thousand times over.”

Your heart swells being surrounded by such unwavering love and support. Despite the challenges, in this moment, everything feels exactly as it should.

The rest of the night is spent getting lost in each other, reaffirming the bonds between you. Fingers intertwined, bodies moving as one, you bask in the oasis you’ve created amidst the pressures of your public lives.

Tomorrow you’ll go back to pretending, dodging prying questions and curious stares. But here, cocooned in this hotel room, you’re simply three people entwined by love. Partners promising without words to stand united until the day your relationship can step into the light.

For now, secrecy is a small price to pay for a love unlike any other.

***

The azure waters of the Mediterranean glisten under the Sardinian sun as you lounge on the deck of the yacht. Lewis rubs sunscreen slowly over your shoulders, his touch sending tingles through your body.

Charles emerges from the water, rivulets streaming down his toned chest. He joins you on the loungers, shaking his wet hair playfully over you and Lewis. You squeal and swat him away, laughing.

These past two weeks sailing around Sardinia have been pure bliss. Finally you can be as affectionate as you want, stealing kisses and cuddling close without worrying who might see. You’ve explored every inch of this yacht and each other’s bodies. After keeping your relationship under wraps, it’s glorious being so free.

“I wish we could stay here forever,” you sigh contentedly.

“Soon, love,” Lewis says, pulling you close. “Just have to get through this season.”

Charles nods, trailing his fingers down your arm. “It will all be worth it in the end.”

You smile softly at them both, heart swelling with love. “You’re right. As long as we’re together.”

You while away the rest of the afternoon trading lazy kisses and caresses, basking in the sun and each other.

That night, fireworks burst bright over the inky sea. You tilt your head back against Charles’ chest, watching the rainbow sparks. Lewis nuzzles your neck from behind, arms wrapped around your waist.

“I love you both,” you whisper as gold and purple light up the sky. Charles kisses your temple while Lewis squeezes you gently. You’ve never felt so full of love and joy.

Then, you all fly to Lewis’ villa in Brazil for the rest of summer break. The days pass in a carefree blur — lounging by the pool, sunset walks on the beach, and passion-filled nights tangled together in bed.

Charles cooks dinner shirtless one evening, playfully feeding you and Lewis bites as you sip wine. Lewis pulls you into an impromptu dance around the kitchen, the three of you laughing breathlessly.

“If only this could never end,” you say wistfully, pulling them in for a group hug.

“One day, baby,” Lewis murmurs, kissing your hair. Charles rubs your back, gazing at you tenderly.

You etch every moment into your memory, from languid mornings waking up between them to romantic picnics at sunset on the beach.

If only you could freeze time and stay in this private paradise.

But of course, time marches on. Before you know it, the break ends and you’re headed to the Netherlands for the start of the second half of the season.

Walking through Zandvoort a friendly distance from Charles and Lewis, everything feels different now. You have to stop yourself from being too openly affectionate, hyperaware of prying eyes.

Lewis senses your tension. “Soon this will all be out in the open,” he reminds you softly. The secret aspect still weighs on you all, but the promise of a future without hiding lifts your spirits.

On Thursday, just a few days before the race, you’re leaving the motorhome when your phone explodes with notifications. With a sinking sense of dread, you open social media to see leaked paparazzi shots plastered everywhere — the three of you kissing on the yacht, Lewis’ hands blatantly grabbing your rear in Brazil, you and Charles making out poolside.

You stagger back against the wall, blood rushing in your ears. This is a nightmare. Your private oasis shattered, your relationship outed in the most public, scandalous way possible.

Charles exits behind you and his face pales seeing your expression. Lewis comes around the corner a second later and you wordlessly show him your phone screen.

“Fuck,” Lewis swears. “Where did these come from?”

“I don’t know, they’re everywhere,” you say shakily.

Charles peers over your shoulder, jaw clenched. “We’ll figure it out later. Right now we need to get you out of here.”

You’re confused only for a second before you hear the swell of voices and footsteps rapidly approaching. Security won’t hold the media mob back for long.

Charles and Lewis spring into action, flanking you protectively as you hurry back towards the entrance. Halfway there, the dam breaks as reporters and cameras flood the paddock. You freeze like a deer in headlights.

Chaos erupts, cameras flashing, mics shoved in your faces, everyone shouting questions at once. Charles and Lewis shield you from the onslaught, yelling for security. Two guards appear and help navigate you through the frenzy back into the Ferrari motorhome.

You collapse on the sofa, heart pounding. Lewis paces angrily while Charles punches the wall. “Fuck! We were so careful,” he rages.

You blink back panicked tears. “What do we do now?”

Lewis sits and pulls you into his arms. “We face it head on. No more hiding. We own this together.”

Charles kneels before you, clasping your hands. “I’m with you no matter what. We’ll get through this.”

You cling to them, anchoring yourself. As long as you have each other, you can survive the storm.

You’ve just managed to catch your breath when the door flies open. Your head whips up to see none other than your father storming in, fury etched on his face.

“What the HELL is going on here?” He thunders.

You shrink back against Lewis. This is already a disaster — but your enraged, overprotective father finding out like this? You brace yourself as his glare pins you in place, demanding an explanation.

Toto slams the door behind him, eyes blazing like you’ve never seen before.

“Would someone like to explain what the hell is going on?” He shouts. “Because I leave for a few weeks and suddenly my daughter is splashed all over the tabloids in compromising photos with her secret boyfriends!”

You shrink back against Lewis, tears pooling in your eyes. He wraps a protective arm around you.

“Toto, let’s all just take a breath and talk about this,” Lewis says calmly.

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” Toto snarls, pointing a finger at Lewis. “You are supposed to be teammates and instead you’re … you’re ...” He splutters, at a loss for words.

“We’re in a relationship,” Charles says firmly, taking your hand. “The three of us.”

“A relationship?” Toto looks apoplectic. “She is my daughter!”

“Who makes her own choices,” Charles shoots back. “She’s an adult.”

Toto ignores him, glaring at Lewis and you. “I trusted you with her. And this is how you repay that trust?”

Lewis squeezes your shoulder gently before standing up to face Toto. “I understand you’re upset. But our relationship isn’t about you.”

“The hell it isn’t!” Toto shouts. “I am her father!”

“Stop yelling at them!” You cry out, tears spilling down your cheeks.

Toto falters slightly seeing your distress. Charles pulls you into his arms, stroking your hair and glaring at Toto.

“Can’t you see you’re upsetting her?” Charles snaps. “She doesn’t owe you an explanation.”

Toto looks back and forth between the three of you, anger warring with confusion. Lewis takes a cautious step toward him.

“I know this is a shock,” Lewis says evenly. “But we didn’t intend for it to come out like this.”

He gestures for Toto to have a seat. After a tense moment Toto sinks into the armchair, face still thunderous. Lewis sits back down beside you.

“Help me understand this,” Toto says tightly. “Clearly this … arrangement has been going on behind my back for some time.”

You take a shaky breath. “We’ve been together since the start of the season. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, but we knew you would react badly.”

Toto drags a hand down his face. “You cannot expect me to be happy about this. My daughter dating two men at once? One of whom used to be my employee?”

“We don’t need your approval,” Charles says firmly. “All that matters is that we love each other. Right?”

He looks at you and Lewis. You both nod, Lewis taking your hand supportively.

“She’s right,” Lewis tells Toto. “We don’t need your blessing. But we want you to understand this is real, not just some fling or scandal.”

You look pleadingly at your father. “Please Vati, try to understand. I’ve never been happier than with these two.”

Toto stares back stonily. The silence stretches on. You feel Charles and Lewis tense on either side of you, bracing for Toto’s wrath.

Finally Toto sighs, dragging a hand over his face. “You’ve always been my sweet girl. My only wish is for your happiness and safety.”

He levels Charles and Lewis with a piercing look. “If either of you two hurts her, they’ll never find your bodies. Understand?”

Charles and Lewis both nod rapidly.

“We would never,” Lewis vows.

“Good. See that you don’t.” Toto turns back to you, expression softening. “This will take some adjustment. But I suppose if you’re happy ...”

“I am, I promise,” you assure him.

Toto shakes his head. “Well, try to keep the sordid details to yourself please.”

You huff out a wet laugh, wiping your eyes. “Deal.”

Toto nods stiffly and stands. Looking between the three of you, his face settles into resignation.

“I will do my best to … adjust to this,” he mutters. “But no funny business at the track!”

He points sternly at Charles and Lewis again. They both work to keep straight faces.

“Of course, totally professional at all times,” Lewis promises solemnly.

“Hmm. We’ll see.” Toto heads for the door. With his hand on the handle, he turns back.

“You’re still my little girl. I just want you safe and happy.”

You smile tearfully. “I know. Thank you.”

With a grunt and final glare at Charles and Lewis, Toto takes his leave.

The moment the door shuts, you collapse into their arms in relief. Laughing and crying all at once.

“That could have gone worse,” Charles remarks.

Lewis chuckles. “He only threatened us a little bit.”

You kiss them softly. “I can’t believe you stood up to him for me.”

Charles caresses your face. “Always.”

“We meant what we said — we’re in this together, no matter what,” Lewis affirms.

You cling to each other, coming down from the emotional rollercoaster. The worst is over. Your relationship is out in the open now. The media will have a field day, but you can weather any storm with your men by your side.

“So ...” you say with a watery laugh. “Who wants to handle the press release?”

***

The news of your relationship with Lewis and Charles has sent shockwaves through the paddock. You knew it would be a scandal, but the sheer scale of the reaction has been overwhelming.

Thankfully you’ve had each other to cling to through the firestorm. Their love and support keeps you strong in the face of snarling reporters and leering drivers.

In the Ferrari garage a few days later, Lewis has his arms wrapped around you, placing gentle kisses to your hair as you discuss weekend plans. Charles is in the engineering room, focused on prep for the upcoming race.

The two of you are in your own world together when Lando sheepishly approaches. "Hey mates, can I talk to you both for a sec?"

You tense instinctively and Lewis’ arm tightens around you protectively. But Lando’s face is regretful, not leering. “What’s up?” Lewis asks calmly.

Lando shuffles his feet. “I just wanted to apologize for all the times I hit on Y/N and crossed the line. I feel proper ashamed about it now that I know she was with you two. You deserve better from a friend.”

You and Lewis share a surprised look. Before you can respond, Pierre joins Lando, gazing at you repentantly.

“I want to also apologize,” Pierre says. “It was wrong of me to overstep boundaries and disrespect your relationship. I’m sorry.”

You bite your tongue, holding back what you really want to say. As usual, they’re ignoring you and directing apologies to Lewis instead.

Sensing your reaction, Lewis speaks up. “We appreciate you owning up to it, but I think Y/N deserves your apologies more. She’s the one you objectified and disrespected with the unwanted advances, after all.”

Lando and Pierre have the decency to look abashed. “You’re completely right, that was thoughtless of me,” Lando says. “I’m truly sorry for ever making you feel uncomfortable or pressured, Y/N. It won’t happen again.”

Pierre nods. “Please accept my sincere apologies as well. I should have been more considerate of your feelings and respected your privacy.”

You give them a stiff smile. “Thank you. Just please think about how your words and actions affect women as fellow human beings, not just as conquests or property.”

Lando and Pierre both nod earnestly before excusing themselves. As they walk away Lewis kisses your temple. “Well handled, love. How are you feeling?”

You sigh heavily. “I appreciate the apologies, but it still stings that they only considered your feelings initially, not mine.”

Lewis makes a sympathetic noise and hugs you close. “You deserve so much more respect. I’m sorry this has all been so ugly.”

You cling to him, drawing strength from his unwavering support. “As long as I have you and Charles, I can face anything.”

Lewis is about to reply when footsteps approach again. You tense, but it’s only Charles this time. His smile fades seeing your expression.

“Everything okay here?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You explain what just happened with Lando and Pierre. Charles’ eyes flash. “They are lucky I wasn’t here. I would have had a thing or two to say about them disrespecting you like that.”

You smile softly, touched by his protectiveness. “My heroes. However would I cope without you two defending my honor?”

Lewis tickles your side playfully. “We have to protect our lady’s virtue!”

You swat him away, laughing. Charles kisses the top of your head. “Joking aside, you never have to tolerate that behavior again. Not with us here.”

“I know,” you reply, snuggling into them happily. "My gallant protectors."

***

“Home sweet home,” you declare as the car pulls up the long driveway to your family’s sprawling Swiss estate.

Lewis lets out an impressed whistle from the backseat. “This is incredible!”

“Just wait until you see inside,” you grin at him in the rearview mirror.

You had kept putting off bringing Lewis and Charles here but it was finally time for them to see where you grew up.

They grab your bags as you lead them inside the grand foyer with its sweeping marble staircase. Lewis and Charles gaze around, taking in the ornate moldings and priceless artwork adorning the walls.

“I know it’s a bit ... much,” you say self-consciously.

“Are you kidding? This place is amazing!” Lewis crows, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.

You give them a brief tour of the endless sitting rooms, home theater, indoor pool, and your father’s meticulously organized garage housing his impressive car collection.

Finally you bring them upstairs to the family bedrooms. With a deep breath, you push open the door to your childhood room.

Lewis and Charles follow you in, peering around with interest at the spacious suite with its canopy bed, plush seating area, and panoramic mountain views.

You watch nervously as Lewis wanders over to your bookshelf and Charles admires the view from the French doors. Waiting for their judgment, you feel self-conscious about your privileged upbringing.

Suddenly Charles points to your wall and turns to you with a grin. “Well well, what do we have here?”

You follow his gaze to the life-size posters still occupying prime real estate on your wall, relics from your starry-eyed teen years. A young Lewis from his early Mercedes days gazes broodingly down, next to a smirking teenage Charles in his Prema race suit from back in F2.

“Oh god, I can’t believe I forgot those were there!” You groan, covering your rapidly reddening face.

Lewis chuckles, coming over to wrap you in a hug. “Aww, someone had a little crush, did they?” He teases.

“It was years ago!” You protest through your fingers.

Charles pries your hands away, smiling affectionately. “It’s cute you were our fan. Never be embarrassed for having good taste in drivers,” he winks.

Lewis kisses the top of your head. “Don’t worry love, we won’t give you too hard a time about it,” he says magnanimously.

You snuggle into his embrace. “How lucky am I to have manifested my crushes into reality?”

“The lucky ones are us,” Charles murmurs, stroking your hair and kissing you tenderly.

Lewis tips your chin up to meet his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. You cling to each other, the outside world fading away.

Eventually you lead them hand-in-hand to your massive bedroom balcony overlooking the mountains. The summer air is fragrant with the smell of wildflowers.

Settled together on the cushions, you snuggle between Lewis and Charles as they take in the stunning panoramic views.

“It’s so beautiful and peaceful here,” Lewis sighs contentedly. “Thank you for bringing us with you.”

You squeeze his hand. “Thank you for wanting to know every part of me.”

Charles wraps an arm around you, meeting your eyes sincerely. “Of course we do. Your soul is what we fell in love with first and foremost.”

You have to blink back tears at his words. Being with them has taught you that real love runs far deeper than surface trappings.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you pull them close, kissing each with all the love and gratitude overflowing inside you.

As the sun dips behind the mountains, setting the sky ablaze in stunning hues of orange and purple, you curl up safely between the two men who see, know, and love the real you. The only home you’ll ever need.

***

The warmly lit dining room of your family estate is filled with the clink of silverware and hum of conversation as you share an intimate dinner with your father, stepmother Susie, younger brother Jack, and your loves.

Despite your anxiety, the evening has gone smoothly so far. Toto seems impressed with Lewis and Charles’ maturity and devotion to you. Susie dotes on them like a surrogate mother. Only Jack seems bored, pushing food around his plate.

During a lull in the conversation, Toto turns to Lewis. “It’s remarkable what you are accomplishing at Ferrari this season. Good to see you on top of the podium again.”

Lewis smiles. “Thank you, Toto. It’s been incredible.”

“Still, I was surprised when you first told me you were leaving Mercedes,” Toto remarks. “I didn’t fully understand what prompted such a sudden departure.”

He levels Lewis with a probing gaze. You freeze nervously, grasping Charles and Lewis’ hands under the table. You’ve managed to avoid telling your father the real reason for Lewis’ change in teams. But it seems that reckoning has arrived.

Lewis meets Toto’s scrutinizing look evenly. “Well, as you know, Mercedes has strict rules against relationships within the team. It began impeding my personal happiness. So I sought more freedom elsewhere.”

Toto’s eyes narrow, glancing between the three of you. “And when exactly did this personal happiness begin?”

You hold your breath. Lewis says simply, “During my third to last season with the team.”

There’s a long, fraught silence. Jack glances around confused while Susie presses her napkin to her lips, no doubt hiding a small smile. She’s always been your most enthusiastic supporter.

Toto’s face slowly turns an alarming shade of eggplant purple. He points an accusatory finger at Lewis. “You! You were already involved with my daughter during your Mercedes contract?”

Lewis nods calmly. “We couldn’t be public about it then. Your rules left us no choice but secrecy.”

Toto turns his glare on you. “So while I was managing Lewis’ negotiations, you were ... were ...” He seems unable to form the words.

You lift your chin. “Yes, Vati. We’ve been together since mid-2022. I’m sorry we couldn’t be honest about it at the time.”

Toto looks back and forth between you and Lewis, jaw clenched. The whole table is frozen, awaiting the eruption.

Finally Toto thrusts his chair back and begins pacing angrily. “This whole time ... right under my nose! With my star driver, in clear violation of team rules and ethics!”

He rounds on Lewis. “I treated you like family! Supported your career, fought for your contracts. And you betrayed me by sneaking around with my daughter behind my back!”

Lewis faces Toto’s tirade calmly. “I apologize for any perceived deception. But we couldn’t deny our hearts.”

He takes your hand, gazing at you adoringly. Charles clutches your other in solidarity.

Toto drags a hand down his face. “Unbelievable. I thought I knew you, Hamilton.”

Finally you can't stay quiet any longer. “Vati, stop,” you implore. “I know you’re upset, but don’t blame Lewis. We fell in love, simple as that.”

Toto sighs, looking between your determined face and Lewis’ sincerity. His anger slowly deflates.

“Bärchen, you will always be my little girl,” he says gruffly. “I just want to protect you.”

He turns back to Lewis and Charles. “But I can see you both genuinely care for her. That’s all that matters in the end.”

You smile hopefully. “So you’re okay with this?”

Toto holds up a hand. “Let’s not get carried away. I am still adjusting to the idea.” He narrows his eyes at Lewis and Charles. “No messing about, you hear me? My girl deserves the utmost love and respect.”

“Of course,” Lewis says seriously as Charles nods in agreement.

“Good. See that it stays that way.” Toto sits back down with a huff. An awkward beat passes before conversation resumes again.

Later, as you all say goodnight, Toto pulls you into a hug. “They really make you happy, hmm?”

You nod, eyes shining. “Beyond words.”

Toto pats your cheek affectionately. “Well then, I suppose that’s what matters.”

You kiss his cheek in gratitude. No matter how overprotective your father can be, you know he just wants you safe and loved. With Lewis and Charles by your side, you always will be.

***

Seven Years Later

The Ferrari garage is buzzing with activity as race day gets underway at the Italian Grand Prix. You stand with Lewis among the controlled chaos, keeping one eye on your enthusiastic children weaving through the mechanics’ legs.

“Be careful, Lou!” You call out as your daring five-year-old Louis takes a corner a little too sharply, his Ferrari cap nearly sliding off his wild wavy hair.

Lewis shakes his head in amusement. “He’s as spirited as his Papa.”

You grin proudly at your son, the spitting image of Charles, as he zooms around mimicking pit stops. Your little three-year-old Helene clings shyly to her daddy’s leg, peering up at the action with wide brown eyes that are the mirror image of Lewis’ own.

Charles emerges from the engineering briefing and makes a beeline for you. Sweeping you into his arms, he greets you with a passionate kiss. After over seven years together, the sparks between you still ignite instantly.

Pulling back, Charles grins at your slightly disheveled state. “Hello to you too,” you laugh breathlessly.

He winks before turning to give Lewis a tender kiss. Your unconventional family drew some skepticism at first, but your extraordinary love has proven unshakeable.

The kids chorus “Papa!” and attack Charles’ legs. Laughing, he scoops them both up, kissing their heads. “Are you ready to cheer for me, my little racers?”

Their enthusiastic cheers draw amused glances from the team. You soak it all in — your little family, together forever.

Charles reluctantly sets the kids down to focus on pre-race prep. You feel a phantom flutter in your belly, though you know it’s still too early for it to be real. Grasping Lewis’ hand, you share a private smile. Baby number three is on the way.

The race begins in a blur of excitement. Charles aces the start, quickly pulling into the lead. Louis abandons all decorum and just starts screaming “Go Papa!” at the top of his lungs. Chuckling, you and Lewis take turns occupying your hyperactive son so as not to distract the crew. Shy little Helene contents herself hugging a Ferrari-themed teddy bear, peering intently at the screens showing her Papa as he speeds around the Autodromo Nazionale Monza.

The laps tick by, Charles fending off the competition masterfully. As he crosses the finish line to claim victory on home soil, Louis and Helene are jumping and cheering loudly. The passion for racing already runs strong.

Back out in the paddock after the podium celebration, you and Lewis balance the kids on your hips as reporters head straight for the two of you. The questions are familiar after years in the spotlight.

“Lewis, what’s it like spending almost every weekend at the track despite your retirement five years ago?”

“I love it,” Lewis smiles, bouncing a giggling Helene. “Getting to support my husband and spend time with my family, it’s very fulfilling.”

“And Y/N, how do you manage the kids and your husband’s demanding career?”

You grin. “We make it work. We’re so proud of Charles and feel lucky to be by his side through it all.”

On cue, Helene pipes up “Papa is the best racer!”

The reporters chuckle. One asks, “How do you feel seeing Charles continue to build his legacy with Ferrari?”

“I couldn’t be prouder,” Lewis says, genuine emotion in his eyes. “He’s taken the team to new heights and really made his mark. Seeing him succeed means the world.”

Louis suddenly grabs the mic, yelling “Are we done yet?” You have to stifle your laugh.

“I think that’s our cue to wrap up,” you grin sheepishly, gathering the rambunctious children in your arms. Blowing kisses to the laughing media, you make your exit.

Back in the privacy of the motorhome, your unconventional but beautiful family shares celebratory hugs and kisses. Charles rests his hand gently on your belly, his face lighting up when you confirm the news.

“Baby number three on the way!” Lewis crows, sweeping you into an excited embrace.

Louis and Helene cheer, demanding another sibling immediately. You laugh giddily, leaning into Charles and gazing at the pure joy on your husbands’ faces. Your hearts swell with love.

This life you’ve built together has faced skepticism, but your extraordinary bond conquers all. Gazing into their eyes, you know without a doubt you were destined for each other. Hand in hand, side by side, forevermore.

***

18 Months Later

You finish strapping a squirming Cosette into her car seat, smoothing down her hair that is the spitting image of your own. “There we go, my little princess. Time to go see Opa Toto!”

Cosette babbles happily, waving her chubby fists. At just over a year old, she is the perfect blend of you and Charles, with your lips and nose and his vibrant green eyes.

Louis and Helene are already buckled into the backseat, their patience for the short drive to your father’s house wearing thin. “Hurry up!” Louis cries. “I want to show Opa my new race car!”

“We’re coming, hold your horses,” you laugh, sliding into the passenger seat beside Charles. Lewis is meeting you there after stopping at home to grab a few extra toys and changes of clothes for the kids’ overnight stay.

During the short drive, Charles keeps resting his hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing distracting circles. You try your best to keep your breathing even. After all these years together, just the slightest touch from your husbands can still ignite that spark instantly.

You pull up the long driveway to find Lewis’ car already parked outside the stately lakefront home you grew up spending summers in. Before you can even unbuckle, the front door swings open and Toto comes striding out, arms open wide.

“My lieblinge!” He booms as Louis and Helene barrel into his embrace.

You lift Cosette from her carseat and Toto takes her gently, eyes crinkling with delight. “And there’s my littlest liebling,” he coos, nuzzling her soft curls.

Lewis joins you all outside, greeting Toto with a warm hug. “Thanks again for watching the kids tonight, Toto. We really appreciate it.”

“Of course, of course! They’re my grandbabies, it’s my honor,” Toto declares, ushering everyone inside.

Soon the kids are happily playing on the living room floor as you and Susie chat over tea. Lewis joins Toto out on the back patio, no doubt talking about the current state of the team as always. Charles wanders in from the kitchen and comes up behind you, massaging the knots from your shoulders in that way he knows you love. You have to bite back a moan, not wanting to scar your family. Susie just smiles knowingly into her tea cup.

