#i swear i love the other boys too i just keep getting ideas for these three specifically đ
Lockscreen background
Malleus x gn!reader
i seem to have a thing for characters who are clueless abt technology hahaha, this takes place before we actually find out his real name btw
(also i apologise if malleus is ooc in any way i'm still in the early books of the gameđ)
"Hello." You heard a voice behind you as you exited the classroom. You turned around to find... uh, Hornton, was it? You still can't get over the stupid nickname that Grim picked, but he seems completely okay with you calling him that, so you keep doing it.
What could he possibly want with you?
"Uhh, hi...!" you greeted him back awkwardly.
"I have a somewhat trivial yet important matter I need help with." He opened and you tilted your head slightly. Now your interest is piqued.
"Let's go somewhere more... private." he suggested at your confused expression. You nodded slowly. Though this whole conversation is strange so far, he looks anything but malicious. And knowing him, he never is.
The two of you went to a more secluded part of the school and as soon as you got there, he pulled something out from his pocket, handing it to you. It looked to be a brand new phone.
"Could you help me with this object? I have no idea how to use it and you are the only one I can approach about this." he looked a little worried.
"Sure, what do you need help with?" you offered and his expression softened slightly.
"Turning it on, for starters."
A silence fills the room.
"Ahahahaha, oh jeez... I'm- I'm sorry- hahahaha...!" You couldn't help but laugh. He didn't even know how to turn it on?
Needless to say, he was not amused by your laughter. "If you will laugh at me, I will not be needing your help anymore." He crossed his arms.
"No- No- I'm sorry, I really am." You had to hold back a few giggles. "I'll help- I'll help you, you just shocked me with how little you know about a.. p-phone." He suddenly seemed like a 90 year old grandpa who bought a phone to talk to his grandkids and didn't know the first thing about it. What a funny mental image.
"You're talking strangely." He commented, and you quickly turned the phone in his direction before he could question your attempts at stifling a laugh.
"Here, see this button? You press it and the phone turns on, like this." You demonstrated, and his face lit up.
"I see. But, the salesperson informed me that this phone is unlockable by something called 'Face ID' as well. Do you know what that is by any chance?" The genuine interest in his voice was actually kind of cute.
"Don't worry about all that. Actually, why are you buying a phone only now?" You thought it was strange. If he was this clueless about technology, why buy a modern cellphone all of a sudden?
"During class, some of my classmates were discussing about these so called phones. They talked about something called a 'magicam'. And I... became curious." the little pause at the third sentence made you think that might just not be the full truth. But you have no reason to be suspicious or question him on it, so you just told yourself to forget about it.
"Magicam might be a little too... advanced for you right now. Here, let's start by exchanging contacts." You showed him the 'contacts' app, opening it and inputting your number and your name.
You handed the phone back to him. "Here, now press this green button on the bottom left and you'll call me." he did as you instructed and your phone started vibrating in your pocket. You pulled it out, answering the call.
"Hello!" you said cheerfully.
"I can... hear you twice. Is there magic imbued within a phone?" his eyes were widened slightly, even more so when he heard his own voice from your phone.
"You silly goose, we only hear eachother twice because we're standing right next to eachother. Stay here and place the phone next to your ear, okay?" you smiled at him, walking away.
"I am not silly and I am certainly not a goose. I thought it was obvious enough by taking once glance at me."
"It's not an insult, Hornton. It's like a silly little thing you say to someone when they say something, well, silly." you smile, now completely out of his line of sight and standing in a different room.
After a few moments of silence, he spoke again "I can still hear your voice."
"Yup, that's what a phone is, in essence. Nowadays we use it for a lot of things, but basically, you can call people on it and you'll hear their voice and talk to them, no matter how far away from you they are. Isn't that cool?"
"How very fascinating." you could hear his amusement through the phone.
"Oh, I just have one more thing to do! I'll come back in a moment!" you ended the call, running back to where you were before.
"I got suprised for a moment. The phone made a strange noise and I couldn't hear you anymore." he cleared his throat. He must have panicked a bit when you hung up. How cute. "Calling someone is definitely much more convenient than sending them a letter."
You just realised that he's probably been sending physical, handwritten letters to everyone up until this point which makes him even more charmingly old-timey in your eyes. How funny is that?
"Give the phone here for a moment." you requested and when he did so, you opened the camera app and turned it towards the two of you to take a selfie. You could see him inspect himself through the phone.
"I see, so it functions as a mirror, too. What a marvel."
"Well, do I have news for you. This is the camera app, and we're going to take a photo together. Now smile!" you nudged him slightly and he smiled very awkwardly and unnaturally. Oh well, you'll take it.
You snapped the photo, setting it as his lockscreen.
"Here, now you have a photo of me and you as your background!" he took the phone back, staring at your face on the screen.
"I actually have something I have to be doing right now, so I'll continue teaching you about phones later! Call me if you need anything! Oh, and I'll save your number too, don't worry!" You waved to him, running down the hallway.
"Goodbye." he said back, immediately looking back down at your picture with him. Your face is truly precious in it. He is very glad to be in possession of a photo of you.
He knew you were the right person to ask.
.
The reason he decided to buy a phone was that he felt sad because he couldn't talk to anyone without a disconnect. Ignoring the fact that most of his classmates are afraid of him, they wouldn't be able to find common ground in hobbies and conversation topics regardless.
So he thought that maybe he could start by getting a phone upon hearing students discuss phone cases and the like. Surely, understanding what the masses currently enjoy would make him more approachable.
He is eternally thankful to you for helping him out.
You're very welcoming to him and that makes him indescribably happy. One day he'll repay you with all the things you could ever want. He has the abilities to do that, after all.
Maybe he should give you something as a thank you next time you meet, actually. What did you say you enjoyed again?
That's what he thought about as he looked at his lockscreen on his bed that night. If only you saw the way he smiled at your photo.
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ââËïœĄâ SHE'S BACK!
GUESS HE COULDN'T KEEP IT IN, SO HE HAD TO KEEP IT INSIDE! âËâč⥠dilf!gojo satoru x teacher!reader
tags: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, exhibitionism, getting caught, he fucks you while he's on the phone, overstimulation, dumbfication, fluff, gojo has an ex-wife, yuuji is gojo's son, age-gap.
A/N: well, this was surely and adventure and maybe self-indulgent title because guess what?, i'm back baby.
It was a nice morning, he felt clean. Like his life was finally steadying. Even after some stressful weeks trying to get rid of his now ex-wife, he won the trial and kept Yuuji. Poor little boy, just turning 5 years old and heâs already facing all this type of stress. But thankfully he will not be experiencing enduring his crazy mother behavior. Which basically was a gold digger, and a bitchâ Not that he would ever say that outloud, maybe with other words? Bastard? Witch? Not that it really matters right now.
He could finally take a break now, just focusing on raising his little boy, and being an old boring 31 year old dad. Life doesnât sound that bad.
âDaddy! Daddy!,â His son went running to his arms, almost stumbling by himself- clear happiness shown on his face. Quickly, Gojo opened his arms ready to lift the young kid. âMiss Y/N congratulated me on my homework! She was pretty amazed!â
Your name wasnât unknown to him, Yuuji was very open when talking about his favorite teacher, even though he hasnât seen you yet- from what heâs been told youâre the kidâs favorite, including Yuujiâs. âI had to talk about whoâs my hero, and I chose you!â If this day wasnât going great, it was now. Because his son's comment just made his whole week, life even.
âOh look dad!â The little boy pointed towards your moving frame, each time getting clñoser towards them. âDaddy, this is Miss Y/N!â Yuuji kept presenting the both of you. He was really excited to present his two favorite persons to each other- but all Gojo could think of whatâs how young and beautiful you looked. He expected someone older, maybe even an old lady with wrinkles and that loving grandma vibes, but what he saw made his heart beat in a way he never thought he would feel ever more.
âDaddy? Are you paying attention?â The little boy gained Gojoâs attention back, face now looking at him again. âIâm sorry kiddo, kinda just zoned out there. What did you just say?â
âUhh, what was it? Oh! Did I tell you Miss Y/N told me you were a very handsome man?â
âYuuji!â His gaze moved towards your blushed face, a hand covering part of your face. âIâm so sorry Mr.Gojo, I didnât intend to say-â
Gojo cut you off before you could continue apologizing âItâs okay, I also think Ms.Y/N is a very beautiful woman.âÂ
Uh, well. So this is how kinda you found yourself in this situation right now.
You swear it wasnât your intention! You really tried, you really did, but how could someone say no to Mr.Gojo? And mostly because he really showed his attraction towards you. Sending Yuuji with a rose for you every day, and the little boy was rooting for his dad, because dear god- he did not shut up about him, and how happy he would be with a new girlfriend and maybe one he could call âmommyâ and give him a sister.Â
That made you blush.Â
Not only because the little boy commented on it, and was agreeing- but because it was his dadâs idea.
âYouâre so wet, s-shit.â Loud thrusts filled the room, he was fucking you raw on his sofaâ waiting for Yuujiâs mom to bring him back, the little boy was eager to come back and âsee Ms.Y/N and his daddy finally starting to fall in loveâ
Kids being kids. But, he was right- the both of you were falling in love with eachother.
Gojo throws back his head, immersed in the warmth radiating off your walls and he lets your moans take him to another world. In a haste decision, he slips your dress over your head before tossing it. He mouths at your tits, plump and stiff between his lips, and he hurdles a deeper round of thrusts inside you.Â
When you get a little too loud, his hand comes over to clamp your mouth, wolf like eyes staring back at you, âShut it. You donât deserve to speak.â
His thin white tee that stays a barrier between you and him does not hide the rippling body underneath that seemed to be sculpted by gods. He presses into you, grunting, using you like his personal sex doll and you embrace it, thrive from it, come to it. Your hips contract, slewing in perfect circles, before having your legs fall gradually lifeless as you arousal drip down your thighs.
âFfffucckkk- oh baby, would you like that? Be full of me and my baby? Make me a daddy again?â
âyesyesyesyes, make me yours Mr.Gojo-âÂ
He pays your climax no mind,a smirk clearly showing on his face while he fucks you on his sofa- You could muffle your screams of pleasure easier here. Turning your head back to face him, you notice now heâs shirtlessâtaut and shiny from sweat like a large set of Hawaiian rollsâbefore seeing how quick he is to fit back inside you.
âGood girl.â His husky voice resonates and pushes you back into the sheets. âGood girls get rewards, donât they?â Your poor fucked up mind couldnât think clearly now. The way your abused and overstimulated pussy was still taking his rock hard cock gratefully inside you was making every feel giddy. A sudden noise bringing back a little part of your senses, Gojo clearly grunting grabbed his what you suppose phone, and answered. Not bothering to stop his thrusts.
âYeah?,â His voice sounded almost like a whisper because of how breathy it was. âGojo? Iâm almost at your house- Yuuji wanted some ice-cream and bought some for you and⊠your new girlfriend?â His chuckle interrupted his ex-wifeâs conversation, accompanied with a whimper at the feeling of you clenching on him- overstimulation clearly bringing you back to climax soon again.
A slap was heard from his part of the line, an unbelievable laugh coming from his ex-wife line, clearly noticing what was going on and then she finally heard you moan. You couldnât keep it in anymore, and you were too fucked out to feel embarrased about it right now.
âFinish before I leave Yuuji- Enjoy yourself.â Gojo was so lost in pleasure that he didnât even realize she hung up before he even processed what happened.
His grunts and sounds of skins slapping are all you hear as he pounds you back into the sofa. It feels like heaven beneath his weight. You were feeling flushed to the touch, but making contact with his skin was like an inferno. He was the embodiment of heat and as suffocating as that couldâve been, it melts you like itâs how it always shouldâve been.
His pace eventually falters, followed by a hushed âfuck,â and he empties out into your used hole. The moment he pulled out, a knock was heard.Â
âShit. Can you walk?â
PART 2
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guilty pleasures (part 1 )
m. sturniolo x reader
authors note: this picture is actually sickening, need him too bad đ€
this is all creds to my bae @iheartchrissturniolo thanks for the idea hun < 3 (part 2 including your idea yet to come)
summary: matt has a bit of a crush on his best friend, heâs fantasising ;)
warnings: smut, swearing !!
âââ ââ
ââ
â ââ
she looked heavenly by the pool today, irresistible to the point where my heart ached. i knew i couldnât have her, iâve only been reminding myself everyday for the past 6 years and itâs agonising.
the way the droplets of water fell off her golden skin, the bikini that accentuated her curves, oh so perfectly. and knowing i chose it for her was like the cherry on top of the cake. blue- my favourite colour - and hell she knew it when she bought it, she even told me. âi wonder why you picked this oneâ i remember her slight giggle after she said it, voice like silk, one that plays in my head at night.
she drags her hand through her hair, shaking it a little to get rid of the water, and boy do i wish it was me doing that. for me to be the one to look after her, to do the small things that werenât so small to me. her eyes are closed and even though sheâs been in the water, her makeup remained flawless - not that she needed it, she was absolutely gorgeous with and without.
she didnât think this however, always telling me how she wishes she looked like anybody else. if she could only see what i see, just for a second, sheâd never think that again. sheâs better than any supermodel, the âprettiest of girlsâ according to society werenât a touch on her. plus, they didnât come with her personality- sheâs a real life angel and iâve been blessed with even being in her presence.
i would spend every minute and every hour of my day telling her every little thing i love about her from the colour of her nails to the shape of her lips, i donât care about the dents in her thighs or the stretch marks on her stomach, sheâs perfect.
sheâs walking closer to me with an arm outstretched, my eyes landing on the matching tattoo she has with me and i smile. i sometimes forget we had that done, which almost instantly brings me back to reality that she is and always will just be my best friend. i cannot afford to lose someone as special as her which is why i have to push those feelings to the side, as much as we want to be free.
her being so close to me and looking at me with those eyes, dark eyes that could mean so many things, made my cheeks blush the slightest red and i become desperate to hide this. what kind of friend blushes like a crazed guy in love when they look at them? itâs just a look, god.
âyou got a towel?â there was that voice again, a voice i wish was in my ear forever. it wasnât high - pitched nor was it deep, it was just in the middle, soothing. reminds me of the times where she held me whilst i cried, the bestest friend there is. reminds me of when she was so utterly drunk and slurring over her words, what was it again?
ïżŒ ââââââź
âmattâ she prods at my arm, waking me up.
âwassupâ she frowns looking at my tired state, moving her hand to push hair out of my eyes.
âiâve got a secretâ i frown now, itâs 3am goddamn.
âwhatâs thatâ
âyou promise you wonât tell anyone?â those little doe eyes drive me crazy, keep looking at me like that and iâll have an accident.
âi promiseâ she leans in closer to my ear, her hot breath on my skin.
âi had a dream about you the other dayâ now iâve piped up. i donât care about the time or the sleep in my eyes, she fucking dreamt about me, iâm wide awake.
âoh yeah? good or bad?â
âdependsâ
âwhatâd you mean, depends?â once again, driving me crazy. she just knows how to do it.
âwell, it depends how you take it.â
âgo on.â iâm begging for this now, i need to know what the fuck happened, itâs killing me.
âwell, we were doing something,â she twirls my hair in her hand, not looking me in the eyes yet all i can focus on is her and her words. âsomething best friends donât do.â
âlike what?â
âfucking.â
â°âââââŻ
held a chokehold over me. every night when i got in to bed i imagined her sleepy self, squirming about in her sheets to the idea of me pounding into her. suddenly i didnât feel so bad about the hundreds of wet dreams iâve had âbout her, weâre even.
but it only made me more delusional that we could actually be something. she was drunk and it was a dream, i was being dramatic if i thought it was actually something.
âyeah, itâs just there.â i say, pointing to the floor. she bends down to pick it up and i get the best sight of her boobs, pressed against the fabric of her bikini, pushed together ever so slightly. they looked so smooth, so pretty. something i just couldnât take my eyes off..
âhello? matt?â she swipes her hand in front of my face and iâm so utterly embarrassed, knowing iâd been fixated on her tits. what an assy thing to do, how do i even begin to explain something like that?
âi- uh- iâm sorry! i wasnât-â she smiles at me and reaches out to scruff my hair, once again her boobs being directly in my face. is she doing this on purpose? because iâm about to cum in my pants.
âi take it you just really like your choice of bikini, hm?â she laughs, moving the towel to rest it on her hip as she turns around and struts off towards our house. she fucking knows what she does, not just to me but everyone.
iâve been ignoring the poking in my pants for a while but itâs more prominent then ever now and i need to do something about it or iâm gonna come undone right here right now. it might be pervy but i quite literally cannot be around her when sheâs close to naked, my mind travels to the dirtiest of places and to be honest, iâm careless.
if sheâs going to act so calm about riling me up like that, then iâm gonna embrace the way she makes me feel. how she makes my cheeks hot and the wet patch that forms in my boxers when she whispers in my ear or now, shoving her boobs in my face.
praying that my jeans cover my painfully obvious hard-on, i quickly walk into the house, making a bee line for my bedroom, desperate to do something about what was happening in my pants.
âyou okay, matt?â shes looking at me with a frown, the towel in her hair now as she begins to dry it, still wearing that flattering bikini that is just about to tip me over the edge.
âmhm, i- um, just need to do something.â i look around to see if my brothers are anywhere to be seen, something to distract me from this conversation, i so desperately need to get to that bedroom.
âoh? whyâd you look so flustered?â she says with a smug, little smile.
âno reason. i just- i just need a second.â i go to walk away. as much as i would love to stay and talk, right now that is not what i need.
âneed my help?â
tags: @strniohoeee @sturnsbaby @sturniolopepsi @malsturns @mattslolita @mattitties @mattsbratt @mattsturniolos @mattsturniolosgf @chrisdevora @christinarowie332 @chrisolivia4l @ilovemattsturn @sturniolossmut @sturnioloswife @sturniolosstar @freshlovehacker @kirby0strombolli @recklesssturniolo @lovingmattysposts @oversturn @ilovemattsturn @urfavstromboli @estelleswrld @strawberrysturniolo @dailysturniolo @deatthmatch @hoesformatt @justangelheree @klarasmith @kvtie444 @cabincorematt @caitifilms @bluesturniolo333 @mattsturnioloswattpad
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dick had bruce as a partner. there was a mentorship there yes, but at the end of the day dick & bruce were a team.
jason had bruce as a father. bruce took him and made the extra effort. he actually adopted jay and stayed home when jason was sick.
tim had bruce as a liability.
tim went to bruce- bruce never found him. i just really love the idea that because of the difference in dynamic, tim is one of the few people who can shame bruce into compliance so easily.
dick and bruce will get into shouting matches that neither one of them walk away from being satisfied, bruce is an unmovable object and dick is an unstoppable force. when they meet, its not pretty and there is almost always collateral damage.
jason and bruce are like setting off two firecrackers next to each other when they fight. it's loud, it's bright, but it burns off fast. the anger and righteous fury is there one moment but then gone the next.
tim and bruce fight differently, because a lot of the time, tim understands where bruce is coming from. he saw bruce start on his path to self destruction and managed to get him to switch tracks. bruce was never the same after jason's death (what parent is after seeing their child die) but batman was able to correct himself. after stepping into the role of robin, tim understood. he too lost so many people he cared about because of the weight of the cape he wore.
and i think the first time that damian and bruce go head to head, dick may be the one who comforts damian and assures him of his place in the family, but tim is the one who goes to bruce. it's the first time bruce has ever seen tim this angry. tim is seething with a fury that would put the devil himself to shame. he is so angry that he is shaking and bruce can the restraint that tim is using to keep the discussion from becoming physical. tim tells bruce, or rather lectures him, in all the ways that he has fucked up with dick ('kicking him out, never officially adopting him, forcing him to go through with the spyral mission- you treat him as your partner when its convenient but the moment it's not he is your soldier again. its unfair bruce. he's more of a man, more of a father than you have ever been'), with jason ('do i even need to say it? actually, let me address it. you cannot see the forest past the trees. jason isn't who he was before he died. he never will be. same as you. he lost a lot more than his life when the joker blew him up. he lost his innocence, he lost his faith in you. i'm starting to think he may have been right') and with himself ('i love you bruce. i have always cared so deeply about you and your mission. it's why i came to dick in the first place. but this isn't about me.').
and bruce remembers why his relationship with tim is so different. tim trained overseas, tim got to patrol on his own as robin so much sooner than his other boys did. tim was largely unsupervised during his run with the young justice. tim had made up an entire fake uncle to keep his indepence. tim would never argue with bruce about himself in this way, but he would argue about- ('this is about damian. and i swear to god bruce. if you can't pull that stick out of your ass and find a way to apologize to damian that leaves him feeling properly taken care of. superman himself wouldn't be enough to save you from my wrath.')
and it's only later, after bruce does apologize to damian in a way that leaves dick speechless. when barbra happened upon the cave's security footage that she shares with dick who shares with steph who shares with jason that his family figures out just how fitting of a last name that drake is for tim.
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itâs never over âŽïž cl16
genre: childhood friends to friends with benefits to lovers (a mouthful), smut, humor, Fluffff!!!!, several references to 70âs music,Â
word count: 12.9k Â
You must have lost the plot along the way, because pretending to date your childhood best friend was not on your 2023 bingo card. (Neither was the fact that things are looking a lot more real as time passes.)
nsfw warnings under the cut!
18+ because... handjob (f receiving), penetrative sex, semi public sex, praise central, size kink
auds here⊠hi hi hi!!! youâve no idea how much i missed writing posting and interacting w u guys. thank u for all the love & follows iâve gotten in my periods of mia. more things soon i promise ty for ur patience love love love u allll đđ€đ€ đ this is my love letter to fic tropes. i feared if it was too long iâd lose the plot somehow so i had to condense it. i truly hope u all like it :) will try & reopen reqs sometime soon to get inspo kicking
Itâs later than late. The lights are strobing purple and blue, the âletâs get you even drunker than you areâ headache inducing kind. The floor is crowded, swelling with teenagers who are probably too young to get in, drunk off cheap aperol and watered-down tequila shots. Youâre balancing yourself on a barstool, one hand busy wrapped around a slim glass, the other clawing your miniskirt lower because the air bites at your legs.
âAnother voddy Red Bull!â Youâre slurring, mind spinning almost as fast as your vision. You almost drop your empty glass in your rush to look for another oneâbut right as it slips clumsily out of your fingers, itâs caught.Â
Charles, your cocktailâs knight in armor and yours just as well, is eighteen. His hair is light brown and long, but not draping over his eyes like before. You know before because youâve never not known beforeâCharles has been your best friend since you were five.
Snoopy, he says, voice steady and calm in your ear. His frame is still lanky but heâs tall and his grip on your shoulders is enough to quell the yelling. You pout. Get me another voddy red, you plead. Charlie, itâs my birthday. He smiles to himself, knowing your visionâs too cloudy to see him and your mindâs too bogged to remember any of this. Youâd already slipped up and told two bouncers you were seventeen and not eighteen, like your poorly-Photoshopped ID suggested; Charles had to keep you in check, lest you or your friends end up kicked out of the club.
A song booms in through the speakers and your eyes widen with recognition. Charles doesnât anticipate your reaction fast enough, affording only a stumble backwards when you attempt to leave the barstool to dance. He swears under his breath, mind recounting the five previous dance sessions that left you exhausted and out of breath earlier.
Iâll get you a vodka Red Bull if you sit down, he tells you. He enunciates because, twelve years later, you still canât wrap your mind around his thick European accent. Sit down.
Alriiiight! You hoot, throwing two fists up in the air. Customary for many bartenders on nights as busy as this one, a free shot is thrust into your vacant hand and you cheer loudly, much to Charlesâ chagrin. With whatever malice the eighteen-year-old can muster, he casts the bartender a dirty look before turning to face you again, worried. He places a hand on your shoulder and watches, half-anxious and half-endeared, you take the shot and visibly grimace at the raw taste. Fuck. Itâs gin I think, you sputter. Charles presses: You okay?
More than, you holler, smiling. I am officially seventeeeeâÂ
The bartenderâs eyebrows furrow, the thirty-something businessman in the adjacent stool turns to lookâso Charles has no choice but to shut you up, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours before you can seal your fate.
Your eyes widen briefly, and when Charles feels the passed seconds are sufficient, he pulls away. You stare, eyes hazy, at the pretty boy youâve had feelings for since you turned fourteen, and lean in to kiss him again.Â
â
Pascale is hosting her weekly Sunday brunch at the Leclerc residence, all French windows and wide kitchens and bowls of fruit. As always, your place is at the kitchen island picking at plates to taste test them. Bonjour, Arthur drawls when he walks in. He turns to Pascale. Mum. Then you. Snoopy.
You halt biting into your forkful of arugula and turn toward the younger Leclerc, eyebrows raised. âWhatâd you just call me?â
âSnoopy,â he says simply. Heâs beside Pascale, one arm wrapped around her affectionately. âOr, Snoops, if you like that. Yes?â
âWho told you about that nickname?â
âLorenzo.â
âHasnât been in use since your voice was cracking every sentence.â
âTĂȘte de noeud.â Pascale swats his arm and he yelps, so you resume your arugula with satisfaction.
Charles is late for reasons he did not disclose, but everyone is used to it. The open kitchen door stretches into the front yard, where the table is set up and Lorenzo is setting the places. You know that although you usually expect a few more relatives, todayâs just for the familyâand you, but youâre basically family.
âHow is Paris?â Arthur asks, licking hummus off a spoon opposite you. Your position is reminiscent of how you spent afternoons after school with Charles before, and the memory strikes a chord in you. Strange nostalgia, fondness.
âItâs fine.â
âOh really?â He laughs in-between nibbles of carrot.
âI got an offer for a higher position,â you relent. Pascale calls you both, and you get up and walk toward the yard to sit down. âIf you must know.â
âOh? Let me know how that goes.â He follows you, carrot slice in hand, chewing. The conversation is cut short by the smooth noise of Charlesâ decidedly un-smooth parking outside.
Youâre seated at your usual spotâin-between Charles and Lorenzo, across Arthurâwhen the former finally walks into the yard. He looks tired, moreso than usual, bags under his eyes deep and hair a bit more disheveled.
He sits beside you. âI need to talk to you.â Then, quieter, âPrivate.â
You hum confusedly, eyes flitting across the three other people at the table to gauge their reactions. Theyâre equally aloof. âWhânow?â He nods.
You end up talking in the kitchen. Heâs sighing the whole fifteen steps there, rubbing the bridge of his nose, exhaling, inhaling. Ever observant, and of someone as close to you as he is, you pick up on the tiny actions, behaviors. Charles is wringing his hands. Heâs tried to pop the same knuckle twice. He isnât franticâheâs scared. You lean against the counter, waiting, eyes looking him up and down to identify his exact emotions.
âTell me,â you press. âWhatever it is, I wonât judge.â
âTheâmyâthe iCloud of my phone has been leaked. The press found out.â
When you were eight and he was nine, you and Charles summered in Villefranche with your mum and dad. The weather then was the kind you could write love letters to and aboutâblue skies, salty wind, soft sand. The current was calm enough that you could ride the gentle waves without fear of going under or straying far from the shore, where your parents sunbathed blissfully.
Donât drown, heâd warned you, ever protective. You wore pink floaties over your arms, so it was already difficult to.
You dove under with great effort, fighting against the buoyancy, and poked his bare knee, surfacing to watch his reaction. He grimaced. Slowpoke, you teased, swimming away. You wondered then what it might feel to drown. Maybe not in the blue water of Villefranche, but anywhere else.
You think it hurts to drown? You blubbered, bobbing above the wave. Charles swam in front of you and wiped water off your face gently. I hope you never find out, he said, smiling.
But this is you finding out. This is it now, the drowning. Your fingers flex over the edge of the counter and you gulp, eyes fluttering with nerves. âShit?â It comes out like a question from how nervous you are. âUm, sorry. What are weââ But your question is cut short by Pascaleâs voice, cutting through the tension like itâs wet cardboard. The agreement is silent and mutual: save this discussion for later.
â
Charles canât wake up fast enough. There are calls, texts, voicemails from every officer on his team, which isnât that surprising given heâs up two hours late. But the amountâthe sheer amount of notifications is dizzying. Overwhelmed, he finds it in himself to pull up his search engine app and let his fingers possess themselves.
All he types is his last name, and then The Sun article is splashed onto his face like a pot of scalding coffee: âF1 DRIVER ICLOUD LEAKED, PERSONAL PHOTOS ALL OVER INTERNET.â Daily Mail is next, of course, watering down the situation to seem more dirty and scandalous: âNaughty Driver? Charles Leclercâs iCloud Hacked, Reveals Mystery Girl.â And then of course Page Six, who doesnât miss a beatâ
Wait. He blinks and presses the back arrow to return to the previous webpage. He reads over it again, slower this time. Mystery Girl? Shitâno. No way. Itâs almost (it should be) silly, the way heâs reading vigorously over the reports like heâs a fan, but heâs anxious. He scrolls, because if any tabloid is daft enough to publish the leaked photos, itâs got to be the Daily Mail.
He pauses his quick swiping when his eyes harden with recognition, and staring back at him, on his phoneâs full brightness, is a picture of you on his lap at Christmas. Itâs the one Lance took while attempting to guess Charlesâ password, one of you wine drunk with his head buried in your neck.
Itâs unmistakably him, at his own house in Monaco where the drivers had a holiday get-together. Itâs unmistakably you, hair draped over your face, three gold rings on your fingers. You had just given him a Strokes vinyl, he recalls. Thatâs why you were hugging.
Thereâs another one of you playing Scrabble in his bedâheâs not in the frame, but he remembers taking it. This, he could deny. Heâs not in it, and heâs pretty sure the fans donât know his house this well. Already his brainâs doing manual damage control, dread filling his veins at the thought of reading through his teamâs frantic messages.
Another message stands out, pinned on top of all the othersâfrom his mum, reminding him about brunch. He gets ready half-focused, half-lucid. Fully worried. He worries about the PR crisis this may cause, about his iCloud security, about the reactions online. Above all, though, he worries about you. About what he should tell the press. About how âactually, weâre not dating, we just fuck constantlyâ might hold up for the fans.
