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jacevelaryonswife · 2 months

Text

Supermassive Black Hole

A duo project changes some perceptions about your classmate

pairing: Michael Gavey x fem!reader

warnings: smut, period tipical misoginy (2006 guys), loss of virginity, english is not my first language.

word count: 3,297

ewanverse masterlist

When a firm knock came from the door, a name automatically entered your mind.

Gavey.

Michael Gavey.

You imagined that he would come to your meeting eventually, you actually longed to, although you didn't admit it. That idiot deserved to be put in his proper place — which was necessarily below you.

It had all started when a duo project was designated by draw earlier that day, and for both luck and bad luck your partner was the awkward genius, and difficult to deal with Michael Gavey.

There was no shortage of adjectives to be used for the unstable dirty blonde, which was truly fascinating. He intrigued you with his sharp intellect and his eccentric personality to the same extent that he repelled you with his peculiar and almost aggressive way. He was quite a figure, although you didn't allow yourself to think much about it.

It was also not a mystery that he was a true Norman No Mates, which wasn’t difficult to understand since his social skills were disastrous. The memory of him screaming at Oliver Quick in O Week never left your mind, especially the sudden change of attitude when he lowered his head and responded to the sum that Felix's pet (as your friends called him) made. You watched the whole situation closely, with a lot of curiosity, since your tables were close.

After that, whenever he entered an environment, you wondered what he would do next. You never knew what to expect from Gavey.

He started fervent debates during classes, demonstrating unparalleled intelligence and self-confidence, in addition to a slight arrogance that made him look strangely hot. Obviously a dispute of nervous male egos originated from these discussions, which made you watch with veiled fun and irritation while remaining silent. You admired the way his brain worked for math, but you didn't understand how he could be so bad at dealing with other people.

Because of this, you chose to keep a considerable distance from the horizon of events that involved Michael and his complexity, and for a long time this worked perfectly well. Until that damn moment.

Feeling humiliated by the way that insolent worm acted when trying to take responsibility for the whole activity for yourself, as if you were incompetent and incapable, you immediately confronted him about such behavior when he went to your meeting at the end of the class while you collected your material.

"Excuse me?" You asked.

"I'll finish this by Saturday, no need to worry," he repeated condescendingly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Do you think I won't participate? Or did you just choose to pretend that I don't exist?" You asked with your eyebrows furrowed, posture becoming more imposing.

He remained silent for a short moment, seeming to analyze the situation (or the best answer to it, you couldn't tell). He wasn't used to being so reluctant to say what he thought, so it was a surprise to see him using time to devise something.

"I don't like working in group, I thought it would be faster if I did everything," he looked down quickly, running away from your gaze.

"I also don't like working with other people and I didn't even think about excluding you," you replied.

“Of course you don't.” There it was. The veiled arrogance that you so hated, present in most of your classmates.

Few were your STEM classmates, since your class was mostly composed of resentful boys who did not know how to deal with a woman without seeing her as a less intelligent object. Luckily not everyone was like that and you managed to put together a really cool group.

When all you did was send a cold and angry look, Michael cleared his throat and tried to speak again, but you cut him off impatiently. "When you're less asshole look for me again, I think you have my Myspace."

Who did that little shit think it was to treat you like that? 'Of course you don't' He was so fucking pretentious! And that's because he almost couldn't keep eye contact for a long time.

Pathetic.

That skinny nerd tormented your thoughts for the rest of the afternoon and served as gossip between your friends. Predictable. The way he acted was not very different from what you imagined about his annoying self-sufficiency. And even so, there he was, stopping in front of your door (more nerdy than ever) with his laptop and notebook in hand, wearing a blue button striped shirt, black belt and cream pants. He had a terrible taste in clothes, although they totally reflected his personality, he was curious.

“I'd like to apologize for my behavior earlier, it wasn't cool,” he started as soon as you leaned carelessly against the door.

Interesting.

You considered it for a moment, looking at him before turning his back and clearing the way for him to enter your space. "It wasn't that hard, was it?" You pulled a chair for him and threw yourself dramatically on the bed before sitting down to face him, already well established and looking closely at your figure. "So... I assume you've already thought about the structure of the project."

Of course he had thought.

He opened the laptop and exposed his idea while showing some calculations in his notebook, and you made an effort to pay attention to what was said and what was sketched. Obviously his idea was good, great actually, incredibly structured and cohesive with what the professor wanted. But you also had some ideas and would like them to be taken into account, telling you what you had planned. Surprisingly, he showed to consider your suggestions, even praising them — you knew they were good, but not that his ego allowed you to visualize this. You suggested a division of parts that would be meticulously checked in a future meeting.

"As you have already started, I thought about staying with the second part, what do you think?" You asked.

"It's okay, I intend to finish tomorrow maybe, I'll forward some references by email to you."

“Sure.” It was all very bureaucratic and direct. You sneaked up to look at his laptop screen before looking at what he was typing. "I have some of these books here, but I'll look for the others."

And without realizing it, you got into a big problem.

The freshness that radiated from him flooded your senses gradually, looking too long at his neck and jaw...

He had such beautiful features and aquiline dirty blonde hair that it looked so soft. And those hands... those long fingers... no, no, no and no. You (your body) couldn't be heating up to Michael Gavey.

But it's been a while since some fun... and you were at a suggestive time of the month. Maybe... just maybe... It wasn't a bad idea. As you returned to sitting on the bed, specifically next to where his chair was, you analyzed him as he typed the references in the email. He was not bad looking, no, quite the opposite in fact.

He was handsome, really handsome. And you wanted him. You wanted Michael Gavey.

You wanted to fuck him.

Fuck that attitude.

But how? How would you approach that nervous nerd?

Your mind struggled to develop an effective approach. You didn't want to waste time, not with the heat that spread high between your legs. You just waited for him to send the damn email and close the laptop. "Do you want anything to drink?"

“I'm good. I think we ended up here, I'll try to finish my part quickly," he looked at the notebook that was on the pillow, which you anticipated to pick up and deliver it, standing up in a false farewell.

"Sure," and as soon as Michael got up with the notebook and laptop, you held his arms, gently removing the objects while placing them on your study table. "But I don't think you should go now," you used without a more seductive tone while holding his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" He asked still, tense, looking directly into your eyes.

“Are you dating someone?” You asked softly, getting closer, leaning your breasts against his chest.

"No, I'm not," he answered the obvious, but you wanted to hear the obvious with all the lyrics.

Stretching a short distance from his lips, you asked: "So can I kiss you?"

That same look seen earlier was present again, as if his mind worked hard to find a solution to the problem presented. His mouth opened minimally when he took a deep breath, this time his gaze fell on your lips. "Why do you want to kiss me?"

"Because I fucking want it."

And then you collided your lips with his in a demanding kiss that took a long time to be reciprocated, but when it was... oh boy. Michael held your waist and tried to keep up with your rhythm. He wasn’t so experienced, but his lips were soft and pleasant against yours, kissing you with so much enthusiasm that it made you dizzy.

It made you both dizzy.

He couldn't believe was happening — and that it was happening to you. You... gorgeous, sexy and intelligent. You with a nice and phenomenal ass, who he believed would never look at him twice. You, who kissed him on the tongue and moved his hands to your chest and ass and smoothed the back of his neck and massaged his shoulder. He'd never been kissed like that before. Had never touched a girl like that.

What the fuck was going on?

With the deepening of the kiss you felt a hardness to press against your belly, inhibiting a conscious smile while Michael struggled between apologizing or pretending that it was not happening. Fortunately, you didn't intend to let that be ignored. Your hand slid from the nape of his neck until it reached the increasing bulge, gently squeezing over his pants, making him moan against your lips. You squeezed again before breaking the kiss.

"I don’t wanna just kiss tonight."

Fuck. He couldn't believe what was going on.

He felt that he would cum right there if your hand kept rubbing his cock.

"Are you sure?" He asked uncertainty, still not convinced that you really wanted him that way. It was so fucking sudden, one minute he was collecting his things to leave and the next he was kissing you.

"All the certainty in the world, and you?" You sang against his lips.

"I-" that would be fucking embarrassing, you would laugh at him, "I want to but- I never-"

Oh. It wasn’t different from what you expected.

"It's okay, seriously, there's no reason to worry about it."

“... are you fucking me or something?” He asked weakly, looking at your beautiful face with lust, seriousness and insecurity. You've never seen him so vulnerable.

"Of course not, I want you Michael, I want that, but if you feel you're not comfortable we don't n-"

"I want that."

“Are you sure?”

“I'm fucking sure.”

He felt a chain of confidence run through his body and leaned over to kiss you. You wasted no time unbuttoning his shirt, groping his newly exposed soft torso. Michael almost sighed when receiving your soft touch, pulling the blouse out of your body and coming across exposed and already hardened breasts.

Fuck.

He almost moaned. They were the first tits he saw in person, it was more than exciting. He held them immediately, massaging, squeezing, experiencing...

"Not like that," you held his hands gently.

"Sorry, I never-"

“It's okay.”

Your hands landed on the belt and unbuttoned it, continuing to unbutton the pants that were urgently removed by him while you discarded your own and hovered only in panties, watching him get rid of the shoes as well. Michael had little time to get used to your half-naked figure, since with a mischievous smile, you slowly lowered your panties and left it accumulated on the floor. He felt his neck and face burn and cock pulse with your vision, contemplating for too long.

You touched him over his black underwear, feeling him hard and big, making him moan.

"I won't last long if you keep fucking touching me like that," he took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"So why haven't you taken that off yet?" You shook his head, teasing him, watching him almost tear off his underwear and show off his cock in all splendor. He was packing, bigger than you expected, all pink, beautiful and anxious. “You have such a nice body,” you kissed him lazily, anticipation thrumming through you.

Michael felt himself in the clouds with your body pressed to his without any layer of fabric, but a big wave of anxiety hit him when you walked away to get a condom before gently guiding him to bed. “Relax, let me take control,” no foreplay would be necessary when you were already wet enough to receive it. "Take a deep breath and calm down, it's quite intense, try to be distracted by something else," you adjusted the condom to its length and saw it almost shake. That boy wouldn't last a minute.

He followed your instructions and concentrated as much as possible not to cum fast, holding firmly on your hips but nothing prepared him for your wet and hot folds.

Fuck, not even the best handjobs compare to your tight pussy going down on his cock. He moaned loudly when you rested against his groin, staring at where your bodies connected.

You bit your lips and closed your eyes, feeling deliciously full. He was bigger than average and had a delicious thickness that you would love to squeeze on your walls just to see him have a spasm, but I knew it would be too much for the beginning.

"When you want me to move, just say it."

Oh no, no! He was sure he would end up there even if you moved. "Don't move yet," he replied quickly, "Fuck," he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

It was terribly satisfying to see him all vulnerable and red, without the usual arrogance and weirdness, and even better to have him inside you (albeit for a short time presumably). He thought about all the things he heard about sex all his life in those long seconds, filtering out what seemed more credible and useful. Think of something less sexy. It was fucking hard.

“Move.”

“Enjoy baby,” you slid gently up, resting your hands on his chest as you started an experimental and slow rhythm. “Mmm.”

So damn good.

Your juices made the movements easy and smooth, leaving him breathless whenever he was balls deep. The friction generated by the constancy of the movements made you two moan and the tightness on your waist increased. He was a fucking vision with disheveled hair, half-open mouth and crooked glasses, all docile while he was fucked dumb. The feeling of power over such an intelligent man was as exciting as sex, causing a presumptuous smile on your lips when you leaned over to kiss his milky neck, rubbing your body against his.

“Are you enjoying it?” You purred against his skin, kissing him superficially on the lips.

He was in the fucking clouds. And you knew that. Little shit.

He wrapped your body to move his hips against yours. He couldn't hold it anymore, he needed to cum. "I won't last long."

“It's okay, baby.”

Your tits jumped when you started riding it hard at a terrifying pace. He closed his eyes and felt his balls weigh every time you sat on his cock, holding your waist, your tits, your ass, everything you could while you allowed it.

"Fuck- I'm-" he moaned loudly and released his load on the condom, feeling a mind-blowing pleasure that paralyzed his senses and one pulled into a supermassive black hole. A thin layer of sweat covered his body, illuminating the reddish tone that covered it.

So beautiful.

Coming out of the top, you lay comfortably next to him, supporting a part of your peso on his chest while watching him struggling to stabilize his breathing. He still couldn't believe that it had finally happened, and especially with a girl like you.

“Are you here?” You asked after a while with a fun smile, although warm between his legs. He didn't know if he was, but he replied with a panting 'yes'. "Well, because we're not done yet."

What?

“What?” He asked.

“Sex is a two-way street baby, and I haven't come yet,” you purred softly against his ear, biting the lobe.

"I don't know when I'm going to get hard again," he confessed. Well, his brain was working again.

"You don't have these long fingers for nothing, Michael, and if you want it again you'll fuck me with them."

As much as he was affected by a sudden one, his sharp senses were awakened in the implication of a next time. He faithfully believed that hard work would lead him to maximum success in his life, he could not imagine otherwise in this situation. "How should I do that?"

You purred, taking his right hand and guiding it to your wet center. "Always start here if you want to make a girl cum," you circled your bud with his fingers, enjoying the delicious feeling, showing him the place before going down to your entrance. "Start with one finger, then add another."

He followed your instructions firmly, sticking a long finger and pumping slowly. "Not so slow," you bit your lower lip, somewhat impatiently waiting for the development of a slow orgasm. You needed to cum hard. Taking his hand, you held your middle finger and attached it to your index finger. “Faster.”

And although inexperienced and a little strong sometimes, his fingers felt fucking good on your walls, reaching the sweet point that made your feet's fingers curl. “Keep going, mm.”

"Can I kiss you?"

“Yes.”

Michael collided his lips on yours in a kiss full of tongue and teeth, staying on top while he fucked you with his fingers. He was hypnotized by the sounds you were making, by the warmth of your body, by the taste of your mouth...

“I'm close!”

You couldn't believe that that sleeky nerd of all people was giving you such pleasure.

Michael got up abruptly and used the hand that held his weight to circle your clitoris, making your eyes close with the construction of an abrasive orgasm. He pumped faster, watching your body squirm and your back arch.

“Michael- I'm gonna-" your whole body trembled when the coil burst and a hot pleasure flooded your senses, holding the sheets and closing your legs with the strong spasms.

It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life. And he did that. He made you cum. Michael was still very stunned with everything that happened, watching your figure before being pulled to lie next to you. You rested your head on his chest with a satisfied and tired smile, giving light kisses on his skin, relaxed with the post-orgasm fog.

“Did you like it?” You asked to break the ice.

"You've already asked better questions," he joked with a hoarse laugh, "Of course I fucking liked it."

“Mmm, I like to make sure,” you replied, facing his beautiful blue eyes behind the slightly blurred lenses.

Having your body so close (and with everything that happened) Michael felt his cock contract and a new electric current run through his body. "So there's going to be a next time?"

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taglists

general: @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @kravitzwhore @partypoison00

ewanverse: @aemonds-fire @partypoison00 @schniiipsel @fan-goddess @arcielee

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thank you smm @solisarium for the help with this ❤️

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x fem!reader #smut #saltburn #ewan mitchell #ewanverse

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colourstreakgryffin · 8 months

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asks are open!😘 How would L lawliet react with a shy I mean very shy girlfriend shes short about 5'2. And recently joined the task force to help her boyfriend

💕L💕

Omllll yeeessss! Another Death Note request! Let’s go, I like L too and I was waiting for him! Let’s do it!