Too soon it’s time to head out for your rare adults-only evening. You pry Louis away from showing Toto his toy car collection and scoop up a sleepy Cosette. Helene hugs you tightly around the legs.

“We’ll be back to get you tomorrow, sweetheart,” you assure her, kissing the top of her head.

Lewis takes his turn hugging the kids while Charles checks his watch. “Reservations are in 30 minutes, we should get going soon.”

You pass a sleepy Cosette to Toto and he cradles her gently. “We’ll hold down the fort, you three go and have an enjoyable evening.” He gives Lewis and Charles a stern look. “But not too enjoyable, hmm? Keep it respectable.”

Lewis just grins as Charles steps up and claps Toto on the back. “Oh don’t worry, we’ll be very respectable. Just having a nice dinner while we discuss when to start working on baby number four.” He winks cheekily at Toto while you and Lewis have to stifle your laughter at the mortified look on your father’s face.

Charles dodges Toto’s half-hearted swat and pulls you and Lewis in close. “Come on, our romantic evening awaits.”

You bid one more goodnight to the kids before letting Charles usher you out the door, his hand resting possessively on your lower back. The drive to the restaurant passes enjoyably, laughter and teasing flowing freely. For one night, you have the rare opportunity to just be yourselves, simply three lovers.

At the upscale restaurant, you’re shown to a cozy corner table lit by flickering candles. Charles orders an expensive bottle of wine while you and Lewis peruse the menu. His foot trails slowly up your leg under the tablecloth and you have to resist the urge to jump him then and there. After years together the flames still burn hot, stealing passionate moments whenever you can.

Dinner passes enjoyably, full of laughter and flirty touches. Afterwards you stroll hand-in-hand along the lakefront, the starry sky reflected on the rippling water. Lewis pulls you into a dance right there on the path, the three of you swaying and giggling drunkenly together. Passersby stare but you’re oblivious, caught up in your own private world.

Eventually you make your tipsy way back home, shedding clothes on your way up to the master bedroom. They lay you down reverently in the middle of the expansive bed, hands and mouths immediately reacquainting themselves with every familiar curve and hollow of your body. Soon you’re panting and writhing between them, their dual caresses pushing you rapidly towards euphoria.

“Need you ... both ... now,” you manage to gasp out. Without hesitation Charles is kissing you hungrily while Lewis repositions himself behind you. You cry out as they join your bodies seamlessly, swiftly bringing you to the peak again and again. Their stamina and synchronicity even after all these years together never fails to leave you awestruck.

Much later, sated and pleasantly sore, you rest comfortably sandwiched between your husbands. Their hands caress you languidly as you all come down from your highs together.

“We certainly made the most of our kid-free night,” Lewis chuckles, dropping a kiss to your shoulder.

You hum contentedly. “It was heavenly. But I can’t wait to get our babies back tomorrow.”

“Me too,” Charles agrees, trailing his fingers down your arm. “Our family is everything to me.”

You smile softly at him, heart swelling. “Our lives turned out pretty perfectly, didn’t they?”

Lewis nods, his eyes drifting around the bedroom that over the years has become a shrine to your shared journey — photos of race wins, kids’ drawings, and candid shots of your unlikely love filling every surface.

“Beyond anything I could have dreamed,” he murmurs. “Being with you both, raising our babies together ... it’s more than I ever imagined was possible.”

Charles kisses you tenderly. “We’re so lucky to have this extraordinary love.”

You cling tighter to them, emotion welling in your chest. “Every day I’m grateful we followed our hearts and created this life together.”

They hum contentedly, holding you close between their warm, solid bodies. No more words need be said. After so many years, your souls are intertwined seamlessly by the incredible bonds of your love.

Come what may, you know without a doubt that you were destined for each other. And you would choose this unconventional but beautiful life with them every single time.

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girlgenius1111 · 1 month

Text

all of my pain and all your excuses

part 2 of family line ingrid arrives home, and realizes how much she's missed with her sister. her and mapi try to figure out how to put the pieces back together. r struggles with the mess inside her head. cw: mommy issues galore 🙃 mentions of poor mental health. solstråle continues to be sad.

-------

It took you a few minutes of crying into Mapi before you realized what she’d probably done. At this realization, you pulled away from her in a panic, practically falling onto the ground.

“Mapi, please don’t tell Ingrid about this, please please, you can’t, she’ll be so mad, she’s already mad, I can’t,” your gasps for air cut your words off and Mapi took your face in between her hands.

“Breathe. In and out pequeña. Just breathe.” She instructed, dramatically exaggerating her own breaths.

“Please, Mapi,” you whimpered after a minute.

“I’m sorry, nena, I had to. I had to.” She said, seemingly begging you to believe her that she’d had no other choice. You couldn’t really blame her; you’d gotten yourself here, after all. You’d written the letter. You’d meant every word you’d said, and every word you didn’t quite have the guts to say. You’d collapsed into her arms. You’d given her no choice.

“I’m really scared,” you mumbled.

Mapi pulled you back in, tucking your face easily into her chest. “I know. You don’t need to be, but I know you are. Everything is going to be alright. I promise you.”

You wrapped yourself tight around the defender, hoping with everything in you that she was right.

When Ingrid burst through the front door, eyes immediately finding you on the couch, crumpled up into a little ball in Mapi’s lap, she knew it was bad. Mapi was holding you so tightly, expression unreadable when she glanced up at Ingrid, murmuring inaudible words in your ear. You looked so small, visibly trembling in your baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, Mapi’s arms engulfing you. Ingrid practically ran to your side, sitting as carefully as she could next to the both of you.

“María, what..?” Ingrid asked, trailing off when Mapi silently held out a piece of paper to her. Ingrid took it, having no idea what she was about to read. Having no idea what she was about to feel.

You were hiding your face in Mapi’s sweater, much too distraught to care about how pathetic you probably seemed. You’d heard Ingrid enter, and you knew it was just a matter of time before you had to leave your safe little bubble and confront this. When it had been silent for too long, and you knew Ingrid must be done reading by now, you shifted away from Mapi. It was time to be brave, and it was time to take whatever was coming your way.

The look on your sister’s face made you want to take it all back. Because, fuck, you weren’t sure your happiness was worth making Ingrid this upset. She was scanning over the paper over and over, as if she was hoping the contents would change with each reread.

You acted stronger than you felt, sliding off Mapi’s lap and moving a bit closer to Ingrid. She didn’t look away from the letter.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly.

Your sister’s head snapped up to look at you so rapidly, you almost jumped.

“Solstråle,” Ingrid began, and you felt like the last stable part of you broke sharply at the nickname. Sunbeam, it meant. Ingrid had called you that your whole life. Her sunbeam, always breaking through the clouds to shine a bit of light. She’d assumed you’d grown out of it, recently. You looked so small, though, so scared and so desperately sad, that it just slipped out. She didn’t regret it, not when you practically fell towards her. “Oh, honey.”

If you were crying with Mapi just minutes before, you were bawling now. Hysterical, hyperventilating cries that were painful to hear, and painful to let out, but somehow so cathartic. Ingrid pulled you into her, beginning to cry herself.

When Ingrid spoke, it was in Norwegian, and nothing had ever sounded so safe. “I am so sorry, my perfect baby sister, I am so so sorry. I love you. I love you, I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you.”

And though you still cried, you relaxed marginally at the comfort hearing her speak in your native language brought you. You relaxed, going completely limp against your sister. You probably would have slid off her onto the ground if she hadn’t had her arms wrapped around you so tight. Ingrid wasn’t sure she’d ever let you go. You weren’t sure you wanted her to.

-------

Ingrid stood in your doorway, eyes fixed on your sleeping form. She’d brought you up to bed, carrying you like she used to when you were little. You’d fallen asleep on her downstairs, and she hadn’t dared to move you for a while. She and Mapi sat in a rather stunned silence for a while, before Mapi suggested she bring you up to bed. So, Ingrid tucked you in, pulling the covers up to your chin the way she knew you liked them. She noticed something tucked under one of your pillows, and carefully pulled it out. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the plush polar bear in her hand. Snø. She’d given him to you when you were three, for your birthday. She thought you’d stopped sleeping with him, but apparently not. The thought that you’d pulled him out of your closet for some comfort upon arriving in Spain made tears flood Ingrid’s eyes. She carefully kissed your forehead before rushing out of the room, almost colliding with her girlfriend.

“Oof,” Mapi grunted, steadying Ingrid, when she caught sight of the other womans’ face. “Amor,”

Ingrid shook her head, wiping harshly at her eyes, and pushed past Mapi towards their bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled the folded letter out of her pocket, smoothing it out, and began to read it. Again. Mapi had followed her into the room, and took the paper out of her girlfriend’s hands.

“Give it back.” Ingrid said through clenched teeth. She sounded angry, but Mapi saw the tears in her eyes and knew better.

“No, you’ve already read it.” Mapi said firmly.

“María, give it back, I need to read it again.”

“Mi amor, it's just going to hurt more, and you don’t need that right now.”

“Yes I do,” Ingrid cried. “I do, she’s been hurting like this for god knows how long. Wanting to–” She cut herself off, shaking her head almost frantically. “She said she felt like no one would care if she was gone. Reading this hurts but it is nothing compared to what she has been feeling, and it is all my fault, so let me read it so I can fix this, because I need to fix this, I can’t lose her, María, I can’t lose her.” Ingrid was sobbing by the end, making little to no sense, and Mapi placed her hands on Ingrid’s cheeks, forcing her to make eye contact. She noticed in that moment that while you looked alike normally, you looked just like Ingrid when you cried.

It wasn’t enough, though, Ingrid was crying so hard, every sob shattered a part of Mapi that she hadn’t known existed. She climbed onto the bed, pulling Ingrid with her, guiding the younger woman’s head onto her chest. Ingrid clutched at Mapi’s shirt almost desperately, muffling her sobs there too, although her body shook heavily with the force of them. Her world was falling down around her, and it was all she could do to hold onto her María, and not let go.

“I know, mi princesa, I know.” Mapi murmured, running her fingers through Ingrid’s thick hair. “You aren’t going to lose her. We aren’t going to lose her. We’ll fix it.”

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Ingrid whimpered. Mapi tilted the Norwegian’s head up, until Ingrid was looking at her once again.

“That’s okay, mi amor. You don’t need to have all the answers now. We’ll figure it out together. For now, just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her.”

Ingrid nodded pitifully, scooting up and cramming her face into the crook of Mapi’s neck.

“Thank you. For helping her and for texting me and for being so perfect. You’re always so perfect.” Ingrid mumbled.

“I’ll be perfect for you any day. I love you, and I love your sister. Now relax, mi princesa. Relax, breathe, calm down. We’re going to be okay.”

And like you had earlier, Ingrid hoped with everything in her that Mapi was right about this.

-------

Ingrid and Mapi fell silent the minute you walked into the kitchen the next morning. They’d been talking about you, clearly, and they looked at you nervously the minute you were in sight. You’d woken up irritated, though, as you sometimes did, feeling like your blood was boiling, as if one wrong thing would set you off. You wished you had more control than that, but you knew the minute you heard your sister’s voice, you would fly off the handle. Because this morning? You weren’t sad. You were furious.

The room was a complete contradiction to how you were feeling. Ingrid and Mapi’s home was bright with sunlight, and warm with color. They were both holding matching coffee mugs, and looking at you with matching concerned expressions, and all of it made you want to scream. Why did Ingrid get to have this perfect life, and you didn’t? Why did she get to be happy so easily, and you didn’t?

You were lost in your thoughts, taking the coffee Mapi handed you with a quiet thank you. The kitchen was uncomfortably silent.

“Hi, solstråle. How are you feeling this morning?” Ingrid piped up. You clenched your jaw. How did she think you were feeling?

“Fine.” You snapped.

Ingrid remained quiet and soothing when she spoke next, and it made you even angrier. “Honey, last night,”

“I don’t really feel like talking about it right now.” You said harshly, cutting her off. Ingrid tensed, trying to keep her reaction in check.

“I’m sorry, solstråle, but that is not an option. We need to talk about what happened, we can’t wait on that.” Ingrid insisted, voice measured.

Still it was like she’d hit you. Your head snapped up, your features contorted with rage, and you set your coffee down dangerously softly, glaring at your sister. “Oh now we have to? Now we have to talk about it? I’ve been here for 6 fucking months Ingrid. It took you months to realize something was wrong, and you didn’t even realize! I had to write it out for you. You told me last night that you love me, that you want me here, well then why didn’t you fucking show it before now! I said I don’t want to talk today and I meant that.” You yelled.

Ingrid shook her head, her hands clenching tight into fists. “Do not yell at me. I am trying to help. I understand that you’re hurt, and that you’re upset, but-”

You scoffed loudly then, interrupting her, and Ingrid got visibly more frustrated with you, her lips turning down into a disapproving frown.

“You can’t-”

“Ingrid, just take a sec.” Mapi cut in, her soft voice a sharp contrast to how you and your sister had been conversing. “Nena, we do need to talk, but it doesn’t have to be now. Let’s just all take a breath.”

Ingrid was shocked when you slowly nodded your head and took a step back from her, inhaling deeply. It was like magic; she’d never seen an argument that you were involved in get de-escalated so quickly.

“Go get your homework, okay? You’re coming with us to training.” Ingrid said after a minute. There was no room for argument in her words, and you fought against another surge of anger, fought the urge to yell.

“Is this because of what I wrote?” You asked evenly. Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances.

“Listen, nena, we just want to keep an eye on you.” Mapi told you, realizing that you were a lot less reactive when she spoke to you than when Ingrid did.

“I know what I said. I wasn’t going to do anything, though. Really. I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t do that to you.” You defended quietly.

Mapi felt Ingrid’s hand slide into hers and grip tight. I wouldn’t do that to you, you’d said. Not I wouldn’t do that, period. Everytime she thought about what you’d written, Ingrid felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She wasn’t sure what would have happened if Mapi hadn’t gotten home when she did. She wasn’t sure how close she’d come to losing you. She was so scared.

Ingrid had never been good at letting you see how she was feeling, and maybe that was why, until this point, you’d gone out of your way to hide your own emotions from her. She decided to take Mapi’s advice from the night before. Just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her.

Ingrid approached you like she was worried you would lash out at her, which may have been fair. When you made no move to step away from her, she carefully stood directly in front of you, and put her hands on your shoulders.

“What you wrote really scared me. I’m not mad, solstråle, I’m just really scared. And I trust you, I do, but if I left you here alone, I would just worry, and we haven’t talked yet, and I have no idea what you’re thinking other than the things you said on that piece of paper. So it would make me feel a lot better if you came with us to training today.”

You blinked up at her for a minute, before you slowly nodded your head. “Okay. I guess that’s fair.”

Ingrid seemed equally as surprised as you did, removing her hands from your shoulders, and gesturing for you to go get your bag. Once you’d disappeared from the room, she turned back to her girlfriend, who had a ridiculous grin on her face.

“Look! You communicated! Like a real human being!” Mapi joked, opening her arms. Ingrid instantly melted into the hug, though she scowled at her girlfriend’s teasing.

“I communicate.” She said stubbornly.

“Sometimes,” Mapi allowed. “You’ve definitely gotten better. And you’ll keep getting better because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as determined as you are right now to make sure that your solstråle is okay.” Mapi whispered, kissing the side of Ingrid’s head.

“My solstråle.” Ingrid smiled. “I started calling her that when she was 3, and she had this shirt with a sun on it. I told her I liked it once, and whenever she saw me sad after that, she’d run off to put the shirt on and come show me. I called her my little solstråle. My sunbeam. She used to be so smiley, María. So happy. She’s so different now.” Very quickly, the smile faded from Ingrid’s face and she held Mapi closer to her.

“It’s all gonna be okay, mi princesa,” Mapi promised.

You cleared your throat from the doorway, then, and your sister and her girlfriend sprung apart, blushing like high schoolers caught in an awkward position. “Are you guys done making out?”

“We weren’t making out,” Ingrid groaned, as you all headed towards the door.

“No, we only make out after training,” Mapi said seriously.

You made a fake retching sound, Ingrid slapped her girlfriend in the arm, and Mapi laughed to herself, but the tension was broken. And you had smiled, a real smile. Ingrid didn’t care what she had to say to see you smile again, she’d do it.

--------

As was the norm when you went to training, the younger girls immediately latched onto you, yanking you away from Ingrid and pulling you into some scheme to get back at Mapi for the prank she’d pulled on them last week. It was the usual suspects; Pina,Vicky, Salma, and a couple others pulling you from the room, already giggling. They kindly didn’t say anything about the bruising and cuts on your face, and for that you were grateful, although you did get a few raised eyebrows from the older players. Ingrid watched you go anxiously, only turning her attention away from the door you’d walked out of when Mapi squeezed her hand.

“She’ll be fine.” Mapi promised. Ingrid nodded, but she didn’t stop worrying. And when Mapi went off to work in the gym herself, the Norwegian had no one to pull her out of her head.

She worried all through the gym session, paying very little attention to what she was supposed to be doing. Which wasn’t normal for Ingrid, and it caught the attention of pretty much everyone.

Ingrid was staring intently at where you were sitting against the wall in the shade, working on your homework, when Alexia and Frido approached.

“Everything okay, Engen?” Alexia asked.

“Yep.” Ingrid said distractedly.

“What did our dear solstråle do this time?” Frido joked, having known your sister long enough to know precisely why you were living with her. Alexia knew, too, and smiled, joining in on the joke. Until Ingrid’s eyes inexplicably filled with tears, and she turned away from you, wiping harshly at her face.

“Ingrid? What happened?” Frido wondered, running a hand up and down the Norwegian’s arm, while Alexia looked around anxiously, searching for anyone, anyone on earth, that would be better at dealing with whatever was going on than she would be.

“It’s a long story.” Ingrid said, her voice cracking. Frido and Alexia exchanged looks, before the captain turned to Jona across the pitch.

“Ingrid needs her ankle taped!” She shouted, before leading both women off the pitch. Jona nodded knowingly, despite the fact that Ingrid hadn’t done anything to her ankle, and it was rather odd for 2 entire people to accompany her to tape it. Jona knew that Alexia wouldn’t be asking for a minute for Ingrid if she didn’t think it was necessary.

Ingrid let them pull her into the locker room, rather desperate for some advice and some honesty. Because Mapi loved her too much to tell her how badly she’d really messed up, and both Frido and Alexia were known to be brutally honest. She needed brutal honesty right now. No matter how much it hurt.

-------

You were busy struggling through an essay you were supposed to be writing entirely in Spanish when Frido sat down next to you. One look at her face told you she knew exactly what was going on. You weren’t that surprised. She was your sister’s best friend, and you’d known her for a long time. If there was anyone that Ingrid was going to talk to, it would be Frido.

Frido always spoke to you in Norwegian, a thing you were endlessly grateful for. It instantly put you at ease, and today was no different, as she tugged playfully at your ear.

“How is my favorite Norwegian?” She asked.

“I know you already asked your second favorite Norwegian.” You replied jokingly.

“Why would I ask Caro how you are?” Frido deadpanned.

You threw your head back, laughing loudly, and Frido grinned, continuing on to tell any and every joke she could think of.

Ingrid watched from the doorway of the building, and when Mapi turned the corner and saw her watching the two of you, she knew exactly what her girlfriend was thinking.

Ingrid saw Mapi coming, though, and forced a smile onto her face. “How was the gym?” She asked.

“Fine. I was distracted though. How is she doing?” Mapi replied, nodding in your direction.

“Well. She’s joking around with Frido. So, better I assume.” Ingrid said evenly.

“She’s joking with Frido because Frido speaks her language, and she trusts her, and she didn’t just get into a screaming match with Frido. Frido didn’t read a letter containing her most upsetting feelings. She loves you, Ingrid, she just needs time.” Mapi assured her. Ingrid kissed her cheek softly, very appreciative that her girlfriend always knew what she needed.

“What if she doesn’t want to talk when we get home?” Ingrid asked, after another minute.

Mapi sounded wiser than normal when she spoke. Ingrid wasn’t used to her being the voice of reason in their relationship, but she appreciated that the defender always stepped up, and was always willing to be what Ingrid needed. “What happened last night was a big thing. She needs to process, and she needs to take her time with it. She’ll talk when she’s ready. And until then, we keep an eye on her, we give her hugs, and we tell her that we love her, vale?”

“Okay.” Ingrid agreed. It was going to be a long and difficult evening of not suffocating you with questions, it seemed. She’d do it, though, if it was what you needed. Ingrid thought that she would probably quit football or cut off one of her limbs if that was what you needed.

-------

You didn’t talk much the rest of the day, as Mapi predicted, and as Ingrid feared. Your sister did her best not to push you, and was mostly successful. Mapi kept the conversation going, able to talk about nothing for hours. She knew exactly which topics to discuss and which to avoid, and she knew how to make both you and Ingrid laugh until your stomachs hurt. Thank god for Mapi.

You were… relatively alright. Until later that evening, when you got up to head upstairs to finish some homework. You’d accidentally picked up Ingrid’s phone thinking it was yours, and saw a few texts from your mom to her. All about how much she missed Ingrid, how she was thinking of her, how she made Ingrid’s favorite for dinner that night. Nothing about you. You put it back down silently, grabbed your phone, and tried not to think about it, to no avail.

Instead of doing your homework, you sat on the floor of your room, thinking of the fact that your mom had missed your birthday, and not even noticed. Ingrid had, too, but she’d apologized over and over, and she’d promised to take you shopping over the weekend, and to dinner. Ingrid was trying. Your mother hadn’t tried in a while.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Mapi knocked on the door to say goodnight. She peaked in, frowning when she saw the fresh tears on your cheeks.

“Hey,” she said softly, carefully lowering herself to the ground next to you, minding her knee. She texted Ingrid to come upstairs, and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because I know that you aren’t. But Ingrid and I love you. Ingrid and I want you here. Ingrid and I are gonna fix things, and that is a promise.”

You registered the words, though you didn’t believe them. Still, you gave Mapi a watery smile and leaned into her a bit. Ingrid’s footsteps were quiet in the hall, but you recognized that she was walking faster than normal. She appeared at your door, then, giving Mapi a meaningful look, and took Mapi’s place, sliding down onto the floor next to you. You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and holding tight. It looked as if you were trying to physically hold yourself together.

“Hey, solstråle,” Ingrid said softly. You murmured a greeting, not moving your chin from your knees, and not turning your gaze towards your sister either. It was quiet for a minute before Ingrid prompted you. “Talk to me, please.”

You sighed, a tear rolling down your cheek. “‘I just miss Mom.” You said finally.

Ingrid’s chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were so stubborn, so willful, sometimes she forgot you were just a kid. Just an 18 year old kid living in a foreign country, who missed her mom. “Do you want to call her?” She asked, not very confident in the suggestion, but not really sure what else to say.

You instantly shook your head. “No. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Kjære, of course she does,” Ingrid began, but she wasn’t really sure. Your parents were so different, now. And whenever Ingrid called her mom, she never asked about you. She only wanted to hear about Ingrid. Your sister wasn’t stupid, she knew she was their favorite, but she didn’t expect them to write you off completely when you moved to Spain. They seemed happier, now. Without you there. It was something Ingrid couldn’t understand. Neither could you, really, but you had long accepted it.

“No she doesn’t. I stopped calling her, just to see. 2 months ago. She hasn’t called me once. She doesn’t want me, anymore, Ingrid. I know I was an accident, but if they were going to hate me for ruining their early retirement plans, I don’t know why they didn't just…”

Ingrid was speechless. At a loss for words, and so so angry. You filled the silence, though, things you’d never said out loud falling out of your mouth like you couldn’t help it.

“I miss what mom was like before, when I was younger. When you were still at home. I miss that mom. I don’t miss the one that I could call right now.”

“I don’t understand,” Ingrid said quietly, her hand resting on your head, and pulling you closer to her.

“Ingrid, I know mom is always nice to you, but,”

“No, solstråle. I don’t understand her. How she could bring someone so perfect into this world and not want to spend the rest of her life watching you grow up. I’ll never forgive her for how she’s made you feel, and I’ll never forgive myself for not noticing earlier. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it better. I promise you.”

“Thanks, Ing.” You mumbled, looking up at her for a minute before resting your head on her shoulder.

The problem was, Ingrid could tell you didn’t believe her. She could see it in your eyes; they were still so guarded and so hurt. You were still angry with her, she knew. You thought she just felt guilty, and eventually she would go back to how she was before. Ingrid didn’t know how to make you believe what she felt and what she told you. She worried so deeply that she wouldn’t be able to. That too much damage had been done, and that maybe she wouldn’t be able to fix it. Late at night, early in the morning, right in the middle of a match, she worried about that. All the time until it consumed her, and all she wanted to do was sit with you, and promise you over and over that she loved you more than anything on this planet. What if you never believed her?