â
Youâre twelve and Charles thirteen, both of you seated across HervĂ© and Pascale. Behind them stand your own parents, and they all look stern. What this is, Pascale says gently, is a family meeting. Okay?
Okay. It leaves your high voices in shaky unison. You both know what youâre doing hereâyou snuck out of school to catch a movie earlier, the teacher naturally caught wind of the misdeed, and now youâre in a meeting for it.
Snoops, Charles whispers, trying to ease your nerves with lighthearted commentary. This is the worst.
No, you want to tell preteen Charlesâthis is. Youâre older now, yet still subjected to similar questioning, though today itâs Pascale going solo. Itâs been three days since the fated day where the press leaked the pictures of you and Charles in compromising positions, and like any boomer, sheâs used Facebook to her advantage and gotten ahold of the compromising pictures, too.Â
âHow long?â Her voice is enunciated in hard syllables.
âMumââ
âAnswer the question.â She looks back and forth, moving into territory of intense questions. âBoth of you.â
âUm.â
âBecause⊠Iâve beenâŠâ
You notice it immediately, given your observant track record: her shoulders relax and her lips smile just slightly. You sit still, and wait for the next words out of her mouth. ââŠwaiting for this all my life!â
You and Charles watch in mild horror as Pascaleâs face goes from firm to absolutely elated. Her eyes soften and a smile spreads over her face, illuminating her with pure joy. Do you even know how many bets I made with your papa, Charles? She claps her hands together several times.
Charles opens his mouth to verbalize dissent, but she doesnât take itâsheâs already droning on and on about how long sheâs waited for this to finally happen. Your eyes glide over to the doorway of the dining area, where Lorenzo and Arthur watch with smug looks on their faces. Little shits wonât help you. You donât even try to protest, and at some point Charles gives up, too. You donât know how itâll come across, anyway.
Ninety minutes later, youâre in Arthurâs bedroom rifling through his desk and praying you donât find anything too gross. Heâs on his bed throwing a bouncy ball up in the air, conversing with Charles about your gameplan with their mum.
The sky outside is in limbo between afternoon and night. Itâs cloudy, so the sunset is a pale yellow instead of angry orange. âWhy not just tell her the truth?â
Youâd also thought that was the easiest option, escape route, exit path. But that would involve breaking Pascaleâs heart, and that was out of the question for you, let alone Charles, certified mommyâs boy.
âI canât, Arthur.â Charlesâ voice is steady and unwavering.
âYou can.â
âNo.â
âFine. Next best thing then.â
You fiddle with a Rubikâs cube, then turn in the seat. âWhat?â
âPretend youâre dating.â
âArthur,â you say seriously. âShut up.â But he doesnât join you, and you realize neither does Charles. You stare blankly at both of them, unwilling to believe theyâd actually bank on this as an actual plan.Â
âYou guys realize this kind of thing never works? Zero percent success rate.â
âItâs just paddock appearences. Youâre not pretending for millions of people,â Arthur says, shrugging. He catches the ball and throws it to youâyou catch it one-handed. âYouâre pretending for Mum.â
âSure. And by extension, millions of people. Are you dense, or do you think the paddock appearances will just breeze by everyone who saw the leaks?â
âUghhh. Youâre acting like itâs impossible.â Arthur holds his breath before he utters the next sentence. âLike you two arenât fucking every other wââ
ââoh, my God!â Shocked, you get up, and so does Charles. âWhâIâmâlanguage, Arthur!â
Charles balks. âHow did you evenââ
âI didnât. But merci mille fois for confirming my theory,â Arthur quips faux-sweetly, smiling dopily. âI mean, I was going to find out! Your pictures are so⊠intimate. So just pretend to date and throw Maman off your scent.â
You protest briefly, wrestling with the option, and reconvene on the bed, you cross-legged and leaning on Charlesâ shoulder and Arthur in front of the both of you. Heâs always had a knack for schemesâhe never got caught sneaking out, which destroyed your and Charlesâ record of being caught twelve times by either of your parents. Itâs a bit childish, but he gets the job done.
âDo it for⊠letâs say a month. Tell Mum youâve been dating a whileâChristmas isnât that long ago, and that was the least recent picture. Dâaccord?â
You both nod, hyperfocused.Â
âDuring race weekends, be all over each otherâshouldnât be hardâespecially in front of Mum. People might catch you doing it, but I wouldnât worry.â
âNo, waitâI mean.â You shrug. âPeopleâtifosiâthey know Iâm Charlesâ friend. Theyâre going to be all over the fact that weâre apparently dating.â
âDonât worry. Weâll use palatable density,â Charles says, nodding.
You pause. Arthur does, too, sensing something off.
âYou mean plausible deniability.â Your deadpan voice is tinged with amusement, muffled into his shoulder.Â
âRight, ouais, that.â He smiles, chuckling a bit; his shoulder shakes with it and your head nearly slips off. He brings a hand to cup over your jaw and hold you steady. âSorry.â
âSâfine.â You sigh. âIâm totally okay with this. Just worried itâs going to have unintended consequences.â
Arthur quells you with rushed explanations about how itâll be over and you two can say something like we decided weâre better off as friends to really sell the thing. At the seven-minute mark of your and Charlesâ intense interrogation, he promptly kicks you out to figure out if youâre willing to do it yourselves.
You wedge yourself into Charlesâ front seat, knowing you were headed to his place anyway. You massage your temples with one hand and fiddle with the hem of your shorts with the other. Nervous. Antsy. âDid Fred say anything?â
âGot the IT team to fortify my account.âÂ
âYou think this thingâs going to be okay from a professional standpoint?â You look up and toward him; heâs already gazing at you, eyes soft. âIâm worried. Plus, with my job offer thing in London and New Yââ
âDonât be.â He starts the car and maneuvers out of the driveway, into the dips of Monaco streets and the familiar route back to his place. âBitter with the sweet. The only thing you need to worry aboutââhe takes your hand in the centre console, laces your fingers together looselyââis your acting skills.â
âGod, youâre right.â You sigh, looking out the window. âHow am I going to pretend I can stand you?â Then, for good measure, you squeeze his hand wrapped in yours.
â
You visit Monaco from uni in London over spring, and for the first time in months, your schedule aligns with Charlesââthough you learn this indirectly when you visit the Leclerc home. Pascale, of course, is the one who tells you his new flatâs address before she presses a kiss to your cheek and then leaves to run errands in the city. Alone, and in a burst of excitement, you make the drive there, take the elevator upstairs and shove the door open without knocking. Heâs there. Your Charles. You can tell because the music he plays is loudâThe Kooksâlike his ears are still fourteen and not twenty-one, like heâs still in middle school and not in Formula One.
âSave your eardrums,â you say, before beelining toward the couch and leaping onto him for a hug. He sits up to match your energy, arms wrapping around you, sitting up straighter to keep you from totally falling atop him.Â
âHowâs uni?â
âShit,â you say into his hair. It smells like his shampoo and his favorite cologne. Clean, soapy. âObviously. Howâs the Ferrari?âÂ
âAmazing.â He smiles. âObviously. Howâd you know I was in? Mum told you?â
âOuais. Sheâs running errands. Listen, can we drink tonight?â You sigh, parting from the hug and sitting across him.
Yeah, sure. His voice is concerned, thick with worry. You shake your headâitâs not that deep, you tell him. Itâs justâI had a bad date before I left and itâs put me in the worst mood.
Oh? He leans back, clasping two hands behind his head as he goes.What happened? He laughs.Â
You tense visibly, rolling your eyes despite yourself. âHe was just weird. Nothing.â
He wiggles his eyebrows. âYou shy, Snoops?â
Ha-ha. You roll your eyes, but your face is flushed and your gaze avoids him. You reach up to tuck the loose strands of hair by your ears behind them, face warm. Youâd never talked with Charles about boys or flings beforeâmaybe several times, but never in full detail. It was always vague umbrella statements, like Ryan is boring or Greg is such a prick, but never anything beyond that. Come to think of it, you donât know why, either.
âYou can tell me.â
âTheâwhen weâI had to fake,â you say cuttingly. âYou know.â
He purses his lips and smiles, eyebrows furrowing. I donât, actually. Something unnamed trills through youâthrough your stomach and into your fingertips. Your first time talking to your best friend in real life after months of uni and racing and this is the topic? Itâs, if anything, a sign of your growing up, you guess.
Charles lets up on the teasing and you end up rejecting the club in lieu of sharing a bottle of vodka, throwing it back raw and without any type of chaser (to really prove nothing at all; you donât even know why any sane human would do this). You do a Just Dance party on his TV, even try out drunk sim racing and FIFA, but by the end youâre well exhausted and retired to the couch again.
His voice is wavy and tipsy when he speaks. âYou really had to fake it?â
âYeah.â You pout. âCan neverâum, finish, I dunno.â Your inhibitionâs gone, shame loosened and untied by the vodka. You shift in your position on the couch.
âMaybe because it was too casual.â His voice hardens.
âSo youâre saying I shouldâŠâ You swallow dryly, eyes fluttering. âSleep with somebody I know?â Youâve dropped the implication and it floats up, hangs above.
His eyes flick over to your legs, folded on the couch. The hem of your shorts. Your fingers playing with your empty shot glass. He didnât mean anything by that. Heâs half-sure you didnât.Â
âI am just saying that a good friend would do that for you.â
âYouâre a good friend,â you say, volume low.Â
Five minutes later youâve properly crashed into each other, him pinning you down against the couch, licking fire up your throat. His lips trail across your jaw.Â
He dips a hand into your shorts, presses against your clothed core. Heâs smiling. So wet for me. Heâs got his mouth pressed messily up to your jaw, when he sinks one finger all the way in, slow and stretching; and youâre clenching around himâ
Come on, heâs saying. Insisting. Youâre trembling, yanking desperately at his hair as he pumps his finger slowly in and out of you, aching to be full of him, to take him deeper.Â
He slips another one in, and you feel the cold of his ring pressed against your entrance, then heâs fucking them into you and youâre leaking around them.Â
Yes, yeah, Charlesâyouâre gasping, airy breaths tapering into whimpers that sound sinful, desperate. He knows you so well already. Presses his fingers against your sweet spot, watches your eyes flutter.
So needy, and youâre chanting his name under your breath as he quickens his pace, craving the stretch of him desperately. I know you want to cum, baby. Heâs calling you baby and youâre closer, so much closer. Come on, for me, yeah?Â
You melt, crashing and crumpling into him and shuddering as you release all over his fingers. He presses his forehead to yours and lets you take a beat. You feel giddy and dizzy and warm, which is weird because you donât feel drunk at all anymore. This dizziness is something different. Itâs Charles.
âAre we going to do that again?â You ask meekly, hand still in his hair.
âOnly if you want. Whatever you want,â he says. Heâd do anything for you. Heâd do whatever you wanted.
âI do, I do want.â And Charles, the good friend he is, helps you out.
â
Imola is humid, warm, and the racetrack is absolutely teeming with people. But youâre not thereâclad in linen shorts and a fresh tank top, youâre walking around the vicinity of the track, cup of gelato in hand, sunglasses over your eyes. The restaurant near you is playing music out loud. Beside you, singing along and drafting a list of wedding appetizers, is Lorenzo.
âLamb chops?â You suggest, licking amaretto off the plastic spoon. The weather is pleasant enough that people are crowding the streets without it being too unbearably hot. Stevie Wonder flows from the speakers, permeates the entire block.
âI was thinking more seafood.â Â
âTuna? Make âem little tacos.â
âGood idea. Think Iâll go for those. Hey, are you sure youâre on board with fake-dating my brother?â
You turn sharply toward him, taken aback. He hadnât brought it up in the week and a half this plan had been in the worksâheâd been privy to it the entire time, too, which makes it weirder that heâs asking so suddenly.
âI meaaanâŠâ You slow your pace, contemplative. A shy smile plays at your lips, brows knitted together. âItâs only going to be for a month. Ish. So, yeah. Are youâdo youâsorry. Is it alright with you? Sorry.â
âIt is not not okay.â
âSo itâsâŠâ You pause. âOkay.â
âItâsâyes, but I worry, is all. How sure are you that this wonât hurt anyone?â
âI donât know, itâs⊠bitter with the sweet. And whoâs getting hurt⊠like the fans?â You laugh a little. âTheyâll live, wonât they?â
âLike you.â He pauses. âLike Charles.â
â
Pierre is running a comb through his hair, staring at himself in the mirror; his Narcissus moment is interrupted by a banana to the back of his head. Bonjour, he says, monotone and already knowing the culprit.
âWe need to talk.â
âCould this possibly be about the news of your brand new âgirlfriendâ over last week? Where is she, by the way?â
âWith Lorenzo. Listen, hereâs the thing. Mum thinks weâre dating, and I donât know how to tell her weâre notâso I wonât.â
âLie to your mum, go ahead.â Pierre crosses his arms and hums.
âTais-toi. Itâs for her own good.âÂ
âSo youâre going to pretend to date.â
 âOuais.âÂ
âShould be easy. You guys are hooking up and making out or whatever all the time.â
Charles pauses and lets the silence speak for itself. When Pierre makes a noise of confusion, he gives. We donât kiss, he says finally. She thinks it is too intimate, and we âare not dating,â so sex is the only thing we do. Sex, and if you still have leftover antsy energy, you pull on his shirt and sit up against the headboard to finish a crossword puzzle. Sometimes he helps you, but most of the time heâs just there to press lazy kisses to your hair and temple, cheekbone and jawânever your lips.
âYou donât kiss?â Pierreâs genuinely shocked. âPutain, youâre a hero. How does that even work?â
âWe just do not kiss. We fuck, but no kissing.â He shrugs. âItâs always been that way.â
âSo how about her birthday?â
âShe doesnâtâŠâ Charlex exhales tightly. âRemember.â
âCharles,â you suddenly say, head appearing into the doorway. âOh, hey. Fred said you might be here. What are you guys talking about?â
âSprint racing,â Pierre says, an easy lie.
Charles, though, is never good at the lying bit. âInternational tariffs.â
â
Your only memories of your seventeenth birthday are applying lip gloss and mascara, wearing your shortest skirt and tightest top, and reciting your supposed date of birth in line like a mantra. Anything after thatâs been sprayed off by the ultra-clutch strength of vodka. Which, youâve been told, was your drink of choice.
âHeadacheâs better,â you moan over the phone, face squashed onto your pillow. âMum gave me an Advil but I was so sick all morning.â
âDid you snog anyone?â Charles is always teasing.
âGod, I wish.â You shut your eyes and try to remember if your drunken stupor had somehow managed to get you successful in lip-locked matters. Nothing comes up and you wipe a dry hand over your face, heaving a sigh. âI really wanted to kiss Matthew but I think he left before you and I did.â
A pause. Then Charles clears his throat. âYou mean you and me and the police car that escorted us home?â He snorts.
âYouâre such a prick!â You scream into your pillow, laughing. âI already thanked you for being my literal savior last night.â
He smiles to himself. âYouâre welcome.â
âDid you have fun?â You flop onto your back and stare at the stick-on stars on your ceiling. You make a mental note to try and remove them.
âBit boring because I vowed not to drink at all, but I got to dance. Bitter with the sweet, right?â
â
âNervous?â
âI mean, fuck, yeah.â You fix the hem of your dress, speaking to Giada through the phone. âPascaleâs waiting for us on the paddock. And so are, like, a hundred photographers.â You wince. âCan you even imagine Charles and me? Itâs justâI dunnoâitâs weird.â
âIt isnât,â she says, laughing. âNot really. It makes sense. Plus, arenât you on the whole arrangement?â You envision her air quotes.
âYeah, butââyou slip your sandals onââitâs on and off, and thatâs not dating. Itâs sex. Two different things.â
âIs it really, though? Considering how close you are outside of bed, arenât yââ
âOkay, input no longer needed,â you laugh. âBye, Gi. Iâll text you later.â
You reunite with Charles just by the paddock entrance. The throng of fans holding cutouts and posters notice you two before anyone else does, inciting a collective bout of yells around the both of you. He notices your blue silk dress first, eyes unmoving. âYou look like the sky.â
âThanks, man.â A beat, and you squint through your sunglasses. âThatâs a compliment, right?â
âSure.â
âPrick.â You peek over them and to the fans, who wave more aggressively when they notice youâre looking. Nervously, you raise a hand and wave back, and the noise heightens. âI think Iâm going to be replacing you.â
âDream on. On y va?â
You turn back to him, smiling, and you both enter at the same time. His hand wraps around your waist, dips a bit lower to rest at the small of your back as you walkâthe fans clearly dig it, because everyoneâs yelling in a frenzy as you depart. What are you doing, you ask through your smiling teeth.
âDid you forget weâre supposed to be dating?â He maintains an equally pleasant (totally duplicitous) façade, smiling.Â
âI didnât think,â you say, still smiling falsely, âthat youâd put your hands on me five minutes into the whole agreement.â
âSmile, honey,â he teases. âI see at least five cameras at us right now.â
âItâs seven,â you beam. âDumbass.â
âAgain with the competitive streak.â memory
âI totally deserved to win last weekâs game. Youâre just a sore loser.â
âNo youâre just aâhi, hi, hello!â
Your walk to the motorhome is interrupted by running into a friend of Charlesââsomeone from McLaren, one of the executives there. While Lando has been informed of your stunt, nobody else on that team has.Â
They handshake and he waves at you politely. âWhole paddockâs buzzing with news of you dating,â he says, smiling. âItâs a tad crazy! I remember seeing you as Charlesâ plus one back when he was in Formula Two. And now you two are dating. How didâwell, if you donât mind me asking, whereâd it all happen?â
âOh,â you say, laughing. âYeah, Monaco.â
âTexas,â Charles says at the same time.
Alarm bells go off in your head at the totally random, unwarranted statement out of Charlesâ mouth. Texas? Neither of you have even ever been at the same time. âHe meansââyou say, coughing and noddingââwe went on this, um. Wild West themed, um, restaurant in Monaco, and thatâs where he asked me out.â You make a face that you hope conveys you get it, and it seems to work.
âDefinitely not what I had in mind, but if it worked, it worked, eh?â He grins. âI guess I always knew you two would end up together. Alright, ciao!â
Youâre smiling and waving after him as he leaves, and then youâre (semi) alone again, or at least within your own space on the incredibly crowded paddock.Â
You turn to him, unable to hide your confusion. âUm? Texas?! Whatâs up with the backstories?â
âIt slipped out! Sorry. But nice save.â
âYouâre so fââ You try to scold him, but canât, bursting into laughter and leaning forward to laugh into his chest. âTexas, really?â
âSorry,â he says. You feel the vibration of his own laugh through his chest and itâs warm and nice. You peel yourself off lest you look too clingy, and resume your walk to the motorhome.
Ferrari is crowded, filled with people and strategists and guests. Youâre given a bottle of water and then hounded with questions from the team who havenât been informed of the situation at hand. David, one of the engineers close to Charles who youâd previously spoken to in one of the earlier races, asks to borrow him.
âCiao, ciao.â They speak in one of the outdoor patio areas. âIs everything okay?â
âThe car is fine. I just wanted to ask about the girl.â David punches his arm, playful. âYou finally got her!â
âOh.â
âItâs just⊠I remember all the times she would show up and youâd tell me about how much you liked her⊠I donât know, itâs perfect for things to end up like this, no? Bravo!â
âOh, si. Iâve just been, you knowâŠâ He looks through the glass sliding door and into the hospitality, where youâre talking to Isa and Carlos, sunglasses over your hair. Your hands are moving quickly, and youâre smiling while talking. He wonders what youâre so passionate about. When youâre caught in fits of happiness and passion, youâre extra animated. Your eyes are lively, and your lips canât stop curling into a slight beaming smile. Now, maybe itâs France, maybe itâs crossword puzzles, slim chance itâs your jobâwhatever it is, he could watch you talk like this for hours. He thinks itâs beautiful, the way you transform, the way you smile, when you talk of things you absolutely love.Â
â⊠crazy about her forever.â
â
There are banners, Italian flags, and Charlesâ face on every other wall. Heâs done his first hat-trick of the season (of several more, youâre hoping). Youâve foregone the usual clubbing for dinner with a smaller group of people, but only because youâve been told the nightlife is bleak and youâd rather save that energy for the next race.
Lando picked out the restaurantâheâs âon a massive Yelp highâ trying to get the best restaurants in every city they get to. Heâs tried two over the weekend, and is hoping this guns for first place. The restaurantâs name is long and so very Italian, to the point where your semi-fluency fails you. The food is amazing, though, and so is the wineâa whole other level of grape-flavored bliss.
Youâre in-between Joris and Charles, nursing your fourth glass while Charles downs a bottle of beer. Light conversation flows through the table, but your sleepiness only allows you to hear some of it. Youâre content with the white noise.
Lando is getting a new cat, Lewis bought a new pair of shoesâoh, no, shares in the company that makes the shoesâJoris bought the shoes, Lorenzo will now buy the shoes, why isnât anyone paying attention to Landoâs cat. Itâs funny, entertaining, and the perfect nightcap to your immensely exhausting day of acting.
Wine tipsy makes you loopy and snoozy. By default, your head lolls onto Charlesâ body; he immediately wraps a sweater-clad arm around your frame, leans back, pulls you closer. Doesnât miss a beat. In fact, while doing so, heâs even able to get a dig in against Landoâs affinity for cats.
âNo more wine, mâkay?â He whispers quietly, angling his head to yours.Â
âOh, but it was so good, though.â You mope, but nod in agreement. âI could seriously drink wine out of a keg here.â
âSure did that a lot with beer.â You laugh, punching his bicep with what little space youâre given. âYou sleepy?â
âYeah. But Iâm fine,â you respond, smiling. âNow shut up. I need to know what happened to Landoâs cat.â
Lewis leaves first, claiming heâs into this whole âsleeping at 9PMâ thing, and Lorenzo follows to get ahead of an early flight tomorrow. Itâs you, Joris, Charles, and Lando now, and youâre good as dead, eyes half-shut and fluttering, head slipping off his shoulder.
How was it? Lando asks, lowering his volume to keep from being too jarring. Day 1, fake dating? I actually read something like this in one of those, um, fanfiction stuff the fans do. Joris and Charles cast him a half-weirded out, half-amused pair of looks, but Lando defends himself. Theyâre actually pretty good, guys. I read one where I ended up with my rival or summat.
âSorry to burst your bubble, Lando,â you croak, voice raspy with sleepiness and a day of bubbling laughter, âbut Charles and I probably didnât do your fanfiction kink justice.â
âIgnoring the emasculation.â He says, turning beet red. âWhatâd you do, then? Wasnât it hard?â
âIt was hard, but itâs like that.â Charles likes to substitute the phrase it is what it is to itâs like that, a result likely stemming from his trilingual childhood. âWe just. Pretended. Oi, we held hands in front of the cameras.â
âYeah, you can get a good wank in if that does it for you,â you joke. Lando hurls a cube of parmigiano at your face; it lands squarely and you flip him off, the table erupting with peals of laughter.
âIn all seriousness, thoughâhow are you two okay with this? I know Iâd be second guessing my feelings every second.â
You shift, trying to hide your obvious lack of answer. Itâs quiet for a few seconds, and then Charles says, âWeâre both comfortable with each other, I think.â
âYeah, comfortable enough that we can, you know, be honest.â Youâre looking at Lando when you say that. You donât know how well you could repeat the sentence if you were looking straight into Charlesâ eyes.
You leave the restaurant with a generous tip, and Charles helps you pull your coat on when youâre out the door, back into the chilly night air. Itâs then that all four of you catch news via text, of a club invite somewhere in the city.
âItâll be fun, guys.â Joris and Lando stand in front of you and Charles, bumbling with excitement. âI heard Lil Tjay is going to be there.â
âIt sounds very fun,â you say, smiling, âbut I might pass out if I drink anything other than water, and I have zero energy. You three go ahead.â
âWhâno, Iâm not going, either.â You raise an eyebrow at Charles. âSerious! I wasnât in the mood much, anyway. Joris, take Landoâs car and weâll take mine.â
âAlright,â Lando whistles. âSuit yourselves, agoraphobes.â
âJokeâs on youââCharles smiles, smugââI donât know what that means.â
âNot the dig you think it is, Charles,â you say, rolling your eyes. âNight, Joris, Lando. See you guys tomorrow. Use protection!â
âShould be saying that to you guys,â quips Joris with an evil grin that he closes the car door on.
The climb into the car feels like a chore in itself with how tipsy and sleepy youâve become. Charles likes to bring his Ferrari to race weekends, but you convinced him to use a different car for this one, because you honest-to-God canât stand the low seats anymore.Â
âYou want dessert?â He asks when heâs rounded the car and settled into his seat. âGelato, a cone, biscottiâŠâ
âNo, no,â you say, voice thin. A palm covers your shutting eyes; blindly, you reach for his hand. Itâs easy because he sees you searching and takes your hand to cut it short. âIâm good. So sleepy. Can I sleep at your hotel room?â
âSure.â He starts the car, waves to the wait staff idle by the entrance, and drives off. âHow was the day as my fake girlfriend? Anyone ask about me?â He wiggles his eyebrows, flickering his gaze to your figure beside him. âWasnât too tough, I hope.â
Imola whizzes by, trees and city, and a poorly stifled yawn escapes your lips, wine stained. You laugh sleepily. âIt was a bit awkward, but bitter with the sweet, right?â He smiles, nodding, and you continue. âYeah, few strategists, some people who knew you from Prema. I was talking to Isa and Carlos, too, earlier. Even if they know itâs fake.â
He recalls seeing you talk to them through the glass. âAbout?â
âYou.â
â
The sun is merciless on the clay courts, and so are your shoes, shuddering against the surface in your continuing attempt to beat the opposing team. Charles cowers behind youâheâs scored less than half of your points thus farâbut youâre on a mission, like your competitive self always is when youâre put in a position to be able to win.
Youâre two points down now, and the noontime is becoming increasingly itchy and unforgiving; across you both, Giada and Joris call a mutual time out. âThatâs not allowed!â You say, petulant.
âThis is a practice session,â Charles says gently, nearing you. âMate, none of us are actual players.â
You wipe sweat off your forehead. âRight. DĂ©solĂ©e. Iâm justâIâm in the zone.â
âOuais, I get it. Relax, mâkay? We got this.â
You shake yourself off and hop a few times, skirt bobbing by your waist as you go. Your braid bounces on your shoulder and you nod, turning your racquet over in your grip.Â
Charles pings the ball hard and it soars over to land just shy of the line, seemingly scoring a point for you two and securing your win. Giada and Joris chime in with protests, claiming that the ballâs out. You throw your hands up in question.
âOkay, what? That was clearly a point!â
âSnoops, I think they might be right. The ball looked out to me,â Charles says, wrapping a sweaty arm around your red shoulders.
âWhat are you talking about, Charlie? That ball was in! I saw it!â You elbow yourself out of his grip, aghast.
âHow aboutâŠâ He suggests quietly. âWe let them win? You did win the lastââhe pauses to countââfive sets. Come on, Snoops. They need this. Bitter with theââ
You take a deep breath, staring into his eyes. âFucking sweet, right, okay. Fine, fine.âÂ
Charles thinks heâs in the clear and heâs managed to extinguish your flames of frustrationâthat is, until you walk into the Leclerc household for lunch an hour later and, after greeting Pascale and HervĂ©, you point squarely to the jar on the kitchen counter. âFive euros.â
He splutters. âFive? Whânon, non! I was trying to calm you down.â
âYou were blind and gave Giada and Joris a fake win,â you say playfully.
âSaluuut,â Lorenzo greets, sitting at the stool beside yours. âQuoi de neuf?â
âCharles has five euros for the jar.â The jar, the infamous jar, sometimes dubbed the Dumbass Jar when Pascaleâs out of earshot. It was Lorenzo who first made it up after three straight instances of Charles pulling a push door (three different establishments).
Arthurâs joined in at this point, but its biggest indirect donors are definitely Lorenzo and HervĂ©, who view it as just about the funniest thing in the world. Out of pity, you donât call dumbass too often, but the tennis loss is bruising enough that you warrant the usage.
âYou heard Snoopy. Five euros. Weâll be able to get milkshakes with this money after next week.â You high five. âAt this rate, Charles, you could open a restaurant in Paris.â
âHeâs going to race,â you correct. You both watch a begrudged Charles junk a bill into the nearly-full jar. âWhat race driver is going to open a restaurant?â
â
You meet Yuki Tsunoda on a flight to Nice. Youâve seen him several times before, not too frequently but enough that his name and face are familiar on your mind. Also a personality trait that Pierre would bring up in fond conversations with you and/or Charles: he loves food, apparently.
âYukiâs volunteering AlphaTauri to be your hideout,â Pierre tells you and Charles, across him.Â
Turns out, the hardest part (insofar) of this whole schtick: the officially appointed paddock photographers are being extra sneaky with it, finding the best vantage points to snap pictures of an unwitting you and Charles.
Theyâre like hawks, watching for even the slightest glimpse so they can post the photos on Instagram and get clicks.
So, just a few hours earlier, Charles asked if there was a place you and him could talk if needed where photographers wouldnât be awaiting you already, and this was the answer.
âIf itâs too much trouble, feel no need to⊠you know.â
âNonsense.â Pierre smiles goofily and Yuki pokes him to stop, pausing his session of eating a quesadilla (where heâd even acquired it, youâre clueless). âYukino would be happy to.âÂ
The flight lands and the drive to Monaco is infected with notoriously slow traffic; you pop an Advil to try and alleviate the motion sickness. Pierre and Yuki, it seems, have joined you even outside of the flight. Theyâre in the backseat offering bits of conversation.