Lawliet L

L was very against you trying to join the Task Force. This is definitely the most dangerous case in human history and you’re the last person he wants to risk to try solve it. He doesn’t care to risk his own life, but not yours

When L loves something or someone, it’s permanent and it’s strong, he was very against Watari joining, but he knows he needs Watari and the older man is not as included. L is a stubborn man and he won’t fold to your persistence

How did you manage to get onto the Task Force? L had no choice but to let you join, Light already seen you and his hands were tied by the members thinking a new Detective has joined. He couldn’t fly you out since it’d draw far too much suspicion. For the first time ever, the world’s best detective was stunned as he had to agree on terms he didn’t make

L supposes he doesn’t really mind having you around, it’s bad but not as bad. You’re intelligent, your skilled and you know how to handle yourself. Though, he isn’t a fan of you being apart of the Kira case for obvious reasons

Repeat it, L loves short girls so his significant other being shorter than him is like his actual dream. They are cuddle-sized and easy to keep track off. Even with how hunched he is, L is still packing quite the height and he towers you so suspect him to rest his chin on your head

“Aaah~ my favourite pillow has arrived. I am aware that I’m using your head as a headrest, you’re a suitable ‘small bean’ for the task. Why yes, I do remember what people your height are called and I’m called a ‘beanstalk’”

L is not a teaser about height, he’s a helper. You’re struggling to reach something high, he’ll get it for you. He will analyse the situation and suggest using a step next-time but at the end of the situation, he’ll help in anyway he can

L is a introvert so he understands your overall timidity. If you don’t want to be around the others, he will set up a private room for you that none of the members can access, including him if wanted. He has the money and power to do whatever the fuck he wants, and he is the spoiling type of boyfriend

Yes, I mean that L would send you money if you need it, he will rush around the headquarters to find your favourite blanket, he’s out the door the moment you mention a milkshake you’re carving. He will do stuff for you since you do so much for him, by merely being apart of his life and changing from him a glorified machine to a real human

The way you shyly approach him and Light to hand over the documentation files Watari gave to you whilst he was baking, is just so cute. Internal L is laying on the floor joyous at how adorable you behave, whilst external is politely thanking you

L isn’t built with any muscles(besides dem legs for real) but he isn’t above being protective over you, because he is. Light scared you with that one time he impersonated Kira to a horrifyingly good degree, L is gonna calmly argue with him then get into a fight

“Light. Could you please silence your strangely accurate impersonation of Kira. You’re frightening Dokusha— Hm? What reason do I have to ask of such a request? Well. She’s my partner in business and in life, she is important. Don’t do anything like that again”

L is slowly growing accustom to affection, please give him a break if he doesn’t respond or give it back. He does like it, he just isn’t trained nor knowledgeable enough in couple things. He puts research on those topics into his list so he can do better for you

Though, nobody else can do these things with L. Hold his hand, brush his hair, hug him. Nothing like that is allowed for anybody besides you and well to a degree, Watari but that’s different. You are always allowed in his private research room, most of the time, he wants you there besides him as he works

A cute weird thing L lets you do is latch onto his back. He does have a BAD back from the ten+ years of hunching but he loves feeling you clung onto him like a Koala. You are too shy to do it around the members but that won’t stop L from throwing you onto his back himself. He misses it

L keeps track of everything you like, do and more. He basically has a encyclopaedia of you and can recall every little detail. To him, knowing you like the process of scrubbing through hours worth of camera footage, is important as it shows how devoted he is to you

So tell him everything. He won’t forget any piece of info and he’ll write it down later as a needed backup, like he does for everything else non-Dokusha related. There’s two parts of his mind; Detective and Dokusha. He likes the Dokusha section a lot more

L is very loyal. Do you think he has anybody else waiting? Most women call him a freak for his looks and/or behaviour. You’re his one and only, he can’t throw you away, he just wants you sat besides him all the time. Where he can turn around and know you’re still with him

L shares his sweets with you more, as compared to somebody like Light, and you know he’ll get Watari to deliver whatever you want, whilst the other members get only what L requests for them. You are treated specially and he could care less that it makes him seem favouritistic, he is

L has a habit of mimicking you, kinda like a child. He follows you since your word is a lot more trustworthy. When you eat vegetables and meats with a smiley reaction, he is eating it too whilst waiting for your praise (Watari would struggle here, and he is a bit frustrated that his son listens to his gf, not his father

“Good morning— hm? I seem frustrated. Well… I am. Why is that? Don’t pretend like you don’t know the answer to that question, Dokusha. Yes, yes. I understand you fully. You don’t want me to die but this is my profession, and you shouldn’t be apart of this case. It’s too dangerous, you know how intense my feelings for you are”

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ghouljams · 6 months

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Hey Ghoul ! I hope you’re doing well.

It’s not really an ask about your writing, but I wanted to know if you had received the last three asks I sent you ? They were about Keegan (maybe demon!AU ? I’m sorry, I don’t really remember), Roach (no specific headcanon idea, just that I loved the way your wrote him and needed to see more of your takes on him) and ghost!Ghost on Halloween (I think it was about how they would spend the night, like with movies or something).

I’m sorry I could not be more specific, I’m a bit scared of sharing my name in asks unless it is about writing about someone’s AU or headcanons, and I actually sent them quite a while ago (the last one was ghost!Ghost, I sent it on Halloween I think - and I think there was one with Fae!Price ?). I feel like Tumblr likes to eat some of the asks I send to people a lot, so I just wanted to make know if this devilish app had been naughty again. Feel free to ignore the ideas mentioned above, this is just about the Naughty Tumblr Check.

Anyway, I’m still melting every time I see a new post from you. Your last AU with Ghost (forgot the name, I’m not familiar with era at all and my memory is poop) is just *chef’s kiss*. I can’t help but think about Ghost having a few drinks and still getting annoyed at all the guys trying to hit on the reader, and just goes to stand in front of her like « I’ll fill your dance quota of the night. Dancefloor. Now. »

And he is not sorry about the broken fan, at all.

Lots of love and inspiration on you, Friend 💚

I have your asks love! I just have 160 asks and a million ideas in my brain all the time. I'm adoring Ghost as a period romance protagonist, what a dashing gentleman he is.

It's strange, you hardly even shiver when his shadow envelops you, though you see your friends clam up tight. The lothario kissing your hand pulls back abruptly and excuses himself. You make a mental note that your escort is good for something, as you turn to face him. He doesn't look happy, but when does he ever. Ghost holds out his hand.

"Dance card," He demands. You place it on his palm and he inspects it. You think you've done rather well for yourself all things considered. All first sons and no one less than a Count. He tugs a short pencil from his breast pocket and scratches it against the card quickly before drawing a neat line. He hands it back to you and takes your hand as you look to see what he's done now.

"Simon Riley" is dragged in tight cursive along the last of your openings.

"This is ridiculous," You tell him, "You can't-"

He tugs you close, his hand firm on the small of your back, and you realize you're already on the dance floor. Huh? What? How did that happen? You glance back at your friends who all look as surprised as you are, and Ghost spins you along with the music. He's a shockingly good dancer, coordinated and strong enough to corral you away from trying to lead. His hand moves over your back, keeping you just on the wrong side of what's proper. Too close. A few older women fan themselves with their eyes narrowed as you glide past.

Not that you notice, you're too busy watching Ghost. His eyes hold yours, challenging you to pull away, to find another partner. His grip on your hand is loose, but the one on your back tells you there's no escape. When the dance is over he lifts your gloved hand to his masked lips and somehow that covered kiss feels warmer than anything bare could ever compete with. You can feel his lips against your hand as clearly as you can see his eyes dropping respectfully. You never want to dance with anyone else.

Which is perfect because he's scratched out half your dance card.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley cod #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #f!reader #ghost x f!reader #austenian au #idk w hat to even tag this lmao #I have your asks I don't think my asks get eaten too often #i'm just a dragon hoarding asks

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ask-whitepearl-and-steven · 5 months

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hello!! I'm the one who asked the question about when temp 5 will come out recently, I just wanted to ask, how are you feeling? Has sometimes the pressure from your audience or inconsiderate people who don't think that a human being is doing this made you want to abandon the project? Sometimes I fear that at some point people will end up breaking you and you will abandon everything :( (again, Sorry if there are errors or this just sounds strange, I'm using a translator!!)

Hello! I don't know quite which anon you are, because actually, MANY people ask me about season 5 almost every day - but I am hoping to get it ready soon. Maybe by the end of December? Right now, I'm still drawing some new chapters.

To tell the truth, I haven't actually ever considered QUITTING full out.

Many people have definitely come very close to pissing me off - there are some 10 years olds hanging around that have way too little chores to do, and instead end up using their energy to send me messages:

(shout out to this tenacious child who sent me not one but 14 messages just like this one) ....buuuut I usually don't think about just stopping the comic

Most of the time, I just think 'I want to stop posting on tumblr/tapas, and just post on Patreon, where people are nicer'.

The thing is, I still WANT to make this comic. I love this story, and want to continue it, so to quit completely would be sad for me as well, not only you guys.

Most likely, if my patience ever snaps, I'll probably just stop posting the comic publicly, that's all. And instead, the only way to read it would be to join my Patreon. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But hopefully we never come to that. Because I want to keep sharing it with everyone!

#chekhov answers

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esmedelacroix · 6 months

Text

Coffee Shop Love Pt.6

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: He's as stern and cold as the snow falling from the sky blanketing the bustling streets of Nueva York, Miguel O'Hara stumbles upon a hidden gem of a coffee shop just around the corner from Alchemax. Only problem is the annoying-as-shit smiley-ass barista.

contents: slow burn, no use of y/n, fluffy, not proofread, literally the fluffiest of fluffs, a little drama at the end

author's note: Hey lovies, whoo! Two chapters today! Consider it my apology for being so inactive lately. But don't worry loves I'm back on track. A like, comment, or repost is always appreciated. Hope you like this chapter, the cliffhanger not so much >.<, enjoy...

word count: 1.5k

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt. 5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Sequel: Sweet Tooth

That morning you were so lost in the ridiculous amount of people coming for coffee that you didn't even realize that Miguel hadn't shown up that morning. "Which is so weird because he always comes for coffee in the morning, sometimes again midday then he comes at night and stays a while," you explained to Estella over muffins and Earl Grey tea.

"Alright girl, first of all, why are you this worried about it? It's probably nothing," Estella reassured.

"It can't be nothing, we slept together days ago when the blizzard happened, and he cuddled multiple times!" you exclaimed, as Estella almost choked on her drink.

"You had sex?!" she blurted out shockingly.

"No, no we just like, slept in the same bed, my bed," you muttered, trying to draw the attention away from the two of you.

"Wait, I'm confused, why was he even in your house?!" she questioned.

You explained the whole situation with the amber alert and filled her in on the day that you had spent with Miguel. The more you explained, the more her jaw dropped.

"Wait, now I'm confused, what is your relationship with him?" Estella asked, taking a bite out of a muffin.

"I'm not even sure, we've had this strange chemistry ever since we met," you explained.

"I'd say give a day or two maybe he's like, at work, or living his life?" she joked sarcastically.

"I'm gonna kill you, Estella! Get out of my shop!" you joked as you pushed her out. She laughed along and waved before heading back to the shelter where she worked.

Your break was over and the lunch rush was just about to happen. Still no Miguel, you were starting to wonder if you had done something wrong. No, it makes no sense to think that way, I know I did nothing. I wonder if he misses me this much as well, you thought to yourself as you began to make people's orders.

The day went by very slowly. You sat by the counter at 8 pm, chin propped up on your hand, as fatigue drooped your head down. Just then the bells rang. Your head shot up immediately hoping there would be a tall, dark, and handsome man standing there before you. But it was just Mr. Smith. Probably here to collect the rent. "Good Evening Baby, I've come here for something, but I forget what it is... maybe a drink?" he trails off as he looks up at the menu.

"No Mr. Smith, you're here for the rent. It's too late for you to have coffee," you explained. He smiled and nodded.

"That's right dear, silly me," he said. You handed him an envelope with the rent for the month and waved goodbye after sending him off with a candy cane.

You let out an exasperated sigh as you plopped into a chair and waited to see if Miguel would show up. Why do I miss him so much? What are my feelings for him? You asked yourself as you got up to lock up.

That night you slept wishing to see Miguel walk through those doors in the morning. But to no avail, he didn't show up that morning, or for lunch, or that night. You opened your phone for any notifications from him but nothing. You gave him a call but his phone was turned off. You decide to leave him a voicemail.

"Hey Miguel, It's been a while since we've seen each other. The shop’s really boring without you here, come by for a coffee soon, I know you can't go a single day without having like 3 cups, I miss you, and I'm pretty sure I like you" you said. You had no idea where that last part came from and you fumbled to delete it somehow but what was done was done. You hoped that he wouldn't listen to it. Besides he was a businessman he had better things to do.

That night you slept wondering where he was and why he would come see you. He was cuddling you one day, then you never saw him. Does he like me, or does he not? You asked yourself. You allowed your mind to rest and went to sleep.

The next morning you got through the rush just fine and went on break while mentally preparing yourself for the lunch rush. Miguel was nowhere to be seen but you didn't panic as much as the days before. You had hoped that maybe he would show up tonight and you would scold him for disappearing without notice.

So as you lay your head on the counter bored out of your mind, the shop bells rang. You headshot up as usual and there you saw him. Tall, dark, handsome, and stuck in the mistletoe again. "I told you, you have to get a taller door frame," he joked as walked in. You chuckled at his joke holding yourself back from rushing to him and hugging him.

"Where have you been Miguel?" you asked him softly, unable to wipe the upside-down smile off your face.

"Surprisingly enough, the second I walked into work I was rushed onto a last-minute retreat at another lab. It's one of those classified things where we turn our phones off. I'm sorry I could let you know Baby," he said softly.

"It's no problem, but this other lab... was it nice? Good coffee?" you asked skeptically.

"Yeah, it was alright—" Miguel started.

"Ha! I knew it! Miguel, have you been seeing another barista?" you jokingly asked him. Just then she heard a low sound break the silence between them. He had never fully laughed around her, but once she heard it, it was music to her ears. I would become a stand-up comedian if it meant hearing this beautiful laugh all day, you thought to yourself.

"Oh Baby, I've missed you so much," he confessed with a few chuckles.

"Alright then, sit down and lemme make you a coffee that will top whatever you drank at that 'other lab'," you said motioning for him to take a seat at his usual table.

Instead of taking his laptop out and getting straight to work, he just watched you. He watched you make the most simple but best coffee he had ever tasted. Once he took a sip, it felt like home. "This is that special brew you used at your place isn't it?" he asked with an amused smile.

"Yeah, I figured since you liked it so much, I would make you a nice big cup of it," you explained as you took a seat across from him.

You and Miguel caught each other up on the events that had passed while you were apart. Miguel couldn't stop talking about how much he learned at this fancy schmancy lab he visited with Alchemax in Washington D.C. and how much he learned about quantum physics. You didn't understand half of the terms he was using but that didn't matter because at least he was having a good time. Seeing him talking about something he was passionate about set fireworks off in your chest. You filled him in on the usual Café gossip and drama that was going on.

It was a lovely night of shared laughs and stories but it had to come to an end at some point. Just when he was about to leave you decided to ask him about the voicemail you had sent. "Miguel, did you ever listen to my voicemail?" you asked.

"No, I didn't have the time, should I?" he answered.

"No, just delete it. What I said was pretty embarrassing," you admitted.

"Well now I’m dying to hear it," he teased.

"Oh please don't," you whined.

"Too late!" he called out as he stepped out to his car and visibly pressed the button.

You begged God to allow the earth to swallow you whole and just began to wipe the counter. Just then the door swung open with violent speed and the bells rang crazily. You turned around to see Miguel out of breath holding his phone in one hand, running his hand through his hair with the other. "Baby?" he huffed completely out of breath from running back to the store the second he heard the voicemail.

"Did you mean what you said in that voicemail?" he asked in disbelief.

"I mean, yeah, I guess, but—" you started. But Miguel held his hand up for you to stop. you took that sudden motion as defeat. He doesn't think the same way, you realize in complete despair.

Next Pt.7...

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arabellasleopardcoat · 9 months

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Prophecy (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Disobedience has consequences. You learn it the hard way.

Warnings: Finally the chapter that marks this fic as dark. Forced nudity. SA. Groping a person under coercion. Low blood pressure. Cursing. General Daemon being nasty.

A/N: Please keep in mind Daemon is not an objective narrator. I do not support his views. Remember, he has a wrapped perception of reality. And if you find yourself urged to send me nasty asks, or comment awful things, I will remind you that I warned you.

Previous parts here.

It’s not often that Daemon finds himself in such a dilemma. Not often, either, he decides to think before he acts. Violence comes easily to him. The best method of conflict resolution, and one that has certainly brought great benefits to House Targaryen through the ages.

Yet, this matter requires more delicacy. It’s his wife, who he is thinking about. And while Daemon might push you around, perhaps hold you down a little, he is not one for hurting women in such a way. This topic requires silk gloves instead of gauntleted fists.

Daemon likes to think the impulsiveness of youth has already left him, but knows himself too well to not recognize he is lying to himself. While he is no longer a flamboyant young man, the urge to have a fit of rage remains. He has gotten better at controlling it, but the dragon still roars and shifts on his chest, begging to be unchained.

He needs to soothe his nerves. Daemon sends for a Dornish red, if only to numb himself a little. The stronger the best, in his opinion. While some men get belligerent when drunk, Daemon it’s not one of them. Alcohol tends to take the edge off, loosen his tongue and inhibitions, but fails to cloud him with the red mist affronts on his pride do.

Daemon doesn’t want to hurt you. He repeats it to himself, over and over again. Not hurt you, not hurt you, not hurt you, not…. He takes one look at your pitiful form and suddenly, it’s easier.

You make quite the pitiful figure on the floor of your chambers. You have never taken a beating in your life and it shows. Curled on yourself on top of a rug and cradling your injured shoulder as best as you can with bound wrists. The whip didn’t even draw blood, but you acted as if it was the worst injury you had suffered in your short life. Every once in a while, you let out a tiny, frightened sniffle, before looking at him to make sure he has not heard you.

