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laneywrld · 2 days

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things lost and things found | Lewis Hamilton

part one

word count: 9.2k

warnings: smut, smut, more smut, fluff.

There's no way for a friends-with-benefits agreement to fail when both parties understand the rules.

"Do you ever get tired?"

Lewis turns his head to look at her inquisitively.

"What do you mean by that, Clem?" He chuckles.

Clem turns over onto her side, propping her head up in one hand.

"Do you think about having a life of your own without racing but with a family, a wife, and kids? Do you ever want to go home and stay home?"

Lewis stares Clementine in her dark eyes before he turns and looks back up at the blank ceiling.

"I don't know." He whispered into the air. "I don't have much time to think about things like that, serious relationships and such." He winces as he says the words.

"You're not hurting me, Lew, I know what this arrangement is. I was just curious." Clem chuckled, plopping back onto her back. She pulls the covers up to conceal her bare chest.

They lie in silence again, and Lewis is left to think about what she'd just asked him.

He spent a lot of his time in a serious relationship, and immediately after that ended, he was in his single bachelor phase; somehow, as the years went on, it never ended. That's how he's gotten Clementine in his bed.

Of all the girls he chose to spend his time with, Clementine was easily his favorite. She wasn't artificial or an ass-kisser to him; she was simply herself. And Lewis wasn't used to coming across women like that, given his status and all.

Clementine was actually the complete opposite of every other girl in his rotation. She was younger than him, yes, but she was also smart and had dreams she wanted to achieve on her own. He liked to joke that everything about her screamed old lady. Clementine liked that.

What's cooler than an old lady?

"I'm going to take that as a compliment. I can't wait to get old; there's beauty in knowing you've lived; I know I'm going to spend my life fulfilling my potential. It'd be cool to be an eccentric old lady, just happy and peaceful. Content with life."

It was entirely by chance that he ran into her at all that night two years ago. He had been taking a late-night walk in the streets of New York when he first saw her.

Initially, her style caught his attention, but the closer he got to her, the more noticeable was her smile and then her voice. God, she had the voice of an angel. She had that classic American drawl, so sultry and sweet like she was straight out of the fifties but with a twist.

Then he realizes that he's seen her before, and he stops in his tracks, trying to pinpoint where exactly he'd recognized her gorgeous face from.

"Do I know you?" Lewis questions confidently.

Clem halts, her lips puckering in as she squints at the unfamiliar man. "Sorry, Sir. I don't think so."

She surely doesn't recognize him.

And then it clicks, he snaps. "My photographer, Timothy McGurr!"

"Oh wow," she smiles. "I love Timmy. You said he's your photographer?"

"Yes, for the last four years."

"Wow, four years." She marvels, "You model?"

"No." He laughs, shaking his head, "I race cars."

"Nascar?" She wonders, tilting her head to the side.

"Formula One." He corrects, and she hums, impressed.

"I've heard serious things about you guys over there. Anyhow, it was nice meeting you," she trails off, allowing him to introduce himself.

"Lewis." He sticks his hand out, "Lewis Hamilton."

As she shakes his hand, her phone lights up with a notification just as a black SUV pulls in. "That's me. It was a pleasure meeting you Mr, Hamilton." She smiles kindly, and then she slips into the vehicle and rides off into the night.

Lewis stands there for a second. He doesn't know why, but he feels drawn to her for some reason.

The very next morning, he called his photographer for her details. Lewis has always been rather bold, so he isn't nervous when he dials her number. "Hi, Clementine?"

And the rest was history.

Lewis has learned one specific thing about Clem since their rendezvous began. She was an intense person. She liked to talk about any and everything. Lewis didn't mind it, though. It was nice to unpack with someone he knew wouldn't judge him.

She had a way of making anything she asked feel deep. Lewis was both enamored and intimidated by that.

Just as she was intuitive, she was equally as open. Lewis knew he could always bounce the question back to her, and she'd give him the most well-thought-out and theoretical answer.

He loved listening to her talk just as much as he loved fucking her.

"Do you ever get tired?" He ricochets.

"All of the time, and it's sad because I'm still so young, but I often wonder if any of this is even worth it. Is slaving away so hard going to be worth it in the future if I've spent my glory days basking in trying to find glory."

"I have faith in you, Clem. You're already lightyears ahead of the rest of us with that mind of yours."

She chuckles, and they bask in the comfortable silence for a while longer, both looking up at the ceiling of his New York penthouse like they're staring out into the galaxy.

"Do you feel like you have enough glory?"

"No," he answers honestly, "I won't be content until I reclaim my eighth."

From the corner of his eye, he sees her head lull to the side and stare at him. Lewis doesn't get uncomfortable when Clem stares at him like he does when most people do. The idea of her reading into him is flattering more than unsettling.

"If you weren't a driver, what would you want to be?"

"A designer of all sorts, really. Music, fashion, you name it." He lists off, and she lets out an mhhm sound.

"I can actually see that. You have a very creative mind." She praises.

"What about you? What would Clementine Russell be doing right now if she wasn't an actress?"

She chuckles, "Well, for starters, I wouldn't be naked in your bed. I'd probably be somewhere in the middle of nowhere, like Montana." She gasps, "Yeah, Montana! And I'd have a farm full of animals that I'd never eat, and I'd go out and sit and paint or write more stories that no one would ever see. If I could go back in time, I'd just write my stories, not play in them. I would hike the same mountain every day and watch the sunset. Yeah, I'd sit and watch the sunset every day and admire how beautiful everything becomes. "

For some reason, that statement holds a more significant sentiment than she intended.

"You sure do have a way with words."

"I try."

Silence falls over that pair again until she breaks it.

"Do you think I'm annoying?"

"No, never." Lewis reveals, "I actually like having you here to talk to; why do you ask?"

"Sometimes I feel like I talk too much and ask too many questions."

"I think you make people feel seen when you ask questions the way you do." He hums. "Do people ask you questions?"

"No, not really."

"Do you wish people asked you questions, Clem?"

"Yes."

That's when Lewis realizes that all that glimmers isn't gold. Clementine Walker had the life of a star. She could do anything she wanted at any given time. Yet she wasn't content with her life. She was actually rather lonely.

"I write scripts for myself to act out when I want to talk about something." She chuckles dryly. "That's pathetic."

And suddenly, Lewis feels terrible for not asking the woman more questions. He feels like a shit person for receiving her and giving her nothing in return. Clementine was better than therapy for him; who gave therapy to her?

"What if we lay in bed after every meetup and we just talk? I consider you to be a friend Clem. I like listening to you. I like hearing about you, too."

"Okay."

"We can start now?"

"You first." She has a giddy smile on her face as she turns over to face him.

"Why do you think you feel everything so deeply?"

She hums, her eyes casting downward as she allows the question to ruminate.

"I expect everything to be meaningful. I have a hard time seeing anything objectively. Everything has to mean something to me, and if it doesn't, what's the point? If it has no purpose, how am I supposed to accept it? I feel so deeply because every word, action, and situation has to mean something; there has to be a reason behind it. I've never had someone tell me that things weren't that deep; I wasn't taught to brush things off; I was taught to feel and to try to understand everything and everyone."