-------

doesn't everyone feel so much better now!

#woso x reader #woso imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #engen!reader

757 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 3 months

Text

Not So Grumpy

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!pregnant!reader

Summary: Tim is grumpier than usual, and when you decide to visit him at the station, the rookies get an idea of why.

Warnings: pregnant reader. fluff!

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

A/N: Softie Tim? Softie (and clingy) Tim. This takes place sometime during seasons 1-2.

“Don’t start,” Tim says, sitting beside Angela.

“Whoa, okay,” she replies with a laugh. “Glad to see you’re in such a good mood.”

“That sounds like starting.”

Angela puts her hands up, smiling as she turns away from Tim. “Chen, good luck.”

Tim rolls his eyes, wishing his mornings could go differently. It’s been several weeks of his persistent bad mood, and everyone who has to deal with him is curious about what’s causing it.

“Bradford, can I- could I maybe get you something?” Lucy offers softly.

“No.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You wake up curled against Tim’s side, his arm extended over your waist. His alarm is going off, and he’s smacking the nightstand beside him in a poor attempt to turn it off.

“You have to go to work,” you remind him, kissing his cheek as you move farther up in the bed.

“I’m good,” he replies, sighing as he finds his phone and turns the sound off. “Right here.”

He rolls closer to you, his hand sweeping over your stomach as he looks into your eyes. Tim can be persuasive, but you’ve gotten used to this routine over the last few weeks.

“I’d love for you to stay, I really would, but I don’t think your boss would appreciate it,” you say.

Tim groans, pressing his face against your neck as his arm tightens around you.

“You got clingy,” you tease, running your fingers through his hair and gently scratching his scalp.

“And you won’t let me stay,” Tim mumbles.

“It’s not my fault you wanted to be a cop.”

“You would-“ Tim pauses, sitting up so you can hear him. “You would deprive me of staying at your side during a time like this?”

Chuckling at his dramatics, you push your hand against Tim’s shoulder in a pointless attempt to move him away from you.

“Tim, baby, you see me all the time.”

“Not enough. I’m going to come home one day, and there will be a toddler running around, but I won’t remember any of this.”

You close your eyes and lean back against your pillow. “You have to go to work today so you can come to the doctor with me on Friday, right? Just think about that.”

“I can’t. I can only think of you.”

“You start a family and suddenly you’re the most romantic, clingy guy in the world. Where’d the grump go?”

Tim doesn’t reply as he tries to pull you closer. Rolling away from him, you leave him no choice but to get up and go to work. His disappointed sigh makes you frown; you know he’s being dramatic to cover up how he feels.

“Tim,” you call, sitting up as he walks to you. “I’m sorry. I love you, and I really do want you here as much as possible.”

“I know. It’s just harder than I thought it would be.”

You nod, tilting your chin up in a silent request for a kiss. Tim smiles, shaking his head as he bends to meet you. You pull back before he risks getting distracted.

“The grump is back now,” Tim mumbles.

“Hey! Be nice today,” you call after him.

Tim doesn’t reply, and you know he’ll deny ever hearing you say such a thing.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim slams the door as he exits the shop. Standing with his hands on his hips, he looks at the flat tire before glancing at Lucy.

“I didn’t see it,” she begins, her voice rushed and apologetic.

“Because you weren’t paying attention,” Tim snaps.

“But I-“

“How do you expect to graduate to short sleeves if you can’t even drive, boot?”

“It wasn’t my fault; there was something in the road!”

“Call dispatch,” Tim demands.

“What’s the protocol for this?”

Tim remains silent, leaning against the side of the shop as Lucy racks her brain for the proper procedure. As she radios dispatch and explains the situation, Tim grows grumpier. He’s stranded in a subdivision of Los Angeles with a flat tire that could have been avoided instead of home with you. His conviction about being a cop wanes each moment he’s away from you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Even without seeing the worst of it, you can tell Tim’s attitude has changed lately. His fellow officers and the rookies have been dealing with the grumpiest version of Tim they’ve ever experienced, but you see the clingy, emotional, loving side of whatever is making him act so differently.

After doing a few small chores, which Tim will tell you not to do again, you get ready and decide to pay him a visit at the station. You want to see how he is doing.. mostly, you miss him and want an excuse to see him and hug him.

As you get in your car, you consider calling Tim to ensure he’s at the station and has time for a visitor. He has been protective of you since you met, but it has changed and increased since getting married and throughout the early months of your pregnancy. You shrug, putting your phone away after electing to surprise him instead.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It would be great if one of you could remember that you’re a police officer!” Tim yells, looking between Nolan, Lucy, and Jackson. “Now you’ve got nothing to say? No excuses? Well maybe you should review those rook books before going out on patrol again.”

He turns quickly, prepared to storm away and find a private place to calm down. When he freezes, the rookies look at one another in confusion. Nolan prepares to speak, and Lucy shakes her head to stop him, unwilling to get yelled at again so soon.

“What are you doing here?” Tim asks.

You step into the bullpen with a smile as Tim rushes to your side.

“Missed you,” you whisper.

“Is that- is she-“ Nolan stutters.

“Pregnant? Yeah. And Tim is… smiling?” Jackson adds.

Lucy gasps, moving in front of Nolan to see better. It’s true: Tim is standing as close as he can, with one hand laid protectively over your stomach while he smiles down at you. His grumpiness, which has made being a rookie nearly unbearable recently, is completely gone, vanished at the sight of you.

“You shouldn’t be up walking around,” Tim frets.

“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you I cleaned the kitchen, huh?” you reply.

Tim shakes his head, his thumb brushing over the swell of your baby bump as he leans forward to kiss your forehead.

“Are you feeling okay?” Tim asks softly.

You smile, moving your chin to gesture to your left. Tim’s brows pinch as he turns, glaring at the rookies until they look away, turning to one another in a fake conversation.

“I’m not going to survive this afternoon,” Tim tells you.

“You’ve been grumpy and mean,” you accuse.

“Look, they’re going to annoy me all afternoon. Stay with me? You can do a ride along. Oh! Or you could go into labor so I can stay home with you for a few days.”

“As great as that sounds, I’m going to pass. I’d like to have a healthy baby when the time is right, not on your schedule, grumpy.”

Tim frowns, his hands on either side of your bump.

“But, I promise to be waiting for you the moment you get home,” you add. “And, maybe, if you just tell them the truth, it won’t be so bad.”

“You’ve never dealt with a boot. Or Angela Lopez.”

“Just because you won’t introduce me.”

“For good reason.”

You smile, raising your chin again before Tim kisses you quickly.

“Be careful going home. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Tim watches you leave, waiting until you’re out of sight to turn back toward the rookies. He jerks back slightly when he sees Lucy standing right beside him.

“She’s so cute! You’re so cute together! Why haven’t you mentioned her, Tim?” Lucy gushes. “And where do you hide that guy that was with her? I’ve never met that Tim.”

“And you won’t,” he promises.

“I think he leaves that side of Tim with her,” Nolan adds.

Tim’s jaw clenches. It’s true, he knows, but he doesn’t want details of his personal life to become an accepted topic for the rookies. He raises his hand, and they silence.

“Just- leave it alone for now, and I will introduce you the next time she visits,” he offers.

As he says it, he makes a mental note to ask you not to visit without warning so he doesn’t have to follow through. The lie is the only way to have peace while in the vicinity of the rookies.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be a dad,” Jackson muses.

“You’re having a kid?” Angela yells, running down the stairs and grabbing Tim’s arm.

Tim grumbles something unintelligible under his breath before saying, “Yes.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“If it’s a girl, Angela is a great name.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve got a long list of names that are an absolute no-go,” Tim replies, looking between the rookies and Angela.

“How did you figure this out?” Angela asks Lucy.

“She – who is she?” Lucy begins before realizing that she never heard who you are to Tim.

“My wife,” Tim mutters.

“You’re married?!” Angela and Nolan ask together.

Angela slaps Tim's shoulder, frowning when he looks at her with his eyebrows raised.

“I thought we were friends.”

“What gave you that impression?”

Angela gasps, covering her heart with her hand.

“Uh, Tim?” you ask, standing behind him.

He turns toward you quickly, and Angela’s eyes widen as she looks at you.

“Yeah?” he asks kindly, yet another surprise.

“Can you come with me for a second?” You notice the small crowd behind him, officers who seem more interested in you than anything else. “Hi,” you say, waving at them.

“It is so nice to meet you,” Angela begins, stepping toward you before Tim blocks her way with his arm.

“We’ll do introductions later,” Tim says, putting his arm around you and leading you away.

“I’m holding you to that!” Lucy yells.

Tim leads you into an empty interview room, his eyes searching yours. You take his hand, laying it on your stomach. Something happened when you heard his voice earlier, and you want to share it.

“Say something,” you request. “Anything.”

“I love you,” Tim answers.

His eyes widen as he feels the movement of a kick against his hand. He squats before you, moving his hand under your shirt.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” he asks.

You feel another kick, laughing at how your baby already has Tim wrapped around its finger.

“You promised to make introductions,” you say, interrupting Tim’s conversation with your stomach.

Tim stands, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you. Breathless, you push against his chest as you break away.

“You were right,” you admit. “It would be nice to have you home more.”

“We did it,” Tim whispers, his eyes dropping to your bump.

“I feel like I’m interrupting something,” you mumble.

Tim chuckles, rubbing your back as he leads you to the door.

“Introductions, and then we’re going home,” Tim explains. “Names and nothing more.”

“I would expect no less, Officer Bradford.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #requests #fem!reader #tw pregnancy

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lvlyghost · 10 months

Text

The Things I Never Said: Part 3

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Summary: You're required for one last mission.

Word Count: 2.5k

Tw: aaaaaangst, hurt with a lot of comfort. injuries, mentions of blood, kissing and slightly suggestive but nothing too explicit. price has to make a hard choice:(poor grammar, bad english ofc💅🏻 foreshadowing to my price fic 'salvation' if you squint.

A/N: i'm not gonna lie, when i wrote the first part of this fic i was bored and never in a million years did it cross my mind y'all would like it this much. sorry if this isn't as good, this is the final part of it, although i plan to write little drabbles every now and then. this was such a nice ride 🩷✨ thx for the support; remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome 🤍🐸

Masterlist✨ Part 2

Desk rotation wasn't fun, but it seemed to be the only suitable work for you considering your pregnancy, besides, it would allow Simon to keep an eye on you. At least he's sure you'd be safer in the military base than alone in your home.

Your only companion as you sit in the tech room is nothing more than a computer with two screens and Jimmy, the other tech guy who sits in the far corner across from you.

True to his word, Price had saved you and Simon a horrible martial court plus being discharged. Technically you're no longer a part of the 141 task force which is already upsetting to all of your team; instead working strictly under Price's command and assisting the different branches of the military. Meaning you're no longer subdued to Lieutenant Riley, therefore you're not his subordinate, at least not directly.

You respond to Price and only Price.

Nearing the end of your first trimester your swollen belly has started to show, the same you try to dissimulate by wearing bigger shirts than you would usually wear, but enough for Simon to notice when he'd place a big calloused hand on your stomach.

'It's... tiny.' He had stated, to which you laughed softly.

'Of course it is, your hand is massive!'

You shake your head, with a small smile on your lips as you remember that scene.

"Everything good?" You ask your companion.

"Mhm. You know you're the best for creating the security system right? Not a single breach or flaw. Couldn't ask for a better partner."

"Is that a chai?" Completely ignoring what he just said you point the white disposable cup next to him. He looks between you and his drink.

"Yeah? Didn't know you liked it, here... have it. I can get another." He assures you when you hesitate.

You thank him with glowing eyes and excitement. Cravings... you're embarrassed of the amount of food you've asked from Simon in the middle of the night. Sushi, pizza and even peaches just for the sake of the baby.

He's being the gentlest man on earth. Caring and supportive. Your phone buzzes as you're about to start to work. The screen lights up with a message from your Captain. Huffing you stand up, letting Jimmy know you'll be back in a few minutes, or so you thought.

You're not prepared for the hell unfolding inside John's office.

You're able to hear male voices from the other side of the hallway. You don't know why but your heart begins to race, knocking twice once you've reached the brown wooden door.

"Come in!" Price shouts from inside.

You open the door, greeted by John's hardened eyes and Simon's back as he hunches over the Captain's desk. Confused and much to your dismay there's a gigantic folder between the two men, your eyes fall on Ghost's trembling frame.

He is enraged.

Body buzzing in anger as the soft click of the door interrupts the silence that's fallen suddenly inside.

"You wanted to see me Sir?"

Price slowly stands, Simon doing the same, turning his head ever so slightly to watch you from over his shoulder.

"I need to talk to you, sweetheart." Price begins.

A deep breath exits Simon's chest.

"What is it?" You take a step closer to them, until you're standing next to him, crossing his arms over his chest he remains silent.

"We need you. For a mission." He states. "It's important, sergeant. I don't think anyone else would be able to pull this off." Your eyes dart back to your boyfriend. Staring daggers at his superior. "I'd never ask for this if I had to."

"Bloody hell Price, she's not fucking going!" He is seething.

The gut-wrenching feeling sets in your belly, tossing and turning with anxiety. Simon isn't taking this well and you don't want to see him like this, it breaks your heart.

"How important, Sir?" You ask.

Ghost snaps his head towards you. Jaw tightening, and calls your name ever so softly.

"Don't." He barks. "Don't fucking play the hero, kid." He warns you.

"I'm not trying to play the hero, Simon." You talk back. "I'm trying to figure out how to get this done. I might have someone else that could go in my place." Price sighs. "Can I do it from the base? Maybe I don't have to leave the compound."

"Reports say the files are heavily encrypted. It's the Russians, sergeant. We're not dealing with amateurs." He turns to Ghost emphasizing the last word. "You more than anyone should understand, Lieutenant."

"Not when you're bloody sending her to a suicide mission!"

"These are not my orders Simon! General Shepherd wants her! I tried to talk him out of it. I can't do much more, son." You swallow when Simon starts pacing around like a rabid dog, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is there any way I can do it? She can guide me through it the whole time..." he's back, leaning closer to his Captain. "I know I...-"

"Unless you know how to code and decrypt systems to perfection it can't be, Ghost. I'm sorry."

"It would only slow down the mission, get you caught. And in danger..." you reasoned, mumbling and staring down to your feet. There's no one else. Not even Jimmy. The one you had in mind.

Simon's mouth snapped shut.

His eyes are helpless when he connects them with yours. The realization of what's about to happen sinking in his core, he tried. He really did.

One long stride and he's embracing you, so tightly you think you'll suffocate; you hug him back, head resting right over where his heart beats frantically against his ribcage.

"I'm coming with her." He snarls. "Not Kyle, not Johnny. And certainly not someone from fucking KorTac." He turns to glare at Price with a death stare. "It'll be me, no one else."

"John's devastated." You tell him. Your back pressing against his hard chest. The water in the bathtub is warm, and smells like lavender and sandalwood. After the catastrophic meeting a few hours ago, Simon was too outraged to remain at the base so he drove both of you back to the safety of his apartment. You rest your head on his left shoulder, enjoying the delicate touch of his hands on your lower belly. He hums, almost absentmindedly. He didn't want to think about Price, or the mission for all that matters. All he can think of is you. He sighs, closing his eyes he presses a kiss on your hair.

"Bloody fucking bald cunt." He spits. You snort at his comment. Shepherd was a complicated man, and hardly one you could negotiate with once he had his mind set on something or someone.

"When do we have to...-"

"Tomorrow." Your lips are pressed into a thin line. "I'll be there no matter what, right next to you, love." He reassures you. You were never one to hesitate during missions but now... releasing a shaky breath you turn your head to look at Simon.

"I'm scared..." Simon's body goes rigid. The hand on your stomach halting. "It's not even for me, you know?" Swallowing your free hand reaches down to find his own, lacing your fingers with him. A muscle becoming prominent in his jaw as he grits his teeth.

"Nothing will happen to you. Bloody count on it, yeah? First shite I deem dangerous I'm pulling us out of there, understand?" You nod.

"Promise me you won't get hurt." There's a moment of silence that becomes unbearable the longer it extends. "Simon..." his eyes are fixated on yours, shining with what you can only describe as worship. The faintest of smiles spreads across his features.

"Don't you worry about me, sweetheart. Not for one second." Breathing deeply you pull him down for a kiss. It's slow and tender; makes you forget about all the difficulties you face. Biting down his lip, Simon takes it as a sign to further deepen the kiss. Tongues finding each other in a fight for dominance. "Don't wanna think about what tomorrow holds. I have you here right now. That's all I need."

Your mind goes back to the moments you and Simon shared last night. It was so simple, so real.

That's how things were supposed to be.

Easy.

Not heart wrenching, not stifling down a cry as you watch him get shot. A bullet that was aimed at you .Breaking in had been easy. Way too easy for your liking. But you thought that for once maybe a mission wouldn't be a pain in the ass. The hardest part was getting inside their systems; John was right. It was hellish even for you. It took more time than what you had anticipated. No one would've been able to pull it off.

"Whoever is behind this, they're good." You acknowledged as you type down the codes that will eventually get you in.

"Bloody brilliant you are, kid." Simon watches from the other side of the room, eyes scanning the hallway every now and then looking for any possible hostiles. You send him a coy smile.

"Keep looking at me like that and I'll get no work done."

"How am I supposed to look at you then?" He asks

You don't answer because the screen in front of you suddenly shifts from 'Access denied' to 'Access granted'.

"Got you." You whisper. Simon stands straight. You plug your USB and start downloading all the information as well as setting a virus so their system gets permanently damaged.

"What is it?" He gruffly asks when the files finished downloading on your own device. Clearing your throat you try to ignore the horrible pictures you just took a glimpse of.

"Just... insanity." Is all you can say. A loud metallic sound echoes in the room, you never get to see the person behind you. Ghost's eyes widen and he barks an order your ears don't register, static fills your eardrums. The gunfire starts but lasts mere seconds. Crimson blood splutters from Simon's body.

You stand up, knocking down the chair as you jump out and run where Simon's injured body kneels. You fall down grabbing him by the face. The pain you're feeling deep inside has never been worse.

"I'm fine." He hisses. "Just my fucking shoulder."

As if that would make you feel better.

"Let's get the hell out of here." Your lips quiver. You run back to retrieve the small USB drive.

The body of a man lays down, a pool of blood forms around him. He was hiding behind you the entire time. Had Simon been distracted the outcome could've been atrocious. Yo don't dwell on it.

"Come on, baby." You urge him, crouching down to help Simon as much as you can to get him standing. His weight is just too much for you, you think, when he finally raised to his feet.

"S'okay love. Don't... don't overwork yourself. I'm too heavy, don't wanna get you hurt because of me."

Tears form in the corner of you eyes at such selfless act.

"You're the one who got hurt because of me, Simon." You stammer.

"So what? Would fucking die for you." You shake your head but keep close to him. Pressing down the wound on his shoulder as you head towards the exit. "Evac point is ten minutes away. We should be fine." The gun that rests on your thigh feels heavier than it should.

You're lucky, you guess as you walk away from the god forsaken building.

Lucky that you have him by your side, even when his blood stains your fingers. He's there, you're there and you're making it out alive. Wounded or not, Simon would never let anything happen to you, that's how deep his love for you was.

He wasn't like his dad at all.

He was real, caring, something not much people knew. Not in their lifetime.

The amount of blood he was losing was inhumane. An injured shoulder couldn't cause someone to lose this much blood, you ponder. Your black shirt feels sticky and damp, you take a quick glance and hold back a sob. Another gunshot wound, one he didn't care enough to tell you about and you didn't notice, too scared to even think.

Far in the distance between two big threes a black truck awaits. Johnny's face dropping when he noticed Ghost's decaying form. He rushes in your direction, taking him off of you, carrying his weight. He gives you a concerned look.

"Johnny..." you choke up. "We have to save him, please."

It's been the worst 48 hours of your life since you landed. He got two surgeries done in order to remove the fragments from inside his body. You were exhausted, barely ate or slept. It almost felt criminal, selfish, when your eyes started to close and finally gave in.

Then the nightmares came.

Ones where he didn't make it back and instead you had to leave him behind and never got to meet his child.

A warm feeling spreads from your skin. A faint touch. Are you still dreaming? His face erupts in your subconscious mind and you cry again. He's fine.

When you slowly open up your eyes you're met with blue eyes and a raspy voice.

"Don't neglect yourself for me, kid." You're speechless, the searing pain in your heart eases. He knows you so well. Knows you haven't left his side. "Takes more than a bullet to keep me away from you." When you don't move nor speak he continues, clearing his throat. "Come here, sweet thing."

There's a new wave of tears that fall mercilessly down your cheeks. You carefully climb up next to Simon's good side.

"Don't you ever scare me like that!" you weep. Sobbing uncontrollably Simon hushes you. Murmuring words of comfort in your ear. The anesthesia is still making him feel dizzy but that doesn't stop him from kissing every part of your face. Your hair, your forehead, your cheek and finally your lips.

"Let's leave this place for a while. Go on vacation while we still can..." you beg.

Simon's lips twitch. He's smiling down at you.

"What do you have in mind doll?"

You breathe deeply.

"Greece. I always wanted to go to Greece."

There's moments in life when you doubt you'll get a happy ending. Being with Simon at first was pure coincidence, something that had evolved from deep admiration and respect, which then turned into something more. It turned out to sleepless nights at the common room with the task force. Longing stares during briefings. Looking after each other during missions.

The training sessions together. Lending his massive leather jacket because you were always reluctant to bring your own. That one night he couldn't resist it anymore and went to your dorm. How you felt under his touch, oh he was touch starved when it came to you. And when he learned he was going to be a father, that moment would be ingrained into his memory until his very last day.

"Greece it is."

It's a promise.

TAGS:

@nijiru @illyanam1011

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod mw22 #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #call of duty ghost simon riley #john price x reader #soap mactavish x reader #cod simon riley #simon riley #cod simon ghost riley #simon riley x you

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deceitfuldevout · 7 months

Text

Happy Purge

Purge AU: Soft!Dark!Mike Kiernan x Student!Reader

Word Count: +2,068

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Stalking, Kidnapping, Power Imbalance, Use of blood as lube, Mild gore, Purge day.

Author's Note(s): I was thinking about this and coincidentally it's kinktober haha!

It's been almost a decade since the first purge. A lot has changed since then. You remember a time when people didn’t have to worry about looking over their shoulder. Even the morning after was gruesome scene. There was an official purge cleanup crew for that reason alone. You couldn’t help but stare at the clock on the wall.

If you could squeeze in just one last assignment, you'll be free for the weekend. Suddenly, you hear your name being called. It breaks you out of your train of thought, turning to your instructor and apologizing, "Yes Professor! S-sorry..." now embarrassed that you've been caught by him. Professor Mike Kiernan

According to his students, Mike was more than an exceptional teacher. Every last one of them adores him. If not, well then he'd have to look out for tonight. You on the other hand, have always felt there was something off about him. As if he were harboring a dark secret. Maybe it was the building nerves. After all, tonight would be the start of the annual Purge Day.

Mike ends class an hour early, giving his students enough time to reach home safely. You on the other hand, take the opportunity to finish up remaining school work. Mr. Kiernan was also in charge of study hall. He notices you're the last student left and approaches your desk, "Forgetting something?"

You look up at him with your pen still in mouth, taking it out to speak. That's when the realization hits. "Oh sh—shoot!" Quickly correcting the slip up. You had completely forgotten. In about thirty minutes the sirens were going to ring, after that the Purge would commence. You lived a little more than half an hour away. How on earth would you make it to home on time?!

Mike notices your fidgeting, poor thing. You were so caught up in school work that you'd completely forgotten. Always so responsible, one of his best students. So kind and generous. You were always a good student, helping anyone that needed it. Was it bad that he wanted to keep it all for himself?

"Do you need a ride home?" he offers, "It's not safe out there, especially not for a young lady like yourself," kind, genuine words. Your phone is almost dead, and you had no point of contact. So you take his offer, "Thank you professor Kiernan, Seriously," You grateful to have someone like him. He walks you to his car parked on the edge of the lot. He takes his time walking to it. You on the other hand, were in a hurry.

You felt almost embarrassed by the way you held the door handle eagerly waiting for him. To unlock it. He chuckles, clicking the button of his keys to open it. You hurry inside, not wasting a second hopping onto the seat. As he began to drive off you could hear the first warning bell. There would only be two more before the final sirens. Your eyes are glued to the red sirens attached to each public building, the blaring makes you feel sick.