âOh, mate, we should totally play tennis while weâre here.â Pierre sighs. âDidnât you guys play before?â
âMmm, yeah,â you mumble with a lilt of amusement at the memories from basically a decade ago. âAt the country club. Doubles always, otherwise Iâd knock Charles out of the park.â
âHey, I won a couple times!â He protests weakly. âLike⊠twice.â
You laugh out loud. âAnyway, Pierre, do not bring me into tennis. I get all competitive and develop anger issues.â
âI had to calm her down twice a set,â Charles says; you swat him lightly to silence him. âStill do.â
âYou know, if the Dumbass Jar still existed,â you say cuttingly, âI swear Iâd be able to buy off Ferrari with that money.â
â
Monaco is swelterinly hot today. You know this because you know the weather here, you know the curves and ups and downs of itâthis is your home. And today is hot. Every few minutes a breeze filters through the air and you can hear journalists or PAs sigh a collective breath of relief before theyâre all subjected to the inane, high-degree weather again.
Itâs also, according to Arthur, a good day to kiss in front of the cameras. He says it easily over a plate of sliced kiwi, with a devious smile, because he assumes your friends-with-benefits arrangement equates to constant kissing. But the truth is youâve never kissed Charles, and it intimidates you.
âDo we have to kiss?â You play with his bracelets, sitting beside him on the sofa. The talk of kissing entertains the thought of sex and you canât help but mentally complain at the remembrance that you havenât gotten laid in weeks.
âIf you donât want toââ
âI do.â You splutter, eyes going wide, face warm. âNo! I mean I donât mind. If it sells the thing.â
âDâaccord, then we will.â He smiles. âThat okay?â
âSure. First kiss,â you say. Your voice feels as clammy as your hands.
âFirst.â He looks away.
You take your woes off the kiss by playing a friendly round of tennis with your favourite opponents, Giada and Joris. They bemoan your competitive nature (that, to be fair, allots you and Charles three straight wins), and Giada incites a protest for a girls versus boys round.
You both embarrass Charles and Joris, heckling them as you win another two straight games. Charles runs over to you when you throw up the L sign on your hand, lifting you up and making you squeal.
âPut me down, loser!â
Giada and Joris exchange a look. Amused, knowing. âCharles! Youâre such a cunt.â You kick hard, and manage to snag his abdomen, so he gently places you onto the clay again. He laughs and paces back over to his side, and you play with the tail of your braid as you watch.
You play set after set, but the kiss comes anyway. When you know photographers can see youâby the entranceâand it happens faster than your mind can muster. Heâs leaning in, youâre reaching up, and your mouths slot together. Itâsâand it feels crazy to say it, butâ
Itâs perfect. Itâs lovely. You smile against his lips like they belong there and like theyâre familiar and yours and like maybe this is all youâve ever wanted, and like they deserve the smile, because they do. You feel your need to pull away before you canât help but keep him tethered to you always. Itâs strange and itâs not platonicâyouâre mature enough to admit that, but not enough to label exactly what it is.
You spend the day with your fingers pressed to your lips, like youâre sealing the memory. Hours later, Charles wins. Thereâs massive uproar and youâre in the crowd when it happens, in the sea of strategists going to congratulate him on winning Monaco, whichâthatâsâitâs winning Monaco. Your ears ring by the end of it and your throatâs dry from your own cheering. Carlos comes in second, and the outlook for their team is going much better than itâd been at the start of the year, so thereâs a lot to celebrate.
And celebrate you do. It starts with being pinned up against the door, hungry kisses along your jaw and neck. One kiss, it seems, has broken the dam from the few years youâve spent abstaining from the kissing. Heâs just finished interviews. Heâs only just changed into his polo, and now heâs tugging it off again, feverish.
This is rushed and dirty, down low and dark. Only one lightâs been switched on and heâs hiking your dress up, panties down with one hand to tug his cock out with the other. Heâs kissing youâkissing you stupid, almost. Like heâs waited forever to taste your lips and now heâll starve if heâs away for just a moment. He needs you. So have me, you want to say, all of me, push me up against the wall again and cover my mouth with your palm. Or donât, donâtâso everyone knows Iâm yours.
He presses your chest against the wall so your backâs turned to him, thrusts in with a breathless, throaty grunt.Â
âSâ big,â youâre saying, clawing at words the pleasure bars you from finding.
âBarely even in,â he whispers. âSlow down, baby, come on, take it.â
Your toes curl. Youâre high on the win, on the kissing, on Charles, on the slow delicious stretch of his cock. âIâm taking it, Iâm taking it,â you say, shaky. He thrusts, slow and deep and dirty, until heâs bottomed out and youâre tiptoeing from the overwhelm.
âI feel you,â youâre whimpering, moans and gasps leaving your mouth. You blindly search for his hand, find it against your hip, drag it to your abdomen, under your dress that he hasnât even fully removed. âI feel you there,â you say, an edge of teasing to your voice.
His cockâs bulging, almost, out of your stomach, and itâs getting you both all lightheaded. He thrusts harder, a devious smile felt against your neck.
I need it, Charles, you plead, please, please fuck me harder. You feel it coming, the familiar pleasure intensifying so quicklyâyou donât usually cum so early, heâs always making you wait for itâpussy squeezing around him.
Jesus, already? Heâs groaning but a laugh escapes, breathy and amused and taunting. Heâs fucking you harder, faster. Itâs so good, each hit getting you closer. Taking me so well, youâre bruised all over now, baby. You hate how well he knows what turns you on; memories of mornings post-sex spent inspecting the purple marks on your hips flash through your head and youâre even closer now, shaking, whimpering, begging.
Youâre half-sure someone can hear, but it doesnât even phase you. Harder, deeperâ and youâre collapsing, legs spasming uncontrollably, orgasm so intense itâs on the brink of totally hurting. Tears roll down your sweaty face and he kisses them away, cumming onto your back to wipe off in a few minutes.
âI never evenââyou pant, tiredââgot to say congratulations.â
âThat was more than enough.â
â
Charles is elated when you tell him his family has thrown a party for him the day next. Heâs boyish in that way, optimistic and kiddy, the kind of person whoâs up at five-thirty to announce their own birthday.Â
He drives you both to his childhood home, a route so familiar he could drive with his eyes closed. (âI hope youâre not driving closed-eyed,â youâd warned.)
Even if he could, anyway, heâd rather not. The scenery of Monaco is stunning, ever-changing, and he never tires of itâthe buildings, the skies, the trees and shrubbery, stores lining the streets, clean entrances.Â
And youâin the passenger seat, humming softly to a song of his choosing. Drives are always better when youâre in the passenger seat.
The turnout is generous: extended family, and several friends from school. Thereâs bowls of fruit, salad, plates of salmon and racks of lamb, knobs of butter with warm bread. Pascale commands the kitchenâvisible in how she leaves it cluttered with bowls, ingredients, whisks still dripping with syrup or batter, spoons licked for tasting. The good kind of clutter.
Lorenzo has also taken reign of the AUX, because itâs 70âs music playing, which is what heâs fond of for family gatherings like these. Itâs My Cherie Amour now, Stevie Wonder mellowing across the lawn and into the house.
Charles knows you love the kitchen as much as his mum does, so when you get to the house, heâs not surprised to see you leave him in favor of checking out what damage has been done to your favorite marble countertops. He watches Pascale turn from the gas range, her eyes lit when she sees you, inviting you into an embrace.Â
You look like the song playing, pretty and lovely, breeze in the summer. He almost loses himself in thought before his great-aunt Eden places two bony hands on his arms and greets him in feeble Italian.
He flits his eyes away from you, if just briefly, and faces the woman with a smile on his face. âCiao, zia,â he says, voice buoyant, happy. âYou came here to see me, no?â
All five-foot-one of her shakes in disagreement. She wags a finger for extra measure. âNo,â she says. âSono venuto a vedere la tua ragazza.â
His eyes widen. âSheâsââ He pauses. He debates telling Eden youâre not actually his girlfriend, that this was a setup to appease Pascale and, by extension, tifosi. But he backtracks.
He shouldnât, but he gives in, lives out his dreams for a bit. âAh, sheâs over there, zia. Con mamma.â He points to the open door, and to you on the far end of the room inside, holding a spoon. âBeautiful, yes?â
âMolto,â she says proudly. âYou marry her?â
Fact: his great-aunt has the worst memory. She forgot Charlesâ name twenty times, let alone niche facts like this one. Another fact: she rarely shows up to family events. Maybe now, because itâs a racing thing; but baby showers and funerals, sheâs at home. So he indulges a bit more.
âSi, weâre engaged. Butâitâs a secret, zia.â He grins. âNon dire a nessuno. Okay?â
âSei fidanzato?!â She claps once, excited. âAy, Charles. I waited my whole life for this moment, si?â And sheâs wobbling away, still muttering under her breath.
â
âHow is my son?â Pascaleâs voice is teasing. She sighs happily. âFor years I wondered if this would happen. And it really is.â
âOui, sure is,â you sing-song, laughing a bit awkwardly. âWeâreâheâs okay. Weâre great. In love.â
âOh, in love,â she swoons. She leaves you, after fifteen more minutes of detailed discussion, with half a spoonful of vinaigrette to taste-test, departing to check on the guests for a few minutes. In her place arrives Lorenzo, already bearing a shit-eating grin. âSaluuut.â
âMmm, good to see you, too.â You taste the liquid and add lemon to the bowl. âHowâs wedding planning?â
âThink weâll throw a shower. Is that pretentious?â
âNo,â you say, mulling over it. âSure, a bit. But just donât make it a whole thing, youâre golden.â
âI see.â He sighs fondly. âYou know, many a conversation weâve had right here at this counter. About anything.â
â
You loosen your school tie, slicing an apple like you so often do, waiting for Charlesâ karting practice to end. Pascale had fixed you a bowl of something, HervĂ© a glass of orange juice. And somebody else would always, without fail, steal your food. A hand swipes two slices form your chopping board and your head whips up.
âLorenzo!â You stomp your foot. âStop stealing! That is my apple.â
âYou mean the Leclercsâ apple.â He laughs, pops another slice into his mouth, smiling.Â
You roll your eyes, shaking your head. The braid beside your head shakes with it as you continue slicing it into perfect quarters. He pipes up again: âHow was school?â
âShit, as usual.â You lower your voice and smile, leaning in. âPascale scolded me earlier, for saying that word.â
âDid Papa?â
âObviously not. He fist bumped me.â You share a laugh, both chewing on apple slices now. âAnyway, I aced a math test, had aubergine for lunch⊠got driven here by Charlotteâs mum.â
âCharlotte?â Lorenzo hums conspiratorially, making a mmmm sound. You look up from the yellow chopping board, furrowing your eyebrows. He persists: âMmm. Cha-r-lotte.â
âWhatâs up with Charlotte?â Bit impolitely, you ask, in-between chews.
âI think she likes Charles, a little.â You nod slowly, trying to follow. Charlotte liking Charles. Your Charles. Wait, no. Not yourâor nobodyâs, really. Just Charles. Yeah.
âWhat? Bull!â You narrow your eyes. âSays who?â
âWhy do you care?â
âWhâI donât!â You squeak, caught. âJust⊠I think Iâd know, Lorenzo.â You make a tch noise, crossing your sweater-clad arms. âSoâsays who?â
âI saw her leering at him during his birthday party.âÂ
âYouâre wrong,â you say, but you donât really know who youâre convincing. He reaches over for an apple slice, and you move the chopping board out of the way sharply.
âMon dieu, youâre snappy. Fine, fine. I might be wrong,â he relents, shrugging. He gets up and slides beside you to be able to acquire more slices. âI talked to her during the party, too.â
âWeirdo,â you tease, allowing him to take a few more. âAbout Charles, yes?
âNo, about her brand new dress.â
âYouâre the funniest Leclerc brother, I assure you.â
âShe told meâŠâ He says, louder this time, shushing you effectively. âShe told me she âfinds Charles cute.ââ Air quotes, shrug. âBut that they âprobably wonâtâ date.â
âHuh. Did, um. Did she say why?â You play with the tail of your braid, shuffling back and forth on your flats. You donât know why youâre so fidgetyâyou arenât nervous, you donât think.
âBecauseâŠâ he says, chewing to allow for a pause. âShe said every time she looks for Charles to try and ask for time alone, or on a date, or something, heâs already following you around like some puppy.â
â
You comb your hair into a bun and venture into the patio, having avoided a good chunk of the noon heat. You greet some relatives politely along the way, and receive a hand squeeze from great-aunt Eden. At one of the tables is Charles, beside Joris and another friend, and Giada and Charlotte across them, an empty seat beside the latter.
You seat yourself in it and Giada kisses your cheek. âHey. Ăa va?â
âFine,â you say, smiling. Then you lower your voice to a whisper. âDo you remember when I told you about my crush on Charlie? For the first time?â
âYeah,â she whispers back. âAround⊠2013.â
âOuais. And⊠and it disappeared after that,â you say. âRight?â
âYou said it did,â she says. âA year later. When we were sixteen.â
âRight.â You think. Seventeen onwardsâyouâd never formed a full-fledged crush on Charles. âOkay. Itâs nothing. Just a memory. I was just. Yeah, oui.â
âOui, letâs eat.â The memory fades and so does your running mind. Charlesâ eyes meet yours across the table, and suddenly you feel a little less like your thoughts have ripped you open.
â
When you and Charles were younger, you adopted the adage âbitter with the sweet.â Charles will have people believe it was made by the both of you, with philosophical minds stretched so far beyond their years. Well, revisionist history. The truth lay in the Carole King song of the same name youâd heard on the stereo.
Those are the exact words Charles tells Ted when heâs interviewing for the Spain Grand Prix. Itâs a hot day and youâre especially doubled down on by the fact that heâs finished ninth.Â
Youâd been fake-dating for the cameras all weekend. At all costs, you try and avoid interviews, but the damned Drive to Survive producers insist on a soundbite and start following the two of you around everywhere (only to find your conversations sound very weird and niche, and not scandalous or sexy).
Pascale also calledâCharles first, and when he didnât check his phone, you. You spent an hour on the phone just talking about the race. About the penalties and the nasty headlines that followed, and just everything.
âIâm glad youâre there,â she says. âGod knows he needs you.â
You end up biking to try and relieve the stress, posing with fans for pictures.
âIâm such a big fan. I stalk Charlesâ Insta like, all the time, and itâs crazy how you guys are dating.â A teenaged girl laughs nervously. âWhereâd it happen?â
âTexas!â He, again, tries out the bit to appease the fans but you have to extinguish the flames of his blatant lies.
âHeâs kidding,â you interject. âItâs justâit just happened, really.â
How does something just happen? Someone told you once, in a Paris bar, that love is like an echo. Itâs always there, in the underbelly, underneath it all, and then one day it echoes, like a bass drum or a cymbal. And the echoâthe echo is you feeling it. You feel the echo, the all-encompassing echo, even if the love itselfâs been there all along.
With Charles, itâs out of the question. You love him. Heâs your best friend. You trusted him before you even learned what trust meant, for Chrissake.
How could you not love him? That seemed impossible. The love was there. The loveâs always been there and itâll never go away.
It echoes at half-past-two in Barcelona, when he whips past you on his bike and says on your left. The breeze pulls your hair to the left, covers your face, and when you rake it away heâs stopped to check if he accidentally bumped you in his rush to look cool.
Youâre creepily observant; youâve been told this many times before. What people donât know is with the observance comes even more questions. Ifs, whys, wheres, whens, hows, God the hows. The questions keep coming because thereâs never an answer.
âAre you okay?â He asks. Green eyes glittering like a lake. Smile like the sun. Hair curly at the ends. âDid I hurt you?â
Then you realize. In the matters of love, every questionâevery single question. Every single one. The answer is Charles.
âOf course not,â you say. And you smile.
â
You almost drop your book in your rush to scurry past the paparazzi. Theyâre still busy on the two figures (Alex and Lily, you think) on another end of the paddock, which allows you only a few moments to try and evade them.
Others are stationed near the Ferrari hospitality, which means youâre going to need your hideout. Yuki had texted Pierre who had texted Charles who had told you that it was all clear to go there for a few minutes while waiting for the photographers to clear out.
Hurry, Charles is saying. Laughing. His handâs gentle in yours. You want them there forever. You want to drag the tip of your nail over the barely-perceptible grooves of his fingerprints so he knows how much you need him.
The days post-Spain were spent biking, watching shows, listening to music, eating food. The travel to Canadaâlong, cold, compression socks. Pascale had called mid-flight to check on her âfavorite pairââyou maneuvered yourselves into a much more cuddly position to appease her, and her giddy smile was incentive enough to stay that way for ninety minutes.
Youâd been in a weird mental state trying to grapple with your rapidly returning and intensifying feelings for him, which have dawned on you all at once.
But he makes it better. Youâre still laughing when you wedge yourselves in, eyes meeting.
And then youâre quiet.
The gaze you share is intense, but almost unsure, like youâre supposed to be looking away anytime now. You step backward shakily, and his hand moves from your waist to the small of your back to keep you from stumbling any further. Youâre closer now. But this shouldnât feel as strange as it does when you two have been in much more scandalous positions beforeâwhatâs different?
Heâs so close, so so close, his green eyes looking right through you. You lean closer, ready to kiss him like you have before, ready to feel his mouth slot softly over yours, comforting and safe and Charles.
Funnily enough, itâs then that the illusion breaks, his grip loosening and the distance between you increasing. He coughs twice, awkwardly.
âShitâsorry,â you say profusely, clearly having read the moment wrong. Embarrassment wells up in your system, warming your face. You laugh to diffuse the tension but it barely does anything.
âNo, donâtââ He exhales, squeezes the bridge of his nose, trying to find words. âItâs not that I donât want to kiss you. I do.â
âSo kiss me,â you suggest simply, looking around for anything that might stop him. The embarrassment ebbs away, replaced quickly by confusion.Â
âI donât want to kiss you in an AlphaTauri stock room,â he mopes, burying his head in his hands in clear frustration. âAn AlphaTauri stock room.â He repeats it in a hushed whisper, disbelief etched all over his pretty face.
âCharles,â you begin, smiling already, the quaint way that makes his knees go weak every time. âYouâre acting like you and I havenât kissed before.âÂ
âThis is different.â He says firmly, looking away lest he lean in involuntarily. He interjects with conviction, not realizing what heâs implying until the implicationâs hanging in the air. The longing kills him softly, and he feels if he looks at you a second longer heâll kiss you anyway.
Itâs a wonderfully confusing feeling. You open your mouth to respond but you canât; your brain tacks itself onto his sentence, the division created between the kisses before now and the kiss that might happen anytime soon.
âHâŠâ you trail off, throat drying. Blinking, you try again, âHow different?â
He looks up, eyes conveying all the things his lips never will. This is different. You know it. I love you this time.
The answer is exchanged and accepted wordlessly. You slip out of the room when Pierre tells you itâs okay to, and itâs only thenâonly thenâthat Charlesâ hand leaves your body. You seem to burn alive with its absence.
Itâs a Ferrari 1-2. You snap a thousand pictures with Isa and Carlos holding Carlosâ trophy while Charles is doing interviews, and they invite you to join them for the break. Youâre open to itâthe win, the good standings, they definitely warrant a celebration for the few weeksâ break. So your original itinerary is Portugalâbeaches, coasts, foodâbut the jet re-charts a route and the flight is cut much shorter because youâre in New York City.
â
Somewhere in Manhattan, a wedding shower is thrown on an outdoor rooftop. âThis is one hell of a wedding shower,â you squeal excitedly when you spot him, bringing Lorenzo in for a hug. Your yellow dress flows in the wind. âI thought you guys were going to throw it in Monaco?â
âYeah, well⊠why not here, right? Itâs beautiful.â He gestures to the skyline, smiling. âPlus, Charles, Arthur, and Mum were already near the country for work, so we got ahead of it. Everyone was happy to fly out.â
âWell, for what itâs worth, I love it.â You beam. âI canât believe it, either. Whenâs the final date?â
He opens his mouth to reply, but the wind is knocked out of him by Charles barreling into his arms for a hug. You roll your eyes at the latterâs childish behavior, smiling despite yourself. They part and Charles finds his place beside you, arm snaking around your shoulders. âWhat a wedding shower!â
âDonât flatter me, dipshit,â Lorenzo jokes.
âItâs a lovely one.â Lorenzo thanks him. âAn amazing shower. You know, itâs a total golden shower!â
You purse your lips. âCharlesââ
âA golden shower, mate. Absolutely.â
That garners at least three odd looks and you calmly place a hand on his chest to whisper donât ever fucking say that again it means something completely different please donât embarrass me or your brother.Â
For all your embarrassment, you make up for it in having the literal time of your life. The food is good, the city view is amazing, the weather is fair and the musicâDesafinado nowâis amazing. âI could see myself here,â you say offhandedly to Charles, who nods back with a faint smile. Heâs half-distracted.
âYou look beautiful, by the way,â he says, squinting from the sun in his eyes. âVery.â
You part ways at some pointâPascale whisks him off, no doubt for another long round of questioning about your relationship, and you meander around with a glass of champagne.
Youâre halfway through swiping a mini quiche when a hand wraps around your wrist and squeezes to get your attentionâCharlesâ great-aunt Eden. She speaks only intermittent English, and your Italian fails to carry you through well enough, but you smile and greet her. âCiao, Eden!â
âCiao, bella.â She smiles. âFlight was long.â
âOh, yeah. New Yorkâs far. I might work here someday. Iâll hear results in around two weeks, but Iâm hoping for London instead.â You slow your speech.
âWhen will you two wed?â
âWed?â Your face warms and you stutter through a giggly mess of a sentence. âOh, Edenâziaâno, no! Weâre just friends.â
âMy Charles told me you two are to be married.â You both crane your heads to the right, where Charles is leaning against the terrace railing talking to one of your friends, Matthew, animatedly. He meets your eyes, sees Eden beside you, and seems to connect the dots.
Jokingly, perhaps, he raises his hand and wiggles his empty ring finger. You canât help but smile as you turn back to the old woman. âOh, did he, zia?â
âSi, he did.â
âWell, weâre just going to let it happen, then. Youâre invited. Front row.â You kiss her cheek and she smiles, wobbling off to drink more wine before any of the adults can stop her.
Itâs announced then that the dance floor is open, and many of Pascaleâs friends filter through to show off their moves to the 70âs music. You watch, amused, at the display of dexterity to Frankie Valli and Aretha Franklin. You cheer them on, content to watch them against the backdrop of the New York sunset.
When Ainât No Mountain High Enough plays, the dance floor grows, because nobody can resist the songânot even Charles, apparently, who takes your hand without preamble and takes you, squealing, to the centre.
You sing each of the parts, like you always do when the song comes on. Itâs semi-tradition at this point: you take Marvin Gayeâs, Charles takes Tammi Terrellâs. You both exaggerate your dance moves and pretend youâre performing.
His handâs in yours, winding you around and pulling you close. At some point he starts robot dancing to entertain you. It worksâyou laugh out loud, your eyes half-shut and faced to the stars above. He could write a poem about this. Or a song.
The song ends and you lean onto his shoulder to take a breatherâthen the photographer swoops in and takes a picture. âThatâs going into the RSVPs!â He says, accent unmistakably American.
âDoes he know weâre not the couple here?â You ask.
Do we know weâre not the couple? Charles asks himself.
The night escalates as the âoldiesâ leave, and Matthew, Joris, and Giada join you both for one last round of drinks again. Youâre all standing at the exit making conversation; Lorenzo attends to his friends at the other end of the terrace.
âI feel young again,â Matthew says, liberated by Titoâs vodka. He takes another swig and pulls his coat on.
âYouâre twenty-five, calm down,â you joke. âDodged that bullet.â Youâre poking fun at the semi-massive crush you had on Matthew in secondary school, and a laugh passes through the four of you. âAnyway, you three be careful. No driving.â
âJesus, but reallyâI havenât been this drunk since youââhe points at you, laughingââturned seventeen at that club, Amber? No?â
âOh, God. Yâknow, same.â You fail to notice Charles and Giada share a look. âI remember nothing from that night! Or, like, the first two hours at least.â
âI remember drinking my body weight because of heartbreak,â he jeers.Â
âHeartbreak? Were youâwere you with anyone?â You ask, confused.
It happens before anyone can stop it. âNo, when Charles kissed you. And you kissed him after. Alright, night mates! Lorenzoâmerci!â
Oh, fuck, you hear in the back of your now-muddled brain. Giadaâs voice.
You open and close your mouth. âChâwait, heâwhat?â
âIâletâs talk here,â Charles flounders, dragging you to a more secluded spot and facing you. The three of your friends exit; Giada waves, apologetic. âWhen⊠we were at Amber⊠and you were absolutely hammered, we kissed. It was twiceâjust twice. And you didnât, um. Remember a thing.â
Youâre unsure. âIn Amber?â You blink, confused. âWhat do you mean?â
âWe⊠I donâtâI mean, I understand why you donât remember. We kissed that night.â
âSo thatâs⊠Charles⊠You didnât tell me.â Your voice quivers, like a wire flicked. âWhy didnât you say it at the time?â
He doesnât give you an answer. He just looks at the counter, imagines the way your eyebrows furrow, your lips move, eyes glitter. He canât give you one. He doesnât want to hurt, disappoint, sadden you. He wants to get on his knees and root you here, so heâll have all the time in the world to come up with an answer.
âCharles.â But he loves you, and he can at the very least be honest for you. âLook at me.â
âI was scared.â His eyes gravitate to yours.
âOf?â
âIt felt stupid, is all. That you didnât remember, and maybe you did but you were pretending you werenât. I didnâtâit didnâtâsorry.â He laughs, stutters. âI convinced myself it didnât mean anything because we didnât have feelings for each other.â He pauses. âThen.â
âWell,â you say, slow. Eyes stuck to his. âHow about now?â
âNow?â
âI love you, now. I mean, isnât that all this is? Loving? Even if? Deâdespite of?âÂ
And thisâGod. This is how it feels. Heâs looking at you and youâre telling him you love him because you do, and finally heâs been over with reassurance.
You love him, too. That way. He trembles with it. His hands are shaky when they lace into yours, like youâre a shrine, a prayer, and he feels like maybe these are the emotions that swirl through the human body when one wins the lottery and gets struck by angry lightning at the same time.
This is it, he thinks. Profound and lovely and an echo of sweet memories. Heâs yours. Here in a city unfamiliar to both of you, yet to be conquered, your fingers lace lightly and you smile, smile, smile at each other, as if youâre the last two people on Earth. Heâs yours, so foolishly in love with you.
Even far from home, youâre both filled with warmth, with longing. Extended stares, pits of your stomachs welling up with something lovely in between homesickness and nostalgia. Here again, you again, us againâitâll always be us again, your heart seems to say, surrounded by the same love the same hurt the same sad the same everything, you and me, all the love in the world, all the confusion, weâre here. Itâs never over.
Across the terrace, Lorenzo watches. Two figures, laughing, emanating happiness, gentle unkowing love. You two have finally made it here, after what felt like a thousand trials and dreams and stories.
So even if youâre taller, in high heels and a yellow dressâand Charles is broader, in a suit and tieâLorenzo thinks he can blink and see the two little kids who hosted a tea party in the backyard. He can blink again and see you hugging, eyes shut, his lips pressed to your forehead to convey the intimacy nothing else will do as well.Â
âSo what now?â You ask. Again with the questions. In your defenseâit begs so many follow-up questions. A love so many years in the makingâlayer after layer after layerâof course it begs all the questions, almost to the point of overwhelming capacity. Whatâll we tell Pascale? The fans? The family? Everyone?!Â
But one look and he makes it better. His green eyes, bright against the deep black of the skyline. Youâve grown. Youâve done it. Youâre here. âWeâll figure it out.â He smiles. âWe deserve this kind of ending, donât you think?â
â
âHe has my name.â A tubby finger points to the boy on the greeting card. âThat one.â
âAnd whoâs the dog?â Asks the girl beside him, hair wound into a plait. She likes this boy. Heâs cute. She plays with the end of her braid and stares, eyes flickering in-between him and the card theyâre staring at.
âThe nameâs right there. Theyâre best friends.â
âOkay, thatâll be me.â
âSo thatâs us.â
âOui.â She smiles. âCharlie and Snoopy.â
â
read an omitted scene here :)
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pervert p2 ⥠haechan
genre: smut â word count: 1.0k â link to p1
donghyuck has a filthy mouth and even filthier mind.
but somehow you canât stay away from him; itâs nearly impossible when he makes himself present at every friend gathering, never missing the opportunity to give his daily dose of teasingâwhich had gotten progressively worse over the last few months.
like when you spent one afternoon at the beach; heâd looked at you from across the sand, biting his lip at the sight of you in swimwear. the sun warmed his bare arms, casting a honey-like glow onto his tanned skin.Â
he walked over to you, currently sat on a beach towel chatting with an enthusiastic jisung about the bowl of ramen heâd made the previous night. hyuck peered down at your unaware frame. âdonât you want to play with me?â he asked.
the boy sounded innocent enough, though you knew there was a double meaning to his words. he tilted his head while awaiting your answer, long fingers tapping against the soccer ball in his hold. you try not to stare.
âiâm busy.â you huffed and pointedly averted your gaze.
hyuck pouted. âwhy you wonât look at me?âÂ
âitâs too bright.â you lied. âand iâm having a conversation.â you didnât see the way jisung covered a growing smirk with his hand.Â
or when it was a particularly windy afternoon and hyuck didnât hesitate to get his hands on you, toying with the fabric of your shirt after he claimed he was fixing it. heâd nearly gotten slapped in the process, though ran off to jaeminâs side with a satisfied smile.
then there was the time heâd caught you checking him out (in your defense, you were drunk and he was wearing eyeliner) and he pulled you out of the crowd, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. âpretend all you want, baby.â he chuckled lowly. âi know you want me just as bad as i want you.â you were too dazed to conjure a response. âkeep looking at me like that and youâll really be in trouble.â
the encounter affected hyuck more than heâd let onâdidnât stop thinking about you the rest of the night as he played the scene on repeat. as much as he loved to run his mouth, he was all talk, nothing more than the annoying boy that followed you around and cracked sex jokes. he knew his fantasies would never turn into reality and that the only action heâd ever get was from his own hand (and your stolen underwear).Â
until the pool.Â
you are currently trying to drown donghyuck though failing. heâs just laughing, sputtering water and avoiding your splashes. âyou think markâs cute, huh?â his voice raises in pitch as he calls out. âhey, mark? come here!â he shrieks when you grab his shoulders and try to push him beneath the surface.Â
âshut up!â you canât help the giggles that escape your mouth, brain loopy from the hours of swimming. the boy barely budges, strong legs keeping him upright. âwhy do you like to make up shit?â you say. you roll your eyes and give up, though not before giving him a little shoveâwhich only has him grinning.