"I think that's beautiful. You're such a gracious being, you know that?"

She whispers a quiet thanks as she thinks over what to ask him.

"What's one thing you lost as a kid that you wish you could get back?"

"I had a remote-controlled big Homer car when I was a kid, and I used to drive it in the park every day. I got distracted one day and left without it; when I came back the next day, it was gone."

"Who gave it to you?" Clem inquires, and when Lewis turns onto his side to face her, she looks so intrigued by what he has to say. He doesn't think anyone has ever cared so much for what he has to say if it wasn't involving his career.

"My dad, for my sixth birthday. We were poor, so it meant a lot to me; I really cherished it. Felt like I took it for granted, I loved that car so much, but I left it. How could I forget something that important to me?"

Naturally, Lewis opens up to Clementine.

"You can love something and still lose it, which illustrates how much you adore it in the end. You never really know how much you appreciate something until you no longer have it." Clem enlightens.

Lewis wonders how her brain can process such complex thoughts in mere seconds.

"What have you lost?"

"A letter from my dad." Clem hums. "When he was in prison before things got bad with my mom and he stopped reaching out, I was turning eight, and he sent this beautiful card. It was Clementine orange, and when you opened it, a three-dimensional cake popped out with like a million yellow candles. I remember it saying these candles don't compare to the light you brought to the world on this day many years ago." Clem chuckles as she describes the elaborate birthday card. She picks at Lewis' sheets as she speaks.

He sees her lips pressed together, and she turns to face the ceiling again. She doesn't seem like she intends to keep talking.

"I'm listening, y'know. I'd love to hear more." Under the covers, his hand travels down until it catches hold of Clems.

"I-um, He wrote his message in like really elegant cursive, and I was a kid at the time, so I had my grandpa read it to me over and over, like every day, until I had fully memorized it. I had never seen my dad in person. I had never heard his voice, not even over the phone. I had never even gotten a letter from him before. Still, the things he wrote in that letter were beautiful. I remember feeling a little less lonely as if he loved me unconditionally. There were dried tears embedded in the paper material. I knew he cried as he wrote it, and that made me feel like, damn, this is a man who means what he says, feels exactly what he writes. I don't know when I lost that letter or how I just knew when I went for it again. It was nowhere to be found. I'm forgetting the words he wrote to me."

"Have you heard from him since?"

"Once but not directly. When I turned fifteen, he was released. He felt like he wouldn't know how to be a father when he got out. Which I understood. I can't force anyone to have a relationship with me. It must’ve been hard going in when your child is an infant and coming out to her fully bloomed. He cried on the phone to my grandpa every time he argued with my mom. She'd say nasty things to him, like how he'd never be a father to me and how I was better off. I figured when you're locked in a cell, and all you can think about is going home to your child, it must’ve been hard to hear that you would never account for anything. I believe he gave up. Not everyone is strong enough to take on that kind of mental battle."

Even as Clementine describes how fucking sucky her childhood was, she is still showing grace to the people who ruined her innocence.

"He never asked to speak to me during these calls. My mother always kept him at a distance when he was in prison. If he had written more letters than the one he sent to my grandpa, like he wrote that he did, I never got them. She was good at telling him that she didn't want him in my life. I don't blame her either; neither of them was ready to be parents. I got a call on my eighteenth birthday. It was just breathing on the other side for a while. I had a feeling it was him, so I didn't hang up, but it was a gravely voice on the other end and he sounded a little choked up. Said the exact same line from my birthday card, I'm not sure if you like cake, but eat a lot of it today princess. Happy birthday. And then the call disconnected. Kind of fucked me up a little bit because I think I was just getting to a point where I was finally okay with not having parents."

"I'm sorry." Lewis solaces.

"It's cool, builds character." She jokes dropping her elbow and lying completely on her side.

"I pride you on your gracefulness, truly."

"My grandpa always told me that if you can find grace in failings, life becomes more beautiful. If you can find grace in every situation, eventually, those graces will catch up to you. Everyone deserves to have grace; who am I to hold something above someone else because of how it made me feel? You never know what made someone act the way they did. In the end, it may have affected them more than me, but as long as I'm gracious and I consider these kind of things to be a possibility it makes it easier for me."

Lewis thinks back to all the times he handled situations without grace, when he allowed himself to blow up over small things, and how, in the end, it made situations worse than they needed to be. He internally hums at the realization.

"Shit."

She is shuffling from his bed, sheets clutched tightly against his chest.

She gracefully moves around his room, the sheets fitting her like a gown. Lewis props himself up on one arm, watching her gather her belongings.

When she tosses the sheet back onto the bed, he watches as she pulls on her pants and steals his button-up to throw over her thin tank top.

She sits on the edge of his bed, throwing on her worn Adidas sambas.

"It's been a blast, Sir Hamilton." She bows, and he softly launches a pillow at her. She catches it with a sweet grin and places it at his feet. "I have to be on set early tomorrow. My assistant sent a car for me."

"I'll call you when I'm back in town," he suggests, and she nods, letting out a noise of agreement as she saunters over to his bedroom door.

"Be safe out there on the track." She blows him a kiss, and then she is gone, and he hears his front door close gently.

Lewis likes spending time with Clem. She has a way of taking every ounce of stress from his bones.

Lewis wasn't a relationship kind of guy, and he liked that Clem understood that. She wasn't trying to force a relationship on him or was convinced she could change his mind.

Clem was there for the great sex and the even better conversations. The two of them had made great friends out of each other, and they were both content with the status of their association.

Lewis never told Clementine this, but he liked watching her work. He liked how she could put out art, and he could resonate with it. Lewis thinks that Clem is the most emotionally intelligent person he's ever met, which is why everything she puts her hands on just works.

And it shows. Clementine is the kind of person whose words sound like they're straight from classic literature. She has a way of speaking that instantly captivates every person in her proximity.

Clementine was a Jill of trades. She liked to act, but she was an even better writer. This is why she was awarded co-director of her award-winning show after helping to direct only three episodes. He knew she had a knack for all things creative. She liked to draw, paint, and read, and she had a thing for tattoos just as much as he did.

Clementine was actually so fucking cool.

People loved her naturally; she only had to be herself, and it made people gravitate towards her.

Being around Clem was like having the hands of an angel on you. It was impossible to feel troubled, even if you were going through the most unfortunate or stressful circumstances. If you had Clem, trust you'd feel nirvana.

Her words echo in his mind. I write scripts for myself to act out when I want to talk about something.

He switches on his television and clicks on the Netflix app. It's the first option under his 'continue watching' category, and he presses resume.

Lewis loved her show, though he never admitted it. It was artsy and different than what was new and hot now. Clem channeled all of her favorites to make this show. He remembers her describing her obsession with Jim Carrey and The Truman Show. Her favorite movie of all time was Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind, and her favorite character also shared her name.

He knew that Clementine cried when she read Tuesdays with Morrie, just like she did when she watched Requiem for a Dream. She had an odd obsession with The Joker movie and was even more obsessed with the lore of how each Joker is portrayed differently. She always saw herself in Charlie, from the perks of being a wallflower.