His proud, proud little dragon. Thinking a few tears might make you less. Daemon pretends to be oblivious to your little sobs, just to watch you sigh in relief at the lack of reaction. It’s starting to amuse him, turning into a game. Moving his head just so as you sniffle, or reaching for an object, just to see you freeze.

He quits it before the wine arrives. While he often enjoys putting the fear of the Gods on others, it’s not really enjoyable when it’s you. There is something strange curling in his stomach at your tears, something painfully akin to discomfort.

Daemon dislikes righteous people. Viserys gets enough on his nerves as it is. Pretending to have the moral high ground is for the weak, in his opinion. And the stupid. And the reckless. Stepping between a servant and a whip was certainly recklessly stupid on your part. Daemon would never. Not even for Viserys. Perhaps for Rhaenyra, given that she was a woman and needed protection.

Still, when you were the one doing it, he stopped finding it recklessly stupid and found it a little charming and brave. What a troublesome thought. Distressing, in truth. Is he starting to develop a conscience? Or worse, are you growing on him?

Daemon sneers. He has to put a halt to this. Show you who is really in control.

“Speak your terms, little fool.” He sits down on your bed, looking around the room. There are little comforts, and none he feels like taking away from you.

There are a few books, stacked in piles near the bed. You seem to be in the process of reading them, which surprises Daemon. He had been vaguely aware of your ability to read, unusual for a bastard girl. He had figured Rhea had taught you because while she might have been a bitch, she was a proud one. She was a Royce from Runestone, not a Baratheon fool. She wouldn’t have her heir running around without knowing her letters.

The most surprising part is not that you are trying to read the books, but the fact that you are actually making progress. There are a few parchments tucked in, with some terrible attempts at penmanship on them. As if you were slowly decoding them. To actually try to learn High Valyrian on your own spoke of a dedication he was not aware you possessed.

Throwing the books in your chambers had been more of an ambience choice for Daemon. When he had thought about decorating your living space, putting books on High Valyrian had seemed like the obvious choice. A little dreamer, with her Valyrian clothes and surrounded by her little temple, needed books in High Valyrian. It was only right.

Everything was as it should be. Daemon finally had his Valyrian bride. Besides, it didn't matter if you didn’t know how to read them, when he could do so without any hardship. He had figured that if you were a boring lay, he could always turn to the books for entertainment.

Lay. Hm. Perhaps taking the bed would teach you there were worse fates in this world than being the wife of a Prince. But Daemon could already see in his mind’s eye your pouty face. You would whine, and give him your sad puppy look…. Oh, Seven Hells! What was wrong with him? Was he turning into a soft fool, like Viserys had been for Aemma?

Daemon had had plenty of pouty mistresses in the past. In fact, it was a prerequisite of the position. Any woman he took to bed had to be able to get her way via a few well-placed pouts. They knew he had a weakness for it. None had affected him as you.

Besides, you could have nightmares. Or sleep badly. Which was not right, for a dreamer.

“I… I could tell you another secret.” You look up at him, all big sad eyes. It makes something in him jerk. Something stands at attention with the urge to comfort. Daemon doesn’t like it.

“Is that what the girl’s life is worth to you?” And he was not planning on whipping the girl to death, but you don’t know that. The panic in your eyes doesn’t fill him with as much satisfaction as he hoped. Is this some sort of domesticity trap? No. Daemon needs to crack down on you, hard. This cannot keep going. You have denied him too much. “I could easily get that from you by force.”

“You could get anything from me by force.” Defiance. How cute. You look like an angry kitten, more than a real threat. Your eyes are narrowed at him, and he feels the urge to laugh. “What do you want?”

“I dislike your tone, Wife.” In truth, it’s a good question. What does he want? Daemon barely knows it himself. It used to be Rhaenyra. When he couldn’t have that, he had thought maybe Lady Laena was enough. She was pretty, young and would birth him strong Valyrian children. But while he had planned to marry her, and felt aroused by the prospect of bedding her, he didn’t feel the urge to please her as he did with you. Probably, if Daemon had married her, he would have made her miserable with little care. Like he is making you.

What does he want? What does he want?

“You like baths, do you not?” As if struck by inspiration. He would call it divine, were it not for the fact Daemon knows he was forsaken a long time ago.

“I do? What does it have to do with anything?” You give him a confused look.

Daemon smirks. He is not sure what else from you he wants, but for now, the idea of getting close to your naked, wet body, is enough.

“No.” You mutter.

“Or I could just kill the whore. Your choice, Dreamer. What’s going to be?”

Not an hour later, Daemon sits in a scorching hot bath, naked. You sit between his legs, still dressed in one of your shifts, turned transparent by the water. Unchained, for once.

The glow happiness gives you is unmatched. You look deliriously happy in the hot water, talking so fast he can barely keep along. At first, you had been shy, but when he had leaned back, allowing you more space in the tub, you had blossomed.

You had been humming under your breath, but when he made no move to censor you, you had started talking. The words were low, almost to yourself. As if you had almost forgotten he was there. Daemon made no move to remind you, answering to your ramblings with a few well-placed grunts and noncommittal hums.

“…. And I have really been trying to keep all the grime off my hair, but I really miss sulfates, you know? And conditioner. Oh my god, conditioner! You have no idea how hard it is to detangle my hair.”

“Here.” Daemon passes you a comb, lips twitching. He doesn't want to smile at your antics, but there is something really endearing about it. Even if he barely understands a word you are saying. Is he getting old? Are conditioners something you used to have at the whorehouse? And don’t even get him started on the tunes you were humming earlier. He had never heard them, not even in the most raunchy of ale houses. “When you are done, lean back and be quiet.”

You frown. Your mouth opens and closes, as if you are about to be argumentative. It’s one of his favorite looks on you, to be honest, but it’s starting to become a little annoying. This is not an experience to get you to practice your rusty social skills, but to put you in your place.

No matter how much he enjoys seeing you open up to him, Daemon can’t lose the opportunity to finally get you to submit.

“What was the girl's name?” It's only a simple phrase, but it works like a charm at shutting you up. Your body language shifts in the blink of an eye. Your shoulders curl in, defensive, and you start brushing your hair. The strokes are harsh and punishing.

If you want to do his job for him, Daemon will not stop you.

“You just have to accept your place.” He doesn't mean to say it, but it slips out regardless. It's the truth. If you just stopped fighting and stopped getting huffy about all sorts of things, it would be much easier. He could have you out of these cuffs, by his side. You just had to accept you were his.

Daemon places a hand over your shoulder blades and rubs a circle. The feeling of the wet shift is unbearable. He would much rather be touching your bare skin, but you had started pouting and huffing and mentioning Rhea, then Aemma… The night was already too charged to insist on it.

“My place? My place! The sheer audacity of you!” You jerk away from his touch, trying to get out of the tub. Daemon curls his arm around your waist and tugs back, hard. You are sent back into the tub, upsetting the water that splashes everywhere. Ah. Well, some servant will clean it, later.

Unwilling to lose his advantage, he perches his head on your shoulder. He nuzzles the crook of your shoulder, towards your neck. The scent of your skin is intoxicating, clean, and sweet. He likes that you smell exactly how he wanted you too.

Maybe those Seven Pointed cunts were onto something. Marriage was truly a delight. No whore smelt this sweet for him, not even when he gave them the exact perfumes he wanted them to wear. They lack the sweet smell of innocence that gushes out of your pores.

“Why don't you take this off?” Daemon tugs at the shift, despite your distressed whine. This is punishment, after all. No matter how enjoyable he intends it to be, a little fear will make the lesson stick. He can do anything to you, and it’s time you remember it. “And let me rub some rose oil on your wrists?”

“No.” Your lower lip wobbles. Pouting? Again? It's like it's his name day or something. No one told him it would be so pleasurable, teaching an impudent little chit to behave. Because this is more than just about his pleasure, and both of you know it. This is a power struggle, a way to finally get it to sink into your little head. You are never escaping him.

There is something enjoyable about breaking women, Daemon muses. A certain appeal. Getting them to accept their natural place in the world, getting you to submit… It sounds like the stuff of his fantasies.

It has to be done carefully, so you do not realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Other men, less skilled in the ways of pleasure, might think the ways of getting a woman like you to do their bidding have to be violent. Daemon is too proud for it.

It’s a battle of wills. And Daemon will not lose. He knows he is skilled at seduction. All seduction starts with an unwilling victim; otherwise it is not seduction. Still, when you test his temper, like tonight, he does feel some violent urges. Perhaps bending you over and taking you without mercy would leave you much more agreeable.

“Come on. Looks uncomfortable. Wet cloth clinging to you all over and getting cold.” Daemon coaxes, gently kissing your jaw. He maps the path towards your ear with his tongue, blowing slightly to watch the goosebumps rise on your skin.

Your pretty features scrunch up, in a delicious mix of pleasure, confusion, and betrayal. Maidens. How fun it was teaching them the ways of pleasure. Always so concerned about being proper and meek, of not appearing too wanton. But Daemon knew the truth about you. You were the blood of the dragon, just like him.

You burned for him. Daemon would bet, if he were to slip his hand between your soft thighs, he would find you wet and ready to be taken. Virgins were like that, after all. It only took a few skilled touches and their bodies were ready, even if their minds were not.

He doesn’t want to take you, tonight. Just explore the crevices of your body a little, understand you better. Daemon can be patient. If he riles you up enough for it, he is sure you will come to him thinking it’s on your own terms.

He pulls at your shift, slowly starting to lift it. You don't notice at first, too lost in the confusing feelings his lips are inciting. Daemon keeps his hand on your thigh, slowly gathering the fabric up until his fingertips brush bare skin.

He keeps it up, fingertips drawing nonsensical patterns on the side of your thighs, your hips. You are so soft, skin plump and smooth. Daemon wants to grab you hard, until you bruise. See his hands digging into your thighs, watching the flesh shift under his grip. But he doesn't.

He doesn't because the moment his hand touches your hip bone, you jolt. You buck under him, all wild mare, trying to get him to unhand you.

“At ease, wife.” Daemon whispers in your ear. “I won't hurt you.”

“I don't want…” You start trying to pull the shift down. He bats at your hands, but you squirm too much to let him keep enjoying it. Anger builds up in him, anger and a certain cruelty. Who are you, to deny him what’s his? As your husband, he has a right to your body. He has been much more patient than other men would be in his circumstances.

The urge to get you to roll over and show your belly, so to speak, is too strong to help it. You are starting to remind him of the worst parts of Rhea, and that can’t be allowed to happen. You are meant to be his delicate little dreamer, not some Bronze Bitch.

So, he leans in, to whisper in your ear.

“Mia… Mary… No. Mina.” Daemon takes your earlobe into his mouth, sucking lightly. You go deadly quiet, all fight gone. He gets to take your shift off, and he groans. Better than he had dared to hope.

Your body is soft. All smooth skin, bared for him to see. Your breasts are a worthy pair, and look firm enough. You have hips and a stomach that look like they could stand a pregnancy well. He finds himself growing excited by the prospect of watching your hips and breasts become fuller, once he gets you pregnant with his heir.

Under the excuse of cleaning you, he starts rubbing at your arms, curious about how far you will let him push. He strokes your collarbones, then your chest. Not groping, barely skimming his fingers over your sensitive nipples. Daemon is enchanted by the almost silent sighs you let out, how you fight and surrender to a pleasure that is clearly so new to you.

Daemon kisses your ear, slowly making out with the shell of it. You struggle against him, trying to get away, but your mouth parts in overwhelmed pleasure. It only takes a few more well-placed licks for you to surrender to the pleasure of it all.

His hands stroke your hips. Then, slowly, towards your inner thighs. Slowly, his cock fattens and begins to ache. Daemon pays it no mind. If he were, you may spook and be brought off the trance you are in. You might oppose resistance.

How he longs to roll his hips against yours, to bury himself deep inside your eager little hole. He knows you would suck him right in. And you would be so warm, just short of scorching hot inside. So soft, too. Perhaps, if he was lucky, when the time came, Daemon would get to pin your hands, so you couldn’t muffle any of the delicious moans that would surely escape you.

As for right now, he likes how quiet you are. Too often, whores will moan loudly in his ear, hoping to provoke a reaction. Somehow, it never works. His cock doesn’t react to that as it does to the way you fight to keep your little sighs quiet. Perhaps one day he will teach you to be unashamed, but right now, the quietness speaks of a modesty lowborns lack.

It’s good enough, Daemon decides. He has enough with pressing his hardened member to your lower back, with having you all flustered. The memories will allow him more than a few pleasant tugs at his cock, later on. The face you make as he scratches at your inner thighs will haunt his dreams for many nights to come.

He can’t help but be greedy, though. How far will you let him push? Will you let him look at the real prize? He lathers his hand with a bit of soap, and slips it between your thighs.

You speak then. Shame. He always liked looking at maiden’s cunnys. The anticipation is very enjoyable. Looking at those tiny holes and thinking how he is about to break them, force them to take more than they are ready for. Watching them cry, watching their expressions turn from pain to pleasure.

“Rhaenyra’s firstborn will be called Jacaerys.” You take his hands in yours and interlock your fingers. It’s a subtle thing. A way to derail him without openly denying him. Daemon likes that you are learning fast.

“Jacaerys? That’s not a Targaryen name.” His interest is genuine. Knowing the future fascinates him. It’s not something he has thought about before, more centered on the past of his house and his present. But getting a glimpse of the future is tantalizing. What will happen to him, in ten years, in twenty? To you?

He lifts your hand and checks your pulse, under the pretense of rubbing some oil into your abused wrists. It races beneath your skin, scared little bird that you are. Despite your awful behavior today, Daemon might get you softer cuffs. Or keep you in these, but release you from time to time. Under his careful supervisor, of course.

“Is it not? It sounds similar to that word, the one you use for Caraxes to breathe fire.” Your voice comes out a little shaky, but you are getting better at pretending not to be scared. Or perhaps you are not scared anymore. Whatever it is, it pleases him.

“Dracarys?” Daemon asks, amused. It sounds similar, but it's not spelled the same way at all. He kisses your temple. His smart, pretty girl, slowly getting interested in her heritage.

“That’s the one.”

“I think it’s a Velaryon name. Why would she allow it, though?” Sure, Rhaenyra was married to a Velaryon, but why did she break tradition so? Daemon had thought her a true Targaryen, like him. It made no sense. She was supposed to understand just how precious their blood was, how special. They had a legacy and centuries of tradition to uphold, and his niece would throw it all away? What was next, naming a child something as common as Robert?

“The boy will have dark hair.” You mutter, lazily. Ah, a bastard. How wonderful. One would think that she would be more careful. Muddying their blood was one thing. Another was doing it so and producing dark-haired children no one would ever believe were her husband’s.

“I see.” He rewards you by adding more hot water to the bath. It's not something he would do for anyone. It's servant's work, after all. But you have been a good girl so far, despite earlier transgressions.

This escape attempt of yours was a blessing in disguise, truly. No real damage was done. The servant girls got whipped for less at the Red Keep in his grandfather’s reign. Maybe not now because Viserys was a soft-hearted fool, but he is sure it’s still happening at other castles.

The servants here… It’s clear there had been an oversight on his part. He had been away too much when he was married to the Bronze Bitch, and she had given them too loose of a leash. Women. Unable to enact discipline, no matter how tough they thought themselves to be. No, a firm hand was needed. Or else his little dreamer would suffer from it.

At the addition of more hot water, you sigh and go pliant, relaxing against him. Your head sags against his shoulder, as if you are exhausted. Poor thing, that you were. Daemon should get you into bed. It was closer to sunrise than sundown. The night had been trying, especially for someone with the fragile disposition of a dreamer.

“This is how I knew you were a dragon.” Daemon laughs a little. You have the cutest blissed out expression. Another proof you were a Targaryen by birth, and not only by marriage. At first, he had thought your love for baths was because you were a bit of a clean freak, but now he realizes it’s about the heat.

You mumble something inaudible.

“Jace… He is… Ugh.”

“Your favorite?” Daemon asks, trying to keep the conversation going, despite the slightest pang of jealousy in his chest. It was to be expected, of course. You would prefer the heir to the Iron Throne. Despite all your eccentricities, your outstanding abilities, you were just a girl.

Daemon would make sure to keep this Jacaerys away from you. He was sure you would lose interest in him, anyway. How could a mere boy compare to him? Now, sure, you thought him attractive, but because you were only a girl yourself. You would learn to prefer a man’s company over a boy’s.

The favor of a dreamer was a heady thing. Daemon would not put it past the boy to try to charm you. The Gods knew it would have been something he would have done if he had the chance. Daemon would just have to make sure the bastard was kept away, perhaps whisking you away to some other place when the boy was growing up.