 âthe others arenât out here to save you. wanna do that again?â he raises an eyebrow.
âpleaseâeven renjun can take you out.âÂ
âreally? care to try then?â hyuck gestures. heâs got a taunting look that has your blood boiling. youâre not sure you can overpower himânot without doing something to take him by surprise. what was the best way to distract lee donghyuck? as you silently weigh your options, you realize heâs now staring at your torso.Â
oh.
âwhat do i get if i win?â you carefully ask, already starting to slowly creep closer.
he gulps. âwhat do you want?â
âhow about you start by returning the underwear you stole?âÂ
all the air leaves hyuck's lungs. fuckâheâd been caught. there was no point in pretending. âit was just once,â he swears. âokay, three times. shitâare you mad?â
you ignore him. âare you enjoying this?â even underwater you can see his growing bulge. âyou like the idea of getting caught?â his jaw slackens at your words.
âare weâare we still playing?â hyuck eyes dart to the back door. he can see movement in the kitchen; anyone could come back out and see what was going downâsee how pathetically turned on he was.Â
the last thing hyuck ever expects is for you to tug him by his swim shirt and kiss him. you taste even sweeter than heâd imagined (probably from the watermelon youâd inhaled earlier). his hands find the back of your thighs in an instant, wrapping your legs around his waist. he groans into your mouth at the feeling of you pressing against him.
hyuck kisses you back with such intensity that you forget entirely about your plan. youâre now trapped in his hold, any hope of trying to dunk him washed away as he lewdly sucks on your lips. somehow youâre the one caught off guard hereânot the other way around. instead of underwater he was boldly moving his hips in a way that had your head spinning, forgetting all about the the game and your two-year rivalry.Â
âwant to touch you.â he pulls away long enough to whine. âplease. iâm going insane.âÂ
youâre breathing heavy. âwhat makes you think iâd let you after the shit youâve pulled?â
hyuckâs burying his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin. âsorry. iâm sorry,â he mutters apologies. âiâll be good from now on. promise.â
your core is clenching onto nothing, fingers digging into shoulders. maybe you didnât dislike the though of him getting off to you. maybe when youâd discovered what his sticky hands had been up to, youâd purposefully invited him over to see what heâd do.
âwhat about the others?â
donghyuck smirks, tongue poking the inside of his cheek; he knows heâs got you now.Â
âis it bad if I say they can watch?"
a/n: I was going to wait a sane amount of time to post this but somehow it left my drafts so guess it's going up now
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Hi there, hope you're doing well. I would love to request a fic where the reader is Sirius' wife who reunites with him after he escapes from Azkaban, takes care of him e.g. feeding him and grooming him, and helping him get better. Cheers!
Right Where You Left Me
Request: I would love to request a fic where the reader is Sirius' wife who reunites with him after he escapes from Azkaban, takes care of him e.g. feeding him and grooming him, and helping him get better.
Hi! Iâm so sorry for the wait, it took me forever to get to this request, and even longer to finish it. Iâve been in a bit of a slump, but I feel better. I love this request, thank you so much for sending it in! I hope you enjoy it :)
(Warnings: swearing, mentions of azkaban and siriusâs treatment there, mentions of death, vague mention of nudity, let me know if i missed anything)
â
When you received the Patronus from Remus telling you Sirius had escaped from Azkaban, it brought you to your knees.Â
You thought about him every day. But you could only ever picture him in the days before he was arrested. It hurt too much to think about him rotting away in prison. But hearing that he got out? That he was out in the world and could be anywhere by now? The fact that he was suddenly much closer to you than you thought he would ever be again?
It terrified you.
You married Sirius right after school ended and the war was beginning to pick up. He proposed on a whim, telling you that the rest of your days werenât guaranteed, and he didnât want to live through another day without you tied to him. You would have always been by his side, but this was tying more than just your lives togetherâit was your souls. When Harry was born, you were named his godparents. All was well for a while. Calm, even. Of course, the calm didnât last.Â
It wasnât long after your marriage before that night in Godricâs Hollow came, and Sirius was taken away from you.Â
But it wasnât just Sirius.Â
It was James, Lily, and Peterâeven Mary. Marlene was in the weeks before, and Dorcas too. They were ripped away from you, far before you were ready to let them go. Remus was the only one who you kept in touch with after that night. You clung to each other in the weeks after, seeming to be the only people in the world the other could find solace in. But as the years passed, your visits and letters became few and far in between.Â
Thenâafter all that timeâanother Patronus came.Â
Sirius had come to Hogwarts, and heâd proved his innocence to those who mattered. It was Peter who had betrayed everyone, and he was still alive.Â
And, while Sirius had you and Remus on his side, he was still considered a fugitive. The Aurors were after him, and he needed to be kept some place safe where they wouldnât come looking. Luckily for you, the flat you bought was outside of Wizarding London. Sirius had always loved the feeling of places untouched by magic, so after you married, you moved in together in a quiet area on the outskirts of London. It was his idea to use magic to ward it so that people looking for you would have a hard time, and after so long away from the Wizarding community, not many people would think it was worth it or even remember to come looking for Sirius in hiding with you.
After twelve years of solitude, you couldnât fathom the idea of your husband coming back to you. You couldnât fathom the idea of him being part of your day to day life again. All you could do to keep yourself together was tidy up and prepare for Siriusâs arrival.
You couldnât believe it when Remus finally brought him home to you.Â
Your boyâwho was a man now, or at least the shell of oneâwas sitting right in your living room. The only home he had ever known outside of Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts, and he couldnât have looked more out of place.Â
Neither of you spoke when Remus eased him down onto the couch, before coming to your side. Youâd always pictured that by some miracle if Sirius ever came home to you, youâd rush into his arms and heâd hold you like no time had passed. You spent years missing his touch, wishing you could hug him just one more time. But now he was right in front of you, and you had no idea how to act. You didnât know if he even wanted you to touch him. You couldnât take your eyes off Sirius, eyes wide as you looked him over.Â
Time had not been kind to him.Â
You could see the man you once knew bleeding through, but so much of this version of him was unknown to you. Sirius kept his eyes on the floor, but would occasionally glance up at you. You knew he was seeing a stranger, too.
âI have to go back,â Remus whispered, turning your attention to him. âTheyâll know whatâs happened back at Hogwarts if I donât leave soon, and too many people know whatâs happened already. Iâm sorry. Iâll come back as soon as I can, yeah?â
You could hardly hear him, but you quickly nodded, giving him a squeeze. âBe careful, Remus. Iâll take care of him while youâre gone.â
âI know you will,â he murmured, squeezing you tight.
He let you go, kneeling down next to Sirius who was watching you both with a look full of anxiety. Remus placed a hand on Siriusâs shoulder, his touch light and gentle.
âI have to go, alright? But youâre safe here. I promise. Itâs just Y/N.â
Just Y/N, Sirius thought. He just nodded, a conflicted look on his face. Remus stood up, giving you one last look of sympathy, before walking out the door. He left a deafening silence in his wake.
It took you forever to get your feet to move. But when you did, you were falling. You landed on your knees just in front of Sirius, peering up at him through teary eyes. You could see him take a breath, stilling as you got closer.
âCan I touch you?â You asked, your voice barely a whisper.
Sirius swallowed hard. He gave you an almost imperceptible nod, and you gently reached your hand up, your fingertips hovering over his face. Taking a breath, you cradled his cheek in your palm. You could feel the stubble along his jaw, and the sharpness off his cheek. His skin was cool, far from the usual flush you remembered from all those years ago.
âYouâre really here,â you murmured, your voice catching in your throat. âOh, love. Youâre so beautiful.â
Your words pulled a pained whimper from Siriusâs chest. He nestled his face into your hand, a few stray tears pooling in your palm. You were quick to wipe them away, leaning in close. He tilted his head down, resting his forehead against yours. He took a deep breath, taking you in.
âI pictured your face every day, and I still think Iâll never get tired of looking at you. How could I? Youâre right here in front of me, as beautiful as the day I lost you. But youâve always been the pretty one in this relationship, havenât you?â
You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head. âIn my dreams. But itâs good to see your sense of humor is still intact.â
The next few moments were quiet, nothing but the sound of sniffles and shaky breaths reaching your ears.Â
Finally, Sirius forced himself to look around. Heâd braced himself from the moment he walked in to see all that had changed since he left. Heâd expected you to move on and live your life without him, and heâd expected the flat to reflect that. It was honestly more of a shock to him when Remus told him you still lived there than anything else. But as he looked around and took everything in, he realized how wrong he had been.Â
âYou havenât changed a thing,â he said, looking at the art on the walls youâd picked out together when you first moved in.
You glanced around as well. You wanted to tell him how you didnât have the heart to change anything. And although seeing him in everything around you felt like you were being stabbed, you just couldnât get rid of anything. Getting rid of it would mean getting rid of all you had left of him.
And you would have rather been stabbed a thousand times than do that.
You shook your head, pointing to the spare room. âActually, Remus lived here for a while. He pretty much flipped that whole room. Said something about you having too expensive a taste for him to have to endure for extended periods of time.â
âMerlin, I bet it looks like grunge threw up in there,â he mused, making you smile and nod.
You stood up, offering him your hands. âAre you hungry? We need to get you fed and cleaned up, love.â
Sirius looked down to the robes he was wearing. They were tatteredâresembling rags stitched together more than they were resembling clothes. His hair was greasy and matted to his head, and his face and body was caked in dirt. He had almost forgotten just how dirty he was, a flush spreading across his cheeks as he gave you an embarrassed look.Â
âItâs alright, darling,â you said softly, taking his hands in yours. âWeâll take it at your pace. Donât worry, Iâve got you.â
Reluctantly, Sirius nodded. You smiled, gently leading him up off the sofa and into the kitchen.
â
It took ages to find him something to eat.Â
You nearly keeled over when he told you that pretty much the only thing he had been given to eat for the past twelve years was bread and water. It was what heâd grown accustomed to eating, and he wasnât sure he could stomach anything else. You had to choke back tears when you finally suggested soupâone of the first things he learned to make on his own without magic. It took a while, but he managed to get most of it down.Â
You made small talk while he ate, telling him little things heâd missed while he was gone. You left out the most painful details. You could tell him about those later.
Finally, he couldnât stall anymore.Â
He let you take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom, his eyes on the floor as you shut the door behind him.
âShower or bath?â You asked, turning the water on to let it heat up. âA bath might be easier. You look tired, and I donât want you falling over or something.â
Sirius just nodded, and you assumed he was alright with you choosing for him. You let the tub fill up, making sure the water wasnât too hot before you turned the faucet off. You turned back around, frowning when you saw Sirius looking back at you with anxious eyes.
âItâs ready,â you said softly, stepping out of the way.
Sirius watched you for a moment, fidgeting back and forth on his heels. Just as you opened your mouth to speak again, he beat you to it.
âCan you turn around?â He asked, lowering his eyes to the floor. âI donât mind if you stay, but could youâŠcould you maybe turn around for this part?â
You quickly nodded, stepping towards the door. âOf course! Iâm sorry, I didnât even ask if you wanted me in hereââ
He was quick to speak, his voice shaky. âI do! But this is just a little weird, you know?â
You nodded, backing up to the doorway and turning to face it. You could feel the heat creep up to your cheeks as you heard his clothes hit the floor, followed by the sound of him climbing into the tub. You had seen Sirius naked a thousand times before. He was never ashamed of his body, he never shied away, and you had seen plenty of him in your years of knowing him. This version of him made your chest tighten, and all you could do was stand there and hope he wasnât feeling the emotions you were. You waited another moment before talking over your shoulder.
âDo you need anything, love? Iâll wait outside if you want me to. Unless you want me here. Iâm happy to do whatever you want, itâs up to you.â
Sirius cleared his throat. âUhâŠcould you maybe help me? My hair is matted and I donât think I can fix it on my own.â
There was probably a spell you could have usedâsome sort of detangling charm to help get the mats out. But Sirius had gotten used to not being able to use magic, and you didnât feel like using it either. The truth was, you preferred it this way.
It was an excuse to get close to him again and spend time with him.
It was an excuse to take care of him.
You nodded, turning around to grab your brush. You kept your eyes on his as you sat down on the edge of the tub, trying your best not to let your eyes wander. You set your brush on your knees, reaching for a cup off the ledge of the tub to dip down into the water and fill up.
âTilt your head back for me, love,â you directed, smoothing your hand over his hairline as he tipped back far enough for you to pour the water over his hair.
You repeated the process a few more times before setting the cup down and grabbing the conditioner. You smoothed it through his hair, gently tugging at the knots with your fingers before you grabbed your brush. It was silent while you worked, making slow but steady progress. Eventually, Sirius shifted, and the water sloshed just over the side of the tub.
âSorry,â he muttered, looking over his shoulder with guilty eyes to see if he splashed you.
âDonât be,â you replied quickly, smoothing a comforting hand across his shoulder before moving back up to his hair. âAre you alright? Getting cold?â
Sirius opened his mouth to speak, before deciding against it and closing it. He just shook his head, growing silent once more. You knew there was something he wasnât saying, and you didnât want to push him. But you hadnât made much progress with his hair, and you didnât fancy sitting in silence for the rest of the evening.
You set your brush down, gently smoothing your palm over his hair. âSiriusâŠyou can tell me anything. You know that, right? I know this feels strange, but itâs still me youâre talking to. Alright? Itâs me. Thereâs nothing you canât tell me. Whatever it is, Iâm here to listen.â
There was another splash as he shifted, twisting around to face you. He was going to say that heâd tell you another time, and that he didnât have it in him to say it just yet.Â
But then he looked into your eyes.
And you were looking at him with such sincerity and warmth that he couldnât help but spill. You watched his eyes fill with tears, and you quickly reached for his hand which he gladly let you take.
âI saw Harry,â he finally choked out.
You felt your breath catch in your chest. A deep sorrow spread through you, filling your gut with dread. You could feel your own tears stinging behind your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. It wasnât the time for them.
âHe looks just like them, doesnât he?â You breathed, squeezing Siriusâs hand. âI havenât seen him in a while. Remus promised heâd say hello for me once he got to Hogwarts.â
âHe knows who you are?â Sirius asked, his voice full of surprise.
âDumbledore wouldnât tell me where he was when they came for him. The bastard said I was ïżœïżœin no shapeâ to look after him, and it was too dangerous for me to get involved. I tried so many times to get him to tell me, but I knew he had already pushed me and Remus to the back of the list as far as who could be around HarryâŠI didnât even catch a glimpse of him until he was eight. Merlin, you have no idea how angry I was when I found out they had given him to Petunia and her sorry excuse for a husband.â
Siriusâs jaw clenched. You could see the anger brewing inside him, watching as he took deep breaths to calm himself. But he didnât let it out on you. He just squeezed your hand, tightening his grip.
Sirius cleared his throat. âDid you try and go get him?â
âDumbledore threatened to have my magic taken away if I didnât leave the matter be. He didnât tell me anything about Harry or where he was kept hidden away. He just brought me a picture of him, and promised that when it was finally time for Harry to go to Hogwarts, heâd let me see him. Remus had to keep an eye on me till he was sure I wouldnât do something stupid before that time came. Heâd been waiting as long as meâheâs just better than me at patience, I guess.â
âYou never were very good at being patient,â Sirius mused, but you could hear the strain in his voice as he spoke.
You gave him a tight lipped smile, trying your best to mean it. âAnyway, I met Harry for the first time in Diagon Alley. Dumbledore finally let me see him under the condition that it be in a public and magical placeâbut I wasnât allowed to tell him about you.â
Sirius frowned, and you could feel your chest tighten. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, your eyes in your lap.
âI wanted to tell himâso badly. But Dumblefore wouldnât let me. All I could say was that I was a friend of Harryâs parents, and that I was there to help him get ready for school. I finally told him I was his godmother last summer when I took him for school supplies again. He spent the afternoon asking me about how I knew his parents. He kept pressing for every detail about them and how I knew them, and I couldnât hold it in anymore. I told him everything about James and Lily I could remember. It just about killed meââ
Your words caught in your throat, cutting you short. Sirius reached his other hand up to reach for yours, his brows furrowing in concern. You looked up, giving him a sad smile.
You swallowed, choking back tears. âHeâs so like them, Sirius. Heâs got Jamesâs ridiculous hair, and Lilyâs fire. I can hardly look at him without seeing her eyes staring back at me. Itâs so fucking unfair.â
A pained sound was pulled from Siriusâs throat, and you stopped yourself from talking about James and Lily any further. You grabbed the brush again, burying your nose in your work as you tried to ignore the sorrow you caught in his eyes before he turned his head straight.
âTell me about it,â you prompted, changing the subject. âTell me about him.â
Sirius was quiet a moment, like he was trying to find the right words. âHe wasâŠbeautiful.â
You smiled, nodding for him to continue as you worked the knots out of his hair.
âHeâs got this little witch by his side who quite honestly scared meââ
âHermione,â you finished for him, grinning. âSheâs a wonder, isnât she? Ron, too.â
Sirius nodded, wringing his hands. âIâm glad Harry has someone. They seem like good friends. Heâll at least have them by his side to keep him from getting into too much trouble. Heâll certainly have a better shot than we did.â
You chuckled, smoothing your hand over his hair. âRemus told me heâs doing really well. It was a big year for him, butâŠheâll be alright. Weâll see to that now.â
Sirius stiffened, turning around to face you. You paused what you were doing, setting down the brush. His eyes were lowered, his voice quiet as he spoke.
âI told him he could come stay with me, at least once it was safe to and he was able. I wasnât really thinking about where that would be. My first thought was Grimmauld Place, but I donât think I can stomach having him there. Itâs not right. But I didnât think to ask youââ
âSirius, love,â you interrupted, gently cupping his cheek. âThis is your home. You can invite whoever you wantâyou donât have to ask my permission. And Harry will always be welcome here. If itâs what he wants, he can come stay with us. It can be his home too.â
His eyes softened, and his shoulders fell as he let out a breath of relief. âMerlin, I missed you.â
You could feel yourself growing emotional again, but you refused to let it show. There was so much you wanted to say to him, but you couldnât bring yourself to speak without your eyes welling with tears. You just cleared your throat as you leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his shoulder.
âTilt your head back for me again, darling,â you managed to whisper, rinsing his hair out. âAlmost done. Weâll get you cleaned up so you can rest, alright?â
â
Not long after, you had Sirius clean and out of the tub, bundled up under the pile of blankets you had dragged over to your bed. He looked a bit ridiculous buried under them all, but it made you smile seeing him comfortable, and he was very happy to oblige you.Â
You laid next to him, under a considerably less amount of layers. âWarm enough?â
A warm laugh came from next to you as Sirius rolled over to face you. âYeah, I think Iâm all set, darling.â
You smiled, and the room fell into a comfortable silence. Out of habitâone you didnât even know you still hadâyou reached for his hand under the sheets. You used to always wind down every night like this, cherishing the time you had together. You never knew how much longer youâd be able to do it with the war raging on, and you both got quite used to doing this each night.Â
Sirius stiffened in surprise when he felt your fingers reach his, but he quickly recovered once he realized what you were doing. He let you take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers.
âThis bed is so soft,â he murmured, tilting his chin down to look at you. âI forgot how soft it was.â
You tried not to let your mind wander, thinking about the sleeping conditions he would have had in Azkaban. He would tell you one day about what it was like there.Â
Neither of you were prepared to talk about it just yet.
âDo you wanna sleep somewhere else? I could make up the couchââ
âNo, love,â he said, squeezing your hand. âThis is good.â
You nodded, resting your head against the pillow. Another silence fell over the room. You shuffled to get a little closer, absentmindedly tracing your thumb along the back of his hand. Sirius let out a heavy sigh, drawing your attention up to him. You waited for him to speak, lying still until he looked down and his eyes met yours. There was a pain in them you couldnât describe.
âDid you think I did it?â
You sucked in a breath, your grip on his hand tightening. You could feel his eyes on you as you frowned, bring your joined hands up from under the sheets to rest on top of the blanket.
You had been waiting for him to ask you this.
You knew he must have spent the past decade wondering what you thought happened. Heâd sat in that cell all alone, thinking his wife thought he was a cold blooded murderer who had killed her best friends.Â
The world thought he was a killer. Why wouldnât you?
You dropped his hand, gently reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm against yours, a pink flush spreading. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? You didnât know. You caressed his cheek, giving him a sad smile. You could see his eyes welling with tears.
âNo,â you finally said, your voice sure. âI didnât think it was you. I didnât know what had happened, but I didnât think it was you.â
Sirius let out a breath, his voice cracking. âReally?â
You swallowed hard, nodding.
âYou would have died before ever hurting Jamesâand you would have done a lot worse to save him. There wasnât a single part of me that thought you could have killed James and Lily. I just couldnât fathom it. There was no one in this world you loved more than them, and I knew that it couldnât have been you. I didnât know they had made Peter the secret keeper last minute, and I didnât know where his body was if he was supposed to be dead, but I knew you had absolutely nothing to do with it. I think Remus knew it tooâŠdeep down. He thought I was crazy with the theories I was coming up with to try and absolve you. But he never truly blamed youâand eventually, we stopped talking about it all together. It hurt too much to keep trying to solve the mystery. It was easier to let it go.â
Fresh tears spilled, and Sirius was quick to wipe them away. Your heart ached at his kindness, even after all these years. All these years of solitude when you had left him behind, and yet, he was the one consoling you.
âIâm so sorry,â you choked out, composing yourself the best you could. âIâm so sorry I didnât try harder to get you back. Iâm so sorry you had to suffer there all those years while I got to just keep living my life. You donât know how sorry I am. Please forgive me, Sirius.â
Sirius quickly shook his head, his palm resting against your cheek. âNone of that, pretty girl. Itâs not your faultââ
âBut it is,â you tried to say, but he just kept shaking his head.
âWell, I donât careâit doesnât matterâŠI donât blame you. I never blamed you, darling. So stop blaming yourself. Iâm sure youâve spent long enough doing that, and I wonât watch you torture yourself. Donât you think weâve both been through enough torture?â
You could hardly believe what you were hearing. He was so strong. It shocked you, just how strong he was. He had been through so much, and yet he still carried himself like the man you knew. He still let other people lean on him even when it should have been him doing the leaning. It was remarkable, really.
âSince when did you get so wise?â You asked, and you had mustered a grin that made him smile too. âWhereâs the stubborn man I once knew?â
Sirius shrugged. âHeâs still in here somewhere. Just needs a little practice. Donât worry, Iâm sure youâll meet him again soon.â
You scoffed, breathing out a laugh. âThatâs alright. I kinda missed him.â
Sirius chuckled, and your smile widened. This felt easyâthis was good. You were so worried that, after all this time, you wouldnât know how to act around each other. You were so afraid that Sirius would walk around the flat like a ghost of the man who once called it home. But he didnât. It only took him a few hours to start cracking jokes, brushing his fingers against yours.Â
It wasnât perfectâneither of you expected it to be.Â
But it gave you hope. Sirius was going to be okay. You both were going to be okay. And youâd get there together.
â
A/N - Hi! Again, I'm so sorry for the wait. I honestly donât love the outcome of this, but I figured Iâd finish it anyways. I loved this request, and I just kept coming back to it and adding it. Hopefully this is what you were looking for, sorry if itâs shit. Thanks for the request :)
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~ AO'NUNG X FEM! SULLY! READER ~
Terrible liar
summary: Ao'nung loves to mess with your siblings, as they always get mad. Your reaction to his behavior though not only confuses but also frustrates him. Why are you always nice to him?
includes: swearing, cuddles, bullying, injuries, soft and harsh psychical touch, denial, anger, falling in love
SFW
5.4k words
------------------------
You lived in Awa'atlu with the people of the Metkayina clan for a while now.
Some of them were curious about you and your siblings. Others ran off as soon as you were near. Some of them even seemed to be disgusted by your presence.
Ronal did not want to have you here. She was certain that you would bring war and death above her folk.
Tonowari on the other hand had a kind heart and allowed you to stay here. If he would've been in Jake's position, he would've pleaded for Uturu as well, at least for his children.
The chief's daughter Tsireya proved to be a bubbly and lovely girl who had helped you voluntarily from the moment she saw you. She always helped wherever she could.
And then there was his son Ao'nung. He used every chance he got to bully you and your siblings. He found it absolutely amusing to see you fail, it entertained him to get especially Lo'ak all angry.
Seeing your brothers and sisters all pissed and annoyed was fuel to his fire. To him, is was only a game. A game he always won. Or so it seemed at first.
"Ooh, what have he here? A forest freak~" His friends laughed at his dramatic pronunciation. You sat on the dock all alone, carving an ilu out of a peace of wood you had found underwater.
You looked up to Ao'nung and his two friends with a genuine smile. "Hey guys, what are you doing?"
Your friendly voice already disgusted him, but he loved to mess with your family.
"Better question, what are you doing there?"
Reaching your carving out to him with a proud face, you watched his grin turn into a disgusted yet still amused expression.
"Can you see what it is? I'm as good as done! If you want to, you can keep it." Your smile did not seem to lessen, even when Ao'nung snatched the wooden figure out of your hand. He heard you wincing, but he did not really care.
For a tiny moment, his mask fell. The carving was very impressing, it really looked just like a mini ilu.
"Can't tell. You forest freaks don't have any other talents apart from swinging through trees."
His friends took a look at it as well, bragging about how 'awful' it looked.
"You could've just asked me to hand it to you, Ao'nung. It's supposed to be an ilu."
As you checked your hand, he also noticed the bloody cut across the palm of your hand. Now seeing that he had actually hurt you, he almost felt bad for it.
"Aw, did little (Y/N) get hurt? You're gonna run to you big brother now?" one of his friends teased before throwing the carved ilu into the reef.
"Whoops~" he flashed a wide grin, but you still smiled as friendly as before.
Instead of being angry, you thanked him, calling it a good idea.
The three boys watched in confusion as you sheathed your knife and jumped after the wooden ilu, retrieving it from the depths.
Once you came back to the water surface you held the carving out to them again. "I can practice diving like this! What a wonderful idea, thank you!"
Ao'nung looked into your eyes, trying to hide his grin and instead faked a mournful face.
"I should apologize for my behavior. I'm sorry for treating you like this. Boys", he turned to his friends, "apologize to her too."
They only looked at him in confusion. Ao'nung, saying sorry? There was no way.
"Seriously, guys. It's wrong to treat her like this."
For a moment you hoped there was an ounce of truth to his words, but before the thought could even blossom, his devilish smile returned to his visage.
"It seems that poor (Y/N) hurt her head, she probably fell face first off a tree. That's why she's so dumb."
His friends laughed together with him, so loud it also caught Tsireyas attention.
"That would explain everything!" They wheezed, slapping their knees while Ao'nung wiped his tears from all the laughter.
"What's going on?" Tsireya asked, as she rode closer on her ilu.
You showed her the carving you had worked on all day, and she immediately fell completely in love with it.
"That's so pretty! It looks just like mine. Here, look-"
She held the wooden ilu against hers, comparing them.
"And it's so small, it fits right into the palm of your hand!"
With that, she reached out to your wrist to place the ilu back into your hand, as she saw the fresh cut.
"Ow, you need to be careful while carving, (Y/N)."
When Ao'nung saw Tsireya inspecting your hand, he almost felt bad since the cut was his fault.
None of your siblings behaved like this. He loved how aggressive they got, his ego fed on that.
But you were so pure, so kind. It confused him. More accurately; it didn't even feel satisfying to mess with you. But why didn't it bother you?
You almost reminded him of his sister, even more as he saw you two next to each other.
"Let's just go, guys." He murmured with a shaking head and left.
~~~~~
The next morning you trained ilu riding with your siblings again.
Kiri and Tuk had already taken off as they had mastered these animals pretty easily.
Tsireya tried to teach it to Lo'ak, Neteyam watched closely.
Much to his displeasure, Ao'nung was designated to teach you.
"You're still doing it wrong, ugh! Get it together!" he hissed quietly, so that your brothers wouldn't hear him.
You shrugged lightly while he held his temples in annoyance.
"I'm sorry Ao'nung. But if you could teach me more precisely, maybe we can get through it quicker."
The young man sighed and grabbed one of your knees unpleasantly, pressing it against the ilu.
"Close your damn knees, skxawng. Now try again."
You gave a thanking smile. It worked better already, you noticed, as you took off for a quick round with the ilu before returning to Ao'nung.
"Finally. Took you long enough."
He turned to leave, but you stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Wait!"
"What else do you want? Unlike you I have something actual to do."
You guided your ilu closer to him to pinch his cheek.
"I wanted to thank you. For taking your time-"
"Like I have a choice." He slapped your hand away. "I'd rather be hunting."
You huffed at his comment and nodded. "You're always so stressed and angry, how about you come over and we teach you some human ways to calm down through training. A smile yould suit you so much better."Â
Instead of a proper answer, all he gave you was that confused and disgusted look again.
"You're wasting my time."
With that, he swam off to the shore again and you decided to join your brothers and Tsireya again.
"(Y/N)! You got it!"Â the young woman happily cheered while your brothers high-fived you.
As you looked back to Ao'nung, you caught him looking back to you as well. Once he noticed he turned away quickly, and it almost looked as if his cheeks seemed darker than before. Was he blushing?
~~~~~
A few days passed. You sat at the docks again, simply enjoying the warmth of the sun, until you noticed a shadow over your face. You felt someone kicking your leg, which made you open your eyes soon after.