She rewatched What's Eating Gilbert Grape at least once a week. If you asked her, Tim Burton was the best director in the world, and she had a special connection to Edward Scissorhands. She also loved anything with a narrator.

She was right. It makes you feel each character a little bit more to hear their every thought.

He now knows that she likes to narrate her own show because she likes to talk about what she feels. No one asks her how she feels.

Everything that Clem likes is so deep and complex, and it fits her perfectly.

He must admit that he had never heard of any of these shows, movies, or books before meeting Clementine. But seeing how passionately she described them had him desperate to enlighten himself. He sees the inspiration of it all in her show.

Every episode starts with a question. Clem appears facing away from the camera, an oversized Carhartt denim jacket adorning her frame. He sees that she is sitting on a mountain, a camera held to her face, taking pictures of the most scenic view he's ever seen.

Her voice emerges through the speaker, yet her mouth is unmoving.

"You can go anywhere in the world under one condition. You'd have to stay there forever, everything unchanged and nothing new will ever come. Where do you choose?"

The camera is still panned out but moves to the side, where he views her relaxed frame from the side. As the camera zooms in she breaks the fourth wall, turning to face the camera. The sky is oddly vividly blue in the background and the clouds are all weirdly perfect.

"Probably here."

As the sun sets, the sky adorned in perfect warm hues, she sets the camera beside her and folds her hands in her lap. She turns to face the beautiful view, and she looks more content with life than she's ever seen.

Her voice rings through the speaker again as the camera pans out, and her body begins to look smaller and smaller against the vast sky.

"You can still see the sunset even on the darkest of days.”

The next time Lewis sees Clem is at her the Cannes movie festival.

She is obviously the lady of the hour, and he's had a hard time catching up with her.

When he finally does see her, his breath hitches as she maneuvers through the crowd and away from the red carpet in a very elaborate gown. She looks like a princess.

Like she can feel his eyes on her, her head turns and she sees Lewis standing amongst a group of other celebrities.

There are three people surrounding her. Zeus, her bodyguard, SK her assistant and finally her publicist Nia.

She approaches him, ready to greet him with a wide grin; Lewis has a grin of his own covering his face as he steps ahead of the group.

"Lewis, Hi!" She pitches, raising her arms to hug him; he happily accepts her embrace, wrapping his own around her frame.

"Can't wait to see you on the big screen." He boosts, and she smiles up at him, ready to reply, when a hand clamps down over her wrist and begins pulling her away, "Sorry, got to keep going, Clem."

She offers him a rushed smile, lifting her dress so that she can exit with speed. Lewis has never once felt like the fan in a situation until it came to Clem.

"So the movie is going to be about cannibalism?" His friend asks, looking through the pamphlet.

"No," Lewis combats. "I mean, yes, but it's deeper than that, the flesh represents..." and he drones on describing the lore of her new movie, Bones and All.

His description is almost word for word the way you described it to him after he asked the same exact question.

"So it's a movie about eating people?"

Clementine laughed, shaking her head, and moved to sit against his headboard. Her skin was still flushed from their previous actions, and her mouth was dry.

"Cannibalism is just the placeholder for many different vices. Everyone has their vices. By using something that damn near everyone looks down on, the symbolism of just how serious these issues are get understood tenfold. Think of it like this, you get mental illness from one parent, and the other denies that you have it. They believe you're perfect, nothing is wrong, but deep inside, there is this illness growing in you and festering out of control that you can't get help for, that won't be accepted."

"Imagine being homosexual, imagine not being able to express that, especially in the eighties; it becomes a bliss you have to satisfy in private. Something you must keep a secret, or something bad will happen to you. Some vices are passed on, like alcoholism or addiction, and even trauma can be passed on, like mental illness; it's about how you have to hide it all, how it catches up to you, and how it ruins you. If you watch it, think about that, Lewis. Think about what each character represents. What is the flesh they're eating?"

Lewis cries during the movie. He sees that he is not the only one as the lights illuminate the cinema, and there are no dry eyes in sight. Lewis would never understand how Clem was able to have such a complex mind and also make it so simple and still artistic to the point where anyone could understand.

Lewis usually hates being forced to attend film festivals. He especially dreads the standing ovations that drag on and on. But he graciously stands for the entire seventeen minutes that her movie receives.

He's always told Clem that, at a certain point, she'd have to let that humbleness go. Lewis was a humble person, there was nothing wrong with it, but he didn't like that Clem thought she didn't deserve praise for her work. He wanted her to know she was the shit.

He feels his heart swell with pride as she marvels at the cheers, whoops, whistles, and applause.

He places his fingers between his lips, letting out a whistle of his own. It dominates the space, and she turns to face him like she knows it is him.

Clementine's grin grows impossibly larger, and she lifts her arm to wave at Lewis. He spreads his arms out in front of him and bows at her.

Clementine chuckles, shaking her head at him.

Although she attends the film festival every year, this was her first time presenting her work as a director. This was a huge deal to her. Not only was she the star actress in the film, but this was hers. Her work, her words, her art, and people loved it and understood.

As two more dreamy minutes pass on and the cinema falls into an air of collective chatter, she folds her hands over her heart and speaks to her fellow costars.

"Holy fucking shit," Timothee curses, "do you understand that we just got a nineteen-minute standing ovation?" He places her head between his hands, pulling it towards him and placing a kiss in her hair. "Fuck, Clem. You're a fucking creative genius, you know that?"

When Clementine finally got used to people she realized that she actually does like parties. Here she was being celebrated by people, some she knew, some she didn't all the way in France.

She is in a mansion in France, fresh off the red carpet, throwing back shots with every pat on the back. There is a thrill in being praised, and with each pat on the back or congratulatory kiss on the cheek she gets, she feels herself levitating.

When Clementine first got the idea for the movie, she stayed awake for twenty-four hours, holed up in her bedroom, typing away at her keyboard as she planned and created rough drafts of a proposal.

If you asked Clem, she doesn't think that she's a creative genius like everyone else believes. She thinks that she materializes how she feels into forms of art that people will understand. She doesn't sit and think long and hard or even look for targeted things to express. She just knows.

Clem wanted to write a movie for those she felt had been denying themselves. For the kids confused about their feelings and things they can't control. From alcoholism, sexual identity, mental illness, addiction, and all the way to feeling lonely and navigating life on your own. She wanted to make a movie that materialized how it feels to come of age without understanding the purpose of life. And she'd done it.

Clem wouldn't say she was particularly close to any of the people here at the afterparty, minus Timothee. They had grown very close since filming together.

Clem actually wouldn't say she was close to many people at all other than her small, tight-knit group of friends and, of course, Lewis. Which is ironic because their entire relationship is built on the basis of sex.

She can't lie; when she first met Lewis, she was instantly attracted to him. He had a certain kind of charm about him that just screamed, You're going to respect me.

Clem liked that Lewis stood ten toes behind what he believed, always. She liked that he was genuinely a kind person and not just pretending for the media. What he put out was actually who he was, and Clementine wasn't used to seeing that in the celebrity world.