When the car makes a sudden turn off the main road, you begin to grow suspicious, "Professor?"

"Yes?"

"This isn't the way to my house..."

"I know, but it's too late for that now," he answers, "The third alarm is about to go off, we won't make it in time," his eyes are still glued to the road. You gather enough courage to speak up again, "Professor....professor where are we going?"

"I live nearby, you're more than welcome to spend the night," he answers, "The last thing I'd want is for those animals to harm a student of mine," he reassures. Mike lives in the more rural side of town. There's a growing feeling you have that something was wrong about all this. But what other choice do you have? It was better than being out there alone on the streets.

As soon as you arrive to Mike's home, he activates the security system. When he first bought the house, the first thing he did was install a Purge-proof security system. He walks into the kitchen, rummaging for something, "Would you like some tea?" he opens the pantry to fetch some herbs. While it boils he gets some jam and toast for it. As soon as he finishes up, he places both cups on the table.

You notice that Mike hadn't taken a sip from his drink. Your eyes widen with fear, "You haven't touched your cup..." there's a pause. Then he realizes his mistake, "Ah, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you nervous," he switches the drinks, "Here, have mine," he takes a sip from your cup to insure it hadn't been spiked. It calms your nerves knowing that there was nothing to worry about.

Mike had kept his promise that you would be safe here. It's been a while since he's had anyone over. He tries his best hosting skills, a round of charade, following by a board game. It was honestly one of the best purge experiences you've had yet. A great distraction from the events occurring outside. He insists on watching a movie to kill the time, you agree. Why not? Besides, Mike's company wasn't so bad.

It was during the middle of the movie when you needed to use the restroom. He points you to down the hall. On your way back, you notice a door had been left open. It was most likely the master bedroom. When you reach the knob to close it, you accidentally take a glimpse inside.

That's when you notice what was there. No....there's no way...You enter his room to get a closer look. Mike smiles to himself. To think that he'd been so worried about everything, and for what? You seem to be enjoying his company. He was right all along, there was something more to your relationship.

He hears you rushing down the hallway, there's an angry look on your face, "What the fuck are these?!" you toss the photos on the ground. Pictured in each and every last one of them is you. Some of them were taken while on campus, others were downloaded from social media posts. He smiles, "Now I know what you're thinking, but if you just hear me out--"

"Not a fucking chance!" you back away from him. He's confused, why now were you acting out? It was going so well between the two of you! Can't you see how much he cares?

"Don't you see the love and dedication I have for you?! And you know it too!" he nears, "I know you feel the same way..." his voice sounding more desperate, there's a deranged look in his eyes that doesn't meet his smile, "Tell me you weren't thinking the same thing, when you waited for me after class," he held a hand to his chest, expressing his love for you.

He's finally letting you know how he's felt for a very long time. You were at a loss for words, there's no way he actually thought--between the two of you? He's delusional. To think you and your classmates actually trusted him. You're pissed, "Get it through your fucking head! You're my professor! That's all you'll ever be!"

After hearing that Mike's smile fades. He could feel heart shattering into a million pieces. Maybe it was a mistake, bringing you here on your own terms. If he knew this was how you would react, then he would've just stuck to the original plan. He knows he could get away with it too. After all, it was Purge day.

Usually, he'd go against something like this. But what other choice does he have? It quickly turns into a fight or flight situation. You knew he was stronger than you, so there would be no point in fighting him. What other choice did you have other than running? Mike is much faster than you realize. He's quick to grab you before you've had a chance to alert the security system.

Mike drags you across his home. He stops by a door located on the side of the staircase. He almost rips the hinges off when he pulls you inside. You fought with all your might, scratching, pushing, hitting wherever you possibly could. To him, they felt like nothing. He's dealt with worse. In the struggle, you're sent tumbling down the stairs.

Mike uses his body to shield yours from the fall. He cradles your head against his chest. Yet still, you were fighting him, after everything he's done. You scurry towards the other side of the basement. As far away from him as you could possibly be.

Mike sighs with annoyance, "You have no idea what it's like..." he lifts himself off the floor, his hands now balled up into fists. He doesn't know how much longer he can hold himself back, "You have no idea what it's like seeing you every day, and not being able to do a damn thing!" he charges, slamming you against a wall, he leans his head closer to yours.

Still there was that look of admiration in his eyes, "We could've been so happy together," Mike grabs you by the throat, pulling you into a deep, searing kiss. In retaliation you bit his lip. He winces in pain, "Will you just...stop fighting me?!" his anger gets the best of him as he slams you against the wall. You're left stunned after getting the wind knocked out of your lungs.

Mike is quick to catch you. He panics, "Please! I don't want to hurt you!" He yells over and over again, "I love you! I love you! Please! I love you!" there are tears in his eyes, "Just please...let me love you..." he sighs against your neck, placing a kiss on the bare skin, "Look at what you do to me..." he grinds his bulge against your clothed mound.

You could practically feel how big it was, even through the many layers of clothing. It makes your skin crawl, how he's played the role of a caring professor and community member for so long. Could he even see himself right now?! "Look, whatever you want, a house, a baby, I'll give ya," Mike never knew he even wanted those things, not until he met you. Don't you see? You're all he's ever needed.

You fought him like a trapped animal. His feisty little wildcat. You use both fists to land a few good hits on his face, over and over again. Hitting his nose with a 'crunch' sound. But still, it doesn't stop him. Mike can't seem to understand why you were trying to escape. It was useless fighting him. This would be so much better if you just gave in. Because eventually, he's going to get what he wants. He pulls you into another forceful kiss.

For that, you headbutt in right in the face. Mike winches, pulling away from you with a now bloody nose. He throws you to the ground. Then pounces, caging his body on top of your own. He begins to unbuckle his belt, dragging his boxers down to free his cock. He spits a wad of blood in his palm, that'll do for now. He doesn't want to waste anymore time. Purge would be ending in a few hours, and he'll make sure to use every last minute of it.

He knows how the law works in this area. If a couple lived together for over a year, then it would legally bind them together as husband and wife. Mike doesn't mind that idea at all, 'My wife...you're going to be my wife," he sighs. Your stomach churns after hearing that, "No...no please, this isn't what I want!"

"You don't even know what you want" Mike starts lifting up your skirt, he's eager, almost giddy, "But I do," yanking down the waistband of your panties. He forces his member deep inside, groaning from the sensation of your walls pulsing. You scream from the intrusion. It resembles a cat's howl.

Tears begin to form, now blurring your vision. Your claws sink deep into his chest, as he began thrusting in and out of your channel. He doesn't stop, not until he finishes. He has only one goal on his mind, to plant his seed, leave a legacy behind, "Take it, take it..." he mumbles over and over again.

"Professor?" a student asks, causing Mike to break from his trance. His student asks the question again, "How was your purge?" genuinely curious. What did Professor Mike Kiernan, of all people, do to earn those nasty bruises? He's still wearing his sweater from yesterday, now caked in his own blood. The first thing he did the morning after, was drag himself out of bed and straight to lecture. He couldn't help but grin, "Well, ran into some trouble, but, no worries,"

His students and coworkers felt bad. They all said the same thing, how Mike was the last person who deserved something like this. If only they knew. After a long day of lectures, he finally drives home. He passes by the Purge's official memorial road. There are numerous photos of people who had either lost their lives or went missing.

When he sees your photo, he can't help but smirk. He parks his car on the side of the road, approaching the stand. He pockets the picture for keepsake, smiling to himself as he returns to his car. It's been a long time since Mike has looked forward to coming home.

Perhaps Purge wasn't so bad.

#dark!mike kiernan #reader #reader insert #reader x mike kiernan #mike kiernan x reader #dark!mike kiernan x reader #fem!reader #fab!read #afab!reader #my work #my works #cillian murphy character #cillian murphy smut #smut fic #dark fanfic #dark fic #dark!fanfiction #dark!fic #dark smut

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okkotsuus · 1 year

Note

PLEASE i need that dealing with ur ex as ur boyf but for barou cus i KNOW that man would GO OFF!

ex encounters (bllk pt.2) !

no because barou would beat the shit out of someone. i'm jut gonna include the rest i wanted for pt.2 with this <3

features: barou s. jingo r. rensuke k. meguru b.

contents: bad exes. ig hurt comfort. kind of comical. barou tries to fight someone. raichi actually fights someone. barou, raichi, and kunigami are physically imposing. bachira pretends to be cray cray (is he really pretending tho?). they're adults bc i said so. 1.9k words.

tw for the exes: copying you. light implied obsession. second choice. gas lighting. being physically imposing. cheating. implied love bombing. stage 5 clinger (derogatory). extremely mild stalking? (can't think of a better word for it).

pt.1 — pt.3 — pt.4

barou would be so bothered, he would verbally degrade the poor dude to tears. not to mention how physically imposing the man is, the ex would be SPRINTING away.

it all started about three years ago when you broke up with your ex, because you just didn't love him anymore and didn't want to keep him trapped in a loveless relationship.

you always felt bad about it, but never bad enough to get back together with him. especially not after barou had barged his way into your life, conquering your heart.

you were sitting on a bench in the park while waiting for him to come back from getting ice cream for the two of you. y'know, not expecting to see your ex, you were minding your business and scrolling though tiktok.

"y/n, hey!" you looked up to see your ex, at first you were confused because frankly, you didn't recognize him. he had changed a lot about himself, physically, dying his hair and dressing different.

part of you already had an idea where this was going. so, you just smiled at him and tried your best to be polite.

"oh, hello." yep, polite, but not nice so that it would lead him on. he stated blabbing on about how he had changed a lot lately, talking about things from the food he liked to the music he listened to. you noticed that it was all things that you had done or liked back when the two of you were together. it was kind of creeping you out.

"i guess what i'm trying to say is: will you please give me another chance. we should be much more compatible now-" you watched half in amusement and half in shock as a cone of ice cream was sat on his freshly coiffed hair.

your ex whirled around in anger, but immediately when dead still when he saw who did it: your boyfriend, barou. he was now holding only one ice cream as he stared down on your ex.

"you dare to speak to MY servant? begone from my sight, you filthy donkey." his words were spat with a venom as he threateningly stepped towards your ex who ran away.

he grumbled and handed you the ice cream he didn't shove on your ex's head, watching as you looked at him with stars in your eyes. he just huffed and ruffled your hair, looking away to hide the slight flush on his cheeks.

"he won't bother you again, but you better share your ice cream with me as a thanks."

jingo would swing on sight. i’m being so deadass he would sucker punch them and spit on them before looking at you all smiley and walking out while holding your hand.

while on a date with raichi, you had lost him in the aisles of the target that you had chosen to torment. you and him had been having a grand time while terrorizing everyone there with your boisterous cackles at any little thing that slightly amused you.

you had looped around an aisle to find him after walking too fast and he was no where in sight. at first you thought he was hiding from you as a joke so you jumped at the beginning of every aisle to try to catch him off guard. but no one was there.

well no one except your ex. because of course he was there. why wouldn't he be in this random target while you just happened to by separated from your boyfriend?

he wasn't a terrible person per say, but he just had a tendency to choose other things or people over you. that was just something that gnawed at you until you snapped which lead to this big fight, where he accused you of making everything up. that was the last straw for you so you broke up with him and never spoke to him, ignoring his calls until they stopped coming.

but here he was, standing directly in front of you, a wobbly smile on his lips that didn't match the look in his eyes. "hey, honey. how've you been? i've been really bad without you..."

you didn't answer and just stared at him while backing off slightly. he just continued, taking a step forward for every one you took back.

"i really miss you, you make me complete"

"you don't really mean that." the words flew from your lips before you could think, speaking the cold and harsh truth. he knew that as his expression turned in anger, taking a bigger step towards you.

but he was immediately thrown back by a fist ramming right against his cheek. he flew back and stood there stunned, taking in the sight of your boyfriend. his widened eyes, sharp teeth, and muscular form. raichi was cracking his knuckles as he growled at the guy.

your ex was about to swing back only to be punched straight in the nose, falling to the ground, being temporarily knocked out. raichi spat on him and turned to you, grimace turning into a sweet grin. he held your hand as an employee kicked you out of the store.

"we're definitely banned, don't regret it though angel, there are other targets."

rensuke would be just annoyed. he knows what he looks like compared to most men and just stands behind you while looking at the guy, doesn’t even have to do anything.

you were sitting at a table in your favorite restaurant while kunigami went to park the car, wanting to optimize the time that it would take to wait for a table. surprisingly, it wasn't very packed so you were able to get one as soon as you asked the hostess.

so, here you sat, sipping on your water as you waited for your boyfriend to come back to join you.

what you didn't expect was to feel an unfamiliar hand on your shoulder, turning to see your ex. he wasn't anything special; the typical cheater. he was so sweet to you at the beginning of it all, treating you as if he was your world almost instantly. that really should have only clued to you that he was hiding something.

he cheated on you with not only one person, but THREE. so he was the furthest from someone you could get back together with. so when he started doing the same sweet lines that he had given you during the beginning of your relationship, a familiar sense of dread set in.

"hey there pretty, missed ya so much, why don't i join you here?"

you just shook your head as you noticed rensuke approaching from the front of the restaurant. you had stopped listening to your ex and you watched his form talk to the hostess.

she pointed in your direction, and you watched as his gaze moved upon you and the predicament you were in. he sent an apologetic smile your way as he walked with a slight haste you way.

"...and those are the reasons why we would be perfect if we got back together." he finished off a long spiel that you, frankly, weren't listening to. you just nodded, watching as rensuke settled behind the guy, waiting for him to notice.

"that's nice and all, it's just: i already have a boyfriend. plus, you cheated on me." your ex just sighed and began to start complimenting you, saying he was such a fool.

rensuke cleared his throat as he stood with his arms crossed, a brow quirked. he was kinda hot like this, to be honest. your ex just turned around and when he saw him, you saw his eyes widen.

your ex just looked between the two of you, acknowledging your loving gaze at the other man, he just sighed and left. rensuke snickered and sat across from you, flipping through the menu.

"can't take ya anywhere, can i, sweetheart?"

meguru would go like feral. he would start talking to the monster in front of the dude and just make him think he was batshit crazy. i mean, it worked, so whatever.

you were sitting with bachira on a bench while he idly chattered about bees. you just smiled as you listened to him list off all sorts of things that you couldn't understand through the jumbling of his words from excitement.

suddenly, your pleasant afternoon was interrupted by a voice shouting your name. you turned to see you ex running up to you with a smile. he never really left you alone, even after you had broken up. always happy to see you and insert himself into anything that you were doing. like a nosey dog. somehow, he was everywhere you were, like he knew you'd be there.

"heya! how've you been, missed you!" he went in for a side-hug but you scooted further into bachira's side, skirting away from it. bachira had long forgotten his beloved bees, instead scrutinizing your ex with a hollow, yellow gaze.

"hey..." you trailed off, lookng away as he sat down, squeezing into the two person bench, legs against yours. so you leaned further into bachira, relishing in the arm he draped over the back of the bench to rest around your shoulders. you also saw the glare your ex shot his way.

"just wanted you to know that i've really missed you, and i'm practically begging you for another chance!" his tone was chipper as his eyes glared harshly into your boyfriend, holding all but friendliness.

bachira suddenly burst into laughter, cackling like a maniac. he looked at the ground in front of the two of you, as if something was there.

"d'you hear the never of this guy? flirting with my partner right in front of me?" he spoke to nothing, it took you a little aback at first before remembering about his 'monster.' your ex just looked at him with wide eyes, clearly freaked out.

bachira nodded at the spot, mumbling agreements. he suddenly turned to your ex, looking him dead in the eye, piercing into him. his face was blank, eyes wide and empty, the only expression was a smirk on his lips.

"the monster in me says that the world would be better of without you... and i agree." your ex jumped up and muttered a goodbye to you before speedwalking away.

you turned to bachira and watched him shake his head like a dog, expression returning to normal as he looked at you with sparkly eyes and a genuine smile. your heart returned to normal as he kissed your shoulder.

"i may be crazy for you, sweet thing, but i'm not actually crazy. yet..."

okkotsuus 23

#bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #barou shouei #barou shouei x reader #barou x reader #jingo raichi #raichi x reader #jingo raichi x reader #raichi jingo #rensuke kunigami #rensuke kunigami x reader #kunigami x reader #meguru bachira #meguru bachira x reader #bachira #bachira x reader

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netherfeildren · 11 months

Text

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .1

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Summary: What do you do when you meet a woman, have a child, get married, and then find the love of your life?

-OR-

A Joel infidelity AU

Content Warnings: Discussions of alcoholism and parent death.

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Hi, everyone. Welcome to the new story.

Disclaimer to begin with. Joel is married in this, but it is, and always has been, a marriage of convenience. There has never been any sort of emotional or physical intimacy between him and his wife apart from when Sarah was conceived.

Like always, I promise there will be a happy ending, and that there will be lots of other fun :) stuff to make up for the occasional tears.

I appreciate you all so much. Happy (lol I guess) reading. xx

Art is The pain that keeps on giving, Noelia Towers, (2018-2019). Title of the story comes from this film.

Word Count: 6.8K

Read on AO3

Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant.

Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

The first time you’d fucked, it was like you’d never been touched by a man before. The first time he’d looked at you, like you’d never been seen, in the entirety of your existence, prior to that moment. Every other time after that, every touch, every look, was the same – a rebirth of sorts. And a devastation. Something not to be understood or conceptualized, only experienced.

Taking that into account, it’s no surprise that things unfolded as they did – ended as they did.

“Please, please, come with us,” Gerri drags the vowels out and hits you with the puppy dog eyes. You shake your head at her, smiling, packing up your supplies from tonight’s lesson. “It’s going to be so fun, I promise. Tommy’s sister-in-law hates my guts, I know, what-fucking-ever, but my sister and her girlfriend will be there, and my best friend’s planning on coming too. And there’s an extra bedroom, it’ll be perfect, I swear.”

“Yeah, I remember the sister-in-law from Easter.” Of course you remember her from that day. Gerri had invited you to their family barbecue, and the woman had pitched a fit that Tommy’s girlfriend, somehow posed as an insult, had dared invite someone without asking her permission first. It was also the first time you’d met him. And he was, by far and large, the reason you’d stayed away and evaded all subsequent invitations since then. Even if his wife had unapologetically said to your face that she found it crazy that people still party crashed, no matter that that hadn’t been what you’d meant to do, hadn’t known you were party crashing. She’d also thrown away the bunny cake you’d stayed up the entire night before making. No gluten in the house or something, even though the hamburger and hot dog buns had all been regular.

“Oh my fucking God, Easter. Don’t even remind me. I know, I know.” She gives you a pointed look and you huff a laugh at her. “But that was months ago. Her and Joel were on the outs then, or… had just gotten back together… I can’t ever keep up. And well… they’re still on the outs now–” She scrunches up her face into the cutest little frown. You love Gerri so much. From the first moment she’d shown up for your Tuesday night ceramics class at the community college, she’d immediately decided that not only were you going to propel her into the upper echelons of the great sculptors of the world, the greater Austin area – her words, not yours, but she’d also immediately decided that you were going to be friends, and no, you did not have a choice in the matter.

“But they’re always on the outs. And things haven’t been as bad recently – according to Tommy. But honestly the fuck does he know about all that anyways. My poor baby is so clueless – but still, please, please please,” she begs, pouts your name over and over again. “Please, come with us?” She brings her clasped hands up under her chin in a pleading gesture, hits you with the puppy dog eyes again.

You were so grateful for her. Despite your recalcitrance, it’d always been hard for you to make friends. A byproduct of who your mother was, being an only child, a largely solitary upbringing, et cetera, et cetera. You’d needed Gerri’s tenacious spark and kindness to pull you out of your shell. She wanted you to join her, her boyfriend Tommy, and their friends and family at a house they’d rented on Lake Austin for the weekend as a sort of end of summer farewell. And you did – you wanted to go, bunny cake murdering sister-in-law and all, but there was the issue of him.

You were… there was not a single phrase for what it was your mind turned into when that man and his name and his face invaded your psyche. So you’d done your best to avoid him in your mind and in real life, at all costs. He was – he was not something you were capable of considering.

“I’m not sure if I can, Ger–” you say slowly, wracking your brain for an excuse. “There was– one of the other teachers at the elementary school–” Your day job, when you weren’t teaching night class ceramics, was as an elementary school art teacher, “Asked if I’d cover for them on Friday – summer school.” Stupid excuse, you roll your eyes at yourself.

“Oh, shut up. The summer camp classes end early – you told me that last time! You could drive up after.” She sidles up to you now, rests her curly haired head on your shoulder. “Please, you’ve said no to everything I’ve invited you to since Easter. You aren’t avoiding me because of the shitshow that was, are you?”

“No, of course not.” Yes, yes you were. Just not for the reason she thought. “I would just hate to impose–”

“You wouldn’t! I swear you wouldn’t be!”

“You all already have your plan, and I–”

“No! No. My sister’s the one renting the house, and she said I could invite whoever I wanted. So, no one can say anything,” she sticks her tongue out, rolling her eyes. “And Joel said I should invite you too. I’m pretty sure he still feels badly about last time also.” Fucking hell, you did not want him feeling bad for you. At all. Ever. You did not want him ever thinking about you ever, ever, ever.

You stand over the kitchen trash bin, staring at your destroyed cake. Your grandmother used to make it every Easter. Four separate cake loaves all cut into the shapes for a face, two big pointy ears, and a cute little bow tie, with a pineapple filling, and all covered in little flakes of coconut and your homemade vanilla frosting. You used jelly beans to make the eyes and nose and dark frosting out of a piping bag for the whiskers and mouth. It was your favorite cake, one of your favorite memories, one of the only good ones.

“Fucking Christ, she did not throw it away. Please, don’t tell me that’s the cake you brought.” Large hand gently placed between the wings of your shoulder blades to peer around you, not touching, but still there, still very close, and yes, that’s it, you’ve gotta get the fuck out of there now, away from this man.

“Oh, no. It’s okay – I– I mean– I should’ve asked before. I didn’t know you all were gluten free. I should’ve asked…”

“What? Glu–” he frowns. You knew his wife, Eva, had made that up. You step away from him, from his large warm palm that feels like it’s burning through your clothes and skin. He was really, really and truly the most unfairly gorgeous man you’d ever seen. He fucking terrified you. “Oh, yeah. The gluten.” He went along with the lie, passing the offending palm over his mouth, the wiry scruff of his beard rasping softly against what you imagined to be work roughened skin. He’d said he was a contractor.

Gerri had invited you to her boyfriend's brother’s house for the Easter holiday. It was the first invitation to something you’d gotten since you’d moved to Austin six months ago, and you’d been so, so happy that she’d asked, had felt so sad you’d not have anyone to share your cake with. You’d planned to take it to work with you to leave in the teacher’s lounge for everyone to share. The thought had made the back of your eyes pinch, for some reason.

“It’s alright. I actually need to head out. Could you let Gerri know? I– I’m–” you couldn’t think of a lie, and he was staring at you like he knew you had no real excuse – like he knew you were uncomfortable and out of place and were just looking for an excuse to leave. Embarrassment burned in your cheeks.

“Don’t go, please. Stay for a while longer. I’m – fuck– I apologize about the cake–”

“No, no– really it’s–” you held out a staying hand, but he’d cut off your false appeasement.

“Please, stay.” He’d taken a step forward, closer to your retreating form, and you’d felt almost faint, dizzy at the image of him stepping closer to you. He was so tall, huge really, broad chest, thick arms, dark, lush curls and a scruffy jaw, a peek of chest hair covering the tantalizing golden skin at the opened button of his shirt. Sexy, deep Southern twang. The loveliest, warmest eyes you think you’d ever probably seen. You were going to try and mix the exact color of them when you got home, even though you knew you shouldn’t. You hadn’t been interested in a man in months, maybe longer, couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a crush, an anything on anyone, and now this man. Suddenly, blindingly, out of fucking nowhere – so damn attractive. Your eyes had fluttered shut for a second and you’d swallowed, trying to regain your balance – you’d known him for all of two hours and he already made you feel unbalanced. You needed to leave.

“Really, Joel,” his name on your tongue almost had a taste, “It’s okay.”

“He– He did?” you stutter. “He shouldn’t feel bad – he has nothing to feel bad about, it was nothing.” Lie – lie, lie, lie. Meeting him that day had been – it had been everything. You’d thought about it, him, for months afterwards. The sight of him with his three year old daughter, Sarah, the sweetest little thing you’d ever seen. Helping her hunt for the Easter eggs he’d hidden around their backyard, letting her crack the bright confetti filled shells over his head. His excitement for her when she’d finally found the basket he’d made up for her. He was a good father.