He waits for you to keep the conversation going, worried about the sudden quiet. He calls your name. You stir and make a small grumbling noise. You have fallen asleep, pretty eyes closed. Daemon lets himself relax a few more moments, greedily enjoying the feeling of you in his arms. Something this bastard Jacaerys was never going to get. Just basking in your presence and warmth. Then, he lifts you out of it and dries you as best as he can.

Daemon places you in a clean shift, with a slightly lower cut than you would choose for yourself. Despite him buying you an entire wardrobe, you seem to favor higher cuts, which he cannot understand. You have a gorgeous body but seem unwilling to flaunt it.

As he looks at you, asleep on the bed, looking like a small otherworldly being, he almost regrets it all. He thinks of leaving the room unlocked, of not putting you in cuffs.

Daemon cuffs your wrists and ankles before he leaves.

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zensations35 · 2 months

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Watch My Back (Haz/bin)

WELP I didn't think I'd be whumping the short king before my deer boi but HERE WE ARE. I blame @instarsandcrime for my newfound simping after this absolute disaster of a man 🥵🥵🥵 and this got INDULGENT LET ME TELL YOU. Now, enjoy this fic based on a prompt by my aforementioned friend, where Alastor plays bodyguard to Lucifer and finds out Mr. Silly has a holy wound (and then unFoRtuNatELy gets whumped by the author). ;)

“Must I?”

Charlie gazes dolefully up at the Radio Demon, hands clasped in what some people (not Alastor of course) would call prayer.

“Pleeeease, Alastor?” she begs. She doesn’t ask for a lot, but this request seems…well. Strange. Really? A bodyguard for her father? Fathomless.

He sighs, bandwidth crackling. “Very well, though I really don’t see the necessity for it. Your father is quite capable of taking care of himself, you know.”

Behind them, Lucifer picks up a glass trinket between two sharp fingers to examine it, his mouth crooked and casual. As if connected to it by a wire, Niffty’s crimson hair stands on end. She all but teleports to Lucifer, startling him so suddenly, he drops the trinket, shattering it so it’s shards fan across the hard floor.

“Noooo!” Niffty bursts into tears, her tiny arms scrabbling to scoop up the pieces. “My new boyfriend got me that!” she wails.

Alastor hums. “On second thought, perhaps he could no sooner care for himself than tie his own shoelaces.”

Charlie resists the urge to smack him. “Alastor, you have to be nice.”

“Mm~ I’ve already agreed to help you. Let’s not push the limits of my capabilities.”

Charlie hurries off to give the news to her father while Alastor swaggers toward an empty table propped flush against a wall. Niffty hadn’t finished decorating this one, but Alastor has quite the idea for it anyway. He was just fluffing the long white petals when the pouting visionary of Hell stomps over.

His gaze crawls over the perennial plant and he scowls harder. “What are these?”

“Lilies! Aren’t they swell? I thought you’d appreciate some charm during your stay, oh esteemed one,” Alastor’s voice is sticky with sarcasm.

Lucifer scowls at the sadistically named plant. He sucks on his lips and Alastor suppresses a chuckle.

“Are you displeased, sir?”

“Hm, what?” Lucifer blinks out of his wayward thought. “No, of course not,” he thumps his cane on the plush carpet. “Do whatever. I don’t c--hiih!”

Lucifer jerks away, eyes pinched. He dips down with a strange, “IkPFShw!” The jerk of his limbs strikes a bronze anteater figurine and, again, sends the trinket crashing to the floor to break into pieces.

“NOOO!” Niffty screeches, flying to its rescue. “My other boyfriend made that for me!”

Lucifer’s fingers squeeze his moist cheeks and he sniffles thickly. “I…I do apologize, little one. I--”

She rears back and kicks him in the ankle. “You’re the wrong kind of bad boy!”

Lucifer grunts as she skitters away with the pieces tucked into the balloon of her apron.

Alastor smothers a snicker at his expense, antlers lengthening just a tick.

“Well,” Lucifer draws the word out, adjusting his crooked bowtie, ignoring the flush in his own cheeks. “I have errands to run--”

Charlie suddenly appears in the doorway as if the word ‘errands’ manifested her.

“You’re leaving?”

Lucifer’s lip forms a triangular frown. “I, uh,” his cheek feathers, “Sweetie, I have to make appearances now that I’m not…”

“Self isolating for years on end, with only negative self talk as your social activity, and trying to get through it by throwing yourself whole ass into repetitive passion projects that seem fulfilling at the time but end up not meeting your expectations just like your own self image?” Angel calls from the bar.

Everyone stares at the puffy porn star. Husk rolls up a newspaper and smacks him hard upside the head.

“Ow!”

Lucifer scratches his jaw anxiously. “Uh, yeah. That.”

Charlie masks her disappointment with a glimmering smile. “Well! I’m sure that will be a great bonding exercise for you and Alastor!”

The two men exchange wilted looks.

“Sshhhhhure sweetie!” Lucifer faux beams. He straightens his tophat and pats his thigh at Alastor as if coaxing a dog. “Come on attendant. Pip pip!”

Alastor’s teeth grind, smoke trailing as he follows behind the shorter King.

“Have fun!” Charlie waves her whole arm after them, fangs flashing in her winning smile. “Make good choices!!”

The bar Lucifer goes to is on the edge of the pentagram. The outside is brown brick partially crumbling but held together with thick, gristly magic. A scarred bouncer with gills and an oval mouth allows them in without a word.

Inside, the music is surprisingly tolerable. No thumps and booms, no bleats and drops like clubs Vox would have dragged Alastor to.

It’s…refreshing.

Lucifer makes a beeline for a corner clear of furniture but thick with an assortment of hellborn rulers and a few overlords. He must be making those appearances…

To Alastor’s right, a sinner catches his eye. A silver-haired demon with long rabbit ears and a plaited braid. Her features are guarded and soft with youth. She holds an empty glass, bone dry. A purple nail taps the rim, her eyes fixed on the bottom but not really seeing it.

Alastor pauses at the young woman, fingers curling tightly around his cane. The youth’s dull eyes flick to his and her soul bares for a fleeting moment.

Fear. Abuse. Mangled by hands more powerful and more able-bodied than she.

Alastor feels his blood ignite, his fangs sharpen with desire for vengeance.

The youth flinches, reacting to Alastor’s anger, not knowing the cause.

A faraway sound skirts the edge of his rage, strangely familiar, a twisting of lips and grating throat.

The sound snaps Alastor’s rage into shards and he blinks himself back into the noise around him. He circles toward the bar, moseying his way through the greasy crowd and leans in to hum statickly at the barkeep.

“Serve that young woman anything she wishes,” he gestures to the silver haired sinner.

The barkeep grunts, “She's gonna wait her turn.”

The Radio Demon growls, his height and timbre climbing several inches. “Apologies…I was not clear.” His claws cut jagged lines into the wooden counter. “I meant Ń̷̤̫̎̄̽͆̈̏͐͜O̶̭͂̃͑̚W̶̧̡͙͍̊́͆̾̚͠”

The barkeep swallows and nods. And moves to obey.

Now, where the fuck is his highness?

Lucifer has buried himself in the cloud of sinners and hellborn. Alastor doesn’t recognize some of them. He doesn’t move in those circles--not for lack of trying.

They’re chittering away like warbling fowls.

‘So and so! Good to see you!’

‘It’s been too long!’

‘How are things on your side of the pit?;

‘Still tormenting in the ancient methods?’

‘Have you seen the big guy in charge?’

‘Oh he’s still jacking off to his thunderbolts AH HAH HAAA’

Dreadfully boring.

One of the more vibrant hellborn cracks a joke and Lucifer tosses his head back in laughter. It sounds fake as fuck.

Something slips under Alastor’s foot, giving him pause. It’s the scent--something venerated and familiar...

He looks down and sees a spatter of gold dotting the grimy tile, with a larger puddle at the tip of his shoe.

Curious, Alastor taps his cane to the floor, leveraging himself so he can kneel. He bends low enough to dip a claw over the silken, rippling surface.

As soon as his skin warms with the liquid, his nerves purr. The buzz tingles up his body and he shivers violently.

His throat crackles, “Hvv٨ﮩSH٨ـﮩZh!”

Smoke mists from him and he wrenches away from the puddle, wiping his hand on the end of his coat. Hmph. A strange enigma…

His ears twitch, picking up another trill of laughter from the gaggle surrounding Lucifer. How long is he going to put up this farce?

Alastor watches the king of Hell intently and recognizes uneasiness in his firelit eyes. Definitely a veneer, batting away personal inquiries and distracting with jokes or redirecting by asking after the speaker.

Oh, clever bitch he thinks he is. Alastor sees right through him. The Radio Demon hones in on the audio, intent now on eavesdropping.

“...majesty,” a thatchy demon gurgles, boisterously laughing along with a large forked claw grasping his square belly. “How’s the wife?”

Lucifer’s smile slips, brief, and the gleam in his eyes dim. “Oh, fine, fine. Beautiful as ever, of course. And how is your partner? Are you still dating the Y2K virus?”

The square demon barks a laugh. “Oh, no no no. We broke up ages ago. Toxic as fuck. Noooo, I’m dating Vine now. You wouldn’t believe the cosplay sex--”

Lucifer slaps his chest and gasps. “Vine died??”

Alastor groans. What the fuck are they talking about?

Lucifer suddenly makes a jerking motion, mirrored by a violent squeak. Alastor’s heart races when he sees the King wince and bend in what looks to be a pained twist.

Fuck! Is he actually being attacked? Alastor vanishes in a cloud of spindly shadow, reappearing next to Lucifer and spurring shocked gasps from a few of the rulers in the group.

“Your highness,” the Radio Demon titters, with as much respect as he can fucking muster.

“H-hgxPST!” Lucifer’s raspy sneeze bursts into a squeezed fist, startling Alastor, who hesitates his next sentence.

Was he wrong? Did he overreact and now he came to Lucifer’s rescue over…a fucking sneeze? Rrrgh. Shame sharpens his claws around his microphone and anger shortly follows. How does this asshole even sneeze without a nose??

Lucifer scrubs his face with his palm and lets out a ridiculous whoop.

“Hooo! Sorry about that! Didn’t mean to scare ya, buddy,” he jabs Alastor with his elbow as if they were best friends. Alastor’s teeth powder with the effort of restraint.

“No worries your hig̵͐h̶̘̕n̴̡̕e̴s̵͛٨ـs.” his smile climbs nearly into his eyes. “I am here to serve.” He hooks his arm under Lucifer’s, linking elbows so the King cannot escape and dragging him away, ignoring the startled protests of the shorter man.

Alastor stops when he arrives at the golden droplets and releases Lucifer before tapping his cane on the floor. “Have you seen this?” he asks, cracking his neck to the side inquisitively.

Lucifer rubs his finger over his chin and hrms.

“Ah, well,” he shrugs, barely looking at Alastor, “Someone must have spilled ambrosia I suppose.”

Alastor’s brows shoot up. “Ambrosia? What, may I ask, is that?”

He didn’t think it was possible for someone so ceramically pale to whiten further, but Lucifer seems to do just that. “Ahhhmmm, nevermind…” Lucifer’s fingers brush the hem of his suit and his face crimps. He clears his throat and slithers away.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?”

Alastor scoffs. Even if he might have been wrong about the sneeze, there’s a chance he isn’t. And his gut is telling him something’s amiss. He’s not about to let this asshole swan off alone. “Oh, I’m sorry, but I was charged with your care, your grace. I have a duty, you see~”

Lucifer’s eyebrow twitches, annoyance painting his face with a flush. “I assure you, I can use the fucking restroom by myself,” he gives a fangy smirk.

“In a dump like this?”

“Alastor, leave me the fuck. Alone.”

Before Alastor can press further, Lucifer does indeed swan off. The door to the restroom clips shut, separating him from the King.

What a dramatic wretch. Well, a door won’t stop a demon. A clattering rap with the back of Alastor’s hand causes a thump from within followed by a vexed, “Occupied!”

“Obviously. Yet I am entering regardless.” Alastor grips the warm knob. It rattles, hinges reisting as Lucifer’s protests grow increasingly less convincing.

“I’m--hhh! I’m fi--Ihh! Hii! XSH! Ehk’SHHh-HieWW!”

Yeah fucking right. Alastor better fucking get in there or Charlie will have a field day with rainbow sprinkles.

A flurry of sound, thudding and grunts of…is he in pain? God dammit! Miserablefuckingcocksuckingpieceof--

Finally the door wrenches open. Alastor wades inside and a wash of humid air hits his skin, making him cringe. Lucifer is bent over the white marble sink, heaps of tan paper towels littering the counter, some having fluttered around his feet dark and anointed with a glittering substance.

His face is currently wrapped in the crook of his elbow and his shoulders shudder with heaving breaths, “IX’SHWW! HF’pSHW!” His sleeve absorbs most of the sound but it still sounds truly dreadful, “Nghh…”

Alastor grumbles disapprovingly, “I am starting to suspect you’re lying, sir.”

Lucifer’s hat lies to the side, top down and limp, as well as his cane. A clawed hand grips the sawed edge of the counter, the King holding himself steady as he shakes with the effort of his labored breaths.

“I told you,” his voice is low and serious now, no hint of his playful kinder. “To stay. Out.” Something drips on the tile next to him. The same liquid Alastor saw before--raw, angelic blood.

“So you did take a blade.”

Lucifer growls, moving his hand to cover the wound, but all he ends up doing is smearing his clothes slick with the gleaming fluid.

Alastor tuts, “You should have told me, you know.” He sets his cane against the wall and moves closer to Lucifer, stretching his arm out toward the injured side.

Lucifer lashes out, grasping his wrist with his free hand, “Don’t.”

The Radio Demon pauses, staring into his haunted eyes.

“The blood will…affect you.”

“A-hah! You think I care?”

“I think you put yourself first. I think you’d love to see me wither here if it keeps your pompous ass safe.”

Alastor grimaces and yanks away from his weak grasp. In an electric snap, Lucifer’s shirt is bunched in his fist and he is pulling the King in close. He speaks in static, voice measured and quicksilver cruel.

“Your assumption that I have an agenda would be correct, m̴y̶ ̷͋K̸i̴ng̶̈͗. And it does not involve you dying.”

Lucifer’s chest inflates but he doesn’t retaliate.

Alastor releases Lucifer, features retracting with his mood. “Now, let’s see this wound.”

“There’s nothing you can do for it,” Lucifer mutters as he painfully shirks his jacket.

“Your capacity for being misguided is astounding,” Alastor drums his fingers on the counter, claws clacking. “Show me.”

The jacket falls to the floor and the wound is fully revealed: twin slashes crisscrossing his side, a glossy expanse of wounds just below his left rib.

“And these wounds cause you to…?”

Lucifer massages the circle of his cheek with a sigh, “I’m just…not handling it well.”

“You’re pushing yourself.”

“Not…not so much--I--” his face falls and air corckscrews through his teeth, “Ng-Eh’KPSH!! EiiSHH-iieuww!”

His wound flares bright with the gilded liquid and Alastor seals his lids against the blinding light.

“Alright,” Alastor moves closer, positioning himself to spread his hands above the slit of seeping light. Lucifer watches with interest as the Radio Demon’s eyes gleam black like the shells of tiny beetles. Runes pop and fizzle over the glowing shreds.

Lucifer’s eyes widen as he watches the runes morph and vellicate. “What magic--”

“Quiet.”

“But, those runes. I know--”

“I said silence٨ـ.”

“No, Alastor. Where the fuck--”

Alastor wrenches back, magic dissipating, but his eyes remain inky with rage. His fist slams against the wall, cracking a line in the frail plaster. “You and I both know your idiot act is just that! An act. You know exactly what I can do, so stay still and quit prattling.”

The lilies.

Lucifer’s lips guppy open and closed. “Your deal. It was…”

Alastor grunts, frustration rippling the bandwidth of his voice. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you don’t want to be healed.”

He pushes his own sleeves up to the bend of his elbows, anchoring them to his forearms. Then, he pinches the hem of his pinstripe coat and tears it in a full around strip. His pupils float toward the King’s body, hesitant. Static clings to the air as he nears the wound.

Lucifer flinches instinctively. “I’m warning you, it will--”

“Affect me, yes yes. I’ve touched angel blood before.”

“I’m an archangel, Alastor.”

Alastor rolls his eyes. Will he just shut the fuck up already?

The Radio Demon presses the cloth against the holy wound, adhering it instantly. Lucifer’s skin is hot like a freshly lit fire. Alastor feels the effect of the pale poison straightaway. He clamps his jaw, brow creasing as his skin beads with sweat.

Lucifer winces, claws carving slits into the counter. As Alastor works the strip around his midsection, his teeth grind against the shudders of breath battling in his throat.

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Shut ũ̷̼͆̇͑̈̄́́̏̉̚̕͝͝ͅp̴̰̪͎̲̲̗͎͝. Alastor’s voice crackles.