"You think you can live here, sitting around doing nothing?" Of course it was none other than Ao'nung again.
"I've been busy until half an hour ago. How was your day?"
Ah, there was it again, that friendly smile you carried on your face, no matter what he said to you.
As you watched him closer, you noticed his bruised face.
"Great mother, what happened to you? Are you okay?" you asked while getting up to take another close look at his bruises.
Backing up a bit, he turned his head slightly.
"You can tell me how it happened, i won't tell anyone. Why don't you come to my marui, I can treat your wounds there?" He visibly froze as you invited him over. Something inside of him screamed to agree and follow you, yet he knew if your brothers would be there, he wouldn't get out alive.
"I'm a man, I can handle myself. I don't need you."
Why did he felt like he just lied to himself? Something about the sentence felt wrong.
Not listening to him at all, you grabbed his hand and dragged him over to where you stayed. Even though he refused to go with you verbally, he almost automatically followed. It felt like he was losing control over his own body.
A relieved sigh escaped from his lips as he saw that there was nobody else in here but you.
"Sit down, I'll treat your wounds. Just hold still for me, will you?"
Ao'nung internally cursed himself for following the order so easily. What kind of magic was this?
He hated you to hell and back, wanted to have nothing to do with you at all.
All he did was mess around with you, and yet you sat here now, treating his swollen face.
"Did someone hit you? You know", you gathered all of the utensils you needed before kneeling down next to him to take care of him, "I thought my brother was a troublemaker, but you're an entirely different story."
The young man did not say a word. All he did was stare at the ground, wondering why his heartbeat was betraying him.
He jumped at the cold feeling of the paste on his skin.
Giggling quietly, you covered your mouth with one hand.
"It's not gonna burn. Trust me, it will help you."
You spread the paste over his cheek with gentle touches. Some of it you also smeared across his bruised chest. He prayed you wouldn't notice his pounding heart which he couldn't even explain to himself.
"This will help you. See, that's better."
The treatment pleasantly cooled him off right away.
Ao'nungs eyes followed yours in mental absence. "Why are you always so mean to my family? We don't want to harm you, we just want to survive."
Your blatant words hit him like another punch and pulled him back to reality.
How the hell should he anwer this? He just didn't like your family. You were strange, different and new. He hated it for some reason.
On top of that, messing with your siblings just entertained him. But messing with you was... frustrating. And yet so strangely addictive.
You shifted into a more comfortable position and mustered him carefully. These doe eyes of yours almost made him feel guilty again.
"You seem so frustrated. Usually, people mess with others if they are hurt. They mostly are unhappy with something about themself. So in case you need to talk, know I'm here, listening."
Before he could get any word out, your parents returned to the marui. Neytiri and Jake stepped in, looking at the two of you sitting on the ground. The entire energy around shifted in an instant. Jake decided to speak up. In english.
"Looks like your mind games are working, huh?"
"I think so. You should see how mad he gets when I don't react."
Ao'nungs body nervously tensed up from not being able to understand your words.
Were you talking about him?
Jake was very happy and proud that at least one of his children didn't argue with this young man. Instead, your mind games actually seemed to have an influence on his behavior.
You got up, held a hand out to Ao'nung then. He ignored your help and got off the ground by himself.
By now, your treatment had already eased some of the pain of his bruises.
"What did your father say?" he asked rather quietly as you walked him out of the tent a bit later. You bit back a smile seeing him so suddenly humbled.
"Oh, not much."
This didn't really help him at all.
"What kind of language is that?"
He slowly walked besides you, his posture not as arrogant as usual.
"English. I can teach you if you want?"
"Demon language?", he huffed, "What am I supposed to do with that?"
His eyes landed on you. After watching you closely for a while, he gave in.
"Let's hear it."
A wide smile spread across your face, and you gave it your best shot to teach him some basics. If only he knew what they actually meant...
Soon you arrived at the marui he shared with his family. They all looked rather surprised seeing the two of you actually talk to each other.
Tonowari walked over to you and greeted you with a simple nod.
Ronal also came closer, inspecting her son's bruises. Her eyes widened in surprise as Ao'nung told her that you had treated him, and she found nothing to complain about.
"We're eating soon. Why don't you join us?" Tsireya offered kindly. Seeing the two of you next to each other without him pestering you was a nice change of scenery for her.
Ao'nung looked at his sister in confusion, and something inside of him was pretty relieved yet also sort of hurt as you thankfully rejected her kind offer.
"I'm sure my family is waiting for me. I'll better be going. Good night."
As you gently patted his back, his muscles immediately tensed up again. It burned anf tingled, wherever you hands layed on his skin.
After saying goodbye to his family, you turned and left, leaving the young man rather speechless. Something about you worked like magic on him, and he absolutely hated everything about this.
He felt weak around you. There was nothing he could do to get you out of your positivity.
As he sat down to eat with his family, Tonowari mustered his son silently. Since you had treated him, he was so unusually quiet and seemed like he wasn't present with his mind.
"My son, it is good to see you getting along with (Y/N). She seems to be a nice young woman."
He did not answer, but only stuffed his mouth with his food so he wasn't expected to talk. Tsireya listened to her father attentively.
"Maybe you should invite her to eat with us?"
While Ao'nung stopped chewing immediately, he looked up to his father unamused, unlike Tsireya, who giggled at her fathers words.
"What a great idea! She's such a sweet soul, and apparently a great healer too! You've been circling her a lot lately, Ao-"
"Over my dead body. I can't stand her."
His father took a deep breath.
"If Tsireyas words are true, and I've seen it myself, it is rather hard to believe."
"I said I cannot stand her! What would I like about her? Her baby tail, her weird yellow eyes? Or her skinny arms?"
His words immediately reprased in his head. That delicate, graceful tail of yours that he caught twitching whenever he picked on you.
These shiny, golden eyes, which seemed so full of love.
Your elegant, almost fragile looking wrists which he could just wrap his hands around so perfectly.
"She's beautiful, Ao'nung, stop saying mean things about her!" Tsireya defended you in your absence, before their father spoke again.
"She seems like a good person. Bring her over to eat with us tomorrow evening. She can be our guest."
The young man balled his fists, both at his fathers words and his thoughts.
You were an ugly freak. Nothing more than that. A four fingered freak.
"Father I-"
"It is the least thing you can do since she treated your wounds." Tonowari said rather loudly, to which Tsireya agreed nodding.
His guts were tossing and turning. He wanted to hate you, but how could he? You had done him no harm.
"Agh!" he hissed in annoyance before he got up again to take a walk on his own, to sort out his thoughts.
'She is a freak. A forest freak.' Internally repeating this over and over again, a recent memory started to crawl up in his mind.
As you had treated him, your touch on his chest had burned. It felt like his skin was on fire. Yet not in a bad way, rather like a warm, tingly embrace.
You treated him like a friend, still all he did was pick on you.
You never took any defense. You never got mad.
It made him feel awfully bored at first, but that boredom turned into frustration, confusion and in the end; guilt.
Usually his ego fed on your hot headed siblings getting annoyed and even aggressive through his behavior. It was fun. But the more he bothered you, the worse he felt about it.
He wanted, no, he needed to get rid of these disgusting thoughts about you.
~~~~~
Tsireya hopped over to you and your siblings with a wide smile. All of you greeted her with the same energy, especially Lo'ak who was head over heels falling for her.
"Good morning, guys. Should we start with breathing lessons?" She asked, still smiling happily.
"Sure!" Lo'ak answered right away. You and Neteyam exchanged amused looks at his reaction.
"Wonderful. I see, you guys are getting better and better at swimming as well. Unfortunately I'll be teaching you alone today."
The girl smiled at you especially, as if this had to do with you. Did you miss anything?
"How come? Your brother's throwing tantrums again?" Neteyam joked, making everyone huff.
"Not at all. He's hunting right now, we're having a guest tonight. At least, that is the plan."
"A-a guest?" Lo'aks eyebrows furrowed at her words. Was she probably seeing someone he didn't know about? But she just shook it off quickly, seeing how his heart was about to crumble.
"Let's get to training, shall we?"
~~~~~
After training you decided to sunbath and relax in the sunlight on the docks again. Getting better at swimming and holding your breath did not make it less exhausting in the end. While dozing off, your thoughts gathered around one thing only; Ao'nung.
You couldn't help but smile at the thought of him. He was a pain in the ass sometimes, but after all, something about him made you all warm around your heart. By now, him trying to annoy you was almost something you adored. He tried so hard to make you mad, there was something cute about it.
You were almost sure that he actively seeked you even if it was just for his own entertainment.
The intense smile on your face almost hurt your jaw and cheeks, which lead you to the decision to cool yourself off. Immediate regret hit you after sinking your hot body into the cool water beneath the docks.
Your head started spinning soon,
swimming was only hardly possible.
"(Y/N)!" you heard a voice call out.
Yet you did not react, thinking this was only fabricated by your brain.
With heavily lidded eyes you tried to hold yourself over the water surface until you felt a hand wrapping around your waist.
Someone supported your body and held you up so you could calm down from the shock. Your upper body fell forwards in dizziness, against the chest of the person that held you up.
"Brother...?" you mumbled, trying to figure out who was supporting you.
"Yeah, take another guess."
It was Ao'nungs voice which was pretty close to you. While resting against him, you dropped the weight of your head onto his shoulder.
"And here I thought you didn't like me?"
Your voice was still quiet, even if the spinning lessened slowly.
"Don't get any ideas, skxawng. You helped me yesterday, so we're quit."
While he talked to you, you got even more comfortable against him. Never before had he been so close to you, but you were thankful. Him being caring for once was also something you could get used to.
Even as the spinning in your head disappeared slowly, you decided to stay like this.
"Did I get promoted from 'freak' to 'skxawng'?"
Ao'nung still held you close. One arm hugged your waist completely while the other one supported your back. He had gently pressed one of his knees between yours for more support, so you got to sit on his thigh.
"You're both."
You couldn't help but silently giggle at his comment, but so did he.
Your hands grabbed onto his shoulders while he still held you in his arms safely. You could swear that his hands traced along your back the slightest bit.
"How do you stay over water so calmly without your arms?"
"Cause I don't have such a thin baby tail like you."
You wrapped your tail around his waist, hearing his breath hitch as you tickled him like this. His facial expression hardened.
"It has other benefits." you grinned against his shoulder.
Again. He made fun of you and you laughed about it.
Ao'nung bit his lip in anger.
"You're weird."
"The way you don't give up mocking me is adorable and fascinating. Maybe this is just your love language?"
Chaos raged inside of his racing heart.
How the hell did you turn his insults into something so lovely? That's not how it was supposed to be.
He pushed you off of him and dipped your face under the water surface.
"Is this how you show your affection?" you asked with an amused smile once you came back up.
Ao'nung simply groaned and swam back to the dock, getting himself out of the water. You followed him and held him by his shoulder.
"Thank you for helping me."
His blue eyes stared at you in confusion. He was confused through not just your words, but also his feelings.
"Should've let you drown." he cursed before pulling away from your grip.
"Where are you going?" you asked as he stomped off, following him for a few meters.
"Prepare food for tonight. Why else do you think I went hunting earlier?"
"Right, your sister mentioned that you are having guests tonight. Who's coming?"
Ao'nung sighed, he didn't even look at you but just left.
"You." he said while walking away.
~~~~~~
You had spent the rest of the day with you siblings before going over to the chief's family marui.
"Dude I'd trade my ikran to be where you get to be tonight!" Lo'ak hissed at you.
"She isn't even trying to, bro", Neteyam laughed, "I guess she is the chosen one."
His exaggeration made Lo'ak turn his eyes. He would've done anything to get invited for dinner with Tsireya.
Kiri sat next to you and fumbled with her braided hair. "I don't think it was her choice, and I'm certain it wasn't Ao'nungs choice either."
You looked at her nodding, then back to Lo'ak who was still more than jealous.
"Is (Y/N) going on a date?" Tuk asked, she didn't fully understand what was happening.
"Yes." Neteyam grinned.
"No."Â You corrected right away.
Tuk didn't understand. But in all honesty, neither did you.
Neteyam pulled his youngest sister into his lap and covered her ears before speaking again.
"He has to choose a mate soon, I'm sure Tonowari had this in mind when inviting you."
"As do you, dear brother. I'll better go, don't wanna be too late."
With that, you got up and left. It only took a few minutes until you arrived at the home of olo'ekytans family. Tsireya was the first to greet you, she got up as soon as her eyes landed on you.
"It's so good to see you!" she cheered happily while leading you inside.
You greeted their family with a humble gesture before sitting down at the place between Tsireya and her brother.
Ao'nung barely looked at you. Ronal and Tonowari on the other hand mustered you from head to toe.
"Our son's bruises healed in no time. May I ask what exactly you used?" Ronal asked with high interest.
"I've used yalna bark. I know you don't have that here, but I brought some from home."
Ronal nodded in approval.
She seemed to like you, so the first ice was broken.
Tsireya meanwhile got some of the grilled fish on a flat leaf that served as a plate and handed it to you.
"So, do you enjoy our customs and our way of living?" the chief asked, thrilled to get to know you better. He had no doubts about his son following his footsteps, but he needed a wife, and a worthy one at that. Some times already he had seen the two of you interact, Tonowari was sure that you would be able to handle Ao'nung well. On top of that, you were the daughter of another olo'ekytan and tsahik.
A few hours passed in no time. You sat with the chiefs family, ate, talked and laughed until it was late at night. It was getting so late that your father even came to check on you to make sure you were still with them.
Tsireya turned to yamn silently, it had been an exciting and exhausting day.
Most of the time you had talked to Tsireya and Tonowari, even Ronal had gotten comfortable to talk to you a bit more. Yet Ao'nung didn't say anything unless he was personally spoken to. He only watched his family and you interact.
Over the time, he caught himself staring a few times, and so did his sister. She found it rather amusing to see him like this while Ao'nung hated the fact that his heart wanted to jump out of his chest whenever his eyes landed on you.
He wanted to find negative aspects about you, but during his mission to find anything, he only ended up appreciating the smallest details about you more and more.
"I'm glad you joined us tonight. Know that you will always find a place here in the future. Feel free to visit us anytime."
Ao'nung clenched his jaw at his father's comment and took a deep breath. He hated how his father was trying to get the two of you together.
"I think I will go to sleep." Tsireya announced in a tired voice before she got up and went to her mat.
"As should we all." Ronal said, visibly tired as well. The chief hated to throw you out, he would've liked to see you and Ao'nung interact more.
You got up and wished a good night to the entire family, thanking them for the invitation and the meal before leaving the marui.
As you did, you watched watched the stars burn bright above the horizon.
What a pretty sight, you thought, until your ears twitched at the sound of silent voices.
"Son, I'm not discussing that with you!"
"She's old enough to walk home alone, isn't she?"
"It's about courtesy and politeness!"
You sighed as you heard Ao'nung and his father arguing and hissing at each other.
"I can't stand her anyway! I hate her! She's an ugly forest freak, useless and stupid! It's annoying enough already to teach her our ways, I can't wait for her to get back to wherever the hell she came from! Disgusting demon halfblood!"
"Ao'nung!"
Even if you did like him, his words did not hurt. You knew that he had a weakness for you no matter how much he denied it.
You looked back to the marui as its curtains swung open, only for Ao'nung to step out in fury, he wanted to cool his head off, but as he saw you so close he was sure you had heard him.
Even if he said the same things to your face already, he was still shocked that you heard his words. But seeing you smile nonetheless was something he did not understand.
"You're a bad liar." You smiled while looking up into the stars again.
"There are some things in this world that we have to accept. Some things we cannot change. It's childish to think we could control them through denial."
You calling him childish only fed his fury. Ao'nung balled his fists in frustration.
He wanted you to leave and never come back. You made him weak, made him lose all focus whenever you were around him. The most embarrassing part for him was the fact that bobody believed him anymore. More than anything he denied his feelings for you but nobody seemed to believe it.
Was it so obvious?
He came a few steps closer only to drag you away with him. Nobody else was supposed to hear this conversation.
No matter how frustrated he was, his thoughts betrayed him again.
Ao'nungs curiosity about your wrists got confirmed; he could just wrap his entire hand around them. It fitted like they were made for his hands.
Shaking his head once, he got rid of the thought. At least, he tried to.
You looked around to where he was leading you. In no time he had guided you to a small bay, away from the village, where the two of you could be alone.
He turned towards you and pulled you closer by your wrist.
"Why?" was all he managed to get out, but all you did was look at him in confusion.
"What why?"
Aonung closed his eyes for a second, trying to remain focussed.
"Why are you so nice? I don't understand! I treat you like this, I pick on you every day and all you do is laugh! You never defend yourself! By Eywa, why are you so friendly? Why do you like me?"
You watched how he got completely mad, his eyes were filled with rage.
"Frustrating, isn't it?"
"You've been doing this on purpose?!"
His jaw dropped in anger while you simply smiled.
"You mocked me and my siblings on purpose too. It's fun to see them get mad, right?"
Ao'nung was completely speechless. It suddenly clicked in his head. All you had ever done was making him feel how he made your siblings feel.
And now that he thought about it, your behavior was only fair.
Something deep inside of his mind visibly changed. His anger turned into realization. He couldn't be mad at you, as much as he wanted to hate you.
"See, Ao'nung, I was never mad at you because that is what you wanted to achieve."
He swallowed the big lump in his throat. Nothing compared to the hatred he felt for admitting that you haven't done anything wrong. His tight grip around your wrist had loosened, his furious eyes seemed to calm down as well.
You came closer to him and took his hands instead, but he pulled away. Sighing, you engaged once more and placed both hands on his cheeks to hold him in place.
"Be honest to yourself; do you really hate me that much?"
At the question, his eyes darted right at yours, then softened at the sight of your gentle expression.
"... Maybe not that much..." he mumbled in shame, knowing this was definitely an understatement.
Your thumbs caressed his cheeks while your over four fingers softly traced over his neck.
"I forgive you, Ao'nung."
He almost overheard your voice since he was only paying attention to your soft touches and these golden eyes of yours which he secretly adored so much.
Once more he swallowed as he lost himself in your eyes.
As guilt took over his heart completely, he simply pulled you closer and held you pressed against himself. His arms fell around your neck, one hand buried in your hair, caressing your head carefully.
"What I said to my father about you-"
"No worries. Like i said, you're a terrible liar."
He swallowed heavily at your words again. Was he so transparent for you?
"I know you like me. But you've grown on me as well." you giggled into the crook of his neck.
"You're weird... but at least you have a good taste in boys..." You looked up to him, his face actually turned into a genuine smile.
"You're a skxawng , you know that, Ao'nung?"
You pinched his cheeks playfully until he pulled away, only to lift your head and look into your eyes once more.
"And you're a freak. My freak."
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Always been you
Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! childhood friend reader
Summary: From the moment you first smiled at him as children Simon knew it would always be you.
Word count: 2k
Warnings: some nsfw content so minors keep scrolling
It starts like this, heâs 9 years old feet listlessly guiding himself to the rundown park desperate to be somewhere, anywhere that wasnât the oppressive confines of home. The weather, as was typical of Manchester, wasnât exactly cooperating. A dreary grey drizzle that served to keep most of the general populace indoors. Few parents were willing to stand outside and supervise their rowdy children.Â
Thatâs not to say the area was completely devoid of activity and for a while Simon was content to sit idly on the swing set and people watch. Trying desperately to ignore the clench in his chest and the sting of tears in the corner of his eyes as he watched the loving interactions between child and parent. Bitterness and wanting in equal parts threatened to consume him.Â
A voice from the side quickly pulls him from the harrowing thoughts, though he quickly thinks maybe theyâd be easier to deal with. Itâs a boy, around his age, maybe a little older and heâs boring like Simonâs deeply offended him.Â
âGet off the swing, I want a turn.â The demand leaves Simon more than a little flabbergasted. Apparently, he takes too long to not follow the sudden command as the boy's face twists in even more displeasure.Â
âI said, move!â Heâs taller, and maybe it's because Simon had already been scared by Tommy that morning but he freezes.Â
Or maybe itâs just because heâs pathetic, his fatherâs voice whispers traitorously in his mind.Â
Thankfully, the thought doesnât get to stick around for long as a new voice enters the fray. âHey! Fuck off!â Both boys whirl around with wide eyes at the newcomer, neither sure how to respond to the loudly swearing girl. However, when the boy responds with what Simon assumes to be your name it becomes clear that you already know each other.Â
âI donât have to listen a girl.â That proves to be exactly the wrong thing to say, Righteous indignation lights up your face and before Simon can even blink the would-be bully is on the ground, clutching his nose with a cry. Youâd punched him, hard enough that Simon could see the blood spilling out from over the crying boyâs hands and down his chin. Not wanting to suffer the same fate, Simon had let you pull on his hand, keeping it in a deceptively strong grip as you marched the two of them away. When you make it far enough from the crime scene you turn to him with a toothy grin, introducing yourself and promptly claiming the title of his new best friend.Â
Itâs not quite love at first sight, but years down the line Simon will recognise it as something close.Â
The fourth time you meet at the park, not even two weeks from the initial greeting, you ask after his parents. It wasnât unusual that Simon didnât talk much, content to listen to you chatter away but you must have noticed something different in that instance of silence. You were alarmingly perceptive like that when it came to him, your eyes feeling as if they were staring directly into his soul, seeing all the shattered hurt he tried to hide. Nodding to yourself you grabbed his hand, an occurrence that he hadnât quite gotten used to yet - your gentle touch, and tugged him along. You walk him all the way to your house, open the door with an excited bang and march straight up to your parents.Â
âThis is my best friend, Simon, heâs gonna sleep over tonight!â Your parents are rightfully not amused but their protests quickly die down. He has no idea what convinced them in the end, but from then on heâd somehow become a permanent fixture in your home. Dinners became a regular thing which often became sleepovers as you attempted to keep him out of the house that had caused him so much fear and pain. It was about as subtle as a brick to the face but Simon never complained, especially if it meant youâd pull him into your bed as often as possible to sleep.Â
He hadnât minded the first two âboyfriendsâ, they had been nothing serious, silly childhood infatuations. Because at the end of the day, it was always him that you returned to. Crawling through his window late at night and pouting that you couldnât sleep without your favourite pillow, because somehow, despite his protests you always wrestled him into being the little spoon.Â
No, it isnât until heâs 17 and more than aware of how painfully in love with you he is that the boyfriends finally become a problem. Simon wasnât a violent person, didnât want to be, not like his father was. But as he holds you in his arms after youâd climbed through the window in tears, cuddling up to him under the blanket covering his bed that he swears for the first time in his life he could kill somebody. He offers too, you simply laugh and tell him heâs the best friend you could ever have. You think heâs joking, Simonâs not entirely sure he is.Â
Youâre his first kiss, something that had only occurred at your aghast knowledge that heâd never kissed anyone at all. Heâs not sure why youâre surprised, youâre the only person he ever lets near him let alone touch him. Itâs simultaneously the best and worst moment of his life because now he actually knows what it feels like to kiss you. Knows that nobody will ever live up to you.Â
Itâs then he realises that youâre his first everything really, first friend, first crush, first and only love.Â
He reads some of your smutty books, the ones you giggle at, a secret heâll take to the grave, just to learn what you like. It comes about after a drunken confession on your part, liquor loosening your lips just a tad too much as you detail how much your last boyfriend sucked in bed. Itâs a mistake, because now every time he looks at you he canât help but imagine the way youâd taste. How youâd sound begging so prettily for him.Â
His decision to join the military was not made lightly, youâd gotten accepted into some fancy university and itâs then Simon starts to realise just how much his entire life has started to revolve around you. As much as he wants to follow, he knows that life isnât for him, and he knows how much you want him to flourish in whatever path he chooses.Â
Training isnât easy, but itâs far from the hardest thing heâd ever done. That title was reserved for telling you about his chosen career path.Â
âPromise me youâll always come back home to meâ you demand, parting just slightly from your hug to look into his eyes. Simon knows he shouldnât, after all thereâs never any guarantee that he will, but as has been the case since you were both 12 he canât bare to say no to you.Â
âI promise loveâ itâs barely a whisper but you still hear it, your fingers clutching at the back of his shirt starting to shake a little.Â
He wants to kiss you, he always does, but standing before him now, eyes glassy from the tears youâre trying to hold back, Simon swears youâve never looked more ethereal. As much as he wants to lean down and finally taste your lips he doesnât, it wouldnât be fair. Not to you or to him, so instead he presses a soft kiss to your hairline, keeping you held tightly against him.Â
You send him more care packages than he can count, photos, letters and little trinkets he kept tucked safely away in his bunk or on his person when he could get away with it. He gets teased for it but Simon couldnât give less of a fuck about their poorly hidden jealousy, not when you cared for him so deeply. Not when he gets to fall asleep with your words in his head and faint scent rubbing off on him.Â
Heâd thought that perhaps the distance would do him some good, would finally douse the blazing flames of his love for you. He really should have known better because as the day's drone on you start to consume his every thought both waking and asleep. His life becomes a series of training and missions that only serve as a way to pass the time until he gets to see you again. Because no matter how much blood stains his hands he knows youâll always be there to wash it away. Heâs aware how selfish it is, to place the brunt of his longing and emotional baggage that only continues to grow in your careful hands, but Simonâs never claimed to be a good man.Â
Some of the darkness slips out one night, after his brother's wedding, after the revelry had died down and it was just the two of you lying on the grass and looking up at the stars at your insistence. Heâll forever blame it on the alcohol, descriptions of the violence heâd tried so desperately to keep from you pouring from his lips in confession. He canât bear to look at you, heart roaring in his ears as he waits for the moment youâll run, the moment youâll finally realise what a monster he is. That moment never comes, instead, you ensnare him in your protective grip, hands cradling him far more softly than he deserves. Itâs that moment that finally cements the fact that youâre never leaving in his mind. Youâre never leaving so itâs up to him to pull away before he tarnishes your light, but Simon is weak and so he stays.Â
It happens after his third tour, the one where heâd had too close a call, the one heâd thought for a few moments he wasnât coming home from. In those moments heâd thought of you, of your smile and god he regretted. He regretted never telling you how he felt.Â
It feels like heâs barely off the plane, eyes searching desperately for you before he hears the shout of his name. He spins just in time for you to launch yourself at his chest, gripping desperately onto him. Youâve always tried to keep your affection for him private, knowing he wasnât entirely comfortable with people staring. Neither of you cared in that moment though and Simonâs already dropped his bags, engulfing you in a near-crushing grip.Â
Itâs an eternity before you pull away, but itâs still too soon. He briefly glimpses the tears in your eyes before he leans down and kisses you. Something in the back of his mind is screaming at him, but he doesnât really care to listen. At first, you donât respond and Simon finally panics as the consequences of his actions set in. You donât give him the chance to run away though, hands grasping his face and keeping him in place.Â
When you pull away you donât say anything, simply taking his hand in yours and tugging him out to your car. The drive to your apartment is silent, but not uncomfortable. It isnât until youâve pulled him into your bed, in a mirror image of your younger years that you finally break the silence.Â
âI never thought you felt the same.â The same? The implications of your words seared into the forefront of his mind.Â
âSilly girl, why would I ever even look at somebody else when you exist?â You let out an adorably embarrassed squawk at his words, lightly hitting him on the chest as you bury your burning face against his neck.âItâs always been youâ he murmurs, the confession settling over you like a wave.Â
For a split second, he fears your relapse into silence means heâd pushed too far too fast. Years of pining bubbling up and over the surface at the slightest bit of reciprocation. Youâre quick to shut down his internal spiral with another earth-shattering kiss, pulling away and resting your chin on his chest.Â
âYeah, youâve always been it for me too Si. From the moment I pulled you from that swing." It's a little embarrassing, how fast his heart races at the confession. Tears build in the corners of his eyes as he finally, finally lets himself fully succumb to your love. You're quick to wipe them away though, because you would always take care of your Simon.
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helloooo, can i req cuddling with love and deepspace boys? :))
Imagine: Loving Embrace (ft. main trio)
Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)
Tags: pure fluff
A/N: i'm still feeling pretty bad mentally because too many things happened and i'm no longer taking antidepressants, but this little cute request was hard to resist ⥠I decided to focus on different situations instead of writing simple hcs for cuddles
-`âĄÂŽ- MASTERLIST -`âĄÂŽ-Â
Rafayel: Cuddles for Inspiration
"Come here, I can't find my inspiration without you."
At least that's what Rafayel always says when he can't find the right balance between painting and wanting to spend time with you. So why not combine both!
Yes, he's covered in paint and, yes, its smell completely soaked his clothes, but you never say no to him. How could anyone resist his cute pouty face when he's asking for something like this?
The moment Rafayel pulls you by the waist and sits you on his lap, be prepared to spend a very, very long time like this. Especially if he's really inspired by your closeness.
And he just can't let go of his muse in the middle of the creative process, right?
Rafayel holds you firmly but gently by your waist while his chin rests on your shoulder. His eyes are either closed as he thinks about something or focused on the canvas.
Sometimes his fingers draw invisible abstract shapes on your waist. He does it instinctively, without thinking. Or he plays with your own fingers while he draws details with his other hand.
"See? Without you, this painting wouldn't be complete."
Zayne: Cuddles for Productivity
"I need some cuddles to promote the production of oxytocin."
Zayne⊠Always remains Zayne, covering up his own desire to be closer to you with various medical terms and researches. It is cute in it's own way, actually.
He loves it when you hold him in your arms and he can completely relax for a while, resting his head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat. He'll definetely call it a way to check your heath too.
Zayne loves to cuddle before or after work most of the time, but he won't refuse to be there for you during his break at work.
He needs to find the energy to keep working, after all.
He probably prefers to keep quiet during yor cuddling session, but if you want to tell him something, go ahead, Zayne won't say a word against it.
In fact, he even enjoys hearing your stories. Just make sure they don't contain things about your work that might alarm him. Otherwise, he might go back into strict doctor mode. But it's still only because of his love and care for you.
"Have you heard that hugs or any other show of affection can have health benefits, including reducing fear, stress, and pain? So it is good for both of us."