Lewis fully intended to be friends with Clementine when he called her that first night, but the longer they were in each other’s presence, the more obvious it was to sense the lingering sexual tension between them.

Clem wasn't offended when Lewis admitted that he wanted to sleep with her and keep her around without the formalities of a romantic relationship.

In fact, she was fine with it.

She didn't judge him when he explained how he wasn't a relationship kind of guy. She listened intently when he described how demanding his job was, and she even hummed along in agreement when he concluded that sex can sometimes just be fun.

It'd been two years since she first met Lewis; she was older and more mature. More demanding of herself.

She was learning to let things go as the days passed and let things come when the world felt.

She feels like she's gotten to know herself better, and she owes a lot of that to the nearly 40-year-old driver who has taken the time to unravel parts of her that no one else bothered.

So when she sees Lewis walk through the grand entrance now dressed in a far more casual outfit than the black Louis Vuitton tuxedo that adorned his frame earlier, she can't help the way her smile makes her eyes crinkle.

She rushes from the bar, slipping past the guests, crowding the home, and speeds up the stairs as fast as her heels can take her.

She lets her dress fall at her feet as she tosses on her own less formal outfit and descends the stairs again in search of her friend.

He sees her first, perched on the stairs with a concentrated face, and he chuckles at just how focused she looks. Her eyes are scanning the crowd, and he waits patiently until her eyes catch his.

When they finally meet, he raises his hand in a cool wave, and she grins, skipping down the stairs. He raises his brows when she finally makes it to him after being stopped time and time again by other partygoers.

"Lady of the hour, huh?" He jokes, pulling her into him.

"I don't even know these people," she whispers, smiling softly and offering a wave as a drunken man passes by and calls out her name. She turns back to Lewis with fogged eyes, "Timothee wanted to throw an afterparty, so here we are."

"You have been celebrating?"

"I've taken a few shots or so." She smiles, "Can we get out of here?"

Lewis nods, "Yeah, of course."

His hand travels down and takes her own, leading her from the full house. "Where do you want to go, love?"

"Anywhere is fine; just want to be far away from people." She sighs.

Lewis peers down at her, watching as she scours the long driveway.

He motions her to his car and she slips from his hold already pacing towards it. She hops into the passenger side when she hears the car unlock and he plops down into the drivers seat.

"Why are you here in France? You didn't tell me you'd be here." Clem inquires as Lewis places his phone into her lap so that she can play music. He always preferred her music taste when they rode in the car late at night.

"I wanted to see the movie and support my friend." He smirked.

"You have to be in Monaco tomorrow!" she gasps. " You can't do that, Lew. You need rest. When did you even get here?"

"I touched down today after qualifying."

"No." Clem disapproves, "I could’ve just gotten you tickets to the premier. You must be so tired."

Lewis shakes his head, "M'fine. Besides, I wanted to be one of the first people to see it." Which was a lie because he was totally exhausted.

"Early flight tomorrow, then?" Clem asks.

Lewis only nods, already knowing her eyes are set on him. Frank Ocean begins to play through his speakers, and he hums along to the song playing. It brings upon his next thought.

"I say you posting in the studio?" He eyes, "Let me find out Clemy girl about to be in the booth spitting."

She laughs shaking her head, "not even, I was just there with Tyler. Did record a few vocals for him though."

"Maybe one day you should, I don't know, release something of your own."

Clem scoffs, "I know you think I can do everything. We're not all great at everything."

"It's true, do you think you can do it all, besides I've heard you singing in the shower; sounds nice."

"So you wait outside of the bathroom listening to me, creep."

He smacks his teeth, removing one hand from the wheel to blindly mush her.

"I'm serious, though. I think you have a beautiful voice."

"Thank you. Maybe one day we'll both stop playing in the studio and do something together." She chortles, "So I guess what I'm saying is, I'll do it if you do."

Lewis smirked, nodding his head. "Deal."

Lewis takes her back to his hotel for the night. He smiles as he watches her from the living room. She is on the balcony, arms spread along the banister.

He approaches her. Like she can sense his presence, she speaks up, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

He doesn't bother looking out to the view. He keeps his eyes on her. "Yeah, very beautiful."

Sometime in the night, the two of them ended up entangled in his bed, both on their sides, as Lewis thrust into her from behind. One of his arms is outstretched and serving as a pillow for her neck, and the other is wrapped around her waist, holding onto her hand as he moves deeper and deeper into her warmth.

He knows that when she squeezes around him for that final time, he's as good as done for, sheathing himself as far as he can get; his mouth drops open as he releases himself in heavy spurts. Clem exhales as he finishes, her grip on his hand loosening slightly.

Lewis doesn't bother to remove himself from her core; the arm nestled between the crook of her neck and shoulder bends until his hand is cupping her jaw and forcing her head back towards him, where he is leaning over her shoulder. He smashes his lips against hers in a searing peck, one after the other, until he holds his mouth against hers. She opens her mouth, and their tongues glide against each other in perfect harmony.

Finally, they pull apart to breathe, and Lewis pulls out with a hiss. They both fall onto their backs, his taken arm still resting beneath her head and his free arm holding their conjoined hands against his chest.

"It gets better and better every time." She admits, and Lewis lets out his signature boyish laugh, turning to face Clem. She is taking the time to catch her breath, a happy, satisfied grin covering her face as she stares up at nothing.

It's like a scene from a movie. The curtains flowed gently against the wind, and the night sky of Cannes was illuminated by stars blazing through his open balcony doors. Clem's exquisite side profile is the main focus.

He reaches over, pulls his phone from the nightstand, and slyly takes a picture before dropping his phone beside him and reconnecting their hands.

"I should go," Clem announces with a sigh. "You have an early morning ahead of you."

"You don't have to go." Lewis tested, "It's late."

"It's always late when we're together, Lewis." Clem reminds.

"I- Just stay the night. It doesn't have to be weird. We know what we're doing."

He feels her head turn against his head and knows that she's looking at him with those same endearing eyes. "Okay," she whispers into the air.

"Besides, we haven't talked." Lewis murmurs, and Clem smiles. "Can't break the ritual. You remember when I asked you where you would be if you weren't you, and you said Montana?"

Clem hums in agreement. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Think we should go one day, you and me. See those animals; climb that mountain."

Clem wills back the tears burning behind her eyes. That conversation occurred two months into their arrangement, and two and a half years later, here he was, bringing up small details to a dream she'd told him about briefly.

"What?" Lewis murmurs, watching her grin.

"Nothing, just surprised you remembered that, is all."

"I remember everything you say to me, Clementine."

"I'd love to go to Montana with you," she whispers after a while. "It's the prettiest in spring."

"Well, we'll go next spring then." Lewis declares.

Clem smiles against against his arm, placing a peck there. "Deal, if you're not sick of me by then, we'll climb that mountain in Montana."

Lewis turns back towards the celing hoping she can't tell that her simple actions had his face burning and had his blood rushing.

"You know in eternal sunshine of the spotless mind when they're laying on the ice?"

"Yeah, Clem." Lewis chuckles. "We've watched it a million times."

"That's what it feels like laying here right now with you."