Lucifer's lip wobbles. “Hvvv-nn!” a hiss of indrawn air.

“Don’t do that now.”

“It’s not my hhhih choice!”

“Can’t you just--”

“He-eih KSHHieeψ!” The filaments buzz within the light bulbs, flickering them into darkness and then back into squinting light. As Lucifer wracks forward, it jostles Alastor’s hands and breaches his careful conservation, smearing his wrists with gold.

He dips back, chin tilting as his throat buzzes with a snap of energy. “Hhh--ehhh-HH!”

“Dammit, Alastor--”

“Too late--hhh-for tha-HH٨ـZZT٨ـY!” He pushed his fist to his nose, using pressure against the damp rim of his nostrils to chase away the itch. Not to any measure of success. “HK! ﮩ٨ـﮩZZ!” A wail grates in Lucifer’s ear and he recoils.

“You’re making it worse,” Lucifer twists with a grunt, grabbing some of the towels to clean Alastor’s cheek.

“I don’t--hih-nn eed…”

“Heaven alive can we both stop with this cocky bullshit. Truce, okay? Or would you rather spend all day in here sneezing with me?”

R̷͕̪̤̈́̓r̸̳̻̕͠rg̵̡̞͊̔͝ẖ̷͉͋̐jh̵̜͇̦͐̉ Alastor saws at his face, each motion crackling with energy. “Very well, get it over hhhhﮩ٨ـﮩ-! With.”

Lucifer works with the towels to wipe away the smears while Alastor finishes knotting the makeshift bandage. Once they’re done they both pull back with twin sniffles and a bucket of awkwardness in the empty air.

Alastor shunts his gaze, ignoring the gnawing in his chest. Lucifer cleans up the scattered flaxen towels and starts burning them until their ashes film the ground. The scent of honey and seeded mulch fills the room, like no bonfire Alastor had ever attended.

Four papers remaining, Lucifer finally speaks.

“How do the humans handle it?”

Alastor knits his brow. “Handle what?”

“Losing. Over and over.”

Alastor’s lips press firm. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Lucifer finally looks at him then, his mouth a small circle. He doesn’t pursue. He flicks the last of the ash off his fingers and sucks in a breath.

“Well,” his orange eyes meet the Radio Demon’s, “shall we head back? Tell Charlie we had a…bonding exercise?”

Alastor laughs. It’s more real than he’d laughed in…ages. “Details aside?”

Lucifer offers a genuine, if modest smile. “Agreed.”

58 notes · View notes

silvervioletvalentine · 1 year

Text

Never too much to someone that can’t get enough of you.

Pairing : Charles leclerc X Cherrie (fem!)

Word count : 8k

Warnings: fluff . So much love it’ll make you sick. Lovesick Charles. A lot of the colour red. Idk that’s it I think?

I can’t believe the amount of love I got on my recent kylian mbappe fic!! I’m so happy you guys liked it. So here’s a Charles one!! Hope you like it xoxo

Charles tried and failed miserably to acted casual and uncaring as he asked the unspoken question of the night , clearing his throat and gently nudging Pierre's arm from where he was sat next to him at the table . Waiting to be served their overpriced food for the night .

He had spent the last half hour nursing a glance of wine and sending the occasional anxious glance towards the restaurant door , hoping to catch a glimpse of her familiar wild hair and pretty face , or even just to catch the sound of her loud voice that he often heard before he even caught a glimpse of her.

But as the minutes past buy and the rest of the guys at the table began to mutter impatiently about how hungry they were and how unfair it was for them to have to wait like this , he felt himself grow restless.

Unable to take it anymore , his worry and curiosity got the best of him.

"Where's cherrie? Is she still coming?" He asked Pierre quietly , not wanting to draw attention to himself by asking the unspoken question.

It was bad enough that every time he saw Cherrie , he turned the colour of her name. He didn't need to the rest of the drivers to pick up on his ridiculous little crush either . He would never hear the end of it.

Pierre looked over at him with a small smirk , being the only one to know about Charles infatuation with the loud mouth troublemaker of the grid .

After being the only one there to hear Charles drunkenly ramble on about how beautiful and strange she was , a few bottle of wines had him almost crying as he told Pierre about how much she scared him and how fucked up it was that he liked it.

Now every time he mentioned her , his friend would get a smug little knowing look on his face . One that said 'I know everything' and wasn't afraid to rub it in his face .

Charles really should be carefully about who he drinks around in the future .

"How would I know?" He answered with a small smirk , shaking his head at him in amusement .

He thought it was funny that his quite , kind and always polite friend was infatuated with a woman the complete opposite of him. One that enthralled him yet scared the absolute shit out of him at the same time .

Charles didn't even know why he had gotten so obsessed with her so quickly . Maybe it was because she was everything that he wasn't . Perhaps he liked the fact that he could never guess what she would do next.

Because Cherrie was loud , obnoxious and blunt. Always saying whatever came to her mind without any thought to filter the good from the bad beforehand. She just didn't give a shit .

If you told her yes , she would say no.

If you told her not to do something , she would do it.

If you said she wasn't capable of doing something , she would do it and then do it again just to hit the mark and rub it in peoples faces .

She was fearless. Confident and she never took anyone's shit. Charles really did admire that about her.

However to others she could also come across as rude , mean and a complete and utter bitch. A title that she wore proudly , uncaring of what anyone thought of her .

Because at the end of the day she was a winner . She was the one bringing in the points for Ferrari , she was the one that was permanently on the podium. If she wasn't number one , she was never below the top three .

So what did it matter if she partied every night? If she ran around the hotel lobby in her underwear , drunk and serenading the poor guests there with a terrible version of welcome to the jungle?

And what did it matter if she never had a serious boyfriend? If she was seen with a new man each month? From footballers , to actors and musicians . She wasn't particularly picky. Because they never lasted long anyways.

And so what if she got into public fights all the time? As long as she didn't fuck up her knuckles too much , she could still drive and she could still win. Just like she always did. It was no big deal.

Being her teammate was a rollercoaster . Because while Charles admired and was envious of her driving skills , wanting to know more and wanting to know just how she did it. There was the small problem of how she made him feel.

He wanted to talk to her. Wanted to ask her a thousand and one questions that sprung to mind . He wanted to know her , he wanted to know everything .

He wanted to be her friend . Definitely wanted to be more . But unfortunately for him , he had never been very lucky. On the track and off the track apparently.

Because as soon as she looked at him and flashed him her pretty smile , it was like his brain shut down and he turned into a red coloured zombie who suddenly could no longer form a sentence or even return her smile.

So instead , he blushed and ran away like a coward each time . Mumbling some excuse about how he was needed elsewhere or that someone was calling him, even though his phone never rang.

So no. Because of this, Cherrie and himself weren't particularly close despite being partners on the track. And he only had himself and his own nervousness to blame for that.

Because she did try. She always shouted a pleased hello at him when she passed by. Always tapped the top of his helmet in good luck . Always told him that it would be him on the podium with her next time , giving him hope after yet another failure from his team.

She invited him to parties with her. Yet He always declined because he was a stupid , scaredy cat who was so scared of fucking up and saying something wrong to her , that he was was fucking it up by not doing anything at all.

He was certain that she must think that he had a problem with her by now.

Because lately those happy greetings had stopped and no longer did she invite him to hang out with her anymore . And he knew it was his fault , but what was he to do? He just couldn't help it.

She turned him into a stammering , blushing teenage mess again.

"You talk to her don't you?" Charles finally muttered to his question . Frowning back at Pierre in pure annoyance .

He knew for a fact that Pierre was close to Cherrie . Had seen the multiple posts and photos of them together at random parties and clubs , they had even gone on holiday together with a few other drivers too. They looked like they had the time of their lives together , meanwhile he had bitterly scrolled past their posts with a pout on his face . Having told Cherrie that he couldn't go with them because he had stomach flu.

He didn't have stomach flu but it felt like he did when he saw pictures of her in a tiny dress and sitting on his best friends lap in Hawaii .

Pierre gave him an amused glance . Watching his anxious friend taking another sip of his wine while talking another glance towards the doors.

"Yes I do. We're good friends . Something that you could be with Cherrie if you simply stopped being such a whimp." He simply replied . Getting out his phone and pulling up their texts . Humming to himself as he read the newest one she had sent him ten minutes ago.

"She's running late . Apparently she's had a wardrobe malfunction." He told him.

Charles scowled at him , inhaling deeply as he fiddled with his glass between his fingers .

“Not that simple mate. She must think there's something wrong with me. She doesn't invite me out anymore." He muttered , upset with himself .

Pierre sighed at that. Shooting him a sympathetic glance , yet the amusement in his eyes wasn't fading at all.

"There is something wrong with you. It's called being in love." He stated matter of factly .

He said it So bluntly that Charles choked on his gulp of wine in shock, coughing loudly as he slammed his fist against his chest. Staring with wide, terrified eyes at his friend just as the woman of the hour stumbled in.

Perfect timing .

Cherrie came strutting over to their table In dark red , six inch heels that showcased her tanned and toned legs . Small leather shorts hugging her hips and ...

No shirt. Charles felt like he was going to pass out as he continued to splutter on the droplets of wine that were now trying to kill him.

Pierre snickering beside him as he looked between the two of them happily , as though he was watching his own personal comedy show.

"You won't believe the day I've had!" Cherrie exclaimed as she through her clutch down onto the table with a huff . Nothing but a small , black lace bra covering her upper body.

Then she took note of Charles choking to death at the end of the table and glanced over at him in concern .

Raising a perfectly arched brow in worry as she strutted over to him and starting patting him on the back in hopes to help him.

Kneeling down slightly so that she could see his reddening face , her large chest now in his eyesight from her lack of shirt .

Dear god. Charles thought in misery as he tore his eyes away from her chest and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. I'm being tortured .

"Are you good?" She laughed as she patted the top of his head as well before getting back to her feet and sliding into the chair opposite him. Eyes still glancing curiously at him as his coughing fit finally came to an end . Although the red on his cheeks wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Unable to look her in the eyes , instead settling to glare back at his giggling friend beside him.

He hummed tensely "yeah. Just- the wine-" he motioned helplessly to his now nearly empty wine glass . Beyond mortified now.

He could see lando and Daniel grinning at him from the other side of the table , Carlos simply shaking his head at him with a smile full of pity .

So , perhaps he wasn't as discreet with his infatuation with her as he had previously thought .

lovely . Fucking lovely .

Cherrie nodded along as though she understood . Grabbing her own glass that had been waiting for her and taking a swig , kissing her teeth afterwords with a slight grimace .

"Mmm. Yeah no wonder you choked. Not the best. Anybody want some vodka?" She said with a grin as she opened up her clutch and pulled out a red flask with her name engraved on it .

Daniel whooped happily as he made grabby hands at the flask. Cherrie chucking it to him with a laugh as the waiters finally began bringing out their food now that she had arrived .

It was Carlos who brought up the elephant in the room. Glancing down at her bra that hardly covered anything with a curious look on his face , titling his head .

"Cherrie?" He called over to her just as the waiters left , getting her attention again .

She just hummed as she looked down at her plate of mushroom and chicken pasta , nodding her head happily to herself as she picked up her fork.

"Yeah?" She shoved a spoonful of heaven into her mouth. Raising a brow at Carlos impatiently as her flask was passed around the table . Everyone brightening up now that food was served with the option of pure vodka too.

He glanced again at her chest and then over to Charles who had his eyes glued down to his plate , seemingly in a staring contest with his own food.

"Where is your shirt? You do know that it is missing right?" He asked her kindly . Wondering if she simply had forgotten to wear one . It wouldn't be the first time .

Cherrie just sighed and glanced down at her chest with a slight pout on her face , frowning a little in annoyance .

"I got my shirt caught caught in the elevator door and it ripped off. I couldn't be bothered going back home . The bra covers what it needs to." She muttered around a mouthful of pasta , utterly starving and not giving a shit about manners then.

Charles swallowed roughly. He didn't think that it covered what it needed to at all.

Taking another quick glance up from his plate to confirm his thoughts , he chewed on the inside of his cheek and quickly averted his eyes again.

Yep. Didn't cover much at all.

Lando grinned over at her "I think you look great Cherrie! You're making a fashion statement . Next new trend hopefully!" He cheekily joked as he reached over the table to high give her .

Cherrie just giggled as she slapped his hand and rolled her eyes at him with a grin.

Pointing her fork at him playfully "oh lando. Dear little lando. You wouldn't last a minute if all the women in the world started to look like me and dress like me . You wouldn't be able to handle it." She teased as she took another swig of the wine to wash down her pasta with.

Lando gasped , offended . "I would too!" He exclaimed.

Daniel laughed loudly "spoken like a real man. You sound like a five year old! I would too!" He mocked him , giggling as he ducked out of the way of the incoming smack.

As the others began to banter between themselves , Cherrie took the chance to tap her heel against Charles ankle .

Making him flinch so hard he smacked his own arm against pierres who gave him a amused shake of his head. Feeling sorry for his friend now. This was utterly pathetic.

Cherrie let out a chuckle as she gave him a curious glance . Wondering why he looked so flustered and red.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look a little ..." she twisted her lips not wanting to accidentally insult him . "Like your car." She instead settled on making , Pierre snort loudly .

Frowning at him curiously before turning her gaze back to Charles who had , if it was possible , gone an even darker shade of red .

Clearing his throat , he gave her a nervous smile and nodded his head. Clenching his fork in his hand as he twirled his spaghetti around on his plate , finally meeting her eyes and keeping them there.

He wondered then if Axl rose had written that verse just for Cherrie. It seemed fitting .

'She had eyes of the bluest skies as if they thought of rain , I'd hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain.'

Her eyes were just as beautiful as the rest of her. Because of course they were . There wasn't anything ugly about her . She was perfect in his eyes.

Even as she sat there , missing a shirt and taking a swig from a flask of vodka . Eyeliners smudged beneath her eyes and her painted nails all chipped and messy. He still thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world .

Fucking hell. He was absolutely screwed. There was no coming back from this was there?

"I'm okay." He quietly confirmed . Trying to gather every ounce of courage he had to just talk to her like a normal human being for change .

“Er-how's your cat? Sirius right?" He asked.

Pierre gave him a look. Letting out a long , pitiful sigh. Horrified at the lack of game his best friend had. He really needed to school him on the art of flirting. Desperately in fact .

Cherrie let her smile fall from her lips, letting out a dramatic sigh as she widened her eyes at him like she was suddenly really sad .

"He died." She said keeping a straight face as she watched Charles’s face go white . His mouth parting in shock while his face displayed nothing but horror , seemingly having lost his voice .

As he just continued to blink at her in disbelief , his mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. She couldn't hold it back any longer, feeling bad , she burst out into laughter .

Reaching over to flick at his hand , she shook her head with a teasing grin.

"I'm kidding! I'm just joking char! He's alive and well. Can't you tell from all the cat hair on me?" She giggled as she picked a ginger hair from her bra strap with a smile.

Charles couldn't stop himself from exhaling loudly in relief . "Oh mon dieu! Shit.." he breathed out a shaky chuckle.

Clutching his hand over his anxiously racing heart . Having thought that he had really fucked up, again.

"He's alive?" He repeated just to be sure . Eyes still wide from the shock of her little joke. Sure that she was trying to kill him.

Cherrie just nodded her head as she sucked the pasta sauce from her fork slowly , popping it out of her mouth once she was done with a sly little grin.

Seeing the way Charles eyes were glued to her lips , she ran her tongue against the bottom of her glossed lip just to tease him some more .

"Mmm. He's so fucking fat. I've tried dieting him but nothing is working ." She told him with fondness in her voice as she pulled out her phone and pulled up a picture of her cat. Turning it around to and leaning over the table so Charles could see it clearly .

Charles couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the obese fluffy cat on her screen. It's face so scrunched up it made it look like a moody old man.

"Aww. Fitting name though. He does look really Sirius." He muttered in amusement .

His eyes flickering back up to watch her as she laughed loudly at his joke. Pride filling him at the sight of her beaming smile as she looked at him with bright eyes.

"Finally! Someone gets it!" She exclaimed happily . Almost bouncing on the edge of her seat in excitement .

"The amount of times I've had to explain his name is ridiculous.." she rose a brow at him , biting down on her lip in glee as she watched him giggle at her pun.

Charles felt some of his confidence return to him , like magic. Unable to believe that she was a Harry Potter nerd too. Who would have thought?

"Good one." He grinned shaking his head in amazement . Running a hand through his hair as he watched her suddenly stand up and drag her chair to the end of the table so that she was sat right beside him instead .

Resting her elbow on the table right beside his , she held up her phone between them as she flicked through her photos and stopped at one in particular .

"Oh my god. I knew you'd be a slytherin!" He laughed as he looked at the photo of her in slytherin uniform . Broomstick and all as she posed beside her cat who was also wearing a Hogwarts jumper , looking as unimpressed as ever .