“Yeah, and Tommy said he’d like to see you again too. And I told my sister about you, and she thinks all my pottery’s fucking amazing, by the way, and she wants to meet you too, and she’s even thinking of enrolling in the class next semester so really, really you’re obligated to come.” Fucking menace – she smiles sweetly.

“Oh, fine. Fine, fine. I’ll come.” You’re putting away the last of your tools. “I’ll drive up Friday afternoon when I’m done at the school.”

Immediate hopping squeals, and this is why you love her. She’s so happy, so open and silly, friendly and funny. All the things opposite to your restrained quiet, shy to the point of aggravation, sometimes. You didn’t want your constant refusals to alienate her. You could see him again, it would be fine. You’d met him once for Christ’s sake. It meant nothing. It had probably been nothing that day, heat exhaustion or a stomach ache or something. Nothing to fawn and stress over. You’d just be polite, cordial, keep your distance – especially from his wife. You did not, did not want to provoke her greater dislike. You’d keep your unwanted baking to yourself this time. It would all be fine. You wanted these people to like you, if you were being honest. A little desperately. Gerri and Tommy, her sister you hadn’t yet met – you wanted to be part of their group, one of their friends. They were all so kind, welcoming and fun, you couldn’t ruin this for yourself.

Gerri had spilled the beans on the marriage over one afternoon of too many Mexican martini’s, an Austin specialty, and chips and salsa. They’d gotten married three years ago after Eva had gotten unexpectedly pregnant. Joel was traditional, he’d asked and eventually she’d agreed. They were both older than you, he’d just turned forty recently, and you guessed it’d made sense for them, at the time, but she’d left them soon after Sarah had been born. The marriage, the baby, hadn’t been in her plans, too much for her, Gerri said. They’d been separated for about a year and a half until she’d come back. They seemed to be trying to work it out now. Gerri claimed they were both miserable. You’d only met them the once – well, you’d seen Joel a few weeks ago, from a distance, when Tommy’d come to drop something off for Gerri before class, sitting in their truck. You don’t think he’d seen you – but you thought that their misery was very obviously apparent in that way that was easily recognizable to someone who, at one point, had existed in a house made only of misery. It breaks your heart for them all, in different ways, to recognize that singular brand of dissatisfaction that comes with living in a home where no happiness resided with you.

But the reality of his marriage made you all the more terrified of him. To ever see him again. You wanted no part of that. Didn’t even want to exist in the same vicinity as someone who was experiencing something of that nature. You’d had enough of unhappy marriages and painful households in your own childhood. You never wanted to deal with that again.

You’d read once that infidelity was a hereditary trait. Studies had shown that if you’d had a parent or even a sibling, someone in your household during your development, who’d been unfaithful, you were then more likely to also be unfaithful yourself. Something about that sort of childhood trauma inciting a propensity in the offspring to find it difficult to later on trust romantic partners, to incite trust themselves. Trust issues, emotional unavailability, baggage, blah, blah. Sometimes nature versus nurture was a real bitch, in your opinion.

But as much as you wanted to call bullshit, the thought, the possibility of that being true, filled you with such an intense fear — debilitating, paralyzing, life altering. You found yourself with an immense inability to trust yourself, more than anything. Your greatest fear, the thing that scared you the most in all the world, was that you would be the perpetrator, that you would be the one to commit that sin. That you’d lose control, self awareness, morality, yourself. It wasn’t something your mind could even come to terms with, the possibility of hurting another person that way, betraying them in that manner. It seemed like the worst possible thing in the entire world that you could ever do to someone. After all, you’d watched your mother do it to your father, over and over again, your entire life, up until the point that she’d up and left the both of you. For many years, after her fateful abandoning, you’d watched him drink himself into a stupor and then into a grave. Years of waiting for her to come back, in love with a ghost or a figment of his imagination, for the woman he’d made her out to be, within the ever forgiving and naive confines of his love, had never existed. Something you could see, even through the lenses of your child eyes.

She was an eternally flawed woman. Selfish, vain, manipulative, deceitful, but there was good in her too. She was eccentric and beautiful, and she could be kind, so funny, and immensely intelligent, her mind and wit, always sharp as a whip. It was, you thought, what made her so talented at deceiving others, at getting her way. She outsmarted everyone she came into contact with. But she was also weak and self serving, had never met anyone, in all her life, who she loved more than she loved herself. Not even you. Sometimes, you thought, especially not you. For you were the living reminder of all she’d lost and been forced to give up. It was a difficult, complicated, painful relationship you had with her, even now, all these years later.

After she’d left, she’d kept in contact with you sparingly. The occasional call or birthday card. It had taken her three years to feel like seeing you again after she’d left when you were ten. The pains and awkwardness of puberty long started, endured on your own, before she’d even had the foresight to remember she had a daughter who might need her. It was an exceedingly painful and lonely time for a young girl to survive on her own, but you bore it, as you did the entirety of the fallout that came with her leaving.

Your father was another story entirely. He’d fallen to pieces, completely, the day she’d left and had never had the strength of will to ever pull himself together again. It was a strange sort of existence the two of you had lived in those years, keeping each other company. Physically, he was there, but he was never present, never sentient. He drowned, for years and years, in a sea of pain and liquor, and he never resurfaced. You watched him sink, a young girl incapable of comprehending or acting in a way that could’ve helped him, as much as you wanted to or even tried, all of it was futile. Eventually he hit the bottom of the ocean and died there, and you were left more alone than ever.

You remember there’d only been four people, in total, at his funeral. You and two men from the shithole bar he liked to lose himself at every week and the priest. It was a terribly painful thing to live through on your own. Humiliating in a very specific and acute way, for some reason. To know that this sad, pathetic specimen of a human being had had a hand in creating you, to know that he was your father and that you loved him, despite his weakness, his vices, his lack of care for you, you loved him. And you felt interminably sorry for the creature he’d been turned into at the hands of an uncaring and poisonous love. You hadn’t been able to tell her for ten months, after he’d been dead in the ground, that he’d passed. She’d not called, didn’t like giving you her number, said she was too busy to have to worry about you calling her at all hours of the day, as if you’d asked her for a single thing in the decade since she’d left.

And you loved your mother, even after it all, you did, but it was a poignantly devastating moment, the day you realized she was not just your mother, but her own person, as well. The day that childlike naivety, unconscious self centeredness, was cast away to realize that she was savagely flawed and human, and that she did bad things that hurt good people. And still, and still she was your mother and you loved her. Your greatest influence, the hand that shaped you, and you loved her despite everything. It was only that, after the rose tinted glasses had been ripped away, and she was only then herself, nothing more – pedestal forsaken – she was just a flawed woman who sometimes made mistakes, made the wrong choices, hurt you and your father and fractured your family. That was a hard thing to come to terms with as a young girl.

You realized now, with the lifetime of experience she’d inherited to you, that motherhood built a pedestal and a grave, all at once, over and over again. A woman could vacillate between being the Madonna and the whore, and the cycle was inescapable and destructive and enticing, all at the same time. It was something that one could try to avoid or run away from, but many times, it caught up to most, hooked its claws in you and dragged you away from the things you would’ve wanted or done otherwise. You realized this was what had happened to her. She’d never been built for motherhood, for the responsibility of raising a child, so she’d desecrated the altar of it, taken a sledgehammer to it and freed herself in the only way she saw she could, collateral damage be damned.

And so you’d isolated yourself, for the thought of doing the same thing to someone that you might have loved or someone that loved you, was soul destroying. And that was the saddest part of this whole overly cliché tragedy – that you were sure that, at a certain point in her life, she’d loved your father, as well. Perhaps not enough, not enough to change who she was, what she really wanted, but she had loved him in her own way, nevertheless.

Parallel to the tragedy was the ironic reality that in some very safely guarded part of you, you longed so, so desperately for your own chance at a happy family, love, children. How could you not? When you’d never experienced it for yourself during your own childhood. Always having to make your own meals, get yourself ready for school, alone at ten years old, walking to the bus unaccompanied, no one ever waiting for you, expecting you, watching over you. Alone, alone, always alone. How could you not want to build your own normal, loving, happy family for yourself? You wanted it very badly.

But there was also no part of you that felt, in the most vital ways, capable of showing your underbelly in such a vulnerable way. You had always been too sensitive, a weeper from a long line of weepers, and the second thing you were most terrified of, after turning into your own mother, was being left again, abandoned to another derelict and lonely childhood. So your aloneness suited you, for now. At least, in terms of your romantic life. Your isolation kept you safe, guarded from those that would savage the sensitive and salted battleground that was your heart.

That, however, did not mean that you were immune to wanting, to the disease of yearning, of desire, and so you found it most unfortunate, cosmically laughable and cruel, that it would be this man, this married, beautiful, entirely unattainable man, that would have reminded you of that desire again, after it had lain dormant for so long: Joel.

Joel tried to think of you only in the moments when he was feeling particularly strong. It was a challenge he’d set for himself from that day, all those months ago, when you’d appeared at his house on Easter. Like a fucking angel or a creature out of a fairy book. Soft and luminous and so fucking pretty. No, Joel tried very, very hard not to think of you.

He failed often, though. He’d not forgotten you since that day. Had tried to fish, as subtly as possible, through Tommy, for information. See if he’d heard anything about you from Gerri. Any new details or gossip about the pretty little art teacher. Tommy was a terrible goddamn gossip, like a clucking hen. And Joel knew, he knew empirically, that thinking of you was wrong. That he had a wife that he needed to be respectful of, even if she was never respectful of him, fucking her coworker – or had been… still was — he couldn’t keep track anymore – didn’t really care, if he was being honest. But you, you were the one small, private thing he kept for himself. The thought of you, the image of you in his mind, you were only for his moments of great necessity. You’d been so sweet that afternoon, walking into his home with your bunny cake. That fucking cake haunted him – the look in your eyes as he watched you stand over the trashcan staring at it. He’d been so scared you’d start crying, that he’d have to comfort you, that he’d be able to take you into his arms. He’d been terrified of what would become of him if he’d gotten the opportunity to feel you like that. But no, you’d left. Made up some weak excuse he knew you could see he didn’t buy, and had quietly left, not even saying goodbye to the others. He’d had a terrible one-sided argument with Eva that night. Told her she’d been unnecessarily rude and cruel, doing that to a complete stranger who was just trying to be nice. She hadn’t batted a single eyelash, all his frustration going in one ear and out the other.

He could, to a certain degree, understand where her behavior came from. He knew she was unhappy, he knew she hated their life together. That it was nothing like what she’d ever envisioned for herself, and so she acted out sometimes. At his age, he found now, that you couldn’t ever really fault a person for not being what they’d never been meant to be. He understood this, had accepted that his marriage would never be of the happy or intimate sort. That Eva had never wanted to be a mother, but had felt trapped by circumstance. He dealt with it. Or ignored it. Avoided looking directly at the ugly reality of it, more like. He had Sarah and work and Tommy, and now that his brother was with Gerri things had gotten a little better, happier for the family. She was a good addition – kind and spunky. She was good for his brother, and he was happy for them.

But the day he’d met you – it had made a savage claw of want gouge through his entrails. He’d not remembered the last time he’d wanted something the way he did when he watched you walk out into the backyard long hair shimmering in the sun, and a nervous flush sweeping over the apples of your cheeks. And even if he’d been unattached, free to pursue you like he liked to dream about sometimes, you were so young – much too young and pretty for an old, washed up, has-been like him. But he could imagine it, like he’d said, only when he was feeling particularly strong. Or maybe particularly weak. He couldn’t keep track of which was safer anymore. When the years and work and responsibilities and grief and loneliness surged up too high and overwhelming for him to bear, he liked to think of you in that little yellow sundress. Wonder what it’d be like to be a younger man, to have met you first. A bad, selfish, terrible thought to have. But just in the quiet privacy of his mind, when he needed a small something to make him feel just a little better – he liked to think of you.

The only other time he’d seen you, once when Tommy’d had to drop something for Gerri at the college, he’d insisted on tagging along. Hoping he’d maybe be lucky enough to get a glimpse of you, and oh, he’d been so, so rewarded. You’d been carrying a stack of supplies from your car into the building, one of those spiky things women wore twisted in your hair to keep it up, wisps of your long, heavy locks escaping the knot, and a little, red, spaghetti strapped top. The thin of it on your shoulder had slipped off the delicate wing of your clavicle as you balanced everything you’d carried in your arms and tried to kick your car door closed at the same time. It’d taken everything in him, all the self control he possessed, not to sprint over to you and offer to help you, to fall to his knees at your feet. You’d blown a strand of your hair out of your face, the cutest expression of frustration scrunching your brow. His gut had twisted almost painfully with yearning. He hadn’t even known he was capable of fucking yearning, but he sure as hell did now. He felt it sharply, piercingly, like a knife to the gut. He’d met you once for Christ’s sake, seen you in person only twice, but you plagued him, you plagued him.

He knew it was probably partially a symptom of how alone he was. Lonely to his very core. His marriage had never been a real one, no closeness, no intimacy. A byproduct born of one drunken night, and Joel’s need to do the right thing, give his child a stable home with two parents and all the love he could give her. And Sarah, Sarah was the greatest gift that he’d ever been given. This perfect little person that he still, three years later, could not believe had come from a piece of him.

He’d told Eva that he’d do whatever she wanted, would accept whatever she’d chosen when she’d first realized she was pregnant. She’d refused the alternative route vehemently, and so he’d never suggested it again. If he was being honest, he’d been happy when he’d found out, in some small way. The situation wasn’t ideal, of course, they’d been veritable strangers at that point, but he’d been thirty seven, at the time, and he liked the idea of children. Eva was attractive and intelligent. He’d proposed immediately, gone out and gotten a ring and gotten down on one knee. He’d naively thought that perhaps, eventually, with time, they might grow closer. That idea was squashed quickly. She’d made it clear that she’d never wanted to marry him, but she also didn’t want to go at it alone, knew he was responsible and reliable, and so she’d accepted. And perhaps, he should have tried harder to win her over afterwards, but if he was being as honest as he could be, he wasn’t very interested either, didn’t really mind the lack of intimacy with her. They just weren’t a good match.

She’d left a few months after she’d given birth. Ran off with some guy she’d met – only a note left saying she couldn’t do it anymore. He hadn’t tried to go after her, hadn’t tried to bring her back or look for her. A better man probably would have, would have fought for his wife, for the mother of his child. But he’d never loved her, not even close, and so he’d taken care of his baby girl, had tried to be everything she needed and worked as hard as he could so that she’d never want for anything. Eva had come back after about a year and a half – her affair had run its course, and she’d said she wanted to try again with Sarah, that she’d made a mistake, wanted to be part of her daughter’s life. Of course he’d let her come back. He wanted Sarah to have a mother that was present, to have everything a child should have. And afterall, it was no hardship for him personally. She didn’t want a relationship with him, only Sarah. And so they’d settled into this strange agreement of co-parents slash roommates who just happened to be married. Eva liked to keep pretenses up, so they did the occasional family thing together. Especially now that Tommy was with Gerri, she liked to pretend at the double date thing, occasionally. Even though Eva couldn’t stand the poor girl. It was a pieced together sort of life, but it was better than what some had, and Sarah had her mother. He couldn’t complain.

But he did like to imagine a sort of alternative sometimes – something different, less lonely. He could tell she was going to leave again soon, more unsatisfied and frustrated and restless than ever. He couldn’t even find it in himself to resent her for it, it only hurt him for Sarah’s sake, for he didn’t think she’d be coming back this time.

It hadn’t been such a bad idea to come after all, you think, as you lounge on the dock by the lake. The sun is strong but not burning – warm and soothing. It feels like there are ghost fingers stroking all along the bare skin of your arms and legs. Gerri had made a pitcher of sangria and you were slightly tipsy off it now. A light weight, through and through.

The house they’d rented was gorgeous. All exposed wood and big glass windows right on the lakefront. Gerri’s sister was a doctor – a spine surgeon or something really fancy. She’d rented the house and invited all of you – no chance for Joel’s wife to be pissed off that you’d tagged along.

There were large boxes of the loveliest white hydrangeas along one side of the dock. The sweet scent of them drifting around you as you lounged on the chair you’d planted yourself in with your sangria. Yes, this was a good idea. You’d managed to evade Joel and his wife in the hours you’d been here. Gerri and Tommy were great as always and her sister and her partner were so nice. You’d talked about the pottery class, she wanted to pick up a new hobby, trying out the whole work-life-balance thing, and she’d thought pottery’d be a good fit for her. She was planning on signing up for the next semester.

You’re slightly dozing now. The warm sun and sweet alcohol making you languorous and drowsy and all fizzy on the inside. You think you might be able to hear the breeze sliding through each individual blade of grass on the bank, whistling over the surface of the water, and you can’t stop picturing his arms in your mind, but you’re pretending to ignore that, or pretending the bulging, mouth-watering muscles, prominent veins running under the surface of his tan skin, dusted with a light coating of golden brown hair belonged to someone who was not him. He has the largest hands you’ve ever seen, and you wonder what one of them wrapped around your throat would feel like. Bad, inappropriate thoughts.

You have one arm slung above your head, resting at the crown of your scalp to partially shield the sensitive skin there from the strong sun when you feel a sudden piercing pain, right to the center of your palm. You shriek, jolting violently, glass of sangria falling and shattering on the deck and stumbling up out of your chair, sending it flying back topside. A wasp buzzes menacingly around you, and you shriek again, cracked and painful. The thing had stung you right in the center of your tender palm. You hear the quick paced steps of someone approaching, too distracted trying to evade the horrible thing when you hear Joel’s voice. “Stay still, it’s okay. I’ll get it.”

Your hand really, really hurts. You stop your swatting and feel the back of your eyes pinch, hot tears pooling in the corners. Not only is the sting incredibly painful, but you really hate bees, wasps, all the ugly mean things that buzz and sting. You can feel the slight tremble of your frame begin to take over as you try to patiently wait for him to get rid of it.

He comes closer, “It’s okay, he’s gone. Did it get you? C’mere, lemme see.”

You clutch the injured hand to your chest, try and scoot away from him shaking your head, but you get too near to the edge, and his hand shoots out to cup your elbow, other hand coming to circle your waist and turn you so you’re standing in the center, and he’s closer to the edge.

“No, no, it’s okay. It got you, lemme see it–” he gently circles his big rough palm on the thin of your wrist, and now you’re really shaking.

“It’s o–okay,” you hitch, you feel a tear slide down your cheek. Fucking embarrassing. “I’m okay, really. It’s nothing.” You try and pull your limb out of his grasp, but he pulls you closer. He says your name then, not necessarily sharply, but in the way of a rubber band snapping against your skin, a slightly jarring crack followed by a tingle, something that reverberates through your entire body.

Then gentle: “Just come here,” and coaxing. How could anyone ever say no to a voice like that. So deep, so patient. “Lemme see, it’s okay. No, don’t be scared. Lemme see, open your hand for me, sweetheart. I’ll be gentle, it’s okay,” his soothing voice over and over. Coaxing you into capitulation, into following his orders. He smooths his rough thumb gently, gently over the sides of your palm, coaxing your fingers to uncurl and let him see the hurt. “Oh, it’s alright. None of that trembling, sweet girl.” And then he brings your hand up to his hot, wet mouth and presses his lips to the wound, gently sucking. You can feel the wet of his tongue pass over it once, slowly sucking the venom out of your palm. You feel everything below your belly button go hot and liquid at the feel of his tongue on your skin. Oh, God, you want to feel that mouth everywhere, between your legs.

You think you let a jagged whimper claw its way out your throat, for his eyes flit to yours, a flash of heat igniting them. He pulls his mouth away, turns to spit, thumb gently brushing over the tender inside of your wrist. He says your name so softly. “That’s better. You’re okay. No tears.”

His large hands completely engulf yours. His fingers are thick and long, his nails clipped short and neat. Beautiful, masculine hands. Working hands. He doesn’t wear a ring. “We can get a clove of garlic on this,” he’s still cradling your limb, “Heard that’s good for stings.”

This is bad, bad, bad, bad. Not part of your plan to stay away from him at all. He’s staring at your cradled hand, his gaze trained on the way his own palm dwarfs yours. You feel his touch tighten for just a second, he brings his eyes back to yours, and you watch as a swallow passes through the strong column of his throat.

He called you sweetheart.

There are so many reasons why you know he’s dangerous to you, why you should stay away from him: his kindness, how competent he is — the way it seems like, no matter what in life could ever present itself to him, he’d be able to take it in, take care of it, fix it. He could handle anything. How fucking gorgeous he is, his hands, his face, his body, the dark curls, the slightest hint of silver threads beginning to appear through them, the deep dark eyes, but most of all, more than any other reason, the way he says your name — like the worst thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life, and also the loveliest. So soft and deep and soothing. A voice that could get a person to do anything, capitulate to anything, commit any crime.

And what was it about wanting something you should not want, could never have, that made you want it all the more? Rebellion of the highest order calls your name.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. He still has you clutched in his grasp, is staring at you almost in shock. You try to pull away and his grip tightens for one second, like he can’t bear the thought of letting you go, and then releases you, lets you pull your injured hand back into your chest.

“Alright?”

And you’re so disoriented by him, by his touch that you instinctively reply: “Yes. Are you?”

He looks confused for a second, shakes his head a little and then laughs, “Yeah – yeah, I’m okay, sweetheart.” He shouldn’t be calling you that, but it sounds so lovely coming out of his mouth. You’ll tell him to stop next time. It’s okay. Next time he says it you’ll tell him not to call you that anymore. Embarrassment burns your cheeks.

You shake your head, “Sorry, I–”

“It’s alright. No need to apologize. Let’s get you inside. Get somethin’ on that hand.”

You take a step back from him, and he matches it with one step of his own forward, like he isn’t planning on letting you run away. It makes the speed of your heart kick up a notch, a hummingbird fluttering within the confines of your chest. “No, really, it’s okay. I’ll ice it or something. I’m fine, honestly. Thank you for– for your help.” You feel like you’re blinking a hundred times a minute, the sun suddenly scorching, when just a moment ago it had been soft and warm.

You need to get away from him.

“Rubbin’ a garlic clove on it’s good for stings. There’s some in the kitchen, I’ll get it for you.” He reaches a hand out as if to take hold of you again, and you take two more steps away. This time he does not follow, you see the muscle of his jaw flutter.

“Really, Joel. It’s okay.” You feel like you’ve said these words to him before, like all your short acquaintanceship has consisted of, is you apologizing and running away, bowing out before it gets too scary or complicated or threatening. He probably thinks you’re an idiot. “Th– thank you for your help. I’m just gonna –” you hitch your thumb back towards the house, “I’m just going to go back inside. Sorry.”

He only nods, frozen on the dock as you walk away from him.

Chapter .2

Netherfeildren Masterlist

#someone's fic #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

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yandere-romanticaa · 2 years

Note

Capitano darling being his pen pal and poor dear has no idea of his identity

I'm very sorry, I don't know if your requests are open but I can't get enough of Capitano content.

For the Harbingers, I'm open for anything. Also, @bye-bye-sunbird, come and get him! 👀😼

Exchanging letters with your mysteries pen pal became the absolute highlight of your week. You'd pour your heart and tears into the words your hand would oh so excitedly write down, sometimes even actually crying with the sheer excitement of knowing that somewhere out there, there was a person, an actual person, who cared about you. This person cared about you, they liked you, that is why they sent you their first letter to begin with. The letter itself was short, curt and simple but that did not stop you from writing back and hurriedly giving your reply to the mysterious messenger that appeared on your doorstep one fine summer morning.

Hours upon hours would be spent constructing the letters, sometimes you'd say whatever was on your mind while on other occasions you'd stop yourself and fix your choice of words, promptly going for something much more eloquent and refined, a quality that your mysterious partner seemed to exude in spades.

Their handwriting was neat, clean and proper, you imagined they must be singing papers often if they had such pretty handwriting. You would let your curiosity sway you and there were times when you wanted to know what your dear stranger did for a living but they were oddly mysterious about their occupation, which was strange considering just how intimate and open they were about other matters such as what kind of tea they drank in the morning, general preferences and hobbies, silly things like that made you even more curious about your darling stranger. You did manage to get somewhat of an answer out of them one day though, but it was still as vague as it possibly could be.

"I feel bad about hiding things from you, but to put it in the best way I can, I work for the military. That is the best answer I can give to you at the moment."

Ah, so you were talking to a military personnel? How interesting!! Again, curiosity got the better of you and you persisted with your questions, but more careful as you fared you'd offend them. You were under the impression that your dear stranger wanted to say more to you but was holding back for whatever reason.

Months flew by, almost a year, you were done holding back yourself.

It was time for everything to come out into the light, you thought to yourself.

You wanted to meet the person who made you feel so good, you wanted to see them, him, in the flesh.