"Thank you." Lewis grins.

"Her hair was blue." Clem points out. "Her hair changed colors to represent their relationship. Why do you think it was blue?"

"They were starting over. Maybe she was still down about erasing him."

"Huh," Clem sighs, "that's a good take."

"Shower?"

"With you?" She wonders.

"If you're okay with that."

"I just let you fuck me into oblivion. Why not let you clean me up."

Much cleaning hadn't gone down in the shower.

clementine

liked by lewishamilton, tchalamet, and 8,898,465 others

clementine the best week, the most perfect week.

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lewishamilton Amazing movie 🙌🏽 such a deep message.

tchalamet And she's done it again people.

badgalriri Such a beautiful film, queen. ❤️

pharell, You're a literal artistic genius; I look forward to working with you in the future.

user Clemmy + Timmy. The duo we didn't know we needed.

As Lewis saunters around the hotel room quietly the next morning, he keeps a cautious eye on the girl in his bed. He trips over his discarded shoe as he focuses on not waking her up. He mentally facepalms himself as she begins to stir.

Clem sits up, dazed and groggy; she clutches the sheets to her chest as she peers at Lewis, who looks like a deer caught in headlights.

"Good morning," he winces, "Sorry, I was packing my suitcase back up, didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," she rasps, reaching over to grab her phone and checking the time. When she sees that it's seven in the morning, she internally groans but slides her legs off the side of the bed to get ready to pack herself up.

"Woah, hey-" Lewis is by her side in an instant. "Where you going, love?"

Clem pauses, still half asleep she examines him through puffy eyes. "Your flight is at 8:30, right? You're about to head out."

Lewis nods but lifts her legs back onto the bed. "Yeah, but checkout is not until twelve."

When he realizes that she is still glancing at him in confusion, he sits on the bed beside her. "You can stay here, Clem; get some rest before you get on the road. I'll leave the room key with you. Just let them know you're checking out for the king suite."

He laughs as she furrows her brows. "Don't make it weird." he reiterates from last night.

She lets her head fall back against the pillows, more than happy to return to her slumber.

"How long are you going to be in Monaco?"

"About a week."

Clem tried not to think too deeply about his big palm spread over her thigh, his thumb caressing it so tenderly.

"Oh." She mutters, "and then Canada?"

Lewis chuckles, his hand coming up to hold her jaw tenderly, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Look at you," he chuckles, "got my schedule memorized, huh?"

Clem feels the familiar burning in her face as she suppresses her shy smile. "Oh, please." she scoffs. "We've been at this for two years. Of course, I remember the times you begged me to hop on your plane and fly to you so that you could get your rocks off."

Lewis smirks, "Look at that, caught a flight to you this time." And he's bending down and smearing his mouth against hers. He dominates the kiss, his large hand on her jaw keeping her in place for him to use her mouth as he pleases. "Mhmm." he groans pulling away.

"Wanna stay with you here all day, Clem. But I've got a flight to catch."

He is standing and bending over to press one last unexpected peck to her mouth and then her temple before he is at the end of the bed and latching onto his suitcase.

"The keys on the table, okay? Go back to sleep, and order yourself some food for me when you wake up. And text me, okay?"

Clem sits up, still mind-boggled from the kiss, and nods her head.

Lewis smiles, sending her a wave and easing out of the door.

Clementine nearly screams as the door clicks shut, and she hears his footsteps getting farther away.

Casually kissing wasn't a thing between them. Lewis was sweet, yes, but not once has he sat and caressed her and spoken so softly to her. She had never spent the night with him or fell asleep in his arms. And here he was, flipping her entire world upside down and telling her not to make it weird.

It's what she repeats to herself over and over throughout the day as the tender moments with Lewis replay in her head.

He was just being a friend, of course he would show up to support her, right? Of course he wouldn't want her to be on the road late at night or extra early in the morning? And they've kissed before, only during sex but maybe he was wound up in the moment, they were friends with added benefits, did those benefits now include impromptu kisses?

She groans as she checks out from his room and hobbles into the waiting SUV where her assistant waits with her packed bags. "You had a time last night." SK teases as he takes in his boss' disheveled appearance.

"Shut up." Clem grunts, buckling herself in.

SK raises his hands in surrender and then gets back to typing away on his phone. Clem lets her forehead drop against the window as she drives through the beautiful French city.

"Hey, SK?" When he lets out a noise to signal he's listening, she asks him for a favor. "If I asked you to find something for me and get it sent to Monaco, do you think you could get it there before the end of the week?"

SK smacks his teeth, "Girl, please, do you know who you're talking to? I could have it there tomorrow."

"You're the best, SK." she smiles.

"Don't I know it. What is it you need me to get my hands on."

Sure enough, the next morning, Lewis is interrupted by a knock on his door as he clips on his jewelry.

He saunters over to the door his pants hung low and shirtless, swinging open the door to reveal the butler that the hotel provided. When his eyes travel south he see's the luxurious gift box in his hands.

"For you, Sir Hamilton. Delivered early today, pre-approved by your assistant."

Lewis thanks the man, motioning for him to hold still for a second as he rushes to retrieve some hefty bills from his wallet.

He pulls the box from his outstretched hand and replaces it with the bills.

When Lewis closes the door and saunters over to the couch, he plops down and sets the box on the coffee table.

He pulls the stock card from underneath the black ribbon and smiles as he reads over it.

thank you for showing up for me, and congrats on yet another win.

- 🍊

He smiles and taps the card against the box a few times before deciding to open it. He lets out a surprised squawk as he lifts the lid and sees a packaged vintage Big Homer super buggy.

Lewis covers his mouth with his hands stuck between letting out a scream that would resemble a child on christmas day or a cry.

Clementine Russell, he thinks, the woman you are.

He pulls out his phone, snaps a picture of the gift, and sends it to her.

#lewis hamilton x black fem oc #formula 1 #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #poc reader #f1 #black reader #black reader friendly #black female oc

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pomefioredove · 1 day

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i just noticed on your 'yuu gets sold' sorta series that there was a good ending, by chance could you do a bad ending one? if not that's totally ok! keep safe and stay healthy ❤️

oh god. I have a very evil idea for this.

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim

summary: a bad (or good, depending on your stance) ending type of post: short fic characters: surprise :) additional info: yuu is gender neutral, this is short, HELP

Everyone waits.

The chatter and banter which once occupied the courtyard dies down to dull whispers and foot tapping.

Everyone waits, and there's no Crowley.

"Wonderful," Jamil sighs. "He's probably taken all the money and run off. I told you all that-"

"Maybe he's late!" Kalim shouts. A few in the crowd murmur in hopeful agreement.

Silver coughs. "Maybe he realized this whole thing is ridiculous and is processing everyone's refunds,"

They don't like that option as much.

The sun hangs lower and lower in the sky, threatening to shroud everyone in darkness as the minutes tick on.

"Well, I've had enough of this," Vil says, turning towards the exit. "I've put off my afternoon long enough."

"For once, we can agree on something," Leona murmurs, dragging Ruggie along with him.