Cherrie clicked her tongue . "Pretty obvious huh? And you're ..." she squinted her eyes at him thoughtfully . Tapping her finger against her lips as he grinned over at her shyly . Feeling a little self conscious from how intently she was looking at him.

"A Hufflepuff." She stated confidently. Nodding her head along with her words as she locked her phone and gave him her full attention instead .

Charles sighed long and hard . "Yeah. I'm not gonna ask how'd you know . I scream Hufflepuff don't i?" He mumbled with a sheepish smile .

Cherrie just laughed and nudged his shoulder with her own.

"You'd look good in yellow . Little badger." She whispered to him , wiggling her eyebrows teasingly . Before reaching over to fill another glance of wine , easily moving on like she hadn't just turned his world upside down .

Instead she got back up and wandered down the table to Daniel and lando who wanted to show her a new card trick they had learned on the way there.

Leaving Charles to exhale shakily and lean back

Against his chair. Pressing his hand against his rapidly beating heart .

A lovesick smile tugging at his lips as he watched her laugh at something the guys had said . Roasting them like no tomorrow as she easily guessed how they had done their trick .

Pierre glanced at his friend with a smirk , taking in his red face and heart shaped eyes as he watched her. Wondering what it would take for Charles to admit that he was in love .

The final time that Charles knew he was in too deep was a random Saturday night when he had finally picked up the phone and let Cherrie persuade him to hang out with her .

After making her promise him that there would be nobody else that he would be forced to socialise with and that she wasn't tricking him just to drag him out to some club she was always at . He finally agreed .

With his heart in his mouth and firmly telling himself over and over again that this was just a casual hangout between budding friends. That he could totally act like a normal guy and not embarrass himself for once . That everything was going to be okay .

He arrived at her apartment with a bottle of bubblegum wine that he had found after hearing Daniel rave about it to him one time . He figured Cherrie would like it. Even if she didn't she would still drink it . It wasn't in her nature to turn down alcohol . So that was one thing he didn't have to worry about .

But as she let him in with her blonde hair sectioned into two pieces and holding up a bottle of bright red hair dye in her hands. He felt his face fall. Oh god.

"Cherrie please don't tell me that you've brought me here to change careers." He pleaded as he placed the bottle of wine and chocolates he had also brought for her down onto her coffee table.

Standing in the middle of her front room with his hands pressed against his hips, staring fearfully at the bottle of hair dye that she was thrusting in his direction with a gleeful smile upon her pretty face . Dressed in just a baggy Ferrari shirt and nothing else . Charles wondered how much more his heart could take.

Giggling like a crazy person as she dashed to her front door and locked it so he couldn't escape . Returning to him to see him looking exasperated, pressing his hands over his face with a groan . Knowing that he had no choice but to go along with whatever crazy shit she wanted to do now.

"What's wrong with being my impromptu hairdresser? Fuck me. Bubblegum?!" She suddenly squealed as she picked up the bottle of wine and held it up to her eyesight . Looking like a kid at Christmas .

Charles grinned as he gently took the bottle from her hands and opened the cap.

"Where's your wine glasses?" He asked her while glancing over to her kitchen curiously . It was a mess. He wasn't surprised . She didn't seem like the neat and tidy type of woman anyways.

Cherrie just scoffed and gave him a judgemental look. Grabbing him by the arm of his sleeve and dragging him down the hallway and into her bathroom where her temporary salon would be.

"What are we? Old? We drink from the bottle like champions Charles!" She tutted at him as she took the bottle from his hands and took a long swig. Pulling it back from her lips after she had swallowed, letting out a impressed hum.

Licking her lips at the sweet taste "wow that was really nice." She murmured in actual surprise.

"Where'd you get this from? I want more."

Charles took the bottle back from her and took a small sip for himself . "Daniel. He's got a load of it. It's his favourite wine ." He mumbled taking another long sip as he watched her pull out a small stool right in front of the large mirror and sit herself on it . Once against thrusting the hair dye at him impatiently .

"Cherrie.." he groaned warily as he carefully took the bright red bottle from her hands . Glancing at her long blonde hair worriedly .

"Are you sure? I don't know what I'm doing and I don't want to be the one responsible for fucking your hair. You'll hate me if I mess up." He muttered nervously as he stood behind her . Taking another large gulp of wine because there was no way he could do this totally sober .

Cherrie just sighed as she tilted her head back so that she was looking up him upside down , Charles quickly reaching out to place his hand on the back of her neck to stop her from toppling off the stool and onto the floor .

"I could never hate you Charles . You're too cute to hate." She simply told him before straightening herself up again. Giving him another blinding smile that had his stomach feeling like a damn zoo.

"Just think of it as paint . You just need to cover all the blonde and then it's done . It'll look good." She said confidently as he began to gently take out one of the hair ties in her hair . Softly running his fingers through the strands to make sure there was no knots .

He sighed, heart fluttering in his chest at the trust she had in him "okay. You're right. Pass me the gloves." He mumbled . Quickly pulling them on and glancing nervously at the hair dye in his hands .

Hesitating long enough that Cherrie groaned and rolled her eyes at him playfully .

“Come on babe. It's not that hard I promise! Don't you think I’d look good In red?" She teased him . Wiggling her eyebrow at him once he looked up to catch her gaze in the mirror .

Flushing slightly, he looked back down at the bottle and pulled off the cap. Clearing his throat quietly as he started to squeeze the dye onto her hair , the bright red standing out against her usual white blonde .

"Of course you do. Red suits you best." He muttered honestly. Beginning to work more of it into her hair . Quickly catching on and getting through it all.

Cherrie smiled "see? You're doing so good! I knew you could do it Charles ." She praised him.

Watching with a keen eye as his skin lit up the same colour as her hair . Clearly he liked being praised. She'd keep That in mind for another time.

Taking another swig of the wine . She glanced into the mirror and looked at the matching red Ferrari tracksuit he was wearing . His hair all messed up and face soft and boyish as he concentrated on doing her hair .

Feeling her eyes soften as she took in how relaxed he looked now. He was always so jumpy around her . She could barely speak to him without him looking like he was going to run away. She hasn't actually expected him to agree to come to hers that night anyways . She just thought she'd try her luck .

Pierre told her it was because she made him nervous . That he didn't know how to act around her sometimes .

Cherrie knew that she could be too much sometimes . A little too loud. A little too chaotic . A little too much of everything .

But her dad had always told her that you could never be too much for someone who wanted all of you . So she wasn't going to change herself for anybody.

She just had to wait for the right person at the right time. She was sure of it . Someone would love her someday.

"Reds your colour too ya know.." she whispered to him after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence between them. Something else that was rare for her too.

She had always had a problem with silence . Always felt the need to fill in the gaps by running her mouth and chatting shit all the time.

But with Charles it was different . She didn't feel uneasy with the silence. She felt safe and at ease . She felt like she didn't have to put on a act or play up for him. She could just be herself .

She just liked being around him. He made her difficult mind go quiet. He made her feel calm. She didn't know why.

Charles peered up at her with a soft smile tugging at his mouth . Nervously Biting down on the corner of his lip once he noticed the honesty written all over her pretty face . She meant it.

"Thank you." He let out a shy chuckle . Finally finished with her hair. He carefully made a bun and wrapped a random hair tie around it to keep it in place at the back of her head . Pulling off his red gloves he placed them into the bin in the corner of the room . "All done. How long do we wait?"

She hummed as she took another swig of the nearly empty bottle . Passing it over to him so that he could have what was left .

Slowly getting up from her seat with a yawn, stretching out her back . Raising her arms above her head and till she head a click. Feeling her shirt raise above her hips and no doubt giving him an eyeful of lace . She didn't care .

"Half hour. Shall we open another bottle of wine up?" She asked him already heading to the kitchen anyways .

Charles grinned as he followed her out only to stop by the couch and gasp happily at the sight of the fat cat staring back at him.

"Sirius!" He exclaimed to the fat ginger cat who just meowed at him. Hurrying to kneel down on the floor beside him, he slowly put out his hand in front of him for the car to sniff .

"You're just as fat as your mommy said. So cute .. yes you are .." he said in a baby voice as he gently scratched behind his ears . The cat purring loudly as it closed its eyes in bliss.

"Hey! Don't call him fat! It's a secret!" She giggled as she came back into the room with another bottle of wine opened up.

Charles looked up at her with a grin "you mean he doesn't know that he can't fit through the cat flap?" He carefully stood to his feet before picking the cat up into his arms with a little difficulty.

"Sorry." He said to Sirius before taking his seat on the couch and putting the cat down on his lap. Stroking his fingers through its endless fur .

Cherrie shook her head with a smirk as she collapsed onto the couch beside him. Taking a drink from the bottle before she passed it over to him. Leaning over to grab the chocolates from the table , she flipped the lid and groaned in delight .

"Charles I could marry you. Wine and chocolates? Fuckin perfect." She sighed out happily . Missing the look of adoration he shot her as she shoved the biggest one into her mouth .

Sucking on the chocolate she leant back against the cushions and got comfortable . Turning her head to look at Charles who has done the same .

"Which one do you want?" She asked him nodding towards the chocolates .

He didn't look away from her smile . Still stroking Sirius in his lap.

“I want Cherry." He simply answered .

Cherrie paused for a second before giggling . Picking

Up the cherry flavoured chocolate and bringing it to his lips .

Shaking her head and feeling a little flustered as Charles leant forward and took the chocolate from between her fingers with his teeth.

"That could have went both ways. Cheeky Charles." She teased him as she flicked the end of his nose before turning on the tv and putting on Harry Potter on.

"Fuck yeah." He mumbled once he saw what she had put on . "The first movie is the best one." He said.

Cherrie thought then that she might be in love.

"It is. God. It's just perfect . The vibes are immaculate In this one . You know I used to have this huge crush on snape when I was growing up." She told him as she took another long swig from the bottle of wine . Her belly feeling warm and fuzzy as she blinked her eyes over at him with another giggle.

Vodka made her crazy. Wine made her giggly and tequila would get her pregnant . So strange.

Charles looked at her in disbelief , pulling a face at her as he reached for another chocolate from the box in her lap.

"Really? Why?" He laughed , eyeing her judgementally .

Cherrie simply shrugged . "Dunno. Think I liked the whole bad guy thing. I also had a thing for Draco

And Tom riddle too. So..." she trailed off grinning.

Charles looked at her like she was insane . "I don't get it . If there bad people or if they do bad things why does that make you want them? Why do you go for the Badboys?" He asked her curiously . Also hinting towards her real love life too.

She had a terrible track record of dating assholes. Or guys that looked like they could kill you in one go.

If that's what she wanted , then he stood absolutely no chance . He wasn't a bad boy. He hated staying up past midnight . He hated being stuck in crowds . He had cried when he accidentally stood on a ladybird .

He had also cried when a bird had smacked against his car window and died. Would she like that? Could he somehow spin his emotional sensitivity to be attractive? He didn't know how but he was willing to do anything to try.

Cherrie hummed as she thought about it. Her eyes scanning his face as she took in the soft freckles and pink tint of his lips. He looked so soft and cozy , she just wanted to melt into him.

"The thrill maybe? I'm not sure . I've never dated that type for more than a few weeks though .. so I don't think I'll date the bad boys ever again." She murmured to him before taking another swig of wine.

Her words were like music to his eyes . Hope filling him quickly . No more Bad boys to compete against . Amazing.

"I want true love. Ya know , the I can't live without you true love . I want want my mom and dad have." She told him as she stumbled up to her feet . Charles reaching out to press his hand against her back and arm as she swayed. The alcohol rushing to her head .

"It's time?" He asked while glancing at the clock to see that half an hour had passed . Gently ushering her into the bathroom , he pressed the button and carefully pulled off the shower head .

Cherrie giggled as she knelt down in front of him. Gazing up at him with rosy cheeks and glassy eyes.

Charles wasn't doing much better either as he laughed as he looked down at her. Putting his hand under the water to feel the temperature , flicking specks of water at her face once he was done.

Hiccuping she gripped his knees as she let him turn her around so that her back was facing the tub.

"Ya know I've been in this position many times before but never like this.." she smirked up at him. Giggling as she wiggled her eyebrows at him. Gently pinching his thigh just because she could.

Charles was confused for a moment , wondering what she was talking about , before finally glancing down at her on her knees in front of him and understanding .

Flushing red , he rolled his eyes with a drunken grin. The two bottles of wine really helping his confidence as he gently pushed her head back to hang over the tub.

"Well you need something new to spice up your life. I won't leave bruises , I'll only leave red hair." He slurred a little , blinking heavily to focus his eyes as he began to rinse out the dye from her hair .

Putting his own knees on either side of her hips as he leant over her , Cherrie watching from underneath heavy lids .

Scrubbing at her scalp to get the red out , he grinned down at her . Leaning down to bump the tip of his nose against her own just to hear her laugh again.

"What if I want bruises and red hair?" She cheekily asked him. Laughing loudly as he splashed her in her face again.

Tutting In fake disapproval , pursing his lips to try and contain his own sly grin. He shook his head .

"I could let you fall into this tub. That'd leave some

Bruises." He joked as he ran his fingers through her hair again. Making sure it was all out.

She pouted up at him . Feeling him grab her elbows to pull her back up to her original height. Closing her eyes for a moment as her head spun , she grimaced.

Charles watching her in concern as he gently ran his hand over the back of her head. Reaching over to grab a soft towel , he carefully wrapped it around her wet hair .

"You okay? Head rush?" He asked her quietly. Softly rubbing at her shoulder till she opened her eyes again.

Humming tiredly , she nodded her head . Rubbing the towel against her head .

She smiled. "You're so pretty." Was all she mumbled better staggering back Up to her feet and stumbling her way into her bedroom.

Leaving Charles to blush and run his hands over his face , giving himself a moment to gather himself before following her into her room.

Seeing Cherrie sat at the end of the bed as she hummed a song to herself , he looked over to her dressing table and picked up a de-tangle brush before walking over to the bed .

Crawling behind her so that he was leaning against the headboard before he spoke up, gently nudging her back with his foot to get her attention.

"Cherrie. Come here ." He softly said as she finally let the towel drop from her hair . Making his eyes widen in amazement .

"Wow it's so bright! Just like out cars. It looks amazing." He gushed In awe at the sight of her now bright red hair.

Cherrie grinned happily as she crawled over to him and slotted herself between his open legs so that her back was to his chest. Feeling him carefully section her hair before began he began to brush through it.

It was quite between them for a few minutes as Charles continued to brush out her hair till it was silky smooth .

Then he set the brush aside and simply wrapped his arm loosely around her neck and chest, sliding further down the bed so she was able to cuddle into his chest.

Turning on her front so that she could rest her chin on his chest , she slid one arm around his waist and hooked her leg up over his hip to get comfortable.

Yawning tiredly , feeling so safe and warm with him

As he carefully pulled up the cover so that it was over the both of them.

"How do you like your eggs Charles?" She asked him quietly after a few moments of them just looking at each other smiling .

He leant his head back against the pillow with a sigh of contentment . Unable to believe his luck.

Heart hammering in his chest so fast that he knew she must have heard it. Yet he was too drunk to care.

Gently running his fingers up and down her spine as he gazed down at her in awe. Taking in the soft slope of her nose and way her lashes naturally curled up towards her sharp eyebrows.

Before his eyes were finally drawn down to her softy and pouty lips that were tinted from the wine.

Swallowing quietly , he exhaled a little too shakily.

"Scrambled ." He finally answered . Low trembling.

"How do you like Your coffee?" He asked her just as quietly . Planning on running To the local cafe in the morning.

He felt her lips curve up against his chest. A soft giggle escaping her as she reached up to cup the back

of his neck in the palm of her hand. Squeezing gently.

"Sweet. Really sweet." She murmured softly before before titling her chin up and closing her eyes .

Charles just smiled as he tilted his head down to meet her halfway , pressing his lips against her softly . Tasting the sweetness from the wine and the chocolates they had consumed .

Humming against her mouth as he gently cupped the back of her head in his hand , scratching his nails against her scalp in a soothing motion that had her moaning against his lips .

Flicking her tongue up to taste the roof of his mouth , she titled her head to deepen the kiss before nibbling teasingly at his bottom lip. Pulling it back before finally pulling away enough so that they could breathe.

"I want pancakes for breakfast. With fresh fruit and syrup." She whispered to him as she softly traced the shape of his lips with her fingertip . Feeling him exhale shakily beneath her .

"An I prefer hot chocolate to coffee." She added as an after thought . Giggling.

Charles breathed out a giddy laugh . His heart so full it felt like it could explode . He could only hold her closer and tuck his face down into her neck. Kissing under her ear and against her jaw over and over again.

He was going to kiss her in every place on her soft skin that he had dreamed about .

He was going to caress her in ways that he had fantasied about since the moment he had met her .