It wasn't hard to decipher that the sender was a man. The smell of sharp cologne and pine wood still lingered on the letters you kept hidden in the drawer of your desk and the strong choice of words at time were a strong indication that this man was not willing to deal with anyone's nonsense, aside from indulging himself in yours.

Under the moonlight and with a flickering candle right next to you as your only light source, you wrote to him, you wrote to him your longest letter by far. Mistaking your curiosity and infatuation with the beautiful feeling of love you proclaimed your feelings to him and boldly announced that you wished to meet him, to see him for who he was.

"When you see me, I wish for you to kiss me, kiss until I am sick of it."

Never before had he replied back with such downright monstrous speed. He sent you but a piece of paper, with just one sentence on it, blood red ink sticking in your memory as you read it out loud in the comfort of your room.

"You wish is my command."

Overjoyed would be an understatement with how you were feeling at that moment. As you danced around your room while clutching the letter tightly to your chest, you never stopped to consider just how the two of you were going to meet or how he was even going to find you, let alone kiss you breathless. Alas those worries never even crossed your starstruck mind as you eagerly awaited to be swept off your feet by your Prince Charming. Living in a fairytale is charming but it would have done you well to stay intact with the real world too.

Whispers of lingering shadows and Fatui soldiers started to plague your village, several of your neighbors constantly felt the need to remind you to keep vigilant and to lock your doors at night, do not ever trust the Fatui.

Never open the doors for anyone, never.

Looking back on it, you regret spacing out in the middle of their monologues.

The seasons had passed and winter had come, a thick layer of pure white snow decorated the earth below you as the strong wind and harsh snowflakes found their way inside of your home due to the powerful wind that was bellowing all around you. A few snowflakes even managed to lose themselves inside of your clothing and hair but their icy chill was nothing compared to the large, gloved hand that lovingly caressed your chin.

Standing in front of you was a man, a man with whom you had never crossed paths with in your whole entire life. His entire aura, his being was radiating absolute control and calm. The dozen of men behind him kept their distance but it was obvious that they were ready to charge in if need be.

What was a Fatui Harbinger doing at your doorstep?

His face was much closer to your own now and it was Impossible to read him. His entire body language was rigid and firm, it left no spaces for speculations, especially the daunting mask that he wore on his face. Aside from the few strands of ebony black hair on the sides this man revealed nothing about himself to you, cornering you not only in your own house but in your own mind too.

What was he going to do to you?

A sigh escaped him, hot air came out of his mouth as he stepped closer, his feet nearly crossing the threshold of you home.

You didn't even see that you were shaking like a leaf.

"How long do you want us to stand here in the cold, dear?"

He spoke, he said something to you but your brain hardly registered it. But his next words were something you could most definitely not ignore:

"I came here to fulfill my promise to you..."

The lower part of his mask had been removed, his pale lips on full display. They hovered over your own for a few moments.

"How about we finally share that kiss?"

Before you could even think about answering, he pressed his lips on yours, claiming them for himself as he made sure to swallow every single little sound you made.

You always dreamed of living in a fairytale, of finding your own prince. But how could you have forgotten that not all fairy tales have a happily ever after?

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cinnamoneve · 3 months

Note

could you write prompt 16 with getou please?? thank you !!

baby i forgot about this event so bad but im back ₊˚⊹⋆

prompt #6 -“did you know you’re famous in my group of friends?”

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥��𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ "bookstore girl" by charlie burg

part of my off the record requests: masterlist | make a request !

thank you for your patience and love <;3

suguru geto would never consider himself a hopeless romantic, per say.

maybe he believed in soulmates, longed for true love, or perhaps his thoughts on ‘love at first sight’ were dubious, at best.

he was private about it all. notoriously hard to read and moderately private, suguru’s thoughts on love were his own to keep.

until he met you, that is.

yaga tasked poor suguru with a little bit of an unconventional task for a jujutsu tech student, which was to head into the city and study like a ‘normal’ student his age would. buy a textbook, a nonfiction book–anything, really–sit in a coffee shop, study the people around you and enjoy it. enjoy yourself.

immersion was the goal overall. study people better, understand them. live like them.

although that’s what yaga said, all suguru heard was ‘be normal.’

he could try for a day, he thought. it was stupid, but he did say he’d try.

so he left the jujutsu tech uniform at home, opted to dress down for the day, and took the train into the city on a quest for a local mom-and-pop bookstore.

which he found, eventually. nestled on the corner of two quiet backroads, suguru ducked into the first tiny bookstore he could find. all of the rows of gently loved novels towered above him, and the smell of the worn pages was intoxicating.

he wasn’t sure if he’d ever experienced anything like it in his life; it was a total overload of his senses. it was warm there, but not physically. warming would be the better word. he was overwhelmed on where he should start looking first.

“welcome in!”

a soft voice echoed in the rows of books–and there you were.

suguru couldn’t help but stare. you were sorting through returns, sitting at the desk in the back of the shop, playing some music out loud.

“thank you,” was all he could mutter out.

“looking for anything specific today?”

“just browsing,”

you smiled sweetly at him. maybe the warmth was coming from you all along.

“let me know if you need anything,”

you looked back down at the book you were checking in, not noticing the way his eyes lingered a little bit too long on you.

suguru pushed on through the store, not sure where to begin. he was thinking more about you than whatever yaga told him to pick up. he settled on sociology books, thinking that they’d give him more of an insight on humanity.

so immersed in the appendixes and summaries of his choices, he barely heard you sneak up into the aisle with your little book cart to put away some returns. he snapped out of it when he focused in on the way you were gently humming to yourself, checking the number on the spine before you found its home.

“actually, could i ask you something?”

you put down the book you were rehoming as you looked at the man in front of you. “mhm, sure,”

“do you have any…normal books?” he knew it was stupid the second it came out of his mouth. you tried not to laugh as you cocked your head slightly at him, as if it would help you understand it better.

“hmm…can’t say we do…” you started, “what do you mean ‘normal,’? like…what’s popular now?”

a way out. it wasn’t what he meant, but it was better than whatever he was trying to say.

“yeah, sorry, that’s what i mean; where can i find those?”

“right this way,”

you lead him through the shop, navigating the rows and rows like the back of your hand. it seemed you were the only two people in there at the moment. he could tell he was at the back of the shop by the way your music softly played.

“here’s some of our best sellers at the moment,” you stopped to pick one up from the pile, “i really liked this one! the characters are really interesting and so realistic, and the writing isn’t too bad either. what were you looking for specifically?”

suguru took the book from your extended hand, feeling the weight shift as he held it.

“this is perfect, actually, i’ll take this one,”

“sure thing, let me check you out,” you scurried back to the desk, continuing to hum along with your music as it came back into earshot. “buying or renting today?”

suguru thought about it. he had the money to buy it, and it would save him a trip. but renting it would give him another excuse to see you. he’d already made up his mind before you even asked the question.

“rent, please,”

nodding, you had him fill out the rental agreement as you finished ringing him up. giving him his book and receipt, you smiled and leaned over the desk.

“thanks for coming in, you’ll have to let me know if you like it or not,”

he felt his heart melt, just a little bit. he thanked you and promptly left, kicking himself that he didn’t even get what he was assigned to. he shrugged it off though, found a cute cafe to match, and read the book you recommended to him.

suguru was so engrossed in it. the sun was quickly setting on a busy tokyo as he hopped on a train back to jujutsu tech, thinking about nothing but you and the book he’s come to love.

satoru was on him as soon as he returned.

“get a lot of studying done today, suguru?”

“something like that,” this piqued that white haired man’s interest.

“what do you mean ‘something like that?’” he laughed, “you were gone for hours!”

“i couldn’t really focus,” he starts, “i got a book, and i read it, but i wasn’t really reading it, you know?” satoru raised an eyebrow.

“what’s really goin’ on,” he teased. suguru sighed. nothing gets by satoru’s nosey ass.

“there’s this girl…” suguru confessed. and satoru listened. suguru told him all about you. the music you played, your sweet demeanor, the way that you recommended him a book, how you hummed softly along to the songs blaring out from the desk. suguru spared no details, down to the shirt you were wearing that he loved.

“she told you to tell her what you thought of it? the book, i mean?”

“mhm,” suguru nodded, gently carding through the pages of the book.

“well, man, now you gotta go back there,”

satoru let the silence linger a bit before heading back to his own room for the night. “just finish that damn book quickly.”

suguru pushed his lips out, laying flat on his bed as he looked at the book next to him. maybe, unfortunately, satoru was right, and he should visit again. he picked up the book, finding where he left off to settle in with it for the night.

by morning, satoru’s big mouth had spread the news of his friend’s little crush to all of their friends. while you were just starting your day at the bookstore, suguru was trying to brush off your celebrity status among the students at jujutsu tech.

“going to see your bookstore girl today?” shoko’s voice was as nonchalant as ever, looking up at suguru as he headed out for the day.

“who knows,” he lied. suguru was heading out with only the book in his hand. he paid a little bit more attention to his outfit, made sure his hair was neat, and caked himself in cologne.

who knows. everyone knew, actually. something about love made suguru a bit more careless than he usually would. he tried so hard to downplay what he was feeling, but he was bursting with excitement as he left.

“oiiii~” a familiar man with sunglasses yells from the yard, “maybe get her name this time, romeo~”

suguru didn’t turn around.

but he thought about it on the train. something about the mystery was sweet to him. he lives his own life, and you do yours. he didn’t need to know your name to know that he liked you.

the door chimed as he walked inside. the warmth of your voice shone through the aisles of books.

“welcome in!”

he headed to the back, following your voice like you were a siren.

“oh, hello again,” you smiled at him. “back already?”

“yeah, actually, i really liked it,”

“was it ‘normal’ enough for you?”

suguru felt the tips of his ears get red. you remembered him. you remembered his incredibly stupid choice of words. but he smiled.

“it was. i can see why you like it. the characters are really realistic, i think it was well done.” he put the book on the counter, letting you take it and look at it more as the two of you chatted about it.

“if you liked this one, you might really love another one by the same author…”

his eyes followed your body as you got up to another area of the store, talking about how the metaphors follow through the entire series, how the characters are shaped by one another, how–

“sorry, i’m rambling,” you giggle, “you don’t have to follow my recommendations if you don’t want to,”

“no, it sounds interesting,” he smiles back, “i’ll rent this one too,”

“perfect,” you beam. and you check him out, humming again to your music, oblivious to the man across from you checking you out in a different way.

“here you are! i’m excited to see what you think of it,”

he nodded, heading out as he thanked you again, holding the book a little bit closer than he normally would. suguru walked to the same cafe as yesterday, sitting down and losing himself between the lines of whatever you recommended him. time passed, the sun set, and he caught the train home.

satoru was standing in the hall, heading to bed when suguru came back.

“don’t wanna hear it, satoru,”

“i didn’t even say anything yet~”

suguru shut his door and laid in bed. he can’t go back tomorrow, right? maybe the next day, he wasn’t sure.

but it became his routine. he’d head out to go see his aptly named ‘bookstore girl,’ ranting and raving about the books you’d recommend to him as you gushed about the next one he should read. you two slowly learned about one another, in a weird way–solely through the books you shared.

you exchanged ones that you’ve annotated and wrote small messages for him in the margin. he’d give them back with notes of his own, answering your sweet little notes with an observation of his own.

suguru didn’t care much for reading, but he cared a lot about you. he’d practically memorized your shifts, the hours of the bookstore, and the time of day when it’d be quieter. still, he could not recall your name to anyone.

pressured by his friends, he went into the city on a sunny sunday to ask you on a date once and for all. after you’d told him about the latest short story by a poet you like, suguru brushed off his nerves and went for it.

“do you want to maybe…grab coffee sometime?”

you smiled a bit as you felt your cheeks get hot, but you tried to play it cool,

“i’d love that, actually,”

“you work until 3, right? maybe 4pm then?”

“the shop closes at noon today,” you smirked.

suguru knew that. he’d been here dozens of times. he knew the hours like the back of his hand. why was he so uncharacteristically nervous?

“i’ll wait for you to close up then,”

“it’s a date,” you smiled.

suguru didn’t get what his poor teacher told him to. he wasn’t sitting in a coffee shop watching people, or studying people in the way that yaga instructed. suguru felt closer to humanity in a way, though, as he watched the cute girl behind the desk counter hum along to her music as she always did, a slight blush painting her cheeks in anticipation for her date.

#off the record requests #♡ suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #suguru geto #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #getou x reader #getou suguru x you #getou suguru x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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angelskvll · 10 months

Text

#TR4SH MAGiC !

miguel o’hara x chubby!afab!reader

word count: iiiiiiii… don’t know kekeke

summary: miguel loves you, a ‘hole’ bunch

warnings: smut, lots of fluff at the end cause migs is a fluff king and no you can’t tell me otherwise, LOVE FOR CHUBBY AFABS WHEN???, mention of breeding womp womp, miguel had a bad day at work, take that as you will, unprotected sex, soft!migs, lots of praise, lots of dirty talk PRAISE THY LORDETH AND SAVIORETH AHH MENN

authors notes: the way i haven’t written in so long is actually a shocker cause i used to LOVEEE writing in like 2020-2021, but anyways that’s my hint that my writing is def rusty so pls bare with me 😭

you could say miguel had a lot of bad days. most of it being from work.

fighting crime, saving the city, the world to put it in better words, was tiring. like, genuinely.

it’s not that he didn’t enjoy it. he liked being able to save people. it’s what he did. not that he really had a choice but hey, everyone’s got their… hobbies (if you could even call it that).

but either way, miguel would get rather… frustrated, when it came to work.

and what better way to handle that frustration, than to spend time with his favorite girl.

“m-migs wait!” you squeal as he holds your hips in a bruising grip, guiding you up and down his cock as the slap of his balls against your ass echoed throughout the room.

“what’s wrong mama? too much?” he coos with a chuckle as he watched your eyes squeeze shut. “mm.. ‘s sensitive huh?” he mumbles with a teasing tone as he continued his brutal pace on your weeping cunt.

you nod frantically at his words, but don’t make a move to stop as you continue to bounce in his lap, whining and moaning with tears of pleasure beginning to roll down your soft cheeks. “m-more!”

“huh? poor baby doesn’t even know what she wants.” he chuckles before running his tongue along his teeth and looking down at where the two of you were connected, a rush of warmth cascading through his body as he sees strings of your arousal sticking to his pelvis and a white ring around the base of his cock. “gods mi cielo, you’re killing me…” he groans as your walls squeeze around him tightly, pleasure rushing through his body as your legs began to shake, babbles leaving your lips.

“migs- i’m gonna-“

“i know baby, i know… fuck, fuck, fuck- such a good girl.” he groaned while throwing his head back, your ass slapping against his thighs as you bounced on his dick, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him closer to your chest with a moan falling from your lips as you come around his length. “fuck- that’s it mama, make a mess on this dick…” he groaned softly as he watched your thick thighs jiggle and your soft tummy rubbing against his toned body. “wanna breed you mi amor. make you a mommy…” he starts to babble himself as he buried his face in your chest, nipping in between the valley of your breasts before pulling back and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. “want these tits full of milk…” he growls softly before pulling away and looking up at you, a slight smirk on his face, “you want that? hm? want me to put my baby inside you? you’d take it all, wouldn’t you?”

“yes… please-” you begin to say before another growl leaves miguel’s lips, his hands gripping your ass as he flipped you on your back and onto the soft sheets.

“give ya’ anything ya’ want. anything.” he mumbled as he leaned in close to whisper in your ear, a soft groan leaving his lips as he started thrusting into you once more, your wet cunt engulfing his dick sweetly. “she just doesn’t wanna let go does she?”

“want- your cum migs… dick ‘s so big-“ you whine as he tightens his grip around your hips and continues his brutal pace on your pussy, his thrusts turning sloppy while he neared his release.

“f-fuck-!” he groaned breathily. he felt his balls tighten, the cord in his abdomen snapping as he shot ropes into your womb, shakily letting out a heavy breath as he rested his forehead on your chest. “fuckkk…” he hissed as he felt your walls pulse around him, twitching in overstimulation.

you breathed out heavily before smiling and grabbing his face in your hands and pulling him to look at you, “did so good for me migs.. my sweet boy..” you coo as you rub your nose against his, a sweet gesture to ease the tension.

small strands of hair stuck to his forehead as sweat rolled down the sides of his face, his own smile plastered across his lips. “hey that’s… my line…” he said breathily before kissing the valley in between your breasts as you pushed the few strands of hair from his face.

“you call yourself a sweet boy?”

“oh definitely. gets me ready for the day.” he chuckled breathily as you placed a soft kiss to his sweaty forehead. “sounds better when it’s coming from you though.”

you giggle at his words before pulling away, looking down at him as he rested his chin just below your breasts. “silly.” you mumble as you run your fingers through his hair, playing with the few strands poking out of it’s usual direction.

miguel shook his head lightly before pushing himself up and off of you, hissing as he pulled his now softened cock out of your folds, reaching down to push the small drops of his seed that escaped, back inside you, “tómalo todo, ¿recuerdas?” he cooed softly before pulling his fingers out and resting his head on your tummy, looking up at you with a clear admiration.

“what?” you giggle while cupping his cheeks, rubbing your thumbs over his cheekbones slowly.

he hums as he attempts to shrug in his laid down position. “i don’t know. jus’… like looking at you.”

you smile even wider at his words, pulling his face slightly towards you before pressing a chaste kiss to his nose. “hablador suave ¿eh?” you joke, most likely butchering the pronunciation, but if miguel noticed, he didn’t point it out.

“only for you amor, solo tú.” he grinned before pressing a soft kiss to your stomach.

“think it took?” you ask as you run one hand through his curls and one hand down your stomach.

miguel looked up at you through half lidded eyes before speaking, “hopefully. but… if it didn’t…” his voice trailed off as he pushed up onto his elbows and hovered over you once more.

“i’ll keep fucking you til it does…”

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #atsv miguel #miguel smut #miguel o’hara x reader #synful talkin’ ⛧

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milksnake-tea · 1 year

Text

5 + 1

"The 5 times he thought he loved you, and the 1 time he knew."

rollo flame x gn!reader

contains: fluff, pining (a lot of it like oh my god), strangers to friends to lovers, rollo being emotionally constipated, lots of POV changes, slight spoilers for rollo's backstory

word count: 6.3k

note: i can't defend myself </3 my legacy is just rollo at this point and i can't stop it

tags: @crysangria

———

Rollo doesn’t fall in love.

He’s well aware of its existence; the City of Flowers is renowned for its rather romantic aspects. Since the beginning of time, newly budding couples somehow always managed to hide in every corner of the city - tucked away from the overall public, but obvious enough for any local. Anyone who’s lived in the city for longer than a month learns to avoid the bridges, the alleyways, and of course, any bench at night.

While he has never understood the reasonings behind lovers’ touches and dreamy stares, even Rollo is unable to deny that the affections they displayed didn’t sound so bad… If he didn’t spend his first year in the city running into couples making out at every corner.

Noble Bell was no different.

In his three years at the institution, Rollo had quickly become accustomed to scolding the couples he found in the closets, under the staircases, and in empty classrooms. He learned to tune out the swoonings and fawnings that even his fellow council members fell victim to.

When his peers fell in and out of love, Rollo remained impartial - a stone-cold statue of a president, unswayed by human emotion.

That was, until he met you.

—[1]—

A friend of a friend, that was who you were. A fellow third year who stayed just under the radar: never aiming too high, but never stooping too low. Just another face in the crowd, no one whom he would need to ever speak with.

The first time he sees you is in the library, during a study session between him, his secretary, and his vice president. Despite being part of the student council and already having a lot on their shoulders, Rollo’s top priority was education - and naturally, he would not let his peers fall.

It was obvious from the way their table was isolated that no one dared to even be near them. There were three other chairs at the table, but not a single soul dared to touch them, even if the library was overrun due to the upcoming exams.

Well, apparently you were not one of those souls.

“Um… Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Even if your voice was silenced to a whisper, the library’s murmurs skidded to a halt, as though someone had pressed a pause button. Suddenly, it was as if everyone in the world was holding their breath, their piercing gazes lining your back. Even Rollo’s friends looked afraid for your safety, his secretary giving you the most incredulous of looks.

And if asking to sit at their table wasn’t bad enough, you’d made the poor choice to choose the seat directly next to Rollo himself.

You were already regretting your decision, but you’d already committed to the act. Right now, your need to study was stronger than your fear of Rollo, and you were not going to join the poor souls on the floor.

Rollo was probably the only one who seemed unaffected by your request. He only glanced up from his paper for a moment, his striking green eyes meeting your own before he gave you a curt nod and returned to his work.

To say he was surprised was an understatement. His shock only deepened when you sat down, unloading your bag and taking out all of your study materials after a quick wave to his secretary. In only three minutes, you had settled into your work - as if you weren’t sitting next to the most feared and respected man in all of Noble Bell.

It was refreshing.

Soon enough, the library forgot you, and the hushed whispers rose back up again - both with gossip and with the frustrated grumblings of struggling students. As Rollo reviewed his lessons, studiously jotting down important notes and underlining key concepts, he couldn’t help but find his gaze drifting over to you.

Although you didn’t say anything (why would you, you were in a library), he could tell that you were stressed - even more so than usual. The frustration in your eyes was one that he was familiar with, the eraser shavings and the scrambled calculations a key signal that you were having trouble.

Looking at what you were struggling with, he recognized the practice test for your upcoming chemistry test. Being the responsible student council president he was, he naturally stepped in to assist.

“You forgot to use the formula.”

“Huh.” You startled, your voice coming out strained and irritated at the sudden interruption. Rollo points at your calculations.

“Look here,” he explained, pointing at the rate table. “When they give you the Kc, the temperature, and the balanced equation, you use this to find Kp.”

Without any sense of shame, he reaches over and writes a formula next to your calculations. His handwriting is absurdly neat - almost as though it had been printed. You blank at the formula, recognizing it as the one you’d learned in the first lesson of this unit.

You groan in frustration as you erased your writing one more time. “By the Seven… I’m so stupid.”

“Don’t belittle yourself,” Rollo comments offhandedly, returning to his notes. “It happens to the best of us. Rather than a matter of intelligence, it’s an issue in memory and sleep deprivation.”

“You’re the one with eyebags,” you instinctively mutter. Instantaneously, the world freezes as you register your snip. Your eyes widen, and you’re already spewing apologies while Rollo stands still, caught off guard. “Sorry, that wasn’t my-”

“Are you always this straightforward with strangers?” he asks, and without thinking, you shoot back a retort.

“No, are you?” Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth, horrified. “Oh my God, I am so sorry-”

His face is turned away from you, but you swear that you caught the corners of his lips twitching - quirking up into the slightest of smiles. “Be careful with your words.”

“O-Of course," you sigh. “My bad.”

“Take care not to do it again.” Just as quickly as it came, Rollo’s smile disappeared, returning to neutrality. Perhaps he had never smiled at all. Thinking logically, you’re more inclined to believe the latter option.

Even his fellow council members are shocked. Rollo raises a brow at the way you rub your eyes, trying to make sense of what you saw. You’re so expressive, unlike the other students who kept it all hidden behind a mask of professionalism. It was refreshing, endearing even.

“You’d better get back to work now,” he advises (although it sounds like an order), his pen moving once more. “Exams are not meant to be taken lightly.”

“Right,” you mutter. Rollo’s eyes crinkle at the blatant distaste on your face as you reluctantly return to chemistry. You weren’t the only student who hated studying, far from it, but you were definitely the most open about it - especially in front of Rollo, who was infamous for his strict personality.

It’s not long before you test the waters and lightly tug at Rollo’s sleeve. Wordlessly, he glances over, and you show him your newly formed calculations - almost like a child showing off their newest drawing to their parents.

“Is this right?”

Rollo peers over at your shoulder, scanning the work you’ve written. He nods in satisfaction, looking over at you with something akin to pride.

“Good work,” he praises.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. You smile up at him. “It’s mainly because you helped me, though. So thanks for that, President.”

“Just Rollo is fine,” he assures calmly. You blink.

“You sure?”

“I prefer my name rather than my status,” Rollo explains. You hum in understanding.

“Gotcha. Thanks, Rollo.”

Rollo’s pen stills. You shoot him a questioning look, but he brushes it off and continues studying. He didn’t expect you to say it so easily - maybe he’d thought you’d be more hesitant.

But he doesn’t hate it.

Rather, a small part of him finds that he rather likes the way his name rolls off your tongue.

—[2]—

You don’t expect to see Rollo again after that encounter, but it seems that fate had other plans.

Magical History wasn’t your favorite class, but it wasn’t the worse. You didn’t mind learning about the wars and inventions, and if anything, that made it all the more interesting to you. But your favorite part of it was how different people took up different sides and perspectives on each part of history.