No one is exactly surprised with this turn of events- but there's a definite sense of disappointment that everyone is sharing.

"He probably just forgot or 'somethin," Epel says, walking alongside Ace, Deuce, and Jack back to Ramshackle to update you on the happenings.

Jack shrugs. "He's definitely not the most organized, but there's no way someone could just "forget" about this. I think Jamil is right, he probably ran off with the money while he could. The swindler..."

Deuce is the next to add something to the pity party. "And yet, we should've known this was a possibility,"

"Shoulda seen it coming..." Epel murmurs. "I shoulda listened to Vil and pulled out while I still had the chance. Dang it..."

The lights are on in Ramshackle as the four approach, a warm and welcome sight after their disappointing afternoon. And the front door is open- were you expecting them?

"Hm. Well, think of it this way," Ace pushes the door the rest of the way open. "We may have been scammed, but at least nothing changes. I mean, it could've been worse."

"A lot worse," Deuce murmurs, following him inside.

The four make it into the foyer and stop dead in their tracks.

There are many things to expect walking into Ramshackle- cobwebs, dust, ghosts, you- Crowley is usually not one of them.

"You- you've been here this whole time?!" Epel shouts, throwing his arms out. "We were all 'waitin for 'ya like a bunch of idjits!"

Deuce and Ace wince. "Dude, chill... but seriously, where were you?"

Crowley doesn't have the chance to answer before something else steals away their attention.

You walk into the room, suitcase in hand. "Guys?"

The four turn to greet you, eyes wide at the luggage you're carrying. "What's that... Crowley?"

The man himself just stands there, pretending to ponder something. "I could have sworn I sent someone to break the news... how peculiar,"

Epel's brow knots. "What news?"

"A third party somehow got wind of our little... venture and donated a very high sum at the last minute. Along with a very passionately worded letter about our dear prefect's safety here at school," he pauses. "Or lack thereof."

Crowley sighs. "The name rung a bell, but... I couldn't imagine how or why anyone outside of NRC would be following the prefect's moves so closely,"

Deuce's eyes narrow. "Crowley. What are you trying to say?"

"Well, I..." he says, seemingly at a loss for words. "I'm afraid to say that our prefect is being transferred to Noble Bell College,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #okay. admittedly I had a little TOO much fun with this concept. mostly because I've always wanted to write an 'everyone fighting over yuu #just for him to swoop in at the last minute' type thing. because it's funny and I actually really like mr. catholic guilt #I'm a big fan of the character he's based on anyway

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cerisereids · 1 day

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a/n: having a lot of thoughts about beefy dad bod hotch thanks very much to this post from @jaden-treesters and the reblog tags that came along with it (specifically from what @hotchfiles said about him gaining weight i took that and ran)

warnings: there’s some discussion of body insecurities so don’t read if that’s triggering for you!

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

during his time at the bureau, aaron hotchner has put on a few pounds, 'beefed up' as rossi and morgan like to tell him. he knows it's natural. he's a father, he's incredibly busy, bodies change. it happens. knowing that still doesn't stop the feeling of dread creeping through his stomach, all the way through to his chest, wrapping itself around his throat when he sees how tight his shirts have been fitting lately. he's never been a fashion guru, that much is for certain, but he notices the ways in which the cotton hugs certain parts of his body he'd rather kept hidden. the way his arms bulge in the fabric, the fullness of his tummy showing through the pudge that flows just slightly over the waist of his pants. natural or not, it makes him a little insecure, knowing that he shows signs of aging in such a way. he doesn't have much time to feel too bad, though, not with you around.

you meet him in the conference room one cozy morning. it's early, before the rest of your coworkers show up, one thing you and your workaholic boyfriend have in common. he sees the way your eyes light up when you see him, and he can't miss the way your eyes hungrily trail down his body. he grows self conscious for a moment, trying to hide that extra pudge by holding a case file in front of his tummy. you will be having none of that, though, and he should've known. it's not long until you've crossed the room entirely, hands flying over every inch of his softness. the warmth from your hands spreads through his body, coating his skin in a sugary sweet warmth he hadn't allowed himself to feel before he met you. the sweetness of your touch distracts him so much that it takes him a moment to register the feeling of your warm, wet lips following in the wake of your hands. you're kissing everywhere you can, his suit jacket long forgotten on the floor. his eyes close as your lips trail down his arms, focusing heavily on his biceps, your hands squeezing and rubbing over the fabric. you unbutton only the top button on his dress shirt, kissing his chest and neck there while your hands untuck the shirt, rubbing over his soft tummy with newfound stretch marks littering the skin there. he shudders, goosebumps awakening all over his skin, the hairs standing up. just as your hands began to drop tantalizingly low, you move them up to cup his jaw, forcing his eyes to bore into yours. "you're beautiful," you whisper, placing a sweet kiss on his lips, which he accepts greedily. "but i've-" "i don't want to hear it," you cut off what would have been a self deprecating comment on his weight, you both knew that, by placing a finger over his lips. "you are the most delicious..." you begin, placing a kiss behind his ear, "the most beautiful..." another one, along his neck, "the most handsome..." another one, this time to his cheek, "...sweetest guy i've ever met," you punctuate your thoughts with another kiss to his lips. aaron whimpers, and he can feel your prideful smile widen against him. you've always loved being the one to reduce the aaron hotchner to a puddle of mush. you pull away reluctantly, hands resting in his belt loops. "i think rossi just got here," you breathe against his lips, "fix yourself up." you wink at him, leaving him to clean up your mess with a swift slap on his butt. he chuckles breathlessly, watching your figure retreat and greet rossi as if you weren't seconds away from debauchery in the conference room.

#this was not proof read #bon appetit #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner criminal minds #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner smut #belle’s blurbs a.h.

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eternalsa2z · 1 day

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Dear Diary

DAY 1

I don't know why I'm doing this. I found this hot pink journal in my room. The logo is a little silly but it'd be a shame to waste all the paper. So I guess I'll write down what I'm thinking.

DAY 3

Honestly this has been nicer than I expected. It feels good to get your thoughts down on paper. Then you don't have to think so hard about your troubles.

DAY 7

I noticed how negative I've been when journaling. So I decided to be more positive and try some new things. Dress nicer. Take care of my appearance more.

DAY 14

I went to the salon today. It was a strange impulse after writing down things I wanted to improve. Just a little trim...maybe some highlights. Something simple.

DAY 15

I went full blonde today. Light blonde. I should feel self-conscious but it feels...sooooo good!

DAY 28

Another salon day! Got a touch up with a cute pigtail hairstyle...and a bit more. The girls convince me try some filler and more than a 'lil makeup. It felt like a lot but they were sooooo excited. So I couldn't help being excited too!

DAY 40

Like, people are looking at me funny. Is it my clothing? They, like, don't fit as much any more. My boobies...I mean breasts...seem bigger. Butt seems rounder. Oh well! Time for a shopping spreeeeee!