Feeling his emotions bubble up , he swallowed down the lump in his throat as he kissed her again . Just because he finally could now.

"I'm in love with you." He finally admitted to what he had been denying for so long .

Pierre was right . He was a man in love.

Cherrie didn't seem too surprised . Only pleased as she kissed the corners of his mouth before kissing her way down to his chest , then pressing a kiss over his pounding heart .

"I know. You're not very subtle ." She breathed out a laugh of adoration before gently tapping his chest three times . "Luckily for you neither am I."

His smile lit up his face as he gazed up at her like she was his own personal heaven. "Yeah?"

She giggled at the look of disbelief on his face . As though he couldn't believe what she was saying. As though it was impossible for it to be true .

I love you

I’ll love you forever If you let me.

I want you . I want every part of you . The good , the bad. The promises. The dreams. The hopes.

He wanted to be her best friend .

She could never be too much for him, not when he wanted every piece of her.

He wanted her mornings , he wanted her evenings, he wanted her midnights .

He just wanted her. Bathed in the afterglow of their love.

"Yeah." She nodded her head softly in confirmation .

"Cause I'm in love with you too. I had to be. I've never waited this long for anyone in my entire life!" She joked , although it was true .

Patience really was a virtue she supposed .

Sometimes you’ll spend a lot of time chasing the wrong person when your light was their all along. Just waiting to guide you home.

Charles flushed with love before laughing loudly In total happiness . Pulling her back down to his chest and holding her close . Never planning on letting her go again.

Because she loved him. Him. Just him. All this time he had wasted being so afraid .

He would never let fear control him again. He was going to give her the world. He had plenty of lost time to make up for after all.

"I'm gonna get you the best damn pancakes and hot chocolate I can find." He promised her then. Making her giggle again.

"I'll hold you to it. I'll scramble those eggs too. And maybe in the morning you can give me the bruises too …now that you've given me the red hair." She teased him.

Charles just sighed blissfully , kissing her again. And again and again .

"Oh mon dieu. Je t'aime. pour toujours.."

#Charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #Charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #formula one x reader #Charles leclerc fanfic

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butterflellies · 10 months

Text

the kissing game - ellie williams x reader

summary: you come up with a new game that ellie already loves.

warnings: just some quick fluff, no use of y/n, lots of physical touch, first fic jitters?

~~~

Ellie feels something feather against her cheek.

The two of you are watching a new movie neither of you had seen before. It was interesting for sure, but sometimes your mind ventures back into the heart-quickening realization that your girlfriend exists and has a place in your life.

Shifting her face away from the screen and towards you, she smiles lazily as she realizes it was your lips. However, you catch her slightly off-guard again as you quickly perch a delicate smooch on the very tip of her nose.

She blinks at you, effectively asking, ‘What are you doing?’ using only an expression. You simply shrug,

“I'm playing a game.”

“What kinda game?”

“The rules are for every time I think of you, I have to kiss you.”

You always manage to find new ways to make Ellie blush; were you trying to do so on purpose? She unconsciously leans towards you as you prepare your next attack,

“I can’t-” kiss “tell if i’m-” peck “good or bad-” kiss “at this game.”

Ellie’s heart is fluttering in her chest. Despite being breathless, she manages to mumble out,

“I think you’re the best at this.”

After decorating your lips onto her face and neck, even her hair, enough to make her freckles worry of being outnumbered, you suddenly lean back and let out a breathless ‘phew!’ You even fan your face for dramatic effect,

Ellie is speechless as you chirp,

“I think I need to pause the game for a bit.”

Laughter erupts from Ellie; it’s impossible to hold back the giggles any longer. Your silliness sends her heart and soul into cloud nine instantly, she can’t help but feel her body glow with love.

Ellie has moments like these too, when she remembers just who she gets to hold in her arms every night. Who she gets to wake up to every morning. Who she gets to watch back-to-back movies with for hours on end. She’s losing herself in your eyes already, and you chuckle at her awed daze, knowing exactly how she’s feeling.

Maintaining eye contact as best you can, you lean in impossibly closer; tilting your head in a way that your nose and forehead are cradled in her own. In this proximity, you flutter your eyelashes to tickle Ellie's freckles with butterfly kisses. Effectively leaving her giddy beyond comprehension.

She closes her laptop with a swift smack and shoves it to the side before practically launching herself on top of you. Wrapping her arms around your body, thus effectively encasing you into her cuddle trap, you squeal when she blows a raspberry on the side of your neck. Threading your fingers in her hair, with your nose deep in her tresses and inhaling the scent that both puts you to sleep and wakes you up every day. One that just screamed ‘Ellie!’

Later

The movie was long finished. The bright screen that previously lit the room replaced with a cool blanket of moonlight through the window. You had fallen asleep against Ellie's neck after your little play-wrestling, who was now absent-mindedly drawing things on your back. She's just finished drawing a heart between your shoulder blades when Ellie feels the familiar brush of your lips against her collarbone. She feels a smile already creeping up on her face,

“What are you doing?”

“I'm un-pausing the game.”

~~~

notes: this is my first ever fic post! i've always been pretty shy online which is strangely ironic given that irl i'm extremely social! but i'd love to try and engage with more more people on here in and fellow tlou lovers :) for as long as i've been on tumblr for reading fics, i have no clue what i'm doing when it comes to posting OR tumblr in general, but thanks so much for reading!

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #tlou x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou x you #the kissing game #the last of us x reader

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 4 months

Note

"i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know." for Victor

Destroy this boy with a flirty letter ;)

Picking up postman and squeezing him like a squeaky toy lol

Rated: Mature | Warning: none

Rarely does anyone send letters between each other, a few times a letter is sent from a hunter to a survivor but none send a letter among the same faction. Postman, Victor, apprentices you using the pen and paper to communicate with him. When you first met him, he would shy away from you, energetic as Luca, he barely could keep up. Then one day you started using your hands to make strange gestures.

“Helena taught me sign language so I can talk to you!” The joy on your face as you thought you created a bridge between him and yourself. You did but not the way you thought. Victor is mute, selectively mute, and he prefers the words on paper rather than verbal words.

The first letter you sent was mostly rambling about the day as you did not see that whole day due to matches and the occasional break to recuperate before once again going to a match.

The second letter asks him questions. Colors, food, a season, anything you could think of that is not invasive. Victor answers them while slipping in a few details you did not ask about him in order to seem more open. You matched it as you spoke about things before you came to the manor.

Then the letters between you both became a common way for you two to communicate until Victor, in his room with you, spoke softly. A small ‘thank you’ had you in tears of joy as he trusted you. Few can claim that— Literally three people outside of yourself.

And as the bond between you both grew so did feelings that started being expressed in the letters. His words are gentle, dancing around cautiously; while yours are to the point and announce your interest.

As someone from a time ahead of his, Victor felt it made things easier.

What is not easy is how you flirt so casually without shame or fear, people of your time move fast compared to his time.

The letter in his hand is held in a furious grip before closing it and facing it down; his face is red as he cannot move his eyes up to look at you across the dining table. Your foot rubs his calf, nearly making him jump.

A simple few words have his mind scrambling: I'm not wearing any underwear. Thought you should know. Love, (Name).

You smile at him, your fork playing with your food. Luca is beside you talking to Andrew and Aesop, all of them distracted while you are playing footsies under the table with Victor.

“Are you okay, V?” The nickname you gave him, “You feeling sick?” How can you see that while your foot is rubbing his crotch through his pants!? He should close his legs but… That look in your eyes is drawing him in.

“Your face looks flush,” Comments Andrew, “Maybe you should rest.” It makes sense given Victor has been in back-to-back duo matches recently. Those are a headache.

“Good idea!” Luca chimes in, “(Name), can you take him?”

“Of course.” Smiling as you get up from your seat, “You guys take care.” You place a small kiss on Lucas's cheek and Victor is standing up grateful for his uniform covering his lower half. The Postman waves goodbye before you tug him away out of the dining room.

Aesop watches the two leave before looking at Luca who is smiling too much, “You know something.”

“Maybe.” He does and completely changes the subject.

Victor pins you against his door with his hands on your shoulders, his eyes on you as his brows are knit together, “Are you really?” Low but you hear it.

“Yes, I'm not lying.”

The Postman should have known since you are wearing a skirt, yes, a skirt. You hate skirts! You complain about them especially when in a match. Yet, here you are in a long skirt in his room… Without underwear.

“Show me.” An edge to his sweet voice, his eyes and head tilting down.

You grin, “Okay.” Grabbing the middle of the skirt and lifting until you hear that gasp of surprise and cool air on your exposed lower regions. “Victor?”

He swallows loudly, “Can I?” His one hand off your shoulder, “May I?”

“Of course, this is for you.”

You might have underestimated Victor. You expected to be the one guiding and in control, dominant but gentle. No, Victor took over with his mouth on yours, a leg between your legs, and his hand that has your hands gripping the back of his uniform. His mouth never leaves yours, the sharp intake of air only when you both are dizzy, and you are the one making the most noise.

There are sweet whispers between kisses, those three words that have you begging him to touch you more.

Both of you barely get to the bed, fumbling a bit to strip, tripping and falling on one another but luckily on the bed.

#idv #ask #idv reader insert #reader insert #identity v x reader #identity v #identity v postman #victor grantz x reader #victor grantz #victor grantz x you #idv postman #idv x you #idv x reader #postman #identity v x you #identity v victor

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pitinthelanepages · 1 year

Text

me gustas tu

summary: juan likes airplanes but he likes you more. based on the song 'me gustas tu' by manu chao.

pairing: juan manuel correa x reader

word count: 3.6k

genre: warning! smut, fluff and a bit of angst

a/n: i have been working on this oneshot for the past 7 to 8 hours. please show this lots of love! asks or comments are really appreciated. love you all!

Me gustan los aviones, me gustas tú (I like airplanes, I like you)

More often than not, people harbour a fear of airplanes, even if they claim they don’t. For some people, the lack of control that they have on the plane and the lack of understanding that they have on the technical aspects of flying plays a big part. For other people, it’s the fear of height or enclosed places that plays the part. As for Juan, it’s quite different.

As he looks out the window of the plane he is in, he finds himself absolutely captivated at the sight of it soaring through the white fluffy clouds. People often do not see the positives of being on a plane, but he does. There's something breathtaking about being thousands of feet up in the air, watching the world below him pass by him just like that. He feels a sheer sense of freedom wash over him, making him feel freer than ever.

He turns to look at you, who's dozing in the seat next to him, accompanying him to one of the races after finally being to take time off from your work. He finds his eyes trailing across your features. From the curve of your jawline to the way your lashes touch your cheeks, from the blush that takes over your skin due to the air blasting from the air conditioner above you to the delicate slope of your nose. He feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight, as if he is falling in love with you all over again.

He thinks of how lucky he is to have you, how you make him feel free and happy in a way that no airplane ever could. And yet, there's a strange similarity between the two of you. Both airplanes and you have the power to take his breath away, make him feel free, give him a different perspective of life, show him the world in a new light and make him appreciate experiences he never did before.

He reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from your face, and you stir, eyes fluttering open.

"Hey," you say, voice thick with sleep.

"Hey," Juan replies, his soft gaze boring into yours. "I was just thinking about something."

You rest your jaw on your palm, facing his side. “Hmm? What is it that you’re thinking about?”

“I was thinking about how much I like planes.” He answers, completely facing you this time.

You chuckle but can’t help but let the confusion take over your face as your brows furrow. “Huh? Where is this coming from?”

“I was just thinking about what I like, you know?” He adds, sighing before clasping your smaller hand into his. He begins to draw circles on it, sending shivers down your spine.

You feel like teasing him. “Hmm, I see… so you like planes more than me?”

Juan shakes his head, a grin spreading across his face. "No, no. I like planes, sure. But I like you more."

A smile takes over your face as you reach out to take his hand with your free hand. “I like planes, too,” you say. "But I like you more, as well."

Juan feels a rush of warmth spread through his body, and he leans in to cushion your soft lips with his. The kiss is soft, sweet, full of tenderness and affection. He knows that there are many more flights in his future, many more journeys to take and new horizons to explore. But as long as he's with you, he knows he'll always feel like he's flying.

Me gusta viajar, me gustas tú (I like to travel, I like you)

Both of your careers took over your life more often than not. You having a demanding job in the field of public relations whereas him having to train during free time when he wasn’t racing didn’t help his case either. However, when you two finally had time to spend with each other without having to stress over work, Juan insisted on travelling. So you did. You didn’t think much before planning a trip to Budapest.

That is how you found yourself with your boyfriend, hand in hand, walking through the streets of the city that has people in awe. It isn’t any different for the two of you. Both of you are gaping, as you take in the breathtaking architecture and vibrant energy of the city. The streets bustling with ordinary people and countless tourists like you.

As you walk, you can't help but admire the grand buildings that surround you, each one more beautiful than the other. The intricate details of the historic buildings, with their colourful facades and elegant balconies, leaving you speechless.

Juan squeezes your hand tightly, as if he can feel your amazement. He chuckles at you before pointing out some of the city's most iconic landmarks, like the majestic Parliament Building and the ornate Fisherman's Bastion.

As you two cross the Danube River on the Chain Bridge, you feel a sense of wonder wash over you. The stunning views of the city from the bridge are unlike anything you have ever seen before. Your clasped hand, though smaller, squeezes his every time you felt a jolt of excitement pass through your veins at the sight you are witnessing before you.

Juan feels his heart beat faster as he looks at you. He notices the way your eyes light up the entire time with excitement and wonder as you walk through the beautiful streets of Budapest. The warmth of your hand in his fills him with a sense of comfort and happiness that he has never known before.

As he takes in the breathtaking architecture around you, he can't help but feel that it pales in comparison to the beauty of the woman beside him. He begins to think of the time you moved to a new country just to support him in his dreams of becoming an F2 driver, leaving your stable job with much higher pay behind, just for him. He thinks of how you took in loads of work home and worked overtime whenever you could just so you could take time off to travel with him to races he felt more anxious about. He remembers all the late nights and early mornings you spent by his side, cheering him on and helping him train when he felt like giving up.

Juan's chest tightens as his mind drifts more and more into everything you have done, just for him. He knows that he wouldn't be where he is today without your unwavering support and love. He thinks about all the moments you have shared together, the highs and the lows, and how you have been there for him through it all.

As he tugs your hand and pulls you close, he feels a wave of emotion take over him. He looks into your eyes and feels his heart swell with love and gratitude. He knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, exploring new places and experiencing all the beauty the world has to offer, together.

"I like travelling," he whispers, his voice filled with passion and sincerity. "But I like you more than any city in the world. No matter how beautiful it is." With that, he pulls you in for a tender kiss, his hand slowly cascading from the nape of your neck to your back and finally to your waist. From the point of view of a passerby, both of you sharing a passionate kiss in the middle of a city as beautiful as Budapest, is a sight to behold.

Me gusta la mañana, me gustas tú (I like the morning, I like you)

Me gusta el viento, me gustas tú (I like the wind, I like you)

Juan and you are woken up by the sound of wind howling outside. The gusts of air passing through the open window causes your hair to fly about and land on Juan's face. Juan instinctively wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him. "Good morning, beautiful." Juan whispers.

"Good morning.” You reply, sleepily. You snuggle into Juan's embrace, savouring the warmth and safety you feel in his arms. Juan's strong arms wrap around you, and you feel secure and loved.

The wind outside intensifies, causing you to shiver. Juan tightens his grip on you, rubbing your back to warm you up. "Are you cold?" he asks, concern laced in his voice.

"A little," you reply, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

Juan pulls the blankets up over you, covering you both and trapping in your body heat. "Better?" he asks, grinning.

You nod, smiling back at him. "Much better."

As you lay there, wrapped up in each other's embrace, he leans down, softly pressing a kiss on your forehead. "I love you," he whispers, his husky voice filled with tenderness.

You blush, feeling a surge of warmth spread through your body. You tilt your head up to look at him, meeting his gaze as he leans in to press his lips gently against yours.

You feel Juan's hand run through your hair, cradling your head to deepen the kiss. You respond to him, your hands moving up to tangle in his hair as you pull him closer. As the gentle kiss turns into a tug of war as he tugs at your bottom lip harshly, you feel one of his hands untangle from your hair and move to your waist, where he grazes his fingers softly yet intense enough to cause you to jerk in his embrace as it tickles.

Your breath hitches at his action. “What are you doing?” you gasp, pulling away, the lack of air causing your chest to heave up and down faster, trying to catch up on it.

“What do you think I am doing?” He asks, not answering the question, seeming intent on teasing you as you witness a smirk taking over his face.

You roll your eyes. “It’s ticklish.”

“Well, that’s the point.” He whispers and before you could respond, he pulls you into his lap. Your front pressing onto his. You could feel his heartbeat against yours. His hands trail on your back, soft and ticklish, sending goosebumps through your body.