You tapped your pencil impatiently against your notebook, eyes flicking from the chalkboard and to the clock. Class wasn’t starting for another five minutes, but you were anxious to get started. Today’s lecture was primarily for review, and Lord knows you needed it.

You glance over when someone sits next to you, only to choke on your spit when you see it’s Rollo Flamme himself. You rapidly scan the lecture hall, only to become more confused when you see that there was a multitude of seats open - in fact, the room was rather vacant.

“At ease,” Rollo says, his monotone voice not helping him in the slightest. You cough, smiling at him weakly. Suddenly, his tall stature was all the more apparent. “The view from here is the best in the room.”

“Yep…” You rub your arms awkwardly, suddenly cold despite the warm uniform you don. Now you were really praying that your teacher would show up quicker.

“Are you alright?” Rollo asks, noticing your demeanor. The subtle concern in his voice would’ve surprised you if you weren’t already freaked out of your wits. “Are you perhaps cold?”

“Nope!” You hastily reply, startling him with your raised voice. “I’m just peachy.”

“Peachy?” Rollo questions, but it seems like the Seven had been looking over you that day. You’ve never been more relieved in your life to see your teacher, today’s savior, walking through the door.

You have no idea how you manage to focus on the lecture with Rollo right next to you. Just his presence enough is intimidating, suffocating even, as though he was watching, judging your every move. He doesn’t even do anything special - he’s just listening to the lecture like every other student.

Sometimes, you think you see him staring at you, but whenever you look over, he’s quick to avert his gaze. It’s almost impressive, and you almost say something about it - except even you know better than to antagonize the student council president during a lecture.

For the first half hour of the lecture, you’re stuck in this state of constant edge, barely able to relax with this 6-foot giant practically looming over your shoulder. He wasn’t even doing anything in particular, but he didn’t need to. Just being there is enough to put you into fight-or-flight mode.

Sometimes you wonder if he’s just a sadist and likes watching you squirm.

You’re very correct.

Rollo’s only half paying attention to the lecture - he knows all of the content already. Rather, he finds entertainment and peeking over at you, seeing you freeze and stiffen up whenever you catch him in the act. It’s a game of cat and mouse for him, something he finds adorable.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” you whisper from the corner of your mouth. Rollo raises a brow.

“We shouldn’t be talking in class,” he replies simply, pretending to be paying attention. You roll your eyes.

“Nice dodge,” you scoff playfully, and Rollo smiles. It’s not much - just a quirk of the lips, so small that you’d have to squint to see it. It’s a smile whose warmth is subdued, like a little match in a snowstorm. You can’t put your finger on it; it’s almost like fondness, except that doesn’t sound right for the Rollo Flamme.

"You’re smiling," you state the obvious. Yet there's a certain awe in it - someone would've thought that Rollo had grown two heads by the way you were looking at him.

Rollo’s pen stops in its movements. He seems to lag for a moment, surprised and unsure, before his lips straighten and he’s back to normal.

“Is there an issue?”

“No,” you laugh. The initial fear you had felt has dissipated. Rollo’s smile, despite being so small you'd have to look at it through a microscope, was still a smile. “Just didn’t expect it from you, y’know? Since you’re all big and serious around here.”

“I see,” Rollo says quietly, turning away. If it weren’t for his stone-cold face, you would’ve compared him akin to a kicked puppy.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” you say. “I think it looks nice on you.”

Rollo remains silent, but the slight widening of his eyes is key enough. It's enough to bring a smile onto your face as you return your attention to the lecture.

Rollo doesn’t say anything after that, but he doesn’t need to. Any tension that had existed between you two had evaporated, the invisible wall opening its gates. Your body has visibly relaxed, and you’re able to fully concentrate on the lesson again.

In the corner of your eye, although you’re almost certain you imagine it, you think you see Rollo’s eyes soften.

—[3]—

When you’re not studying your sanity away at school, you’re working.

You work part-time at one of the many bakeries in the City of Flowers, famed for their pastries. You also sell coffee and tea for the many tired students from the college (such as yourself), so you’re used to seeing many of your classmates coming in the morning.

Around a month has passed since your little moment with Rollo. To put it simply, the two of you have gotten closer.

Studying together in the library became a common occurrence as you found yourself frequenting Rollo’s table more often. Apparently, Rollo’s standards wouldn’t let you study in peace, so he opted to personally tutor you to appease his own state of mind. In his own words, he couldn’t stand by and watch a classmate struggle in front of him.

Safe to say, Rollo was a strict teacher. He wasn’t afraid to point out the inconsistencies in your work, and often gave you tips on what to do. You were afraid that he’d get irritated with how much you overthought everything, but the most he’d give you would be a gentle tug on the cheek whenever you got ahead of yourself.

You look over at your shoulder at the modules you had left to complete. Thankfully, the number of papers had drastically decreased, thanks to a certain someone. Unknowingly, a smile slips onto your face at the thought of him.

The bell rings, and you’re immediately in work mode. You plaster on a customer service smile, straightening behind the counter.

“Hello, how can I help you- Oh hey, Rollo!” Your face breaks out in a grin at the sight of your study partner. “What’re you doing here?”

Honestly, it’s weird to see him without that uniform of his. Seeing him in a casual turtleneck and coat feels almost illegal, like you’re looking at something that only certain people should see.

“Oh, it’s you,” he briefly acknowledges, bright green eyes meeting your own before scanning the vast amount of display pastries. A month ago, you would’ve taken his apathetic greeting as coldness. But having been in his presence for quite a while now, you’ve learned to pick up the smallest of ques.

“Can I get you anything?”

Rollo tears his eyes away from the tempting pastries. “A medium black coffee, please.”

You nod, nimble fingers already moving to ring him up. “Will that be all?”

“Yes,” Rollo confirms, digging into his coat pocket for his wallet. As you tell him the price, you take out a coffee cup, writing Rollo’s name on it in sharpie. Turning your back to him, you opt to add a little message alongside it.

While you make the coffee, Rollo sets himself down in the corner of the bakery, taking out his study materials. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on the croissants, almost longingly. In the back of your head, you remember one of your conversations (you’d tried distracting him so that you could get a break. It lasted 3 minutes).

“So, what kind of food do you eat?”

“The same as everyone else.”

“No, like when you’re out. You know, like in your free time?”

“Oh. I suppose… Croissants. I’m rather fond of them.”

“Eh, makes sense.”

You figure that he’d probably skipped breakfast again, knowing him. Apparently, breakfast was optional to him. Despite being only 18, Rollo was already living the life of an overworked salaryman, always worried about his council and studying his life away.

But being the good friend you were, you weren’t letting that slide. Rollo was going to take care of himself, whether he liked it or not.

“Rollo?”

Right on cue, he stands up, walking to the counter to retrieve his drink. By all means, you give it to him, but right before he leaves, you call out to him.

“Oh, you forgot this!”

Rollo’s brows crinkled at your exclaim. How could he have forgotten anything? The only thing he ordered was currently in his hands right now. Still, he returns to the counter, ready to call you out on your mistake.

He doesn’t get the chance to.

You press something wrapped and warm into his free hand. Looking down, Rollo’s pleasantly surprised with a freshly baked croissant. He jerks his face up to meet your gaze, confusion written all over his typically stoic face. It’s nice, to finally surprise him for a change.

“I know you didn’t eat breakfast today,” you explain cheerfully, leaning on your forearms on the bakery counter. “You didn’t think I would let you spend your day with just a coffee in your stomach, did you?”

“I can’t take this,” Rollo protested, already moving to hand you back the croissant. You click your tongue.

“Nope, you are,” you push his hand back. His hands are cold, you note. “It’s on the house, trust me. And if the owners have a problem with it, I can always pay for you.”

“But-”

“No buts,” you smile cheekily up at him, propping your head onto your hand. Rollo’s ears flush at just the tips. “I know you want it anyways, so stop being stubborn and just take the thing, okay? It’s fine, don’t worry.”

Rollo stares at you, conflict flickering in his eyes. To an outsider, he’s outright glaring at you, but you know there’s no malice.

You can already imagine the inner turmoil fighting in his mind. On one hand, he wants the croissant - he’s been eyeing it for a good ten minutes - and he’s hungry. On the other hand, his moral righteousness won’t let him take anything without paying.

But in the end, his hunger (and you) wins him over. He sighs, reluctantly giving in.

“If you insist,” he says cooly, ignoring the way his heart pounds in his chest. “I’d best be going now. I’ll see you in class.”

“See you,” you wave, straightening yourself. Rollo turns to leave, but right before he does, you hear a faint murmur.

“Oh, and… thank you. For the croissant.”

—[4]—

“Every day, without fail, the president climbs the tower to clean the Bell of Salvation.”

It’s pouring outside when you remember the words of your friend, Rollo’s secretary. Looking outside your dorm’s window, the streets are dark as rain cascades from the sky and onto the city. Even from inside your warm room, you can feel the cold from the outside.

You can’t help but wonder if Rollo was also out there, still cleaning that Bell.

You wouldn’t put it past him, to be honest. That man was nothing if not a workaholic. Your friends in the student council had told you of how he spent countless all-nighters just to put together school events, and that wasn’t including his work as a student. But you didn’t need them to tell you any of that. Rollo’s constant eyebags and coffee addiction told you plenty enough.

You sigh to yourself, leaning onto the window. Your friend notices your sulking, sighing to himself as he walks over. You’ve been like that for a good twenty minutes now.

“President Flamme will be fine,” he says, sitting across the windowsill from you. “He always is.”

“In this weather?” you ask, barely sparing him a glance. “He’d catch a cold before he gets any cleaning done.”

“You’d be surprised,” your friend laughs. “He can be pretty persistent when he wants to be.”

You chuckle, eyes softening with the memories. “You've got that right. I still remember how he made me stay up for two hours until I could get a problem right. He even got food so that I couldn’t use it as an excuse for a break.”

“He did that for you?” Your friend’s eyes widen in surprise. You nodded sheepishly, a fond smile creeping on your face.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect it either.”

Your friend snickers knowingly. You shoot him a look, only for him to brush it off.

“Anyway, if you’re that worried over him,” he suggests, “why don’t you go up and check on him? You’re the least likely to get yelled at if you do.”

“That’s what you say,” you roll your eyes playfully. “But you have a point. Unfortunately.”

“Always do,” your friend huffs pridefully. He winks at you as he lightly pushes you toward the exit. “Don’t worry about sneaking out. I’ll cover you.”

That’s how you found yourself scaling the old bell tower, holding an extra coat in your arms, a small flame dancing in the palm of your hand for light. You were careful to keep the flame from fanning out of control, as the tower was made from wood.

Your legs ached by the time you neared the top. You had no idea how Rollo did this on a daily basis, much less in the raging storm.

The wind battered at your face the second you reached the highest story, blowing rain into your eyes and nearly putting your flame out. Struggling to shield yourself from the wild tempest, you squint through the raindrops for Rollo. Thankfully, you didn’t have to look too far.

“Rollo?” you call out, your voice straining against the wind. Faintly you can spot the tall silhouette of your friend, somehow completely fine and still dutifully polishing the bell. “Rollo!”

The silhouette freezes, and turns to meet your gaze. You sigh in relief when you see the familiar green of his eyes, pushing your way through the storm to meet him.

“What are you doing here?” Rollo asks, caught off guard by your appearance. His gaze wanders over your body, noticing how drenched you were getting. “The storm is dangerous, you’ll catch a cold.”

“That’s what I should be saying!” you huff, lightly hitting his chest. “You’ve been out here cleaning the Bell for how long again?”

“Only an hour, the rain helps-”

You roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “Only an hour?! You’re the one who’s going to get sick at this rate!”

“But I’m not-”

“Yeah, yeah, no, we’re going inside,” you retort, grabbing his hand. Rollo surprisingly doesn’t protest, allowing you to drag him off his precious bell and back into the safety of the tower. It’s by no means warmer, but it’s definitely drier.

You sit down on one of the many tables inside the tower, cringing as the walls shake from the wind. But you know that the tower won’t fall. It’s old, yes, but it has prevailed through storms like this before. The Bell of Salvation’s magic still runs strong.

“Your hands are freezing,” you comment, Rollo’s hand still intertwined with your own. His hands were always cold, but today they were like blocks of ice. You run your thumbs over the palms of his hands, cupping both of them before whispering a small spell.

Warmth tickles your palms like little embers, providing you and Rollo solace in the freezing winter. You let out a breath of contentment, before realizing just what you were doing. Snatching your hand away, you frantically apologize - not noticing the dejected look in Rollo’s eyes as you do so.

“Great Seven, I am so sorry-”

“I don’t mind,” Rollo says quietly, purposely avoiding your gaze. He silently thanks the darkened room for preventing you from seeing his flushed ears.

“You don’t?” you question, looking up at him. Briefly, you saw a glimpse of red before Rollo hastily looked away, lightly shaking his head. You feel your face warm, but decide to blame it on the magic. Hurriedly, you look for a way to change the conversation.

“So… I didn’t notice it earlier, but how are you perfectly dry in that storm?” you ask, rubbing your arms, cringing when you noticed how soaked you were. Rollo looks relieved from the change of subject.

“Magic,” he explains easily, as if it were obvious. And it kind of was. You laugh nervously, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Oh, right,” you chuckle, glancing down at your ringed finger. You hummed, waving your hand and blasting yourself with a gust of hot air, effectively drying yourself. “It really solves everything, doesn’t it.”

Rollo’s face visibly sours at your comment. “Is that how you really feel?”

The coldness in his voice surprises you. You’ve never heard such hatred and malice from him before. Had you said something wrong?

You swallow nervously. “What do you mean?”

“Do you truly think that magic solves everything?” Rollo crosses his arms, a scowl twisting his face.

“Well, it depends,” you say carefully, not wanting to set him off. You can already hear the warning bells in his tone. “The way I see it, magic’s a tool.”

“Even if it’s evil?” Rollo questions angrily. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself against him.

“I don’t think it’s evil,” you say firmly, yet softly. “I mean, look at this city. The Bell’s magic protects us, doesn’t it?”

“It didn’t protect-” Rollo cuts himself off. You give him a look, but don’t pry. It isn’t your business to ask nor to know what had happened to him for him to despise magic this much. He hadn’t said much, but it’s obvious to you.

“Like I said, magic is a tool,” you continue, facing him fully. “It’s like a knife. When you’re stabbed, you don’t blame the knife, but the person holding it.”

Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you can see the turmoil twisting in his eyes. You’re challenging something that had been in his life longer than you have, something that you’ve never seen.

You decide to take a risk, a step forward. Reaching out, you cup his hands in yours once again. Rollo only watches, confusion and anticipation keeping him curious.

You whisper your spell once again, except this time, the embers blossom into fire. Sparks of flame surround the two of you like fireflies, dancing daintily in the wind. Warmth like a mother’s embrace envelops the two of you as you hold a flickering flame in your intertwined palms.

The glow of the fire illuminates Rollo’s face, entranced by the blaze. Something moves in your chest, and you find yourself scooting closer to him so that you can bask in more of this warmth.

“Magic can be dangerous,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You’re right beside him at this point, your shoulders nearly brushing together. Rollo turns to look at you, his face uncharacteristically gentle. You don’t notice, keeping your gaze on your flame. “And you don’t have to like it. But it can also be beautiful.”

You laugh to yourself, sighing as you lay your head on Rollo’s shoulder. You hope he doesn’t hear how loudly your heart beats. He doesn’t react, but he also doesn’t protest.

“You know, you worried the hell out of me earlier,” you suddenly confess, the flames dancing in your eyes. “I mean, you already do, with your sleeping habits and how much pressure you put on yourself. But today was… Well, it wasn’t our best day.”

“...I’m sorry,” Rollo whispers, and you almost don’t hear it. But it’s genuine, heartfelt, and sincere. You feel an arm wrap around your waist, bringing you closer together.

You smile, relaxing into his hold.

“As long as you’re okay.”

Neither of you acknowledges the position you’re in, nor the intimacy of it. You don’t have to. For now, all you do is rest, and enjoy each other’s touch.

You don’t see it, but eventually, Rollo closes his eyes, and leans his head onto yours.

It’s the most relaxed he’s ever been.

—[5]—

Rollo thinks he’s going to die.

Not literally, of course, but he was pretty close.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing out here, taking a leisurely walk around the city streets with you. He has no idea how you managed to drag him out of his uptight uniform, or how you convinced him to enjoy the snow and the festivities.

He sighs, pulling up his scarf to warm his face. You already made him layer up quite a bit, but just to be safe, you also wrapped that around him to make sure he didn’t accidentally die from touching a snowflake.

He chuckles at the thought, his breath fogging in the cold winter air. The way you constantly fretted over him, overthinking everything and taking care of him… His cheeks warmed at the thought, a fond smile overtaking his lips without him noticing.

“I’m back! God, that line was so long and I swear this lady cut in front of me and I’ve never wanted to strangle someone so badly-”

Speak of the devil, and they shall appear. Rollo’s breath clogs in his throat when you run up to him, two steaming cups of hot chocolate in your hands. He can’t help but think of how cute you were in your winter apparel, all cozy and warm.

He mindlessly tunes out your rantings, only half listening as he simply stares at your lips. Even when he takes one of the cups you offer him, he only watches. Eventually, he sees you running out of air and reaches out, patting your head to shut you up.

“Are you done?” he asks. You huff, sipping your hot chocolate to make yourself feel better - nearly burning yourself in the process.

“Yeah, I’m done,” you giggle, sticking out your tongue to cool it. “Sorry about that.”

“I like hearing you talk,” Rollo assures, effectively flustering you. Reaching out, he lightly tugs your cheek. “And be careful when you drink that. You could’ve burned yourself.”

“But I didn’t,” you mutter, rubbing your cheek with a pout. Rollo raises a brow, but you brush it off. “Anyways, how’s the chocolate?”

“Hot,” Rollo says bluntly, making you snort. “But also sweet.”

“Do you like it?” Rollo nods.

“It’s perfect for a night like this,” he observes, looking out towards the bright lights that litter the snow-covered city.

“Right?” you hum cheerfully, the snow fluttering around you prettily. “Let’s find somewhere to sit.”

The two of you quickly found a bench to seat yourselves on. You lean back onto the wooden chair, happily drinking away at your chocolate. You only stopped when you feel a presence at your shoulder.

Looking up, you let out a sound when you found Rollo’s face mere inches away from yours. Your breath hitched at the sudden proximity as you froze in place, becoming a mere statue.

You only snapped out of your phase when you felt something soft pressing up to the corner of your lips. Rollo dabs at you with one of his many handkerchiefs. The pure concentration on his face only manages to fluster you more until he pulls his hand back, seemingly satisfied with his handiwork.

“You had chocolate on your lips,” he explains, not noticing the way you stare at him, blood rushing to your face.

“...Oh,” you manage out, your voice small.

You can practically feel Rollo’s breath ghosting on your lips. Subconsciously, you held your breath, watching him carefully for his next move. Rollo seemed to have the same idea, uncertainty taking hold of him for the first time.

The two of you waited with bated breath, waiting for the other to take that risk. For a moment, the rest of the world disappeared into a flash of white.

But you both hesitated too long.

Rollo jumps as something tugs on his coat, effectively breaking the spell. He looks down to see one of the city goats staring up at him cutely, bleating for his attention. Begrudgingly, he sighs and reaches down to pet it.

The goat unfortunately uses that to jump on him. It attempts a bite at his cup, but thankfully, Rollo has quicker reflexes than one would think. His height also means that he’s able to hold the cup far out of the goat’s reach.

“No, you don’t,” he grits out, the goat’s weight heavy on him. “You can’t eat chocolate, fool.”

Something about Rollo unironically calling a goat a fool was just too ridiculous for you.

You break out laughing, your eyes crinkling. Rollo’s chest constricts at the sight, his arm relaxing for a second as he stares at you in awe - barely noticing when the goat tries again for his cup.

There are few things that he could call precious. But your smile, this moment, your laughter… He would say that they were the brightest treasures in the world.

—[ + 1 ]—

Rollo isn’t stupid.

He isn’t oblivious.

He knows the way he feels isn’t normal. He knows the way he wants you, craves you, needs you, is anything but. He always knew.

But what sets it in for him, is when he sees those couples in the streets of the city. When he sees those loving gazes towards one another, the way they hold hands, and how comfortable they are with each other, he’s no longer filled with indifferent disgust.

Rather, he wonders how it would feel to do that with you.

What would it be like, to be able to hold you and call you his own?

He’s wondered for a while. When you cup his hands in your own, he relishes in your warmth, but finds himself wanting more. When you look at him, he becomes lost in your eyes. When you smile, he sees your lips, wondering how they’d feel pressed up against his.

It’s a strange thing for him, to want something so badly.

So when he finds himself nestled in your arms, finally resting, he’s conflicted.

With his head laying gently on your chest, he practically melts into your hold. Your fingers thread through his hair, softly petting and massaging his scalp as you do. His eyes are closed, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

He's able to let go with you. He allows himself this small moment of vulnerability. He lets you hold him, finding redamancy in your touch. For in your arms, he is safe - this is his home.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice muffled by your clothes. You hum, playing with his hair.

"Of course," you shift the delicate locks between your fingers. "That's what friends are for."

Friends. He finds that the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Friends, yes, that was what you were. A month or two ago, he would've been fine, delighted even, to be called such a thing.

But is it so wrong to be longing for something more?

You must've felt him stiffen, as you look down at him in concern.

"You okay, Rollo?"

He really isn't. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he raises his head to look at you.

Your hand falls from his hair to cradle his face, your thumb tenderly swiping over his cheek. Rollo closes his eyes in contentment, nuzzling into your palm - almost like a kitten, you'd comment later.

"You're unfair," he mumbles, peering at you once again. You tilt your head, prompting him to continue. He reaches up, covering your hand with his own. "You dare to hold me like this, and yet you still only call me 'friend'."

You hum, looking away bashfully. "I was afraid to call you something else."

"You were afraid of nothing." Rollo lifts his head, moving your hand so that he could press a kiss to your palm. His eyes stayed trained on yours, waiting to see any reaction - as if he was asking for permission.

The look you give him is nothing short of loving. It's what pushes him to test the boundaries even further, to push himself up. You look up at him with hidden intrigue, knowing, and even anticipation - as if you knew just what was coming ahead.

Rollo lets go of your hand, taking a hold of your chin instead, tilting it up to face him. His eyes search yours carefully, still hesitant even now.

You nod your head, silently giving your approval. Your words have lost you, unable to make it past the lump in your throat.

Rollo leans forward, close enough so that your noses brush against each other. Taking one last breath, he takes the dive, closing his eyes and gently pressing his lips to yours.

Instantly, your eyes shut as if falling into a trance. Your hand trails up to the back of his head, holding him there as the other reaches to wrap around his waist - bringing him impossibly closer.

It’s over before you know it. When Rollo finally pulls away, you instinctively follow, chasing him. It’s only when Rollo lightly pushes you back that you peek your eyes open.

In the swirling forest of his eyes, you see amusement, adoration, and most importantly, gratitude.

Not a word is spoken when Rollo falls back into your arms, and you are there to welcome him, as you always have.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #disney twst #twst x reader #disney twst x reader #x reader #y/n #twst rollo #rollo flamme #rollo flamm #rollo #roro flamme #twst rollo x reader #rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamm x reader #reader insert #oneshot #archives 🏵️

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gtgbabie0 · 24 days

Text

-William Bonney x reader

{Billy can’t handle you being in pain, even if you were defending him}

Enjoy my lovelies💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Silence is the only thing you’re met with when Billy walks into your quaint house, silence and a glare. You don’t bother asking him what’s wrong you already know why exactly he’s looking at you with his narrowed eyes and a deep frown.

“Billy-” you begin hoping to soften the blow by explaining your poor choices in picking fights with men who are three times your size and have loaded guns at their hips.

“No… don’t.” Billy stops you mid-sentence as he walks over to you, his hands immediately grasping yours as he assesses the damage to knuckles, split and redraw. A soft sigh escapes his lips whilst his thumb gently soothes the back of your hand.

“Christ, what have I told?” He asks, his frown deepening slightly as his eyes meet yours full of worry and frustration.

It’s the second time something like this happened, the last time Billy was there to stop you this time however he wasn’t, instead he found out from people talking about it around town.

Hushed whispers about how ‘Billy’s girl throws a mean punch’ and how you were ‘more trouble than you’re worth’. It was already a rough time in Lincoln without you adding to the mix, he just can’t keep up with it all.

Perhaps that’s why he is much more angered by this than he probably should be. “I know but if you would’ve heard them— what they were saying...” You try and reason with him as you recall the muttered insults about him, the threats and the way they dragged your name into their snide remarks.