DAY 47

Um, like, sorry for not writing more. I've been, like, sooooo forgetful of late. I do my makeup, squeeze on a cute outfit, then I totes forget anything else! Is that bad? 'Course not! It feels too good to be, like, empty headed

DAY 55

Cherry is having truble trouble thinking. Cherry can't, like, 'member lyfe life before writing in diary. Was Cherry, always blonde, busty, and unsofisycated unintellygant dumb? It's like Cherry's thot thoughts all gone once she writes. But at least, like, she's hawt! :)

DAY 69

Cherry iz, like, luving lyfe! Peepole call me, lyke, a dumbo bimbo...but Cherry soooo doesn't care! Cherry iz happy. Cherry iz cute. Cherry iz, like, no thinky any more since she start wryting in diary.

#bimboification #f2f transformation #mental transformation #magical transformation

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livrere-green · 3 days

Text

ATLA x Omegaverse AU

Part 1 | Part 2

I've been thinking about an omegaverse atla au a lot recently, so I'm gonna vent about it cuz it's getting tiring just to have it spiralling in my head ngl

So, the only thing that I need to mention now it's that the standard age at which someone presents is around 13 to 14 years old. Knowing that, lets talk about the main characters.

Aang (12) would be unpresented by the time of the show. Also, I don't believe that being the avatar makes him an alpha perse. I mean, there's a possibility he presents as one (but he could also be a beta), and it wouldn't have anything to do with his avatar status (historically there could be a higher rate of avatars being alphas/betas, but there are some important exceptions... iykwim). Well, I think he'd present at age 13 almost 14.

Katara (14) is one of the characters that confuses me the most in this aspect, but just to add fuel to her fury and her personality, I'll make her an omega, not the kind that rejects her nature but the kind that embraces it and doesn't see it as something that makes her inferior or helpless. Katara would fight against the life society wants to impose on her in the same way she does in canon, maybe even more. She would resent the people who doesn't respect her because of her gender (just make it double), and at some point, she'd get frustrated about it, but she would think that hating herself would mean letting them win. About her presentation, there's two option: 1. She presented some months before they found Aang, 2. She presented during the first months they were traveling to the NWT (in this case, I think the ideal place would've been Kyoshi Island, because there's people able to take care of her there).

Sokka (15) would be an alpha, he probably presented after Hakoda left (14), he fits the type and the stereotypical personality at the beginning of the show. But I think he would get over it sooner rather than later and he would learnt to respect and don't underestimate betas and omegas just based on their nature. Also, I think that Sokka would scent the Gaang to protect them and particularly to cover Katara's scent as they travel or run away from trouble.

Toph (12) would be unpresented by the time of the show. She'd present as an alpha some time after the end of the war (13). There's not a lot to explain here (talking about her at that age, except for the fact that even during her time with the Gaang, she probably hated Sokka's essence, just as an early hint about her gender). I consider that there's a lot to discuss about her as an adult and how she managed her relationships, but that's a discussion for another time.

Zuko (16) would be an omega, and also a late bloomer, probably presented a couple of years after his banishment (15).. Zuko would be determined to hide his true nature under any circumstances, letting only his Uncle know about it. Ozai would've been informed that his son is a beta, which was already a disappointment for the Royal Family (historically alphas), but it wasn't nearly as negative as being reduced to be treated as an omega. Zuko would end up causing himself a lot of damage in order to disguise as a beta, either by using too many suppressants or other medications, or even hurting himself physically and mentally. He would stop hiding he's an omega after joining the Gaang but It'll be complicated, since he'd be distressed all the time and even Aang and Toph would be able to notice (their senses are not totally develop, so it'll be kinda alarming).

Suki (15) would be a beta, presented at 14. In her case, the characteristics of its gender would be especially helpful to mediate conflict or get out of it. The scent of a beta has calming effects in both alphas and omegas, so she would use it with her friends, or even in battle, to make her opponents lose focus, particularly if their driven by rage. The fans are particularly helpful for that.

Azula (14) would present early as an alpha (12/13). At that age, one of the traits she would manifest the most is assuming the position of head of the pact with her friends, she'd probably scent them with the intention of establishing superiority and control over them. In this context, Mai would be a beta and Ty Lee an omega or a beta as well.

That's all for now, I still have some things in mind for this, but I'll share that later, and if you have questions, I'll be happy to answer!

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georgeclarkesgf · 3 days

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forgetful | george clarke

the minute george stepped into the flat, he knew something was off.

"y/n? you here?" walking further into the flat, he found y/n in the kitchen making herself a cup of tea, "hey, sorry i'm back so late. we missed t-"

"don't. i can't believe you. all i asked was that you not plan to film today and i wake up to a message telling me you've gone to film a video for arthur. do you even know why i asked you to stay home today?"

he was trying to remember, really he was. but his mind was blank and the guilt began to seep in, only just noticing the tears that left stains on her cheeks.

"no. of course you don't. my parents are in town george. i planned a nice lunch, maybe go on a walk, come back to the flat for a few drinks, but all that went to shit because you left to film a stupid video and then ignored my messages all day. you know how important it is to me that you get along with my parents so having to cancel on them last minute because you weren't even here was not something i wanted to have to do." the tears in her eyes were threatening to fall again, hating how needy and pathetic she sounded.

"we can sti-" george tried, again quickly being shut down.

"no george, i'm mad at you. you don't get to say it'll be alright and that we can still do something. we're not playing happy families. you've hurt me. when we sort this out, then we organise something else."

now the guilt was in full swing and he immediately started to think of ways he could make it up to her, knowing it would take a lot of grovelling to get back onto her good side.

"i'm going to bed, i love you." a soft kiss being placed on his lips.

"i love you too." slight relief evident on his face, knowing she'll never not say 'i love you', even during an argument.

she rounded the kitchen island, starting to make her way to his room and get ready for bed. george watched as she closed the door, still stood in the kitchen, contemplating whether to follow her or give her some space.

he decided on the latter.

--------

it was nearing midnight when george decided he needed some sleep, and the dip in the bed as he got comfortable was enough to wake y/n, a groan leaving her lips.

"sorry. i didn't mean to wake you," she let out an agitated hum of acknowledgement and rolled over, curling into george's side, unable to resist the heat his body always provided, "still mad at me?"

"yep." she responded, accentuating the 'p'.

"okay. can we talk about it?"

"i've said my peace. you go."

"i really am sorry sweetheart, i feel awful," her nails were running along the lines and dips of his stomach, a habit he'd grown accustomed to over the several months they'd been together, "the video was planned ages ago and i didn't even realise the dates clashed. when you reminded me of 'that thing' that was happening today i thought you meant filming. i promise to make it up to you. and your parents. please say they don't hate me."

george hoped it was enough, not that he wouldn't do anything she asked to get her to forgive him, but he couldn't stand the thought of her staying mad at him.

in y/n's head, he was forgiven. during her time alone, she realised she didn't even give him a chance to explain before locking herself in his room for the rest of the night.

"i'm sorry too," george was slightly taken aback by this, unsure what she was apologising for, "i shouldn't have stormed off like that. not even letting you speak before i disappeared all night. and my parents don't hate you. we can do dinner tomorrow if that's okay with you?"

"that's more than okay. i have my whole day free to spend with you and them. we can do whatever you guys want. i love you."