You run a finger from his chest to the hardness of his abs, his breathing getting ragged in the process but before you could continue any further, he traps your wrists in his and begins to pepper kisses from your jaw down to your neck. Your skin flushes and you find yourself closing your eyes at the sensation, soft sighs leaving your lips.

His lips soon land between the valley of your breasts and licks it before moving to find your nipples, trapping one between his teeth. You groan at the pain that shoots through your system. He flicks his tongue around one of your nipples, the coldness from being wet making it hard, the pain making it sensitive. He does the same to your other nipple before moving down to your stomach and towards your core.

The moment you feel his warm breath against your core, you know what is about to come. He grips your thighs and rests them on his shoulders, his eyes locking onto yours as he sends you a look that, you’re sure, makes you even wetter. He bites his lips, staring at your core with a look of such concentration that makes you anticipate what’s about to happen more than ever and then, he dives in. He licks a stripe before using two of his fingers to find the soft bud and when he does so, successfully, he doesn’t wait. His mouth encloses in around the bud, making you let out a cry.

As if something in him is switched on, he is no longer the passionate man he was just a moment ago. His mouth shows no mercy as it ruthlessly sucks into the pits of your core. One of his fingers soon enters you and joins in with the rhythm of his mouth. You begin to feel tears streaming down your face as you gasp more and more loudly for air with time, having a hard time breathing at the lack of mercy he was showing you.

You finally let out a loud cry when you feel the bundle of nerves giving up on you, reaching the point of ecstasy. Hearing a breathy chuckle, you look down and send the man who did this to you, a chuckle. “Very funny.” you huff, rolling your eyes.

He laughs, looking amused at your annoyance as he climbs back up on the bed like he didn’t just commit an act of sin. He wraps an arm around your frame before bringing you closer to him so he could rest his head on your chest.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, your hands raking into his hair, feeling his scalp.

He hums at the feeling, eyes closed, looking peaceful as ever. “Going back to sleep?” he murmurs.

“Are you serious?” you poke at him. “I am not done with you.”

He turns his head to face you, his eyes are crinkled with mirth, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You what?” There is a teasing tone in his voice that you could sense.

You furrow your brows in annoyance. “Who do you think you are? What is funny?”

He sits up, giggling that soon turns into a full blown laugh. “Oh my God, baby… I know you are tired. Let’s not lie.”

“So you mean, you are taking a break for me? No way.” You say refusing to back down.

A grin takes over his face. “Yes, absolutely. You got that right.”

You narrow your eyes at him, a smile too sweet taking over your lips. “You know what? I’m gonna get you.”

“And what are you gonna do?” He challenges, smirking.

“You underestimate me.” You say, before lunging towards him.

But Juan is quick to dodge your playful attack with a laugh. He jumps out of bed and darts across the room, you being hot on his heels. You chase each other around the room. While you’re struggling with the duvet wrapped around you, he darts out of the room and down the hallway.

You finally catch up to him in the hallway and find yourself collapsing on the floor with him, catching for breath.

He looks at you, his gaze softening at the sight of you being happy. You raise a brow at him, wondering what’s in his mind.

He shakes his head, smiling. “I like mornings like this, you know? Bright and windy.”

You hum, agreeing. “It’s beautiful to wake up to such weather.”

“But, I like you, more.”

Me gusta soñar, me gustas tú (I like to dream, I like you)

Me gusta la mar, me gustas tú (I like the sea, I like you)

Juan stands at the altar, his heart pounding in his chest as he waits for his bride to walk down the aisle. He can feel the sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air-conditioning in the church. He adjusts his tie nervously, his eyes scanning the crowd of guests, but he can't find you. He begins to feel a sense of panic rise in him, but then he catches a glimpse of you in the distance. You’re breathtakingly beautiful, clad in a white gown that flows down to the floor in a soft, elegant cascade. Your hair is styled in loose waves, framing your face perfectly. As you walk towards him, Juan feels a rush of emotion. It's as if time slows down, and all he can focus on is the woman in front of him.

As you reach him, Juan takes your hand and guides you to the altar. He can feel your fingers trembling slightly in his, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. The priest begins the ceremony, but he is barely listening. His mind is lost in the moment, in the way the sunlight is streaming through the stained glass windows, casting a rainbow of colours across the church. He's lost in the way your eyes are fixed on him, full of love and trust.

When the priest asks Juan to say his vows, he feels his throat tighten. He takes a deep breath and begins to speak. He tells you how much he loves you, how much you mean to him. He promises to always be by your side, to be your partner and best friend. He vows to support you in all your dreams. As he speaks, tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He's never felt so vulnerable and exposed.

Finally, the priest pronounces you husband and wife, and Juan feels a wave of relief wash over him. As you kiss, the room erupts into cheers and applause.

But then suddenly, the scene fades away to the sound of sea waves crashing onto the shore. He blinks blearily, his eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight. He finds himself on your lap on the beach, and the sound of the waves has become part of his dream.

He sits up, rubbing his eyes and taking in his surroundings. The waves are gently lapping at both of your feet, and the sun is beginning to set, casting a warm glow across the horizon. He looks over at you, and feels a surge of warmth in his chest. He likes dreaming, but he likes being here with you even more.

"Sorry, I must have dozed off," he says with a sheepish grin.

You laugh and playfully push him away, "You were snoring! I thought you were going to keep me up all night."

Juan's heart races as he finds himself staring at your face, still beautiful even in the sunlight. He realises he likes the sea, but he loves you more.

¿Qué voy a hacer?, je ne sais pas (What am I going to do?, I don't know)

¿Qué voy a hacer?, je ne sais plus (What am I going to do?, I don't know anymore)

¿Qué voy a hacer?, je suis perdu (What am I going to do?, I’m lost)

Juan sits alone in his apartment, staring blankly at the television. He doesn’t even know what is on the screen, his mind running a million miles with thoughts of the upcoming race. He has been training tirelessly for weeks, leaving him with no time for anything else, including you.

His apartment is surrounded by silence. He used to love this place, relishing the peace and quiet it offered after a long day of training and racing. But now, the silence is suffocating.

Without you here, the place feels empty. The thought of going to bed alone tonight makes him feel a deep sense of dread that he can't shake off. He's never been one to feel lonely, but now it's all he feels. He knows he has to focus on his training and upcoming races (even though that’s all he has been forcing him to focus on for weeks), but he can't shake the feeling that something is missing.

Juan tries to fill the void with constant training and preparation for the upcoming race that fills him with anxiety, but it's not the same as having you around. The joy he once felt in his sport is now replaced with a feeling of unease. The sound of his car engine revving used to bring him excitement and adrenaline, but now, he doesn’t know what to feel anymore.

He sighs deeply, realising that he has been pushing you away. You have tried to be understanding of his busy schedule, but he knows that he has been distant and unavailable. He misses you terribly but doesn’t know how to balance his passion for racing with his love for you. He knows it’s a terrible habit of his but he can’t help it.

If he is being completely honest, he misses your warmth and your laughter, the way you could brighten up his day. He misses your touch, the way you would rest your head on his shoulder and whisper words of encouragement in his ear. He misses your smell, the way you always smelled like lavender and vanilla.

Juan realises now that he needs you more than he ever thought he would. He can't bear the thought of going through his days without you. The loneliness he feels is too much to handle on his own. He knows he needs to make time for you, to make sure you know just how much you mean to him.

As he sits there alone, the realisation hits him like a ton of bricks. He can't keep living like this, with you being just a distant memory. He needs to find a way to make it work, to balance his love for you with his love for racing. He's not sure how, but he's willing to try.

Juan stands up from his seat, determined to make a change. He'll start by calling you, apologising for his absence and promising to make it up to you. He'll find a way to make time for you, even if it means sacrificing some of his training time. He knows now that you’re worth it.

As he steps out onto the balcony, the sounds of the city start to fill the silence. Juan takes a deep breath, feeling a newfound sense of purpose. He may be an f2 driver, but he's also a man in love. And he's willing to do whatever it takes to keep the love of his life by his side.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 writing #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #f2 fanfic #f2 fic #f2 imagine #f2 writing #juan manuel correa #juan manuel correa x reader

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soft-girl-musings · 6 months

Text

An Unexpected Proposition (pt. 2)

based on this prompt from @imaginexhobbit, previously submitted under @jawn-i-made-coffee

cross-posted to ao3

part 1

Kíli x fem!Reader

tags: mentions of blood/injury, Reader is described as tall (by human standards), Y/N is used

wc: 1,741

fic summary: An injured dwarf appears on your doorstep. Do you grant him sanctuary on this stormy night?

A/N: once again posting the cuties for myself. i have a loose outline from years ago i revisited and honestly? still slaps. so this might get a part 3.

You can't believe it. You’re actually doing it. You walk along the road leading away from town with your pack on your back, boots on your feet-

"Come on, (Y/N)!" Kíli shouts from the top of the hill. You smile. A friend by your side.

Only a few hours earlier you had broken bread and prepared to say goodbye; now, you’re following Kíli after he promised you an adventure. Was this a foolhardy endeavor? Perhaps. But after years in the quiet countryside, your roving heart had gotten restless. Kíli had tempted you with the open road and the thrill of a quest; how could you refuse him?

As you climb the muddy slope, Kíli taps his foot in mock impatience. "You would think that with those long legs of yours, you'd move faster."

You reach the top and shove him lightly. "Shut up. I'm digesting." He laughs, shoving you right back. You notice he slows his pace to walk beside you this time. "So how much farther are you taking me, sir dwarf?"

"Ah, ah! (Y/N), if we're to be on the road together, we must do away with these formalities." He pulls a grimace and looks up at you. "'Sir Dwarf' makes me sound like some old fool."

You chuckle. Never a dull moment with this one. "Very well, Kíli, " you begin, drawing out his name in playful reverence, “how much farther until we get there?”

Ears tinged pink, he looks away, adding the figures in his head. "Where we're going is... three days on foot. We'd cut our time in half if I hadn't lost my pony." His brow furrows as he remembers his violent run-in with a few drunk locals.

You frown. "You're too weak to make that journey on a deadline." Kíli opens his mouth to object, but you shake your head. "There's a stable not three miles from here. I know the owner, he should take pity on our situation and help us." Kíli's face remains tense, but he nods in agreement and follows you.

Three miles later, you approach the stables and see your friend, just having finished mucking out the stalls. He raises a hand to greet you, but retracts the gesture when he sees who walks beside you.

“'Afternoon, Dylten!” You holler, but he turns and carts the waste to the back of the structure. Strange, he’s never this distracted. You place your bags down and chase after him. “Wait here,” you reassure Kili, “I’ll be right back!”

You find his cart abandoned as he walks hastily away from the stable. “Dylten!” you run to catch up to him. “At least a nod of greeting would suffice. Why the rush, friend?”

“I’m not sure I wish to be called ‘friend,’ if that’s the kind of company you keep,” he grumbles. His face turns red as he walks faster, and you notice a few fresh bruises along his jaw.

You piece two and two together as you reach the crest of the hill, where you see a chestnut brown pony tied haphazardly to a post in front of his home.

"New acquisition?" You ask flatly, knowing full well where the pony came from.

"Of sorts." He moves to walk inside, but you block his doorway, hand on the hilt of your weapon.

"You nearly killed him," you snarl.

"It wasn't just me! Nobody wanted him there!" He backs away, nearly tripping over his front step. "Some of us merely took it upon ourselves to send the dwarf a message!"

You're seething with anger at this point, sword drawn. You brandish the weapon toward him. "Yeah? And what was it-- that you and half the people in this town are beyond dense?"

He’s nervous, but scoffs all the same. “Don’t pretend to be all ‘high and mighty,’ (Y/N). I fought beside you. You knocked heads and drew blood just as easily as the rest of us.”

You’ve heard enough. In an instant, Dylan is knocked down by the pommel of your weapon and you crouch over him, knee to his chest. “Not innocent blood. Which doesn’t help you at the moment.” His breath staggers under your weight, struggling even more as you lean closer. “We’re taking the pony. And your black mare. If you’re lucky, my payment will include us never speaking of this again.”

__________

The next day and a half pass with ease. You notice you’ve reached the western countryside. Lush grass rolls in billowing green waves, speckled with countless wildflowers. Kíli plucks a few and sticks them in your hair while you’re busy preparing lunch; you sneak a few into his braid before he mounts for the final leg of the journey.

"Look!" You shout gleefully. As twilight creeps in, you are met with a most welcome sight. Little homes built into the sides of hills are scattered along the horizon. The grass rises and frames a beaten path before you.

Kíli rides up beside you, grinning wildly. "I think we've finally reached The Shire."

Exhausted from your journey, the two of you go to a cozy-looking tavern for a couple of drinks. You feel like a giant as you sip from a glass half the size of what you’re used to. The door jingles, opening to reveal a blond dwarf looking around warily before stepping inside. You nudge Kíli and point out the newcomer. He leaps from his seat almost immediately.

"Fíli!" He calls out. The blond turns and, upon seeing Kíli, moves to embrace him.

"Glad to see you arrived safely, brother." They clap each other on the back and return to the table. Upon closer inspection, the family resemblance is much more prominent. Fíli is clearly the oldest of the two, having a harder maturity about him.

Fíli sits across from you, his smile slightly faltering as he looks you up and down. "And who's this?"

"(Y/N)," you blurt out, offering your hand. "I've been traveling with your brother." Fili shakes it, looking to Kíli for an explanation.

"She's done so much more than that, Fí. Why-"

"Tell me on the way. We're due at the burglar's house any minute now."

As you travel to your next destination, Kíli speaks of your "grand rescue". Fíli listens readily, but later murmurs concerns of how "Uncle might not approve" of your presence at the halfling's home.

The rest of the company, however, simply adores you. After Kíli tells them the tale of how you had saved him and secured transport (you had eventually told him about your run-in with Dylten), the other ten dwarves show an apparent respect for you.

"That'd explain why yer face looks like you fell head-first into a rosebush!" a dwarf called Bofur shouts across the table. You laugh as Kíli's ears turned red.

A heavy knock on the door silences the household.

"He's here."

"Gandalf," you hear someone say in greeting. You find yourself growing nervous as he walks in. Thorin seems to tower over the rest of the company. The graying hair and beard framing his face give his features an aged ferocity. You recall facing foes four times as large, but they suddenly seem dwarfed in comparison to this… well, dwarf.

You take a sip of tea and whisper, "Kíli, what if your brother was right? What if your uncle doesn't want me here at all?" Sensing the panic in your voice, he takes your hand in his and hushes you. "Fí doesn't know what he's talking about. Uncle needs every man he can get, and you're just as good as any of these old fools claim to be." He squeezes your hand andofferes a small smile. "He'll love you, I swear."

Unfortunately, Kíli could not have been more wrong. Thorin's face had been cheerful enough as he greeted his friends, but when his eyes fall on you, the subtle joy vanishes. After taking you in, he frowns. "I had believed this to be a private meeting, Gandalf."

"I had no part in her being here," the wizard insists.

"I brought her, Uncle." All eyes fall on Kíli as he stands. "I didn't think you'd mind. This is-"

"-A human who should not be aware as to why we are gathered."

"But Uncle, she's more than worthy to join us!"

"I decide who is worthy!" The red in Thorin's face deepens with every syllable. Your hand tightens around Kíli's. "Tell me, were you yammering about this quest on your whole journey, or was it just to the pretty ones you wished to impress?"

"With all due respect, sir-- your nephew is not at fault. I came on my own accord."

Thorin turns his glower to you. "Silence, girl. I'll deal with you later."

"Enough, Uncle!" Kíli shouts He leaps forward, dragging you along until you both stand toe to toe with Thorin. You feel drastically out of place, awkwardly towering over the dwarf who looks about ready to take your head off.

"(Y/N) has done nothing to deserve your blind wrath! If anything, she deserves your utmost respect! She has seen battle in lands I'd never heard of. She served ten years of her life fighting alongside fierce men who were beyond her in years, and matched them blow for blow! And she saved my life. I wouldn't be standing here before you if it wasn’t for her." He entwines your fingers and looks up at you. You notice he still has flowers in his hair. "She... she nursed me back to health. She fought for my property and restored my dignity, all in a day. And because I asked her, she abandoned her life of comfort to accompany me." He looks back at Thorin, determined. "I owe her my life."

"Let her stay, Uncle. They mean well," Fíli interjects from his corner of the room.

Thorin's eyes never leave Kíli's. "I had known you to be reckless, but I did not take you for a fool."

"Nor I you." His uncle smirks, but does not let the humor reach his eyes. "Please."

A tense moment of silence passes between you. Thorin moves closer, now standing directly beneath you. "You have no room for error. One wrong move and I will not hesitate to make you pay."

You kneel before him, hardly believing what you heard. "From this moment on, you are my King; I will serve you as such. You have my loyalty and my sword at your disposal."

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