“You’re getting into fights over some words.” He sneers as if it was the most stupid thing he’s heard. He tugs your hand as he guides you to sit down at the kitchen table and you can’t help but bite the inside of your cheek nervously as you watch him rummage through the cabinets looking for a first aid kit with a mean frown, the tension so thick it was almost hard to breathe.

Any words you thought might’ve defended your actions die on your tongue and you’re left speechless as he cleans your knuckles with a damp clean rag, his hand holding yours.

“I don’t think you realise how dangerous this is… it takes one of em’ to pull their gun out and then what, huh?” He snaps glaring up at you with narrowed eyes, the light of the lamp flickers across his face casting a shadow across his deep frown.

Billy catches on to how you bite the inside of your lip and the way your eyes begin to gloss over. He hates how the guilt immediately starts to eat at him. He takes a deep breath. “You can’t keep this up… do you understand?” He whispers, his blue eyes gleaming with fear.

The room is heavy with silence as you nod your head whilst he continues to clean the cuts on your knuckles, the sensation stings a little but it’s nothing compared to the sight of his disapproval.

“I’m sorry… I just can’t stand it.” You whisper, finally breaking the silence as you look down at the way he handles you with such great care almost as if you were made from glass.

Billy looks up at you and his expression softens slightly with understanding because he damn well knows that if he ever caught anyone bad-mouthing you he’d make them regret it… but that doesn’t change the fact that he hates seeing you hurt for his sake.

“I know…” he breathes before holding up your hands slightly so you can get a good look at the cuts that split across your knuckle. “I can handle that… but this… this I can’t.” He tells you, squeezing your hands ever so softly.

His rough hands cup either side of your face and his blue eyes meet yours with worry but there’s a deep love that flickers within them that you don't miss. “You gotta stop baby… I can’t lose you.” He whispers, his voice breaking with vulnerability.

A shaky breath escapes your lips as he presses his forehead against yours, “Alright... alright." You promise, pausing briefly before speaking once again, "I love you, Billy.” You whisper softly and your heart melts at the sight of the smile that teeters against his lips.

“I love you too… so damn much.” He tells you and although his voice is gentle there’s still a certain sincerity in his tone that makes your head spin.

Billy presses his lips to yours in a slow, meaningful kiss, holding your face as if you were going to vanish into thin air. He needs you to be alright or he fears he might just lose the last threads of his sanity.

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fabraies · 1 year

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TRIAL BASIS DATING ft ATSUMU MIYA

sfw + no warnings. if the man wants a relationship with you, he’s going to have to work for it. ﾟ｡ ꒱

FIRST TEST: HOLD-MY-PURSE-WHILE-I-TRY-THIS-ON

If New York City had one thing to offer, it was glamour, shopping trips, and luxury. However, this vision of the city seemed to be slightly different for boyfriends, who’d rather view a trip to Soho as an arm workout. Atsumu had to agree.

“Hey, babe?”

The blond perks up at the sound of your voice, looking up at you trying on another pair of nude stilettos, “Hm ?”

“Which ones ?” You say, holding up another pair that was lying nearby, in the mess that was made up of shoeboxes and translucent paper, and placing it next to the shoe that you were currently wearing.

Atsumu can’t help but blink. “Babe.. aren’t they..?” Your pupils narrow down to slits as your boyfriend almost slips up. Luckily for him, he catches the hint, and tries as best as he can to make up for his blunder.

“I mean- No, it’s just.. That’s not what I meant to say! They’re so obviously different, the left one definitely more yellow.. ish?”

You pick up the left one, inspecting it, and Atsumu swears he felt a drop of sweat make it’s way down his forehead.

“Yeah.. Yeah you’re right. Thanks, baby, love you!” As you place a quick kiss on his cheek, you happily saunter over to the store assistant to let her know you’ve made your choice, and, unbeknownst to you, Atsumu feels like screaming into a pillow. Your purse is safely in his hands, he managed to provide worthwhile fashion advice, and most of all, he was still alive.

While he was very self-centered, for once in his life, your boyfriend was sure that the outcome wasn’t any of his doing. In fact, he wholeheartedly believed there was some extraterrestrial being somewhere that had taken pity on him, and helped him out.

Right on cue, you come back, having paid your new shoes, “Come on, hurry up, there’s this other store I wanna check out next!”

Even though these sort of days were definitely rewarding; watching his girlfriend change into form-fitting outfits was always a good thing, Atsumu was already begging for the extraterrestrial’s return.

The colors and brand names you were throwing at him were making the poor man’s head spin; Apple green or Forest green? Ocre or light brown? Prada or Balenciaga? Moschino or Valentino? Atsumu didn’t even know what a Moschino was, and when he’d asked you if it was a coffee machine brand, you had almost thrown earlier’s nude stilettos right at his face.

“Come on, just five more minutes, I promise!” You answer your boyfriend from the changing room, as he had let you know about his need to go back to the hotel as soon as possible.

The blonde, who was sat in a puff chair in front of your changing room, was beginning to get really frustrated at the seemingly endless shopping trip, when he hears the curtains being drawn back. There you were, standing in all your glory, waiting for a comment on his part. Unfortunately for you, your appearance seemed to have made his mouth out of service. His jaw was slacked open, unable to utter a single word out.

“Well ?” You raise an eyebrow.

Maybe an arm workout in Soho wasn’t so bad after all.

note. This is for the girlies who take hours in the changing rooms. I see you, and I get you! Take your time queen you deserve it ﾟ｡ ꒱

-> second test

#atsumu x you #atsumu fluff #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu x reader #atsumu drabble #hq x you #hq x y/n #hq fluff

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plutopitou · 1 year

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◇ Haven’t I given enough?

keigo takami | hawks x female reader

genre: nsfw smut, angst

Keigo struggles to find a way to cope from being forced to be a trained soldier by the hero commission. Luckily you have a few screws lose and are more than willing to be that beacon of hope, no matter the cost. | 18+ MDNI

word count: 4.3k

warnings: he's mean (◞‸◟) but hot to me, toxic relationship,? VERY rough sex, smut, dub/con, keigo has issues- so does reader and they are obsessed with eachother -oop degradation (not for the lighthearted), dumbification, overstim

this is my first post on here and i haven't written in a long time so bare with me :) i think it came out nice tho <3

Keigo has always had the commission on his back. Being raised inside of a facility that is cut throat and grabs you by the hair and force feeds you, not because they have to- but because they can. To express their own dominance like a cat baring their claws or a bird flexing their wings to show off how big they are. Poor little Keigo didn’t have a choice in the matter either, being so young he already knew if you disobey authority you have your work cut out for you.

He was always a people pleaser from day one. Daily motivation sourcing from the look of admiration by the adults, impressed by his quirk and drive for success. But the look was not admiration, but instead it was insulting. They never seemed to be pleased by his hard work and it pricked Keigo in his head constantly.

“You’re not working hard enough,” and “you can do better” they said.

Day after day his big doe eyes became heavier and heavier until they were keen enough to cut. There wasn’t a way to say “no” that didn’t end up in some type of penalty, ultimately equating the word “no” as something negative and taking a life as something positive, because who was there to tell him what was going on was bad and not right?

A baby bird only eats whatever its mother feeds them, whether thats food or garbage.

After Keigo’s first kill as a pre-teen, he hunched over and threw up at the mental anguish of being groomed to be a killing machine. It was one person after the other being a perfect sacrifice to perfect his skill, not at will but from demand. Keigo began to revel in the superiority of finally having the upper hand against someone, finally feeling powerful and knowing his own skill set by developing his quirk to be the best in the game.

Overtime he liked seeing the redness of blood camouflage with the tips of his red feathers and the string of apologies flowing from someone’s mouth, begging to spare their life. He got off on the picture of him standing big and tall on top of their weakened body.

But it was only fulfilling in the beginning.

He has bright vermilion wings with sharp eyes to match and it was not something you could easily look away from. It is a type of stare he developed over time that was molded to make you crack under pressure and confess anything. A type of stare that is enough to make you cry and plead a sorry even if you didn’t know what you were sorry for. A look that is masked underneath his laid back exterior he shows to the public.

There is a reason why he’s number two.

To the public it’s just Hawks, the number two hero, a man that helps elderly women cross the street and gladly holds onto your groceries with one of his delicate but strong feathers so you don’t feel inconvenienced. So you can experience a better day. He will gladly take a couple scratches and lose a couple quills for humanity so they can go home to their family and enjoy their night. But whispers travel and the villains know exactly what he is that he conceals, which makes his patrols smooth sailing. He is type of person the worst people warn to never cross paths with.

He is the glorified punching bag of society that is painted in expensive jewelry with a special title made just for him: a Hero.

But who gets to make the number two hero’s day better?

It’s not the little kids sprinting to him, looking up from his knees with bright eyes begging for an autograph. It was him pinching your nose, feeling your body trying to gasp for air while he rapidly fucks your throat, taking it all for himself.

It was never the men and women with tears in their eyes giving their thanks for saving their life. It was always the tears springing from the swift slap to your face trying to squeeze out one more apology from your stupid mouth for not listening to him.

And it is definitely not the plentiful of stupid fucking awards given to him at hero galas by the committee he is forced to accept to keep his image pure. Because is there anything actually fully pure about hero work?

Keigo felt himself slowly starting to lose his stability in the center of chaos. The feeling of murder is so short lived- he needed more than that. He didn’t like how long he had to wait until the commission had him go on another undercover expedition. That was always the rule by them: he can never kill unless authorized.

Society already has their special person to tear down and build back up as they pleased, who was going to be Keigo’s?

You, of course.

You were so willing to give up everything you had ever owned, have and thought of for the slight chance of his attention. Such a little stalker for Keigo, trying to figure out his patrol schedule just so you can see him work with a charming smile on his face. Reading fanfiction about him on websites dedicated to his heroics, touching yourself at night thinking about his sweet whispers telling you how beautiful and good you are for him.

You just knew he was such a kind and humble man in person like he executed himself on TV. You had seen over the years of heroes’ facade falling down, exposing themselves for being the corrupt and selfish person everyone had hoped they weren’t. But no, not Keigo, being the number two hero and being so young yet not much older than you, you saw him from a different light.

That is why when you willingly let yourself fall backwards down a 20 story building, you did not do it out of fear and intention of taking your own life. You did it out of joy and the safety of knowing he would be right there to catch you- because he is a hero.

For the seconds it lasted, it felt nice to flow through the sky and feel weightless. As the gravity of the earth clutches onto your body and forcefully pulls you down to your demise, it somehow did it softer than cutting a knife through butter. You let go of the breath you had been holding when you are swept up mid-air into a pair of strong arms grasping your body into his warmth. He smelled like fresh air and linen with a puff of mint coming from his lips. You peel open your eyes to see him in his glory, doing what he does best- saving people. The sun setting right behind him giving his body a glow of authority like a god. Your god.

Hawks gets you back to the ground and helps you stand still with a small comforting smile. “Take this as a sign, sweetness. Go home.” He says like its another day and pats your hair in place before turning ready to take his leave. His touch leaving a tingle from your head down to your back, you wished to have his hands on you forever.

“Wait!” You yell for him. Pulling out the letter you had handwritten for him days earlier, a confession letter. You shyly run up to hand it to him and take in his look of confusion before pushes up his visor and reads the front, ‘To Hawks ♡’.

Inside the letter was years worth of admiration and pent up love you have for what other people consider a stranger. But Hawks was no stranger to you. It only took a couple days to plan your meeting with him because you had full confidence he will be there when you fell, as it was meant to be. It was a love letter confessing you will leave everything behind for him, no matter what it took you wanted to be there to catch him if he fell too, even if you didn’t think you had the strength to keep him up. You would do anything he asked without question because he’s such a great person and deserves it the most.

‘I will lie for you, die for you, and kill for you, even if you don’t love me back. A hero needs a hero, too.’

Keigo thought it was almost too perfect.

His first thought, “this has to be some type of trick?” maybe the commission trying some sort of test on him as an evaluation? But when he looks into your dazed eyes, he knew. They were practically swirling with a heart in the middle. He thought there was no way someone has a screw loose enough to launch themselves to death in the smallest chance in being caught to give a little letter to their rescuer with a smile.

He has seen crazies before, not to this extent but close. Being in the work force for years now, his fanbase has exponentially grown as he climbed up the rankings. His female fanbase having the most growth, it was never surprising to come back to his agency with his interns bringing in a couple large boxes a week worth of love letters filled with undergarments, perfume, gifts or even money. Keigo of course has had his fair share of women in the past, none ever lasting as long because they couldn’t handle what he had to give. And what he had to give left these women bruised, crying and begging for more even if they didn’t have any more space left to take.

Your eyes, no matter the shape, still hold a roundness of naivety and innocence. A type of innocence that is special, one you dont see in a lot of people. But you have that factor. You have it all, and he wanted to be the one to take it away and give it back, force it to you.

Keigo almost wanted to laugh right in your face.

You watch as he pulls his visor back down with a small side grin, his shiny leather gloves putting the letter in his jacket pocket to keep it safe. “I’ll see you, alright, Birdy?” Pushing his wild, blonde hair back, Hawks gives you one last glance with golden eyes before taking off, the flap from his big wings pushing your hair back, leaving you alone as the sun finally sets.

But how could you have ever known?

Hawks didnt waste any time finding you again and getting ready to break you in. He loves the idea of it; a cute girl like you, so needy and desperate for him to go as far as jump off a building in the risk of him catching you. Because to you he was the perfect man on paper, on TV, and in person. You read everything there was to know about him online, you read every article, watched every single interview from the beginning to present of his career, there weren’t any warning signs that would have prepared you for who he was.

You wondered if his smile while being a hero was fake, if it was practiced beforehand to make sure there weren’t any marks for people to suspect. Since you’ve known him, the only time you’ve seen him smile with authenticity is when he’s crouched over your completely fucked out body, you still lowly whining how you can take more when you can’t even lift a finger.

How could a hero ever begin to act like this?

“You couldn’t have known” he murmurs against the back of your ear. His cruel and sadistic nature was intense, his words were pitched at you so fast, you couldn’t fully comprehend what he was saying.

Not through how much you couldn’t breathe with him fucking your throat with his index and pointer finger. His favorite part of your body was your throat, anatomically it’s the most vulnerable but so soft to the touch, so easy to control your life source and take it away if he wanted to.

Keigo knew what you were the moment you locked eyes with him and gave him that silly little envelope with confidence.

Naive.

A pretty, stupid little fan that didn’t know any better, a girl who trusted strangers and was so willing to throw away her life away for a man before it even started. The first time he fucked you he felt himself getting hard just beginning to think of all the things he can do to you, looking at you like you were a new play set and didn’t know where to start first.

“Aw, look at you.. my precious baby can’t breathe?” he coos, “Yeah you can, c’mon try harder..” Keigo fucks your throat with more swiftly, his fingers squelching from the pile up of saliva in your mouth. You’re desperately pawing onto his forearm trying to stabilize yourself against his front. The feeling of butterflies in your stomach is overwhelming and every push into your mouth you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. You felt so small against him, so vulnerable, thrashing your hips against his cock trying to get away from the faint massage against your bladder and pussy from his other hand, trying to push you over the edge.

Keigo loves you like this, he loves being the one to restrict you. He knows exactly how you like it, he knows you like to pretend you don’t, feigning innocence like you always do when in reality you’re just a little bitch desperately trying to get more and more from him like every body else.

You begin to choke on his fingers, gagging as they dig themselves in your throat trying to fuck with you, and you can hear Keigo’s smug attitude, “Yeah, that’s fuckin’ right..” he groans out.

He finally pulls his fingers out your throat when he thinks you’re about to throw up and you hunch over gasping for any air you can catch, coughing with spittle dripping down your chin. Keigo holds you by your mid section keeping you close and pulling your head back to his chest. You want to act out, you want to fight back and hit him, slap him in any way you can because you love the fight, you live for riling him up until he finally snaps and yells at you, insulting your morality and fucking you in the process.

You can’t get any words out, your mind feels like a foggy and cloudy afternoon, still trying to catch your breath and Keigo playfully taps your cheek with his hand still covered in your own spit. “On your back.”

However you want to stay and prolong this moment as much as you can. Your body already feels weak like jelly and you want it to feel weaker. You barely have the strength to turn around and sit face to face with him, completely disobeying his words.

“Kei.. I want to stay up here.” You sigh into his collarbone, wrapping your arms around his sides, teasingly grinding your pussy onto this bare cock. You just wanted to stay by him, so close to his handsome face so you can kiss him- feeling his light stubble graze your cheek whenever you wanted. But he knows that glint in your eye. You look up to see that gaze. That special one perfected to make you crack under pressure and profusely apologize. It was enough to make your stomach tie knots.

Since Keigo was a little boy, he suffered with imposter syndrome and never felt a sense of fulfillment or accomplishment until he took a look at everyone else and saw how much better he was.

How he was only 18 at the time he started his career and a person that was a hero for decades could never compare to his mental resilience and physical expertise. He always felt inferior until it dolled on him that Japanese society was counting on him to feel safe. Keigo wanted to take back his sense of inferiority he developed as a kid and inflict it back wherever he could. Fortunately, there just so happened to be a pretty girl who was oh, so willing to let him.

No, she didn’t understand everything he had to go through to get where he was now, she would never get it. She doesn’t have to kill people to survive, she doesn’t have to live with the knowledge that millions of people count on her to live a normal life so they stripped her of her own.

She can live her life making mistakes without care, but if Keigo ever did, it’s blood on his hands. He is blamed for it all. She won’t ever have to deal with that.

But at least he can make her feel it.

“You wanna fuck with me, huh?”

You see his jaw tick in anger and his closed grin does nothing to cover it up but make it worse. He snaps.

You can almost feel his anger wash over you and it feeds you the energy you need to take what he’s gonna give you whether you like it or not, and you always like it. You pull back to try and console him. “Kei..”

Keigo quickly grips your jaw with force, smile gone and pulls you close. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He shakes you. “Huh? You like this shit don’t you?” He locks eyes with you searching for an answer, mocking how pathetic you look. “Hmm? Does it make you feel good, baby? Letting me manhandle you, knowing I’m gonna use your body however I want to?” You puff out a little whine in response to his accusation.

He quickly lets go and pushes your head back onto the bed, forcibly turning your body around. Pulling on the roots of your hair he pulls you up holding onto the softness of your neck after pressing a soft kiss to your head. “Remember this, birdy, this is for me. This is all so I feel good..” he pants against your neck teasing your folds feeing your legs twitch at every graze of his fingers. “Such a pathetic little bitch letting me treat you like this, throwing away your life for me just to get fucked like you don’t matter..”

That is what you did, isn’t it? You always had a choice after you stupidly jumped off a 20 story building. He showed you exactly who he was and still, you ended up at his mercy, crying for more of his callous treatment because you can’t get enough.

You sniffle and whine at the intense pleasure caused by his rudeness. You pant as his calloused fingers ravage their way down to your opening, your pussy anticipating Keigo just fully shoving it inside you. “Kei.. I’m sorry. Please, please, make me feel good. I’ll be good I swe-“

He swiftly swats the side of your face, breath hitching at the surprise, your cheek tingling from the sensation leaving you lovingly lightheaded. You shut up and take whatever he has to give you with nothing less a smile on your face. You wish he’d just shove his cock anywhere he pleases just so he can forgive you, just so you can hear that sweet rumble of praise from how good you are for him. Because Keigo’s approval of you is just as good as his degradation, both are enough to make you cry out of joy.

More tears follow the last, not because it hurt but the desperation for any part of him to be inside of you kills you inside, you’d die for it, and he knows that.

He stiffles a cruel laugh. “Aw, you cryin’? Don’t start crying now, you’ll turn me on too much..” After so much anguish he pushes his fingers inside of you, mercilessly going in and out, not giving you time to prepare. You yelp and cry inadvertently trying to crawl away from how overstimulating it feels, yet you just fall chest down ass up onto the plush bed, holding onto his freehand by your head like a clutch.

The only sound in the room coming from your drooling pussy squelching over and over, each jab drenching and pulling his fingers inside even more. Keigo curses at how warm you are, he can feel it. He knows exactly how your masochistic body likes to operate. Purposely taunting and arousing him until he’s forced to jackrabbit the fuck out your pussy until you pass out and still continue- fucking your passed out body till he sees creamy white spill out, moaning while forcing every drop of cum he has left right in your pretty womb with a nice low groan of pleasure. You both know you don’t have to say it to want it.

The feeling is so intense you’re just a babbling mess- no pure or smart thoughts, just mumbling out of pleasure to mumble. Your eyes are limp and dazed looking at the dimmed sky from the window, gripping onto Keigo’s wrist next to your head as if the bed will swallow you whole if you let go. You sense that potent feeling of an orgasm about to let loose, your babbles become load moans. The sound of your sloppiness getting louder with your voice. Keigo grazes his sight down your sheen body and curses as he finally pulls his hand out your sloppy pussy, leaving strings of your arousal. He can feel how agonizingly hard his cock is just from touching you, tip leaking white and ready to give to his sweet, bumbling girl.

He drips down spit to your pussy for good measure and looks back at your head to see you giving him the most loving look he’s ever seen in his life.

Keigo would never admit it, but it’s the first time he’s ever received and reciprocated such an intimate gaze. He puffs a nice low groan, looking down biting his lip as he finally pushes himself into your warmth, watching you slowly swallow him with white all the way up to the base of his big cock.

“That’s right sweet girl, I know you want it, I know your whore pussy wants it so bad- let me give it to you..” he leans down and grips your neck with a threatening squeeze, “This is all you’re good for,” he lowly hums, hissing as he gives another rigorous thrust. “You don’t wanna let me go n’ I won’t give us up, birdy, as long as you cum for me, alright? Let me use you- take care of you..” The feeling was almost too much for Keigo, he had never imagined someone that was good enough for him, that there was someone that could be a pillar in his completely fucked and screwed up life others curated for him.

After every thrust your pussy leaves a white ring and squelches as an invite to shove himself right back in even harder than the last, to make your response louder than the before.

Inbetween the moment you still find the energy to confess your love to him but can barely get halfway before he quickly covers your mouth and gives his last powerful thrusts into you. Huffing and groaning not being able to hold back how good you feel while you fuck him back in desperation like he knew you would, like you always do.

Practically drooling with whimpering sobs and tears behind his strong calloused hand, at last your selfish pussy grasps onto his cock as you orgasm feeling liquid slosh everywhere, your yelp into Keigo’s hand not able to contain yourself. Your hips desperately trying to get away as Keigo continues to fuck your overstimmed pussy in an effort to breed you like you deserve- moaning at you completely drenching yourself with him.

He feels himself coming to an end, holding back his hiccuped gasps- using his free hand to hold and massage your pelvis directly to his. “Oh fuck, baby, that’s right- take it, take it..” he gives you everything he has in exchange for all of you- cumming with a choked grunt in your neck, filling you with his seed like he promised he would, not letting a single drop escape.

Your whole body feels tingly with the last sprinkle of dopamine in your body, shuddering as you both collapse.

It didn’t take rocket science for you to know there was just something deeply unhinged about Keigo, as he’d probably say the same about you. You can tell intimacy was something very new to his life as he tried to shut you up before you can finish your sentence. However, you didn’t really mind much.

Keigo being your first in everything, you swore to yourself and him in that letter you will hold him up even if you didn’t think you had the strength to. You want to know more about his uprising, the stories he doesn’t tell in “exclusive” interviews- you are much more than a stupid fan and did not care if he thought of you as naive.

A slight wind chill comes through the crack in the window cooling off both your bodies. Keigo grips your jaw with need, pulling your head back to share his first kiss together filled with passion and little butterflies all over your body that leaves you wanting more. He lifts up an arm and gently pets back your hair and rubbing your head in the process letting you rest right next to him.

Even with how callous Keigo can get to leave you completely speechless and subdue you, you will take every slap, kiss, and word because the sick part of you wants it more than air itself. As for Keigo, he needed to find something he can tear and build back up, having no way to cope with the consistent pressure of the world and wanting a way out for a moment.

He loves to tear you down, but wants to keep you extra close and pay attention to every detail as he builds you back up,

to make you just as perfect as you were before.

Oh my gosh that’s it! My first story in over two years since my senior writing class haha. I hope you all enjoyed, feel free to let me know your thoughts or writing critiques- i always want to get better.

Please reblog and like, thank you ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

#mha angst #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha smut #keigo takami #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami x y/n #hawks x y/n #tw.degradation #tw.breeding #tw.overstimulation #tw.smut #tw.dumbification #tw.dubcon #pitou.writes #pitou.fics

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