Xavier: Cuddles for Sleep
"My internal battery is completely drained."
And with these words Xavier will make himself comfortable in your arms while you're lying on the couch or bed and scrolling on social media.
And that's not even a joke, he's actually completely exhausted after spending the last couple days on missions without proper rest. You know Xavier, he either works non-stop or goes into hibernation after that. It'll take some time to change his habits.
In this state, he's more like a big plush toy, and you can do whatever you want with him. But the best idea is to play with his hair. This action always relaxes him.
After all, only in your hands he can find such a desired comfort.
Xavier will tell you about how his last mission went while you cuddle. Well, he will try to do it before sleep finally consumes him. And you'll be able to hear perfectly how his voice grows quieter and quieter with each word.
He's so cute when he's sleepy, isn't he? You can even tell him that to get a quiet chuckle in return. Xavier doesn't mind your little teasing.
"It's so warm in your arms, I swear I⊠I can't stay awake anymoreâŠ"
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K so like its night time and y/n is cuddling with megumi and yuji barges in and sees them both and is like âYouâre cuddling with megumi are you guys dating?! :Oâ then the next day everyone is just asking you âaRe YoU rEaLlY dAtInG mEgUmI???â By the way i love your postsâ€ïž
megumi is just so perfect for secret dating bc he would beg you to keep your relationship a secret, like, right off the bat. like before you're even official- probably before he's even confessed.
omg.
megumi coming to you in a panic and it worries you bc you don't often see him stressed and the boy looks like he's about to pop a blood vessel and you're being so sweet to him meanwhile he's grabbing you by the hands and making you swear to not speak a word of this to yuji or nobara- and definitely not gojo. poor confused you are like "ok sure but what are you talking about??" oops megumi forgot about the part where he's supposed to tell you how much he likes you and thinks that you should give him a chance at making you happy- but we all know that goes well because you're literally in love with him already adlhgkajflkgh
and for a while you're pretty good at sneaking around, because it's sort of fun actually. every secret look or note passed has your heart racing and you wouldn't have it any other way, as long as you have each other.
but after a few months the two of you get fully settled with one another and you start to slip up. with megumi pulling your chair out for you or holding the door for you but not the others, you start to get a few questioning looks. and you might have called him megs in front of the others one time- he might not forgive you for that one because now everyone calls him that to get on his nerves... oops.
it's not like either of you are trying to get caught, you both enjoy the benefits of dating in secret so much, you don't necessarily want to give that up. the others will definitely berate and interrogate you one day for keeping your relationship a secret for so long, but... it's just so nice.
"maybe we tell them when we graduate?" you hum, trying to brainstorm with your boyfriend to find the proper way to break the news.
megumi's chest rumbles under your cheek when he groans. if it were up to him, no one would ever know. surely he could have a successful relationship with you that way, right? it's been easy enough to cover it up so far, surely you could elope and build a life together in secret as well? shit, would gojo take it personally if he didn't tell him he was getting married? suddenly his mind is swarming with what a secret private wedding would look like, meanwhile you're laying against him in sielnce waiting for his response.
"megs..?" you call softly, trying to draw him out of his thoughts.
"maybe we fake our deaths. relocate. how's italy sound?"
you chuckle, tilting your head back to peer up at him.
"you're afraid of gojo, aren't you?" you hum knowingly. megumi glances down at you briefly, looking away as soon as you wiggle your eyebrows. you chuckle again.
"i'd be open to other places, too" he continues his thought.
"i think we should just rip it off like a bandaid," you ignore his getaway plan. "tell them we're together and have been all year. then if they have questions-"
"i'm not answering their questions" his voice is a mere whisper, as not to disturb the calming atmosphere you've created, but his words are final. you tap your finger against his chest a few times.
"i'll answer the questions then, you can just... stand there"
"do i even have to be there?"
"i don't think they'll believe me if you aren't" you giggle at the idea of trying to convince them that yes that stoic moody boy is actually a complete romantic towards you and you never thought a love like yours could be possible.
"are you saying our friends don't think i'm boyfriend material?" he asks, and you know he's baiting you, but you're honest with him anyways.
"that's exactly what i'm saying," you say, grinning up at him despite the scowl of fake hurt on his face. "but i know otherwise"
"fine. we'll tell them. and then you can answer the questions. and i'll... be there. for emotional support"
you giggle some more, tucking yourself further against him while he stares at the ceiling in despair. he already knows all of the questions your friends are going to ask and he can't help but dread them in advance. still, it will be nothing compared to the interrogation he'll surely receive from his guardian, later, when you aren't around to protect him (and his dignity)
"it'll be nice to be able to just say we're going on a date instead of you faking to be sick and me pretending i'm on an assignment. sneaking around was fun and all but..." you trail off, and megumi averts his gaze from the plain ceiling, peeking down at you where you nuzzle into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt. he knows you're going to fall asleep on him, because you always do, but he doesn't mind. even if it makes his arm fall asleep. "i don't want to hide how much i love you anymore"
and then his escape plan sounds silly when you put it like that. so he hugs you tighter against him as you start to drift off- he can tell as your head feels a little heavier against his collar- and he brushes his lips over the crown of your head.
"i love you too, sweetheart," he murmurs. "we'll tell them as soon as you want"
he just wasn't expecting the moment to be ruined by his door slamming open and your friends inviting themselves in, only to be shocked at the scene they interrupted.
queue the noisy accusations and questions. megumi tries not to say i told you so as you tiredly sit up and rub your eyes so you can answer all of your friends' curiosities, while he pulls the blanket over his head and tries to pretend he wasn't there.
of course he doesn't want to hide that he loves you... but for fucks' sake do they have to do this here and now????
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*à©đ©ïžâ§âËâ playing defence + yoichi isagi.
à«źË¶á” àŒá”˶á synopsis â you bitch slap kaiser for talking smack about your boyfriend. perhaps isagi is rubbing off on you.
â warnings â please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, crack, fluff, suggestive towards the end, violence, smack talk, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, established relationship, pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !
â words â 2.2K.
â notes â greetings all! isagi brain rot is so real rn, i swear i have like six wips for him... anyways this was a silly little idea that popped into my head lmao kinda cringe but i had fun with it !! enjoy ! - m.list â©
your boyfriend is somewhat of a conundrum.
the world knows yoichi isagi as the ruthless heart of blue lockâs success. a man thatâs unrelenting on the field with his strategic mind and frightening air of dominance poured into his every play. every movement he makes is calculated meticulously, the greed for a goal simmering in his blood. isagi as a pro player is foul mouthed and messy â taunting his opponent until they crumble into nothing but dust before his very eyes.
the media thinks heâs cocky, but rightfully so. after all yoichi isagi is the catalyst for a new generation of japanese soccer. the girls love him, heâs charming in interviews without meaning to be â they like how he talks about you. as if youâre a gem thatâs worth millions. precious.
the isagi that you know has a tender touch and his soul warm, he wears his heart right on his sleeve and never lets you go a moment without knowing youâre appreciated. the isagi that you know is encouraging, heâs always on your side. if he needs to, heâll sweet talk you with honey glazed words and kiss you until your thoughts fizzle out into stardust.
isagi is good.
heâs good to his friends, his teammates, his parents â heâs almost too good to be true. as if heâs been peeled from the pages of a shoujo romance manga or ripped from the silver screen of a perfect Hollywood romcom. a literal walking green flag. youâd say that you were lucky to have him, and yoichi would spin it on you â using strings of sweet words to express just how deep and profound his love is for you, praising you just enough to melt you into a love sick puddle of goo. and heâd mean it, sincerity swirling in his whirlpooling blue eyes. he swears by it.
so when someone pisses your isagi off, when they hurt him â you canât help but lose your shit.
it happens during a practise match with a few of the players that joined during the neo-egoist league. although itâs been years since then and the blue lock project has become a formidable team, it keeps the boys on their feet to play with those with other worldly styles of soccer. the match had been going well, isagi trailblazing across the pitch and leaving nothing but a trail of destruction and despair behind â you were proud of him, amazed by him and the talents he possesses. to see him in his element makes your heart swell.
you donât know kaiser very well â just that heâs super big and plays for the german team that gave isagi his leg up in the soccer world. youâve heard from others about how much of a dick he could be and the intense rivalry he had with your boyfriend back when the blue lock project first started. you donât know kaiser well but that information alone was enough to get your back up whenever he was in close range of yoichi.
and rightfully so. because you see the way he prods and pokes at the beautiful, sensitive parts of your lover as they race across to the penalty area. you notice how it rattles isagi, gets him all up in his head. you hear kaiser say something along the lines of:
âwhatâs with your shitty plays, yoichi? surely if youâre the heart of blue lock then the future of soccer is bound to be doomed.â he skirts around your boyfriend, intercepting a pass he was meant to receive from nagi. âpathetic, to see how much this star has fallen. i should crush you.â
youâve heard all the insults the blue lock boys throw at each other before but this is nothing like usual. rin itoshi has said much worse to isagi right in front of your face (and isagi right back, foul mouthed motherfucker) but you know thatâs a defence mechanism to how rin truly thinks and feels.
michael kaiser is just an asshole, plain and simple.
and that kind of behaviour doesnât fly with you when it comes to yoichi.
you storm onto the pitch from the sidelines before your mind can even catch up to your body. the other players working around your boyfriend and his rival stop their movements as you stroll past them, snapped out of their egoist state by the referee whistle that calls for you to stop.
âm-maâam! you canât be on the pitch!â
you walk right past ness, weave between kurona, bachira and hiori, and right up to the blonde haired perpetrator himself. youâre polite about it too, tapping him on the shoulder to interrupt the narcissistic monologue heâs giving to isagi and showing him your sweetest, kindest smile.
thereâs a split second before the blunt force of your fist collides with michael kaiserâs cheek and heâs knocked to the ground from the weight of it.
âyou better watch who the fuck youâre talking to, you clownish freak.â
âbabe?â isagi jumps into action despite his shock and the sniggers from other players on the field. he wraps his strong arms around your middle and tugs you into his chest with a winded laugh. âprecious, what are you doing here?â
âhe canât talk to you like that!â
âbut baby, you canât be hereââ
âthis isnât good.â bachira sings from a safe distance.
âfuck! what the actual fuck?â kaiser swears, using the sleeve of his jersey to wipe the blood from his bruising nose. âwhoâs crazy groupie is this?â
another wave of anger crashes through your veins, your blood at its boiling point as his words register within you. âexcuse me?â isagi snarls, clearly unimpressed, loosening his hold on you while you struggle against your boyfriendâs lean frame.
âso what? you get your girlfriend to play defence for you and then act like iâm in the wrong? i said, get this groupie away from meâ!â
before anyone on the pitch can realise, youâre free from isagiâs hold and youâre on kaiser like white on rice â fisting his sweatshirt between the same pretty fingers that treat isagi like heâll break with too much force. âyou wanna say that again, shitstain?â you run your tongue over your teeth, the menacing glint to your eye making you look like youâre a predator about to hunt down her prey. the blonde shakes underneath you as you pin him to the grass â an insult rolling around on his tongue. âi wouldnât waste my words. you should just lay down and die before you take another sucker punch from this groupie.â
âdo you have any idea how much this face is worth? i shouldââ
âgimme a break michael kaiser,â to your left you can hear bachira chanting something about âno violenceâ, bouncing around excitedly and a wicked grin tugs on the corner of your lips. âyouâre not worth shit to me. so keep fucking around and find out, pretty boy. you talk smack about yoichi again and i swear your face wonât be the only goods i damage.â
âjeez, youâre just as crazy as that wanna be protagonist over thereââ is all he can muster before he flinches back from your fists that raise a over your head.
isagi moves quicker this time, scooping you up from underneath your armpits despite how you huff, puff and protest. âalright, alright, youâre done here. letâs go, princess.â he says sheepishly. maybe heâs been rubbing off on you a little too much.
his comforting touch slides down to your hand, grabbing at it to drag you off the pitch for the sake of kaiserâs safety, keeping everyone else out of harms way. and isagi just about gets you off the green before you set your sights on your next victim â ness, who canât help but make faces at you as you trudge after your boyfriend.
drawing a line over your throat with your thumb, you make direct eye contact with him. âyouâre next, shitty little meat-riderâ! ow! âichi!â you bark, but isagi quickly scoops you up again like a cat holding her kitten by the nape.
you have no choice but to back down for now.
âyanno, you really didnât have to do that.â
isagi letâs you go once youâre back in the locker rooms to check on your hand. he crouches before you (where you sit just a level above him on the metal bench), holding an ice pack to your knuckles with the trace of a smile on his lips, only lifting it to see if the swelling has gone down. isagi reads you like an open book, heâs got you all figured out so he leaves you with the space to react and have your little tantrums.
besides, itâs cute that you get so pissed off when it comes to him. watching your nose scrunch up and your lips twist into a pout while you fight your own outburst just makes his heart beat for you a little faster.
âoh i fucking did! he was being so horrible to you and i couldnât just let it slide!â you huff as your temper flares, shoulders sagging and arms crossing over your chest. he says nothing for a moment and lifts the compress from your hand to check the damage.
âlook at you, precious girl. youâve only gone and hurt yourself,â even when youâre throwing a fit like this, yoichi can only see the beauty in you â his cheeks flushing at how much you care for him. the dark haired striker flips through a first aid kit that rests at your feet, looking for disinfectant to clean up your split knuckles. âand, as for kaiser⊠well, heâs always like that.â
âwell, i donât like kaiser. i hope a bird shits on his head and both sides of his pillows are warm.â
âbird shit is supposed to be a sign of good luck, baby.â
âdonât test me yoichi isagi.â
he dabs at your wounds with a cotton pad and a brownish liquid that smells like the dettol your mom would keep in the cabinet under the kitchen sink for when you got yourself into similar situations like this as a kid. but instead of scolding you like she would, yoichi tends to your cuts and scrapes either upmost care. still smiling to himself. smiling at you. resisting the urge to burst with affection.
âyouâre gonna have to apologise, precious.â he mutters absentmindedly, wincing when you do.
âi-iâm not going to, he deserved it!â that much is true, kaiser is clown who needs to be put in his place but it shouldnât have been by you and at the expensive of your precious hands getting hurt.
youâre in more pain than youâre willing to show, and it bothers isagi just a little bit that youâre experiencing it because of him.
âwell he did, but ego wonât be happy.â
âdid ego make you apologise for all those times you beat the crap out of your teammates for even looking at me? for stealing your goals?â you roll your eyes, leaning away from your doting boyfriend in protest.
isagi grabs at your wrist firmly, tugging you back into place so he can start wrapping your hand up â ignoring the way his face and the tips of his ears start to burn up in embarrassment. âwell no⊠but thatâs different. friendly competition.â
âhardly! may i remind you that shidou literally couldnât walk for a week straight after he commented on my ass? because of you?â
âi was defending your honour! and keep still!â
you give isagi a pointed look. hypocrite. âokay, but what about when rin said you couldnât fuck for the life of you and then you proved your point. using me. in front of him. was that about honour or about your ego? mister egoist.â isagiâs big blue eyes instantly shoot up to meet yours and blushes a crimson that could rival the shade of the older itoshi brotherâs hair. âitoshi couldnât look at me for weeks!â
âpoint taken.â knowing that he wonât win this argument (if you could even call it that), isagi finishes up with bandaging your hand and takes a seat next to you, a comfortable silence settling over you both while he attempts to piece together why you love him this much. to play knight in shining armour to his damsel in distress.
âare youâŠreally going to make me apologise yoichi?â you ask him sheepishly after some time, leaning into him for comfort.
ânot if you donât want to, precious.â he hums, fondly brushing a thumb over the back of your bandaged hand. a silent thank you. a hidden i love you.
âgood,â you whine now that all of your adrenalineâs worn off and you can really feel the consequences of punching a world class striker in the face. ânow kiss my knuckles. they hurt.â holding up your hand to isagiâs face, you shake it as if to rid yourself of the painful ebb to it.
âbetter?â isagi complies, his lips soft against your skin.
âmuch.â
âso spoilt,â he adds. your boyfriendâs voice stays low while he plays with your bruised fingers and checks them over, resting his head against your own affectionately. ânext time you throw a punch in my name, tuck your thumb into your fist to minimise the damage. i donât like seeing you get hurt.â
âso you did like seeing me punch kaiser.â you giggle, squirming when isagi drops your hand to pull you into his lap possessively. his loving grin spreads even further when your eyes widen at a certainâŠhardness poking your inner thigh.
âoh yeah, super hot. i love it when you get mad ân start talking shit for me.â
isagi doesnât make it back to practice, too caught up in showing you just how much he loves it when you start fights over him.
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Little Girl Gone (Steddie X You)
A/N: This is the story I mentioned yesterday! Trying something new for me but I hope y'all enjoy it. I've always found Mafia Eddie incredible sexy <3. This is an AU with a mixture of Stranger Things you will definitely recognize :). I wrote with the idea that Hawkins is a big city so keep that in mind lol
Warnings: Mafia Gangster Eddie/ Officer (slightly mean) Steve Harrington/ Doctor Fem Reader, SMUT, use of the color system, degrading if you squint, spanking, dirty talk, etc.
ANGST, Obviously (and not just because I am me lol), Eddie runs a rival gang in Hawkins and is in love with Steve (Romeo and Juliet style), Steve mentions being jumped and Eddie retaliates getting hurt in the process, mentions of murders by Eddie, Reader takes care of them both performing surgery on the gangster, guns are pulled and our boys are threatened, cliff hanger ending because I can.
Word Count: 8284
"Little girl gone, got a gun from a gangster
Run little girl, run little girl, bang, ha."
âOfficer Steve Harrington.â, you read from his chart as you enter the exam room before flashing him a big smile. âIâm Dr. Y/L/N. How can I help you today?â
âMy, uh, Captain said I needed to come get a checkup. I was wounded in the line of duty a few days ago.â
âOh no. Iâm really sorry to hear that. May I ask what happened?â
âDoes that matter?â, he snapped.
You dealt with sassy patients on the regular. It came with the territory especially in the area your office was located in. In this part of the city, your clinic usually catered to people who didnât want to check in at a regular hospital because their name could get dinged for other offenses. You always felt like everyone deserved care so when you opened your clinic, you made sure to do what you could within the means and resources you had available.Â
Officers normally never entered your building but within these past few months you had seen them more and more frequently. You had heard rumors of a new gang in the area trying to make things moreâŠdemocraticâŠso there was less chaos in the streets but in turn that brought more of a police presence because most of the people around here hated being threatened into submission reacting violently if need be.Â
Thankfully, you werenât easily shaken so this admittedly good-looking man of the law raising his voice didnât frighten you one bit.Â
âIt does if you want me to assess you properly.â
âThen why did you ask?â
âI like to be polite at first. Now, are you going to tell me what happened or should I mark in your file here that you refused to answer so your Captain can deal with you?â
Steveâs amber eyes scanned you over briefly before a small smirk painted his beautiful lips.Â
âI got jumped by one of the rival gangs in the area. Beat me up pretty good.âÂ
Sitting in your wheely chair, you slid toward him and carefully lifted off his shirt, his face wincing as he lifted his arms. Large purple bruises were splattered along his ribs and around to his back. Just from the wounds alone, you could tell he was kicked and punched repeatedly. His face had some scratches and swelling but it looked like nothing compared to his upper torso.Â
âOh wow. Iâm so sorry. Did you go to the hospital?â
âI did. They did some X-rays and shit. Thankfully nothing was broken but, obviously, moving around has been hard.â
âBeside the bruising, have you experienced any other pain? Like a sharp stabbing pain in your side or anything like that?â
âUh, no. Just emotional pain.â, he chuckles as his eyes look past you into a memory.Â
âOk, Iâll get you some medicine I think will help as well as some cream to sooth the pain of those bruises and swelling. Iâll be right back.â
You werenât gone long but as you were returning you could vaguely hear his voice through the door between you both.Â
âNaw, she said sheâs going to get me some meds and shitâŠBaby! Seriously, you worry too much. Iâm fine⊠No, NO. Donât you dare go over there or I swear Godââ Hastily, he hung up his phone when he heard you knock and reenter the room he was in. âSorry. That was my, um, my boss checking in. Just reiterated what you told me.â
âGood. Now this will help with the painâŠâ, you instruct as you hand him some medication before flashing him the cream. ââŠand this will help with the swelling. Just put this on your bruises every six hours and youâll be good to go in no time.â
Opening the bottle, you squeeze some of the medicine in your hand, and gently rub it along his admittedly muscular abs.Â
âYouâre, um, going to feel it tingle a bit and feel warm but after a few moments it will cool down.â
That smirk you saw previously appeared on his lips again when he caught you staring as your hands slowly rubbed along his skin.Â
âThat feels really good actually. Your hands not the cream.â
âHm. Iâm sure your girlfriend touches you enough.â Steve raises an eyebrow at your insinuation. âI mean unless you call your captain âbabyâ.â
A slightly nervous sigh leaves you as the officerâs grin grows and his eyes meet yours.Â
âHm. Bad girl listening in on my phone calls. Do you always misbehave like that?â
âThis is my clinic, Officer Harrington. I can do whatever I want especially when I have signs everywhere that say, âNo Cell Phones in the Exam Room.ââ
His palm abruptly takes hold of your wrist, pulling you closer to him till your nose was just above his own.
âThis may be your clinic, honey, but these are my streets. I keep order here.â
âI think the gangs here would disagree.â
âPfft, like you know anything about what goes on out there.â, he spits as he lets you go.
After throwing a scowl his way, you pretend to be preoccupied with washing your hands.
âI know that when I first moved here, the fatality rate in this area was extremely high until that new gang leader took over the Munson crew. I believe, if the rumors are correct, the new boss is actually the son of the old leader Al Munson. Since the son has taken over, oddly enough, the streets have become safer. More kids come out to play and Iâve seen less addicts in the last couple of months.â
As you dry your hands and turn to face him, you notice the hardened look on the officerâs face as he listens to you speak.
âI also know there have been more of a police presence on this side of town as well. Iâve seen a lot of innocent civilians put in ambulances or worse due to the push back of change. Tell me, Officer Harrington, which side are you on? Which gang did that to you? The Munsonâs or The Carverâs?â
âIâm on the side of peace. Thatâs my job.â, he seethes through gritted teeth. Â
âYeah⊠youâre good to go, officer. Have a nice day.â, you growl in annoyance as you leave the room without waiting for him to retort.
##############
Today had been an incredibly long day. After your appointment with Officer Harrington, you had back-to-back visits from so many clients just needing a little bit of help. Your mind was racing as you and your staff did what you could but the truth was you desperately needed more funding. You were running low on supplies and the equipment you had wasnât the best. It killed you to see your patientâs sad faces when you strongly recommended they head to the nearest hospital for certain tests that you just couldnât provide at that time.Â
Your mind was still racing as you began to gather your things to head out for the evening which is most likely why you didnât even hear him till you exited your office and were met with a gun pointed at your face.Â
âDonât be scared. Iâm notâŠIâm not here to hurt you. We need help.â, Steve panted with a heavy breath as the weapon shook in his hand. He was still dressed in the uniform he was wearing when you last saw him but now it was stained in blood and sweat.
âI-I-IâŠâ
Roughly, he took hold of your bicep and dragged you to your waiting room where another man was sitting with his head leaning against the wall. You knew he wasnât a cop because he wasnât dressed like the man beside you but instead in an expensive looking black suit with the white button up shirt underneath his jacket now stained with red. You noticed immediately his palm was holding his side and that area of his clothing was a darker shade than all the rest.Â
âI canât help with a wound like that. He needs a hospital.â
âOh you donât say?â, he snarled as he tugged you to his chest. âIf I could have taken him to a fucking hospital I would have! But I brought him to you, now HELP HIM!â
âSteven!â, the long-haired man grumbled as he looked your way. âBe nice. Sheâs just beingâŠhonest. Right, sweetheart?â He sighs when you nod and tries to get to his feet but the officer is quicker, running to his side to help him stand. âSee, the thing is, princess, if I go to a hospital Iâll die anywayâŠbecause they will put meâŠin jail especially after they find outâŠwhat-what I did tonight.â
âWhat did you do?â
âThat doesnât fucking matter right now. Heâs losing blood and fast!â
Swallowing nervously, you step forward to unbutton his shirt and examine the cut you found. He needed stitches as soon as possible and most likely a blood transfusion unless someone got to his wound fast enough. Gesturing them both to follow you, you power walk to an exam room and begin searching for supplies as Steve carefully places the man on the table. While he removes the bloody clothes from his top half, you prep a syringe.
âIs he allergic to anything?â
âNo. What is that, that youâre giving him?â
âItâs a pain killer. It wonât be as strong as ones at a hospital butâŠâ
As you stick the needle into his stomach just above his cut, he flinches causing Steveâs expression to flood with worry as he moves the manâs hair out of his face. After quickly cleaning the area, you let out a long sigh as you glance their way.Â
âEven with the shot, this is going to hurt a lot Iâm afraid. Iâll try to go as fast as I can but, officer, if you can distract him that may help.â
The man on the table chuckles as he turns his head towards his friend.Â
âShe keeps calling you âofficerâ. Did⊠you not tell her your name? Or did you⊠scare her too much to use it?â He cringes as he hisses once you begin sewing in his stitches. âYou like toâŠpretend to be so badassâŠbut we both know youâre aâŠsweetheart.â
âPretend to be a badass, huh? Youâre one to talk.â, Steve scolds in a light sounding tone as he softly places his forehead against his own. âEddie, I told you not to go over there.â
âThey tried to hurt what was mineâŠâ, he growled low in his throat even making you pause for a moment before focusing again on your task. âThey wanted to send a message, well, message received.â
âI could have handled it.â
Grabbing Steveâs cheeks roughly, he brings his lips to his own.Â
âNo one takes my things and NO ONE hurts whatâs mine. You belong to me, baby, and I promised Iâd keep you safe.â
Finishing his sutures, you bandage him up and wrap some gauze around his lower waist.Â
âThank you.â, he whispers exhaustedly as he extends his shaky hand towards you. âWhatâs your name, pretty girl?â
âY/N. Y/N Y/L/N.â
âDonât worry, Y/N. Youâre safe and I promise neither of us are going to hurt you. Iâm Edward Munson but you can call me Eddie.â Your eyes widen as you slowly back away from them causing Steve to rise to his feet. âAh. I see youâve heard of me. Then you know you can trust me.â
Eddie tries to stand as well but sways before Steve steadies him.Â
âYouâŠyou should be in a hospital. That wound needs to be looked after and you need to rest.â
âI can take care of him.â
âSteveâŠâ
âNo. No you canât. Thatâs why you brought him to me.â, you sass in frustration as you try to display an air of confidence. Both men scan you over as they try to get a read on you as you continue. âIf you refuse to go to a hospital, then give me your address and I can comeââ
âNo. No addresses. We canât have you giving it to the police.â
âOh you mean you?!â
You and Steve square off, tightening your stances as you glare at each other until Eddie laughed beside you both.Â
âBrave girl with attitude. I like it.â
âI donât. Little girl needs to be put in her place.â
âI highly doubt youâre the man to do that.â, you sass.
âYeah well good thing thereâs two of us, honey, and trust me, whatever I start Eddie can definitely finish.â
Sighing, you fold your arms as you argue with the internal dialogue inside your head.Â
âYou can come to my apartment but I have one condition. After he heals, I never want to see either of you again.â
Their eyes meet for a moment before Eddie finally nods.Â
âYou have a deal, princess.â
############
âUm, I donât have a spare room or anything but the couch is comfortable. Just make sure to stay on your back if you can.â Eddie nods as Steve places him down and hastily begins removing the gear attached to him. âLet me grab some blankets and pillows.â
Disappearing into your bedroom, you grab any extra bedding you had and began to head their way but paused when you heard them talking.Â
âWhy are you being mean to her? I thought you said she took care of you.â
âShe did. I just⊠I was worried about you. Itâs my job to take care of you to, honey.â
âAnd snapping at the woman whoâs trying to help will do what exactly?â Steve laughs through his teeth at Eddie question. âI think itâs because you like her.â
âPfft what?â
âOh, look at Officer Harrington blushing.â, the long-haired man teases as he reaches out to touch the boyâs face. âI know I just met her and she was busy saving my life but I can see whyâŠâ, he chuckles before wincing as he grabs his side.Â
âAre you alright?â, you ask as you come back to the living room and kneel down on your knees in front of him.Â
âYeah, Iâm alright. Iâve been through way worse than this.â
You take quick note of his wound before handing Steve the things you found, watching with fascination as he tosses the things for him to the side before placing the pillow on his lap and guiding the man back to lay down.Â
âIf, um, if you notice it bleeding through or he starts getting a fever, come and get me immediately.âÂ
The officer nods as he throws the blanket over Eddie and comfortingly rests his hand on his chest, his thumb gently running along the manâs tattooed skin.Â
***
Your alarm goes at 4am that morning, startling you as you shoot up right. Groggily, you shuffled to your bathroom and grabbed the items Eddie would need so you could change his bandages. Both men were fast asleep when you entered the living room, Steve still clinging to him with his other hand very close to where his gun was resting on the little table you had beside your couch.Â
âMr. Munson?â, you whisper as you sit on the coffee table across from them. When he didnât stir you couldnât help but take the opportunity to visually take in one of the most notorious gangsters in the city. You had never seen a picture of him and he definitely wasnât what you pictured when you heard the rumors from people in the clinic.Â
He did have an air of control surrounding him but his voice and face were incredibly soft especially when it came to Steve. You heard him get upset though so you imagined that amplified out in the streets and you hoped you never met that version of him. He had a lot of tattoos painting his upper torso that seemed completely random except for the symbol of his gang that was tattooed on many other men and women you had seen previously minus the tiny initials âS.H.â inscribed within the design.Â
Eddie was fairly muscular appearing more toned in his abs and upper arms. Slightly blocking your view was Steveâs massive palm over his chest, almost as if that was his way to make sure the man was still breathing. He had been exceptionally rude with you but with the gangster, he transformed before your eyes, becoming softer and listening to everything the other man said without question. They both obviously seemed to care strongly about each other which you found slightly amusing given their slight Romeo and Juliet story; one being a cop and the other a criminal.Â
âMr. Munson.â
Extending your hand, you tried gently shaking his upper shoulder and in one swift motion, he grabbed your wrist and held you tightly as he raised his fist in the air prepared to defend himself. Swallowing nervously, you froze as his intense eyes scanned your own.Â
âFuck. Fuck, Iâm so sorry, sweetheart. I didnâtâŠâ Eddie promptly let you go and winced as he sat up in front of you.Â
âNo, no. Itâs ok. After what happened, I completely understand. I just need to check you out and rewrap your wound.â
âWould it be easier for you if we went to the table?â
âOh, no, this is ok but I do have to turn on the light.â
Eddie follows your eyes as you glance towards Steve.Â
âTrust me, it wonât bother him one bit. I donât think heâs had a consistent nightâs sleep since he was hurt.â
âHow long have you two been involved?â, you ask as you begin the task in front of you hoping to distract him as well from the pain.Â
âIn my business or each other?â, he smirks when you breathily laugh. âBoth answers are more or less the same. He had the balls to arrest me on a charge we both knew wouldnât stick. I knew he was different when he tried to get me to flip sides and sell out my friends. Usually, cops knew better than to do that especially with me.â
The gangster paused when you tried to clean his cut, flinching as he gritted his teeth.Â
âWhat happened? Did he take you in?â
âNo, I did when I let him fuck me handcuffed in the back of his cruiser.â, he chuckled, slightly surprised when you did as well. âWeâve been watching out for each other ever since. Heâs actually not as big of an asshole as he seems. Steve just has a big heart and wants to take care of everything himself. He likes to be the big, strong man, you know? Thatâs why heâs been so short lately.â
âWhat happened there? He didnât tell me; just said he was jumped.â
âI donât think thatâs something you should know. The less we tell you the better.â
âMr. Munson, you, a well-known Mafia style gang leader, showed up at my clinic after hours with a police officer bleeding out. I think that line has been crossed.â, you grin up at him finding his eyes watching you again. âI assume it was someone from Carverâs side. You told Steve something about them sending a message.â
âYeah⊠Jason Carver isnât exactly a fan of mine even more so since I took over. My dad was always aâŠshoot first ask questions later which is why heâs in jail right now. He was sloppy and greedy like Jason. I donât want to hurt people I donât have to.â Leaning forward, you start wrapping the gauze around him but you canât help to inhale the strong scent of cigarettes and cologne. You donât see it but his own head tilts slightly, inhaling your shampoo from the night before when you finally had time for a shower and the regular smells of your office that attached to your skin.Â
Eddieâs lips ever so slightly grazed your shoulder that was exposed due to the tank top you were currently wearing causing you to shutter softly as you pulled back to cut the bandage.Â
âAre you afraid of me, Y/N?â, he asked in a low tone that had you exhaling as you tried to maintain your composure.Â
âMr. Munson, I work in a city filled with crime and scared citizens. I donât really have the luxury of being afraid.â
âThatâs not what I asked you.â Calloused fingers reached out to grip the bottom of your chin and forced your eyes to meet his. âEven though I take no pleasure in it, I have hurt and killed people. I killed two people just last night. Carver got the idea in his head that roughing up the man I love would have me submitting to him and his whims. Iâm not the submissive type and I made sure he knew that by slitting the throats of the two men that put hands on him. I donât regret it and Iâd do it again.â
âHow did you get hurt then?â
âUnfortunately, Carver isnât an idiot. He had more men appear and try to take us out. Steve showed up and someone pulled a knife⊠Letâs just say that someone got in a good attempt before I snapped his neck.â
The way he spoke about such violent things was so even, almost as if he could be reading from a grocery list. This was his every day and you could tell by his tone he knew it would continue to be. But there was something about him⊠something that made you feel safe.Â
âNo, Iâm not afraid of you, Mr. Munson.â
âI think under the circumstances, you can call me Eddie.â
A cell phone ringing pulled you both apart but didnât stir the man it belonged to as he continued to snore with his head leaning over the back of the couch.Â
âSteve. Steven.â, the man called as he shook his arm rousing him from his deep sleep. âYour phone is ringing.â
Without opening his eyes, the officer reached into his pocket, producing his device, and placing it to his ear as he answered with gravelly âyeahsâ and âmhmmsâ.Â
âI have to go in. Someone called in about the shooting on the eastside and they found Carverâs guys.â Rubbing his eyes and as if he forgot you were there, Steve tenderly kissed Eddieâs lips before rising to his feet and putting on all of his gear once more. âPlease keep an eye on him and Iâll be back as soon as I can.â
âI have to go to work.â Pausing, he exhaled heavily as he turned and flashed you an annoyed look. âI have to. It would look weird if I didnât. Iâve never missed a day but if we leave early enoughâŠI can bring him with me and keep him in my office.â
âIs it ok to move him that much?â
As if to prove a point, Eddie rose to his feet.Â
âIâll be ok. Iâm a quick healer. Donât worry about us.â
###############
Thankfully, you didnât have too many patients today so you were able to keep yourself locked in your office with the gangster you were attempting to hide. As soon as you brought him in, he fell asleep on your office couch, allowing you to leave him be so you could do what you needed.Â
As you were reading a chart however you heard giggling in the exam room beside your office and quickly went to investigate, finding Eddie sitting next to a child on the exam table making her laugh.Â
âLook, princess, you canât trick me like that.â
âItâs thumb war! You have to be stronger.â
âOk, best two out of three.â
âKylie, sweetheart, what are you doing here?â, you beam trying not to startle either of them.Â
âHey Dr. Y/L/N! My mom told me to come down to see if you had any more samples of my inhaler.â
âOh, honey. I donât. Iâm so sorry. I usually try and save one for you but I had another patient who had an emergency so I had to give it to him.â
âWhy do you need an inhaler? Is it for the other people whose breath you take away because youâre so adorable?â
Kylie giggles as she turns towards Eddie and blushes.Â
âNo! I have asthma. My mommy brings me here to get my medicine because we canât afford the stores.â, she sighs as her head hangs.
The manâs eyes meet your sympathetic ones before softly smiling and giving the little girl his attention again.Â
âHey. Can you keep a secret?â The small child nods in earnest making his smile widen. âHave you heard of a little convenience store called Cunninghamâs Corner? Itâs about a 5-minute walk from here. Go to that store and ask for Chrissy. Tell her Eddie sent you and you need an inhaler. Sheâll give it to you for free.â
Kylieâs eyes widen as if this man just told her a fairytale.
âFree?â
âMhmm. But you canât tell anyone! Because then other people will take advantage.â
After giving him a hug, she jumps down from the table and starts to head for the door.Â
âHey! Here. Give Miss Cunningham this paper when you tell her what you need, ok?â, you instruct as you hand her a prescription with the name of what she needs.Â
âOk. Thank you, Dr. Y/L/N!â
âThank you. That was really nice of you.â
Rising from his seat, he waddles with you back to your office.Â
âItâs not a problem. I heard her coughing and crying so I wanted to make sure she was alright. Is she a regular?â
âYeah and, unfortunately, itâs not uncommon for her to come by herself. Her mom is a single mother who works 60hrs a week trying to make ends meet. They came to me when she started having her symptoms but thereâs only so much I can do here with my resources.â
âAre you underfunded?â
âYeah. I do what I can but because of where Iâm locatedâŠâ
âWhy donât you move to a better location?â
âI canât do that. I canât leave these people. They need someone to help them since a regular clinic would immediately turn them away since a lot of them have no money or no insurance.â
âYouâre a very kind woman, Y/N.â
Flashing him a smile, a knock makes you jump as you quickly get up to see who it is.Â
âItâs Hawkins PD Detective Jim Hopper. Iâd like to have word with you for a moment.â
Right as you scan your room, Eddie hides himself in front of you against the wall so he wouldnât be seen when you finally open the door between you and the gentleman.
âMay, uh, my we come in?â
âWe?â, you ask as your eyes flick to the wide, stern eyes of Steve behind him. âWhatâs this about, detective?â
âI donât know if you heard but we had a gang related fight in the area and we got some intel that Edward Munson may have been severally wounded.â
âOk? And what does that have to do with me?â
âIt wasnât far from your clinic so we thought, maybe, you heard something or saw something?â
âWhat time was this?â
âAround 7-8pm.â
âMy clinic closes at 6 soââ
âI mean, as a doctor though Iâm sure you work late hoursââ
âNot last night.â Out of the corner of your eye you see Eddie mime with his hand for you to calm down a bit and you close your eyes as you sigh before responding again. âIâm sorry, Officers. Itâs just been a rough week. I left early last night to come in early this morning and do some work. I havenât heard or seen anything but I can be on the lookout.â
Hopper nods, tilting his hat as he begins to walk away.Â
âIâm just going to give her some details and information so she knows what to be on the lookout for exactly.â, Steve informs his colleague who confirms before disappearing to lean against the waiting room desk.Â
Pulling out his notepad, he steps closer to you pretending to write things down.Â
âWhere is he?â, Steve whispers, smirking when your eyes flick to the side. âYouâre a fucking idiot.â
âYou like it.â, Eddie murmurs. âShould we be worried?â
âNo, a few of Carverâs guys are in the morgue.âÂ
You had seen many people come and go during your time as a physician so when the officer shook his head looking away down the hallway, you could tell he was lying.Â
âWhat arenât you telling him?â
Steveâs angry, amber eyes met yours as an annoyed grunt left his lips.Â
âNothing. Stay in your lane, doctor.â
âHey.â, Eddie growled low beside you. âWatch your tone. You wouldnât keep anything from me would you, Steven?â
âI was questioned this morning seeing as how I was jumped and then suddenly men from Carverâs gang show up dead.â, the cop sighs. âI told you not to go over there.â
You could feel the tension rising between them but you were still being watched and couldnât risk the gangster being seen. Eddie was slipping to far in his own frustration to think that far as he began pushing off the wall to scold his partner but you quickly placed your hand on his chest lightly pushing him back down.Â
âDid you get in trouble?â
âNo.â, he responds to your question. âBut I am being watched a lot closer hence the detective.â
âAnd your bruises?â
âHuh?â
âYou were hurt to. Is the medicine helping at all?â
Steveâs eyes take in your face clocking in your genuine concern.Â
âIt is actually. Thank you.â When you smile back at his answer a tooth filled grin paints his features. âI, um, I should be done here by about 7 or so. Iâll head to your place, come get him, and thenâŠweâll be out of your hair.â
#############
âOk, so, make sure to keep this clean and if you find yourself in any excruciating pain or like I told Steve if you get a fever come back to me so I can take a look.â
âHm. I thought you never wanted to see us again.â, Eddie teased as he carefully put back on the shirt you gave him.Â
âI donât but that doesnât mean I want you to get sick or die or whatever.â
The gangsterâs smile grew as he watched you blush.Â
âHow come you donât have a boyfriend or husband or whatever?â
âWhat makes you think I donât?â
âBecause if you were our girl, thereâs no way I would have gone two days without calling or checking in and Iâd definitely have something to say if I found two men sleeping here.â
âOur girl?â
âOh, sweetheart. Any woman I date is with Steve as well and most can barely handle my attitude and temper let alone both of ours.â
âYou seem nice enough to me.â
âI can be mean when I want to be.â
âIâm always busyâŠto answer your question. A lot of relationships Iâve had canât handle my schedule.â
âHm, I understand that. Steve and I have conflicting schedules all the time.â Eddieâs eyes watch you as you gather the trash from cleaning his cut and head towards the trashcan to avoid his gaze. âBut we make time for each other. Thatâs what you do when you care about someone.â
âYeah, well, I guess no one really cares about me.â, you sassily smirk as you sigh and wash your hands in the sink.Â
Feeling the energy shift, you turn coming chest to chest with the man himself.
âI care about you. Steve cares about you.â
âIâm pretty sure Officer Harrington hates me.â, you giggle but it tapers off when his face remains stoic.
âHe doesnât. He wouldnât have brought me to you if he didnât trust you.â
âYou donât know me, Eddie.â
âI know enough.âÂ
Shaking your head, you laugh again trying to lighten the intense atmosphere as you begin to walk back towards the living room but his hand promptly grabs your bicep and moves you till your standing in front of him once more.Â
âYou saved me and helped him. I just watched you all day take care of people who canât normally afford care. You have a kind heart and youâre extremely beautiful. Do you know that? Do you know how beautiful you are?â
A knock on your door startled you but not him as he continued to stare down at you waiting for an answer. Silently, you allowed Steve entry who immediately took in your rattled appearance.Â
âEverything ok?â
âMhmm. I was just asking Y/N if she knew how beautiful she was.â
His gorgeous, honey hues widen slightly as if he was surprised before turning his attention back to you.Â
âYou know you are, right?â
âI-I think you both should leave.â, you whisper with little to no confidence in what you were saying.Â
âIs that what you want?â, he mused as he strolled further into your apartment. âBecause we can leave right now and like you asked, disappear from your life forever. Or, maybe, you can let us thank you properly.â
âI thought you didnât like meâŠsaid you wanted to put me in my place.â
They both chuckle making your face turn a deep crimson in embarrassment.
âBaby, that doesnât mean I donât like you. It just means that I think Iâd have a lot of fun playing with you.â
âPlaying with me?â
Steve subtly nods his head as Eddie slowly moves closer to the living room where you two were standing.Â
âTeasing you, kissing you, taking care of youâŠtaking control of you and your gorgeous body till youâre begging me to let you cum.â Tilting his head, his eyes meet yours as his fingers caress your face. âWhenâs the last time you had someone take care of you?â
The other man comes up behind you, sandwiching you between them as he gently places his palm on your stomach under your blouse.Â
âI asked you something, honey.â
âItâs been a while.â, you jest making Steve smirk as Eddie stepped closer to you till your back was to his chest. His hand continued to run along your skin with his fingers just barely floating under the waistband of your pants before coming back up to rub your stomach. âIâm scared.â
Everyone freezes in place at your words but as the gangster tries to drop his hand, you quickly catch it and hold it in place back on your tummy.Â
âOf us?â, he asks.
âI donât want to get in trouble.â
Resting his head on your shoulder, his palm wonders again this time going further as you feel him slide into your underwear and cup his hand around your heat.Â
âYou wonât, sweetheart. I promise, youâre safe with us. Iâm not going to let anyone hurt you.â
âAnd neither will I. I can protect you from getting in any kind of trouble with the law or anything like that. You have two men here who control both sides of the coinâŠâ As Steveâs voice dropped into a more and more seductive register, Eddieâs lips gently pecked your shoulder and up to your neck as his finger graze your clit while gliding them through your folds.
âYou just need to let go and let us control you.â
âFuck.â, you groaned as he slid two of his digits into your core.
âIs that a yes?â, Steve chuckles sassily as he watches your eyes close as you lean your head against his boyfriend.
âI think so, Harrington, because pretty girl here is just dripping all over my hand.â
âYeah? We need to hear her say it though. Do you want us to take care of you tonight, honey?â
âH-HeâmmmâEddie canât with hisâŠwith his cut.â
âOh trust me, Y/N, that wonât be an issue. Now answer my question, please.â
âYes.â
âYes, what?â
âYes, I want you to take care of me.â
As if they could read each otherâs minds, Eddieâs hand slipped out of your pants and Steve picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and carried you to your bedroom.Â
âOw! Something in your vest is stabbing me, Officer Harrington.â, you giggle before he tosses you onto your mattress.Â
âSorry. I forgot to take this stuff off. I was blindsided by a stupid question when I came in.â, he grinned as he began removing his equipment and placed them on your bedside table.Â
Eddie carefully climbed in and you hastily set up pillows so he could lean back comfortable against your headboard.Â
âThank you. I donât think that question was ever answered. DO you know how beautiful you are?â
âSometimes I need reminding.â, you sigh as your nervous eyes meet his soft ones.Â
âWe can do that, sweetheart.â
Taking hold of your cheeks, he brought your lips to his and your body ignited with an electricity you had never felt before as his lips carefully but firmly mingled with yours. Steveâs laugh echoed through your room as he looped his arm around your waist and pulled you away from the gangster to bring you in front of him at the edge of the bed.Â
He had taken off his shirt and out of habit as a doctor you scanned his bruises to make sure he was ok. Clocking your care once again, his fingers gripped your chin and brought your mouth to his own.
âItâs ok. Iâm still a bit sore but you helped me a lot.â
As he continued to kiss your lips, you allowed him to undress you making him pause when you were fully naked in front of them.Â
âJesus Christ.â
âI told you, princessâŠbeautiful.â, Eddie grinned.
Smiling widely at their compliments, your hands roamed Steveâs chest, kissing a trail along the way till you reached his belt and fumbled with the barrier before fully pushing down his pants. You gasped when his cock sprang free causing them both the chuckle again as you practically gapped at the size.Â
âI know. It was a shock to me to.â, the gangster teased as the officer stuck out his tongue playfully.Â
âYou liked it. And I promise, honey, youâll like it to.â
Gripping the base, he held his mushroom tip towards your lips and moaned when your tongue darted out to lick the small beads of precum that had begun to leak. Steve pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail so he could watch as you slowly wrapped your mouth around him and gradually began bobbing your head.
 âShit. Atta girl. Flatten that tongue. J-Just like that.â
Another set of hands softly ran down you back and over your ass before the cool sting of metal hit your behind.Â
âDid you like that, pretty girl? Did you like Eddie spanking you?â, the officer asked when you moaned loudly.Â
Fingers glided ever so slightly through your pussy lips and even you couldnât deny hearing the squishy sound of your slick that obscenely filled your bedroom.Â
âOh Stevie. She definitely enjoyed that.â
âYeah? You like it a bit rough, little girl?â
Eddie guided his middle and ring fingers inside of you eliciting a mewl from your throat that had the man inside of your mouth grunting with pleasure.Â
âFuck. I thinkâŠI think you can take me a bit deeper.â
Thrusting his hips a bit, you gag around him spilling drool and spit down his length as you mentally take note of the fact that that wasnât all of him you choked on.Â
âCome on, honey, take more. I know you can, baby.â
Tears stream down your face as you try but barely take more of him in. Gripping your jaw, he pulls out of your mouth and leans his face in front of yours as his eyes search yours.Â
âGreen, good. Yellow, slow down. Red, stop. What color are you at, Y/N?â
âFuck⊠green.â
âOk, then why are you crying? We havenât even fucked you yet.â
âI-I-I wanna take more. I want to make you feel good to.â
You heard your tone as it came out of your mouth but you barely recognized it. You sounded like a child who was told she couldnât play outside because it was raining. What was it about these men that transformed you in this way? In relationships or even one-night stands, you never cared about this kind of thing. Usually, men never complained and you were never fully satisfied after they left resorting to your vibrator to get you the rest of the way.Â
But for whatever reason, you wanted to impress them. You desperately wanted them to feel good because some part of you had a feeling that they were going to do the same for you.Â
Steveâs eyes softened as Eddieâs fingers slowed inside of you.Â
âBe nice to her, babe. Sheâs got a good heart and she did take care of us.â
âCan you keep your mouth open for me, pretty girl?â He grins when you nod your head, wiping your tears with his thumb before kissing your cheek. âAnd you are making me feel good. Your mouth feels fucking amazing.â
You beam with pride as you do what he asked, whimpering when Eddie began building you up again.Â
Holding your head still, Steve guided his cock back between your lips, doing the slow thrusts he was doing before as you kept your mouth closed around him. Your eyes squeezed shut as his pace began to quicken, his tip occasionally hitting the back of your throat.Â
âThere you go, baby. T-Thatâs it. See? Doingâfuckâdoing so well. Now, stay still.â
As he began fucking your face, the gangster matched his pace making you groan as obscenities flowed from the officerâs mouth. Â
âShit. Take it, little girl. Thatâs right. You love the taste of my cock in your throat, donât you?â Reaching over you, his hand calm down hard on your ass and your palm pushed at his legs signaling you needed air. âAre you gonna cum? Ask him, Y/N. Ask Eddie if itâs ok.â, he commanded as he forced your head towards the other man.Â
âEddie, please. Please⊠can IâŠâ
âYeah, princess. Cum on my fingers.â
You collapsed as you came, moaning loudly into the mattress as you tried to catch your breath. You werenât given much time however as Steve manhandled you till you up on your hands and knees again with your face hovering over the bulge in the other manâs pants.Â
After unbuckling his belt, he pushed them down just enough to free his own cock from his denim confinement and you didnât hesitate as you wrapped your tiny hands around his thick girth. Hands clung tightly to your waist and you braced yourself when you felt Steve collect some of your arousal with his length before gradually pushing into your entrance.Â
âOh, fuck me.â
âHow does she feel, Harrington?â
Your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to focus on the man in front of you, letting a long glob of spit land on his tip as you stroked it with your hand.Â
âS-SoâŠSo fucking tight.â His palm came down on your ass and you groaned as he continued to push further inside of you.Â
âI like my view here. Makeâmmmâmake sure you fuck her nice and deep. Beautiful girl deserves it after everything sheâs been through.â
âOh, donât worry, honey. I plan on ruining this little pussy.â
Eddie chuckles as he watches Steve lick his lips as your cunt tightens around him at his words.Â
âWhat about you, princess?â, he murmurs as he tenderly pets your head.
âHeâsâŠso BIG.â
âYeah, he is. Does he feel good?â You nod as your head hangs and he promptly grabs your jaw forcing you to look his way. âSay it.â
âFuck, Steve, you feel so fucking good!â
âThatâs a good girl.â
You mewled when you felt him bottom out, his hips connecting with yours, allowing you to feel every inch before he pulled back and slammed back into you. Eddieâs mouth fell open as you bobbed your head on his cock. While he wasnât as big as his boyfriend, he was definitely thicker and you felt like your mouth was full of him.Â
He was much gentler with you, continuing to play with your hair and mutter praises as Steve pounded into you, rocking you further down the gangsterâs length as you choked and spit around him.Â
âGod, honey, this pussy is tooâŠfuckingâŠgood.â, Steve grunted, smacking his lower half into yours between each word. Leaning over you, he rolled his hips, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt as your eyes rolled back. âHis dick tastes amazing, doesnât it? Mmmâfucking love when he shoves it down my throat.â
Moving out of his way, Steve envelopes Eddie into his mouth making the gangster moan as he extends his hand to tangle in his hair. As his boyfriend continued to fuck you, your own groans vibrated against the long haired boyâs balls driving him crazy as he growled through his clenched teeth.Â
âFuck! Youâre both so fucking sexy. Thatâs it, baby boy, take my cock.â
After pumping his hips a few times, Eddie let him go and Steve pushed up onto his knees pounding into you till you were seeing stars. Taking the manâs length in your mouth again, you mimicked the other boyâs movements trying to keep a steady pace as you hurdled towards the edge.Â
âA-Are you about to cum? Fuck, Y/N, you better fucking ask one of us, little girl, if you want to fucking cum!â
Your glassy, needy eyes met the chocolate ones of the man in front of you, pleading as you began to shake.
âAsk, Y/N.â
âPlease, Eddie! Please, I need to cum!â
Taking a hold of your hair, he firmly tugged you till your face was fully visible. A small smile flickered across his lips, watching you struggle till he finally nodded granting you permission.Â
Steve reached around and took hold of your throat, lifting you till you were pressed against him, squeezing you tightly as he fucked you through the most intense orgasm you had ever had.Â
âGood girl. Good fucking girl. Are you on the pill?â, Steve roughly growled in your ear, his rhythm and intensity increasing when you said yes. âGood because Iâm going to fill up this pussy and youâre going to take it like a good little girl. Youâre going to take everything I give you and be fucking thankful.â
He grunted in your ear as he held your lower half against him as he rolled his hips aggressively, pumping his release into your cunt.
âSteve.â, Eddie called in a firm tone you barely heard through your haze.
âExcuse me, honey.â
Carefully, he pulled his softening cock out of your aching hole and gently laid you on your side before crawling up the gangsterâs legs and taking him into his mouth. You watched with hooded eyes as his boyfriend took him all the way down his shaft, massaging his balls with his palm, as Eddie groaned.
âThatâs my good boy. You wanna swallow my cum?â
Steve nodded as his eyes met his own and with a few thrusts of Eddieâs hips, his head fell back as he released his spend down the manâs throat. After sharing a soft but passionate kiss, they turned their attention to you.
âAre you ok, babe? Do you need anything? Water?â
âWill you lay with me?â
âYeah, sweetheart, of course.â
You didnât even hesitate when you scoot to Eddieâs side and wrapped your arms around your stomach, placing your head on his chest. The last thing you remember is feeling warmth behind you and the sound of Steveâs steady breathing on your skin before you fell asleep.
***
âDID YOU SERIOUSLY THINK THERE WOULD BE NO CONSEQUENCES?!â
Your head shot up when you heard shouting in your living room. Eddie and Steve were missing but the voice you heard definitely wasnât theirs. Quickly throwing on the officerâs shirt you listened as the voice continued.
âDid you really think you could come on to our territory, break into one of our stash houses, and kill a bunch of our guys?â
âI think the real question you should be asking is how easy it was for me and my guys to break in.â, Eddie responded angrily.Â
âShut the fuck up, trailer trash! You think because you moved out here and took over Alâs business, youâre different but you arenât. Youâre still that garbage that he left behind with his brother before you suddenly decided you wanted in. Ah ah ah! Donât make me shoot you, Steve. I have no problem killing a law man.â
âIf youâre not here to kill us, Andrew, then what do you want?â, Steve spat.
Glancing quickly around the room, you realize his gun was still in its holster near your nightstand and as quietly as you could pulled it from its home. Tip toeing out into the hallway, you held it in front of you as you peaked around the corner.Â
The person you didnât recognize had his back to you as he pointed his own pistol at Eddie and Steve who both had their hands raised where he could see them.Â
âJason just wants Edward so we can make an example of him and what happens when you cross the Carvers.â
âI think you underestimate the Munsons, Andy.â Slowly, you creeped up behind him, praying he wouldnât turn around. âUnfortunately for you, Iâm not going anywhere. I hope Jason understands that this wasnât a good move.â
âYeah well, you can tell him yourself. Now come on or I will shoot him.â, Andrew threatens as he points his weapon Steve.
âNot if we shoot you first.â
At Eddieâs words, you cock the gun and pull the trigger.
##############
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I had an idea for the 100 followers thingy- so like the babies thing but youâre a single mother (maybe teen mom?) and dazai (pm) falls in love with you and your baby :}
ps- I LOVE YOU TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF SUGAR đâŒïžâŒïžâŒïž
Iâm trying I swear TvT
â§Ë · . youâre a virgin and Iâm just a meth head - pm! dazai osamu
the new hire at the port mafia interests him. the baby, too.
summary â â
comfort, fluff with a sprinkle of angst, mentions of teen pregnancy, reader and PM! dazai are seventeen, SFW, mentions of a former abusive relationship, mentions of suicide (itâs fucking dazai), happy ending.
Assistants were something he never cared for much.
They came and go, either requesting to work for a different department in the Port Mafia after witnessing his peculiarities or dying. He hadnât ever formed any bonds with them. Hell, he hardly knew their names. Dazai preferred to give them childish nicknames such as âfour-eyesâ for the ones with glasses or âbaldyâ for the ones who had barely began balding.
No use in actually getting to know them.
All they were good for anyway was organizing his work and making a schedule of meetings and pointless missions heâd hardly follow. And what could they do? Nothing.
Once, he had attempted to get Ango to apply for the job during an outing at Bar Lupin, but that four-eyes declined. So did Oda. Geez, his friends lacked faith in him. Dazai wasnât that bad of a boss. His subordinates didnât die that often compared to the others.
Then again, his most recent assistant had died via overdosing. Straight from the Port Mafiaâs warehouses, too. Dying of his own stupidity because karma struck him down. The high may have been sending him to the clouds, but he got too close to the sun just as Icarus did and burnedâor in this case, vomitedâto death. Fun.
A replacement would be needed, yes, but that would involve looking through so many applications and that was boring compared to strangling himself or pulling Chuuyaâs hair when the redhead was speaking with Kouyou.
Heâd pick irritating the slug over paperwork any day. At least one was fun.
So he just had Mori pick one out. As long as they wouldnât be a nuisance and knew their place, he didnât care who it was. Boy, girl, whatever. All ages welcomed. Dazai preferred younger though. The old farts were annoying and so utterly dumb! So when a subordinate gave him a file for his new assistant, he didnât think anything of it. He always got those for record keeping.
Although this particular individual piqued his interest as his eyes gazed over the information attached.
The age was youngâseventeen, same as him. A girl. According to the report, you were previously stationed as a secretary for some lower ranking member. And youâd just joined, too. Only a few blissful months ago. Just barely a baby in the crime world. All dewy-eyed and truly unknowing of the dark underbelly of Yokohama.
Most interesting, though, and the thing that struck his curiosity was the fact that a small sticky note was attached to the last page.
âSingle mother of eight month old girlâ
There werenât many parents in the Mafia, much less teenage ones. Nobody had time to have a baby with the lack of safety. But you did. Someone desperate enough to provide for their child to the point where they joined an illegal organization without even being an adult yet. That took will and selflessness. Something he lacked.
And without having even met you yet, Dazai found himself fascinated by you.
Murmuring your name to himself, he found himself a bit startled at how smooth it rolled off his tongue. He liked it, too. Your name was nice to say.
Tossing the file onto his desk carelessly, Dazai tapped his fingers on the desk, mind wandering once more. If you had a child then youâd probably work your best to support them. Youâd be competent enough for him.
Apparently competent enough to the point where you felt like you could handle bringing the baby to the Mafia HQ.
âI donât remember hiring two assistants.â
Dazaiâs voice came out as slightly amused and startled. There you were, standing in-front of his desk while occasionally shushing yourâŠdaughter? It looked like a girl, anyway.
âSorry- her sitter wasnât available and I-â
His eyes stared at your reddening cheeksâembarrassment and shame, he could tellâas you spoke again.
âI donât really have anyone to watch her. Iâm so sorry, sir.â
Sir? You called him sir? That made him wave his hand a bit dismissively. The only people who called him âsirâ were the random grunts and gunmen that served under him. Or people who were scared shitless of him.
âDazai. Not sir.â
Sitting up languidly, his uncovered eye focused on the baby. Curls of dark hair fell over her forehead while her tiny hands grabbed at your shirt and hair. Funny, he thought.
âAnd the baby can stay.â
She reminded him of some of the orphans Oda took care of. Especially Sakura. Maybe they had the same name, too. Unlikely, though. She didnât look like a Sakura, really.
Picking up a pen, he pointed it at you, a small smile on her face.
âSpeaking of, may I know her motherâs name?â
He knew it already. But it felt more right if he convinced himself you told him.
âOh! Yes, uhm, Iâm (L/N) (Y/N). And her name,â Tapping your babyâs forehead, she released a small coo, giggling slightly. âis (L/N) Yukirou.â
âWinter baby, huh. Iâll guess, December 16th?â
This was so much fun for him so far. Maybe Yukirou really could be his second assistant. As a joke, of course.
Nodding, you began to ramble on about the baby as he relaxed back in his chair, spinning around and making funny faces at Yukirou. The small child giggled and outreached her fingers to him, probably infatuated by his bandages and messy hair. He didnât touch her, though. No need to let such a good small thing interact with a person like him.
And so minutes went by. Technically, he shouldâve been doling out tasks and trying to kill himself againâhe had heard of a technique where one could inject apple juice into their neck and die, but he wasnât sure itâd workâbut it slipped out of his grasp. Maybe it was the fact you two were so close in age. The fact that in another universe you couldâve been classmates fueled this moment. Dazai didnât really know people his age other than Chuuya, but Chuuya was Chuuya. You were new.
New to everything in this line of business. The killing, the release of morals. Then again, you were just an assistant. Youâd never directly be involved with that. Just helping him out with whatever was needed.
Dazai thought that was a smart choice, whether or not you intended for it to be. As an assistant, youâd be safe from the gunfire and outermost threats. More likely to live and protect your daughter.
So caring in a line of work where lives were dispensable.
He wondered how you got there. Not to the Port Mafiaâthe file told him. But how you took on such a frowned upon job to solely provide for your child. Was the father a deadbeat? Or actually dead? His father was the same. Dead five years into Dazaiâs life.
His mother tried her best, but she died too and he slipped onto Moriâs grasp. Hopefully your baby wouldnât end up in the same situation.
The peaceful moment was interrupted by one of his men who dropped off a load of documents, side-eyeing you before leaving.
Dazai wished you hadnât turned the conversation back to work.
âSir, sorry- Dazai-san, would you like me to organize the papers..?â
Why did he forget that you were just an assistant of his? The medication must be making his mind woozy again.
âBy date and incident, yep. Also, if you see any that mentioned a Chuuya, please throw them out. Or burn them. Preferably the burning part.â
His office was always to be kept rid of that ginger.
âOn it.â
And so he doodled a noose on the wood of his desk while you slowly put the papers away. It soon became clear to him that Yukirou was making the job a tad difficult by trying to grab at the papers.
A slight idea of letting her crawl loose in Moriâs office and destroying it entered his mind, but it quickly left.
âYâknow, if sheâs being a devil, I can play with her for a bit. I swear Iâll be good!â
The words left him before he could really process them. Next thing he knew he was wearing the baby carrier with tiny fingers pulling at his shirt. Instructions poured from your lips as he nodded and patted the babyâs back.
âIâll kill you if anything goes wrong.â
He couldnât help but laugh at the sound of that. You? Kill him? Never going to happen. Unless it were a double suicide, but you probably wouldnât say yes.
And he replied when the slight fear in your eyes registered after remembering that he was your boss in the Mafia.
âIf course, cutie. I give you permission to kill me if theoretically anything goes wrong.â
Dazai made sure to sneak a peek at your reddening cheeks before leaving his office with the baby strapped to his chest and tugging at his bandages like a little snake.
Thatâs how it all started. A boy and a girl who happened to have a baby.
Heâd never regret how months went by as you two became closer and closer. Joking around, complaining about work, all the stuff friends did. Hell, Dazai even watched Yukirou sometimes.
Thank god Chuuya wasnât there to see him watching childrenâs cartoons on your couch with a baby in his lap and a stuffed animal in the other.
Or how he insisted on covering some of your rent when you were struggling. Yukirou needs a home, after all. He sees himself in her a bit. And he didnât want her to turn out like him. If he couldnât change his own life for the better, heâd change hers.
And yours.
Much better than that dickhead that fathered Yukirou. You told Dazai about it one night when he stayed over after babysitting once more. Yukirou was napping in her nursery, and you two were sitting on the couch just talking.
Talking turned into sharing details of your lives, and he came up. Your old flame who ditched you. Breaking a promise that heâd be there for the baby and you. Dazai was silent all throughout it. Quiet when you spoke of the emotional abuse and stress that you had, quiet when you began crying over the fact you never got to graduate high school.
He was just there, daring to awkwardly rub your back as you vented. He wondered if you had talked about it before. Probably not.
Dazai felt like he too needed to share a story of his childhood too in exchange for yours. So he told you about the poor neighborhood he grew up in and the horrors he saw daily.
Did it lessen the impact of your venting? Most likely, but in his opinion, he was trying to show you that he trusted you now too. He assumed it worked when you fell asleep on his shoulder. He took care of Yukirou when she woke crying an hour later. He wouldâve been a much better father than that bastard.
It didnât help either that Yukirou began to see him as her daddy. He was there when she turned a year old, gifting her all sorts of things. Scolding her when she nibbled on his hands. Doing nearly everything a dad would.
Even when she managed to say âmamaâ and âdadaâ for the first time, it was when all three of you were in the room together. In her tiny mind, it was her family. Her mama and Dazaiâher papa. Oda congratulated him for becoming a father when you came along one day with him to Bar Lupin.
It didnât live up to Chuuyaâs reaction when he first heard one of his guys call Dazai a doting father. The shortstack had gone up to him asking if he really was Yukirouâs dadârumors went around at HQ quicklyâand Dazai had to sadly reply that he wasnât. Sometimes he wished he was. Months of time with you led to nights in bed where he dreamed of a universe that he was really the dad. That Yukirou had his brown eyes instead of her dadâs blue ones.
It wasnât fair.
Nor were his growing feelings.
Dazai was smart. A genius thinker and planner. So of course he noticed how his heart began to rapidly beat around you. The sweating of his usually cold hands.
Heâd had crushes in the past, sure. But it didnât equate to this. Such a strong connection only made it worse. Was it wrong his Google history lately was filled with questions about confessing to and dating a single mom?
Did you even like him back?
That question couldnât be answered by anyone but you. It scared him. You probably didnât. Not as more than a brother, anyway. His suicidal ideation and tendencies scared off any woman who wanted more than sex. But he probably wouldnât be living long anyway. So heâd have to shoot his shot eventually.
Which he did after another five months of consideration and thought. Dazai committed this act by simply asking you to sort out some notes for him. A total of eight. Each one had a single word on it. If you correctly put them together, it spelled:
âI like you. Do you like me back?â
Much to his relief and shock, you did. You did, and he had hugged you so tightly. Tightening their bond, too.
So he became your boyfriend. And he wore the title of âdadâ to Yukirou gladly. The little girl saw him as her papa, and he couldnât deny it. Even if it wasnât biologically, she was his. And yours.
Dazaiâs life used to be mundane and slow, yet with his newâŠfamily, he felt genuine happiness for once. A reason to live.
That was the greatest gift he could receive of all.
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Rest in comments Iâm crying now also if your tag is white itâs because you didnât pop up when I was doing the @âs
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Hey lovely!! Once again have been binging your page, and I saw you mentioned the lack of sirius in your request and I had this idea the other day! So itâs been like the longest day of classes and reader comes back completely slumped like ready to sleep a thousand years and sirius comes in to see her snuggled up in bed, his sweater on, and knocked out cold. Then he is all soft and wipes off her makeup (because half the time I fall asleep with it on and wake up w mascara smudges) and reader wakes up full of sleepy mumbles to sirius. Preferably female reader but if your more comfortable with neutral obviously do what youâre more comfortable with! Much much love to you and your writing đ€đ€
Hi sweetheart, thanks for requesting!! Much much love to you back :)
Sirius Black x fem!reader ⥠895 words
Sirius very nearly sits on you.Â
He thought you were out and was planning on waiting in your room for you to get back, but now he sees the evidence of your presence: your bag discarded in a heap by the door. Youâre hardly more than a sliver of forehead and the tips of curled fingers sticking out from under the bedspread. He reroutes the second he sees you, straightening from his near-sit and biting his tongue to contain a curse. Your breathing is heavy and whistles slightly on the way in. Youâre out cold.Â
Siriusâ heart feels unbearably tender in the way it often does around you. He swears, when he gets like this even a toothpick would be a lethal weapon against him. Heâs a boy made of mush.
He pulls the bedspread down so you donât smother yourself, revealing your lovely face with tiny smudges of mascara caked under both eyes. And the collar of the sweater heâd found missing last week, the one youâd claimed to know nothing about. Sirius has every right to be angry about that. At least ostentatiously indignant, as is often his preference for dealing with your rare offenses. But the sight of you makes him more fond than is reasonable. Youâve pulled his sleeves down so only your fingers peek out, and the collar is all scrunched up under your cheek, and Sirius is fucked.Â
He is absolutely, totally fucked. Thereâs just absolutely no way heâs got enough room in his heart for this much love. It very well might kill him.Â
He keeps moving to give his heart something more productive to do. Youâll wake up feeling frustrated and extra lethargic if your eyelashes are sticky with mascara, and Sirius knows your routine well. He finds the supplies in your cabinet and barely breathes as he swipes the makeup remover over your skin with careful fingers, wiping away the traces of your day. It had to be a long one, to send you so deeply into sleep before the sun has even finished setting. The dying light illuminates your face while Sirius works. He tells himself itâs good for practical purposes as well as just making you look especially lovely. He can have both.Â
Your eyes take the most persistence, and thatâs when you start to rouse.Â
âItâs just me,â Sirius says softly when your hand twitches up as if to feel for his wrist. âYou fell asleep with your makeup on.âÂ
âOh.â You relax impossibly further under his touch, voice breathy and dulled by sleep. âThanks.âÂ
âAnytime, gorgeous.â He gets the last of the mascara off but isnât ready to be done touching you, brushing the back of his forefinger along your hairline. âWhatâs done you in so early, huh?âÂ
Your eyes open for a moment, like you want to make sure heâs really there, before closing again. A pinch appears between your brows. âHeadache,â you mumble. As if remembering your misery, your head sinks into his sweater like a chrysalis.Â
Siriusâ brows pinch too, though your eyes arenât open to witness his sympathy. âIâm sorry, lovebug. Did you take something already?âÂ
You hum in unhappy affirmation.Â
âHasnât kicked in yet?âÂ
A halfhearted huff. âOr itâs not really helping.âÂ
He cards a hand through your hair, rewarded when the tension in your features eases slightly. âIâm sure it will, weâve just got to give it time. Anything else I can do to help?âÂ
âNot really.âÂ
âOh, come on, sweet thing.â Heâs wheedling, covering a tad of desperation with a good heaping of teasing. âYou know, Iâve been told that just looking upon me can cure a myriad of ailments. Iâm likeâwhat do the muggles have? Their god-human guy.âÂ
You crack an eyelid, the dryness of your expression undermined by a twitch of your lips. âAre you saying youâre Jesus?âÂ
âIâm saying that Iâve been told Iâm sort of like Jesus,â Sirius corrects you with a grin. He rubs at a nonexistent smudge of makeup on your cheekbone. âSo thereâs got to be something I can do for you.âÂ
You release a great, heaving sigh, like your boyfriend is really asking a lot of you. But when you look up at him, thereâs a familiar shyness there. âDo you wanna just lie with me for a bit?âÂ
âBaby.â The teasing leaves Sirius immediately. He softens like dough in your hands. âOf course I do.â He shucks off his shoes before shuffling out of his pants, knowing your rules about outside clothes in bed trump your occasional bashfulness when it comes to nudity. Thereâs nothing sexual about this anyway. You tuck into Sirius as soon as heâs close enough, and he brings his arms around you protectively, one banded around your ribs and the other curved over your shoulders so he can cup the back of your head. âDonât be silly,â he whispers with faux malice, kissing your hair. âI always want to do whatever youâre doing. Are we going back to sleep?âÂ
âMaybe,â you hedge, but Sirius can already hear your voice stretching. Youâre slipping away even as your head eases closer to him, your breath tickling his collarbone.Â
He tries to match your languid tone to help along the process. âSounds good, gorgeous. Iâll be here if you need anything.âÂ
Your reply is barely audible, but Siriusâ heart warms nonetheless. âI know you will.âÂ
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Okie your right bestie now that your ask box is open you have to do the avatar guys reacting to spicy body piercings. Neteyam, Roxto, Aoânung and Loâak I AM BEGGING YOU
/)/)
( . .)
( ă„âĄ
a/n: Head so empty had to get this out though bc two other people agreed tongue ring was chefs kiss. We have a bunch of ancient cultures who pierced their tongues ritualistically so the Naâvi probably do it
Pairing(s): Aoânung x reader, Neteyam x reader, Roxto x reader, Loâak x reader
word count: Little under or ~1k for each character
warnings: NSFW / MDNI, Characters are 18+, Spice under the cut, all characters are 18+, proceed with caution. Descriptions of sexual activity, Alludes to fallacio, Sexual situations, Vulgar language. Inspecting? Theyâre looking inside your mouth idk. Spit kink (Neteyam), idk man if thereâs something i miss lmk
ê§ Aonung: is no stranger to bodily modifications. He can confidently say he did not love the feeling of being tattooed the way some of his aunties and uncles would swear they did. He didnât brag that he could fall asleep though the pain of ink being malleted security into his thick skin. Which is why for a second Aonung cannot seem to comprehend how his squirmy little girlfriend could have sat through such an ordeal, cringing at the pang of jealously that rises in him at the idea that others would have the same foul thoughts regarding the adornment that he has.
One of his favorite places to be is the netted hammock that sways outside of his marui. He enjoys the cooling sea breeze through his downed hair while watching the waves dance in the wind. Mindlessly keeping an eye out for anything that may intrigue him. It was undoubtably a good place to be whenever he found himself to be stressed or tired. Even better- it was a peaceful place to relax with you. He can agree to himself that he liked this spot even better when your legs straddled his waist and he got to rub loving circles onto your body with the pads of this thumbs while you joined in on his sea gazing. Its only when you shift on his torso that he realities thoughts had wondered past the words you were speaking. It was not often that you would loose his devoted focus, however, he realized he was not really listening to you as you spoke. Not in a cruel or inattentive way way. He did not mean to disregard you. He was just too distracted at the soft slur you give off. That was different. He has spent so long grasping at every word you said- every noise to fall from your perfect mouth. So he knows that there is something wrong.
âYou break a tooth?â
He knows he is rude for cutting you off and even ruder for jostling you up as he sits up slightly in worry. Evident concern that you had fallen or bit into something and broken a tooth and that is where the slur of your words came from. That you were in pain. Though it had been some time since the incident, he remembered when Tsireyaâs best friend had faced a similar ailment and his mother had been forced to pull the tooth from her skull. He shuddered remembering the ordeal, and hoped you would not go though the same pain.
âNuh-uh,â you assure rubbing a hand against his soft cheek, eyes softening in endearment at his worry.
Your sweet boy is sitting up further to move closer to you in query when you greet him with the sight of your pretty wet tongue sticking out past your soft lips. The prettiest adornment nestled on your tongue makes his lower stomach twitch. You canât help but pull yourself back a bit in surprise at the sight of his imposing form sitting up quicker then you expect him to. The natural reflex of your body as he adjusts your position in the hammock you were both meant to be napping on. Your movement only results in his thick calloused palms making a firm grasp for your cheeks, holding your face steadily in front of him for his viewing pleasure,
âOpen your mouth.â
Heâs bossy, and for a second you worry he absolutely hates it and will instruct you to remove it once you give into his demand. The thought alone is what keeps you from listening to him quick enough for his liking. Which is probably why once your lips finally start to part again his pointer finger is quick to hook over your lower teeth, pulling your jaw open so he could inspect you once again. Not giving you a choice in closing your mouth once again.
All you can do is peer down at his inquisitive eyes that seem to be judging the very ivory of your teeth and whine at how intently he is staring down your welcoming throat. He does not mean to look so incredulous as he inspects your wet mouth. Your tongue is swollen and the intrusion of his long finger has your salivary glands working overtime coating the little ball in you saliva. You look perfect on his lap, spitting all over his finger as it hooks your jaw wide open for him. He only removes the binding finger from your mouth when he inquires,
âWho touched you?â
Youâre confused for a second, not realizing he means the piercing until the pad of his finger caresses the tip of your tongue careful to avoid the sore center. He canât help but wonder what burly large man had touched your pretty fleshy tongue that belonged to him. He feels terribly for the anger that bubbles at the thought of said man getting to see you sat obediently, mouth open and waiting. He could only imagine what thoughts they had as your big pretty eyes stared at them while they made a new hole in your body. As if you mean to scorn him you only giggle. You giggle at his jealousy, and though it should vex him more he canât help but feel soothed at your reaction,
âYour moâther,â you giggle and the material clinks against your teeth, and you slur over a too long bar that accommodated for the swelling.
It soothes him a little. His mother- your mother- had pierced you and not one of the men he had known with said job. Now the only issue at hand was the fact that he was sure other men would see it and have the same first thought that had crossed his own mind.
âIt was for Eywa,â
The holy name cuts him from his unholy thoughts. He instantly meets your words with his objurgate simper that youâre used to. A unique expression that conveyed a playful scold that he knew was sure to leave you putty in his hands.
âNah, you know better. Thatâs there for me,â
His words make your face flush a pretty shade of plum and you find it increasingly hard to look up at him. Itâs endearing to him really, your cheek warm against his open palm. He runs the finger covered in your spit against your bottom lip,
âYa, canât wait till it heals. Gonna feel real good when you gag on my cock, huh tĂŹhona?â
ê§ Neteyam doesnât really care what you do to your own body. Itâs your own body; how could he possibly tell you what to do with it. Besides the fact that he thinks it was cute how brave you were for sitting though it, he canât help but find the way you toy with it annoying. Neteyam still thinks it has its own unique charn though.
Neteyam is too aware. Itâs probably why he struggles so much to relax. Something always draws his attention, and he canât stop his brain's desire to hyper-fixate on it. For this reason Neteyam is well aware of your tongue ring. In your defense he was aware of the adornment from the beginning. He knows so much about it as he was there as the sharpened point was pushed through you outstretched tongue while his mother howled in laughter at the way your tail extended out in shock at the pain.
In all honesty, he has rarely caught a glimpse of the jewelry since you had done it. Despite your loud mouth, the jewelry stayed relatively hidden behind your ivory canines. he guesses you just donât open your mouth that wide. Itâs a shame he doesnât get the luxury of just catching a flash of the adornment. Instead, he lays here on an old roll-out woven mat, basking in the warm sun with you draped across him. It should be a calming ordeal. Yet you preoccupied yourself with rolling your tongue ring across the ridges of your teeth with no regard for the safety of the bones.
This is supposed to be relaxing. That was the point of coming out here to nap away from the intrusions of your families and burdens of society. As much as laying with you is meant to calm his ever-increasing nerves the fact that the clank of your tongue piercing gliding across your teeth in some sort of stim is ever present and driving him up the wall.
âCut it out,â
His voice comes with a bite to your fleshy cheek which makes your eyes blink open. You pass him a displeased glance from where you lay next to him.
âWhy? Am I irritating?â
You ask him so sweetly that if he had not been so sleep deprived he would have assured you that you were perfect and nothing you could do would ever vex him,
âVery. Iâll rip that thing out of your mouth,â
You laugh because he sounds exactly like his mother, yet had the same scolding undertone his father had often taken on. He is almost pleased with you when he feels you roll over half onto him, thinking you had accepted defeat and would settle down for seep. Relishing in the feeling of you tossing one of your legs over his waist and propping yourself up on one elbow to quickly cuddle against him. His sweet purr as you run your fingers through his braids swiftly almost makes you feel bad for the fact that you lean down to run your wet muscle from the bottom of his jaw to the top of his cheek. It is almost scary how slowly his eyes open. He cannot even feign shock at the way you play with him and his dwindling patience. It is ridiculous- you are ridiculous. Yet you are still shocked (and delighted) at how quickly Neteyam is hooking his leg around yours and rolling the both of you over so your back presses firmly to the mat behind you in retaliation for your annoying actions.
âDoes being a imp bring you satisfaction?â He asks, though thereâs no indication of real annoyance.
You grin up at him so pretty too, he canât help but appreciate your mouth. The plush of your soft lips, and the shine of your ivory teeth,
âUndoubtably!â you chip,
And then his thumb runs across your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly so he can look at the red of your gums.
âOpen your mouth, annoying girl.â he huffs down at you.
Though you intend to listen to him he does not give you the time too. Squeezing your cheeks between his freed palm until you have no choice but to part your lips for him. With your leg wrapped around his waist your foot rests on the small of his back and you can feel the muscles of his lower back flex as his tail flicks between his legs in excitement at the sight. As you loll your berry-fleshed tongue out for him he wastes no time in returning the crude indecency of your previous actions to you. Youâre not dumbfounded when his spit lands on your waiting tongue, but you do jerk under him with a huff. Nonetheless, you are so good for him still, waiting for him to smile and give you a slurred go-ahead before you swallow.
Neteyam guesses he likes the stupid thing. Gives him something to aim at.
ê§ Roxto is shy. Not with normal people. But when you speak to him so pretty him he canât help but tense up at the way his mind wanders. Especially as you sit there blabbering about your home in the jungle, she should be listening but heâs too busy eying the piercing in your tongue and wondering what it would feel like on him.
Rotxo is sweet. So sweet that he feels terrible for the way he stares at your mouth from where he is lent opposite on a thick mangrove root while you speak. Chirping away at him because you had grown the closest to him out of everyone after your arrival.
Donât get him wrong. He could spend his whole day and whole night (and whole existence) with you. He liked nothing more than sitting pleasantly next to you or with his head on your lap while you spoke. He had been thankful for the fact that you had gotten the closest to him out of anyone you could have chosen when your family arrived at his home. He truly thought you were the most interesting person he had ever met. Perhaps that is why he watches you so intently. As if he is worried he will miss even a fraction of what you had to offer. He felt like he had known a decent amount about you. Knew you well enough that he could predict what you would say before you had even said it. Which is probably why he is so eager to get his question out.
âWhat is in your mouth?â
He just faces the nalutsa head-on. Blurts his question out; almost cutting your sentence off early. Once your eyes snap up to meet his from where you picked at stones on the ground. Your tongue is rolling out of your mouth in response as you stand to face him,
âThis?â
Of course you sound silly as you talk around your tongue, but Rotxo is just looking at the modification. His first question is did it hurt, and you gave him a deadpan âobviouslyâ. Despite this, you seem to be far more interested in this line of questioning than you had been while you were rambling. Ears are drawn forward in his direction, arms behind your back while your tail twirled behind you.
When he asks why you would do such a thing (despite having tattoos himself) you tell him it was a thing some of the more spiritual people of your clan would do. He could not help but feel a little guilty at the fact that all he can think about is how it would feel twirling around the head of his cock. How pretty you would look sitting on your knees with your tongue out waiting for him to paint the shiny little adornment white. He doesnât even realize that his eyes are trained down on you, and his tail sways between his legs.
But you notice. You notice the way he relaxes on his arms more. How his pretty sea-foam green eyes relax as he maintains tantalizing eye contact. The fact that his ears are drawn back, his jaw is clenched and his tail thumps slightly against his own leg, dragging across the ground behind him would be evidence alone of where his thoughts had traveled to. The thick bulging at the brown fabric of his tweng however seals his fate. You giggle at him. If all it took to work him up was a flash of your tongue then you will surely be the death of him. He is not even listening to why you had done it, what it meant. Ignoring all talks of salvation so he could look down at you and think of what you could only fantasize about.
âYa, but you do not really care why I got it, huh?â
Your question catches him off guard, mostly because you are right and heâs too busy thinking about you to notice that you had once again begun to ramble. He is terrifyingly intrigued when your moving to stand right in front of him, head cocked up curiously at him, an amorous smirk on your lips.
âYou just care about what I can do with it.â
Like the tease you are, you glance down at his hips. It is only then he realizes how tight the confines of his bottoms had gotten.
âYou really are a devil huh?â His fingers are digging into the bark of the root he leans on as he huffs out the only thing he could think to say. He supposes there was no honor in hiding anything now- to bashfully try and defend the situation. That pretty tongue of yours sliding past your teeth to lick across your lips,
âIf you want a vrrtep I can show you a vrrtep,â
Your voice is charmingly playful, and he can hear the click of the ring against a tooth. As your fingers dance across his lower stomach youâve all but convinced him to be at your mercy with no effort. When you wordlessly drop to your knees before him he cant help the noise that ripples through his chest. Parts of him buckle at the idea of letting you be in charge and show him more of that pretty tongue ring but he canât help but be honorable. Try to gain some sort of dominance. He thought he had gained the upper hand when at the contact of one of his big palms to the back of your head. The assumption was foolish of him. To think for a second he had the upper hand. The feeling of the cool material on your tongue sliding up his thigh has his fingers knotting in your hair and his breath coming out in huffs. He thinks itâs perfect- youâre perfect. He canât wait to feel it everywhere.
ê§ Loâak doesnât mean to not notice really, you were both so busy. You should take it as a compliment how hard he focuses on your eyes when you talk. But when he finally catches on that somethings different about you and you show him he canât help but get too excited.
You were Loâaks very best friend. In fact, you could not recall a point in life where he was not at your side while your gaggle of friends got into mischief. In all honestly you had spent your childhood following Loâak around like his shadow, and it is a habit that has followed you into your adulthood. You know he is plagued with an overabundance of energy and thus kept you entertained the best. Loâak was many things- emotionally aware, compassionate, charming, and with no effort made you feel alive. Heâs probably why you were a bit of an adrenaline junky, and why you so eagerly agreed to the modification to your body after your Uniltaron. There was some reason behind the bleeding that you did not quite know if you cared about more then the fact that there was a cool piercing in your mouth.
Most importantly, you had hoped Loâak would have noticed the piercing quickly, however, the fact that Loâaks own Uniltaron was the day before yours and he (like his father) had an intense experience, meant that you had uncharacteristically been apart for what you considered too long. Loâak had spent the days in which your tongue was at its most swollen (and thus noticeable) resting at home. Though you had been plagued with your own duties which made any meaningful interactions between Loâak and yourself non-existent since then. This meant that he just hasnât noticed the new addition to a body he was rather familiar with. The lapse in time spent together was not something either of you had been used to, nor particularly fond of.
Which is why Loâak is blabbering to you wildly while you both eat your supper. You think heâs cute despite talking with his mouth full, and your dazed staring is what pulls Loâak out of his excitement and forces him to stare back at you. It is when he noticed youâre eating lighter than usual.
âSoup? Itâs too warm for soup,â his tone indicates itâs an astute observation in his mind, âAre you sick?â He asks, reaching to touch your head. You snicker at him as you smack his lingering hand away,
âNo, skxawng- you really hadnât noticed?â
The playful faux sadness in your voice still barbs at his heart. It is quickly replaced with an indescribable feeling when you open your mouth for him and heâs greeted with a heart-stopping view. Eywa you were pretty, and for a second you looked like you could really be his- looking up right at him with your mouth wide open. Itâs innocently possessive for a second, really he hadnât thought too much into why he had reacted to the view in such a way. That was until he noticed the little ball perched on the center of your tongue. Like the little stones they found in the river mollusks they used as jewelry.
âOh shit!â
His response makes you shut your mouth and snicker while your tail wags faster than you had been used to. You even turn your head in to avoid his ardent eyes. Though Loâak is quick to brace his hands on the wooden table to lean over and follow your gaze,
âI wasnât done- hey,â and when he pinches your cheeks in his hand he almost knocks over your soup with the enthusiasm he exudes.
âYou are acting like a fool,â your smiling half out of amusement, half out of pure inarticulate flabbergast at how quickly he had become interested in the orifice.
âDoes it hurt?â He questions.
If itâs possible his smile grows larger at the shake of your head,
âLet me kiss you then,â
It leaves his mouth before you can even tell him how the pain has passed. Itâs incredulous, how brazen Loâaks words are considering his parents were barely out of earshot also enjoying their meal.
âAre you the one with a fever?â
Your voice crack is loud as you grip his wrist, and you make a note that you lean closer to him almost subconsciously.
âWhat? We have kissed quite a bit?â
In secret- in private- not when everyone you knew was right there, you were sure people presumed but you did not particularly feel the need to deal with the questioning eyes of either your families or your friends.
âYouâre parents are right there, Loâak. I am not-â But his pretty wide smile cuts you off, and his tail swings down to snatch your swaying one
âWe can go somewhere theyâre not,â
Thereâs a snort in his voice like itâs the obvious answer. As though the both of you getting up and walking away together wouldnât have drawn the same questioning gaze that kissing would have cast upon you, Eywa knows why you are dumb enough to nod at him. Quickly moving to stand up first, but pause when his tail stays wrapped right around yours halting your movement, and you look to him quizzically.
âYou gotta wait a minute before weâre going anywhere,â
Youâre confused. He was just so eager to be alone with you. How could he possibly be more interested in his previously abandoned meal? And how can he be chuckling at you- and why is the free arm he had propped on the table motioning towards the bench you both sat on and- oh. Thats why. The undeniable tent forming. A reminder why you so quickly agreed to be whisked away by him.
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