"i love you. so much. even if you are forgetful."

and george stuck to his promise. safe to say y/n's parents like george more than her.

a/n have this as an 'i'm sorry i haven't posted in a while present' <3

#george clarke #george clarkey #arthurtv #chaoscrew #sidemen #arthur hill #tiktok #george clarkey x reader #george clarke x reader #blurbs #george clarkey imagines #george clarke imagines #blurb #youtube #youtuber imagine #youtuber x reader #youtuber imagines #george clarkey imagine #george clarke imagine

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pxuvalentinx · 15 hours

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Woah like imagine talking about having a family with teen kento ‼️ requesting anything on this plsplspls

a/n: i actually kinda really like this idea waowww !! i've been so slow with requests lately :') i'll get to them soon pinky promise. THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST THOUGH !!! tags/warnings: obv teen pregnancy, slight angst, fluff, nanami is a sweetheart, established relationship (lmk if i forgot anything)

Teen Dad! Nanami, who at first wasn't too sure about this. He always tried to be safe with you, but I guess accidents happen. Nanami honestly thought it was a silly prank of yours at first, but when you showed him a picture of the positive pregnancy test, he lost his composure for a second.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who told you that he needed some time to think about it and really realize what's happening. Once the shock was over, he came running to you, telling you that he'd be more than happy to support you and be with you regardless of the situation. Telling you that he'll support both you and your kid to the best of his abilities.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who now would take on more missions to make some extra money to be able to support you through everything and also save up for the future. Since his plan was now to put a ring on your finger someday.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who often came home exhausted, pissed off that he had to work overtime and also that he had less time to spend with you. Regardless of that, he always made sure to get you whatever you craved, to massage you whenever your back hurt too much, and to help with chores around the house. Nanami would also take notes for both of you in class; education is important after all.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who tried to keep as calm as possible when your water broke (he was panicking on the inside). He read somewhere that panicking will only make the pregnant woman panic too. So he kept calm, calling an ambulance as he held you close, grabbing the little hospital bag you two packed together (he also read about that).

Teen Dad! Nanami, who tries his best to even support you during birth, holding your hand. Sadly, he couldn't really bring himself to watch it happen, only ever glancing over. Nanami hoped it was enough for you.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who becomes the best dad ever regardless of how young he is. He'd start taking on a bunch of chores and duties, just to let you rest.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who calls Shoko every day just to ask silly questions that should've been obvious. Shoko answers every question anyway, wanting to support you and him. Nanami always wrote everything down.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who supported your spending addiction when it came to buying toys and outfits for your little one. In the end, he couldn't deny just how adorable it looked in all of those outfits you buy.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who started looking for other jobs he could do after he graduated from high school. He knew he wouldn't be able to do Jujutsu sorcery forever.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who your little one always throws up on. It's like, as soon as he holds your little one, it just gets the urge to throw up. Gojo definitely makes fun of him for that (until he holds the little one and it also throws up on him, earning a teasing smile from Nanami).

Teen Dad! Nanami, who loves you just as much as before, not caring about any of the changes the baby or being pregnant made to your body. If you're insecure about it, he'll reassure you a lot.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who spoils you and your child as soon as he gets the chance to. When your baby grows up, he won't be able to say no to anything they ask for.

#x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami kento fluff #teen nanami #jjk x reader #jjk x you #fluff #nanami headcanons #dad nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #pregnancy #jjk cast #reqs open #writing requests

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dreamescapeswriting · 2 days

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Teach Me To Dance ~ JHS

⤜WORD COUNT: 1.4K

⤜GENRE: Established relationships, reader wanting to lose weight and Hoseok being the supportive baby boy that he is, TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of losing weight, and calories

⤜PAIRING: Hoseok x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

You and Hoseok had decided to go out and spend the morning at your favourite spot by the Han River, it was a secluded area where just the two of you could relax without the fear that someone was going to capture you both in a photo. Everything about this spot was perfect, the tranquil waters, to the sound of the wind in the air and the occasional sound of water splashing around.

You'd arrived earlier that morning, spreading out a soft blanket on the grass and setting up a small picnic with sandwiches, fruits and a thermos of hot coffee. You'd spent the whole morning leisurely chatting and enjoying each other's company but Hoseok could tell that there was something playing on your mind but he knew not to push you.

If he pushed you too fast and too hard then there would be a chance you'd shut down and tell him that there was nothing wrong - even if there was. Hoseok knew you better than he knew himself sometimes and he needed you to be okay, he needed to know if there was something bothering you or not.

"I feel like we've hardly done this lately," You admit, laughing softly as you lay your head on Hoseok's shoulder, you'd been wanting to spend some time along like this for a while. With his life being the way that it was, you were either always spending time with the boys around or you were just asleep together in bed at night. It was the first time you were going to be able to be alone and actually ask your boyfriend something you'd been dying to ask for him a while.

You probably could have asked in front of the others as well but it was difficult for you to do it. It was hard for you to admit you needed help with something, you liked to think of yourself as someone who could do a lot of things alone.

"I've missed it," He admits, chuckling a little until he realised the expression on your face had turned serious and you'd gone into your head. He knew the look on your face was the one you made whenever you were overthinking.

"What's going on, baby? You've been quiet," He tells you, his voice laced with concern as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. Your eyes downcast to your hands as you played with your fingers trying not to seem as anxious about this as you were.

"Yn..." He trailed off, placing his hand on top of yours. You hesitate for a moment before taking in a deep breath,

"I've been...feeling insecure lately," You finally admit, refusing to look at him. You didn't want to lose confidence or focus and you knew if you looked at him you'd never be able to admit it out loud.

"Insecure? About what?" He frowned, his mind now racing with worry at the thought of it. He'd do whatever he could to help you.

"I...I want to lose some weight." You admit, your voice barely coming out above a whisper. Hoseok's heart sank, he hated seeing you upset, especially about something like this, something he didn't think you needed to change.

"Baby," He starts, he knew he needed to approach this carefully so he didn't hurt your feelings, or make you feel worse than you already did,

"You're perfect just the way you are. You don't need to change a thing," You looked up at him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears that were threatening to spill out at any moment. You'd been feeling like this for a while now and it was getting closer to the day your relationship would be revealed and you wanted to make sure you were toned enough to be ready for it.

"But I want to, Hoseok. I want to feel better about myself." You mumble, looking down at your hands suddenly feeling silly for bringing it up and instantly wanting to take it back. Hoseok sighed softly, realizing that arguing with you wouldn't solve anything and he didn't want to start a fight over something you were insecure about.

Instead, he reached out and gently took your hand in his, squeezing softly and rubbing his fingers over your skin.

"Okay, if that's what you want. But promise me you'll be careful, alright?" Relief rushed over you as you realised he was going to help you, you nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"I promise." You held your pinky out for him to take,

"Good," Hoseok said, returning your smile and wrapping his pinky around yours.

"I want you to teach me how to dance," You suggested to him, it was going to be a good way to burn any calories. Hoseok's eyes lit up as you suggested it and a blush began to settle on his cheeks.

"Yeah, it's a great way to burn calories and have fun at the same time," Hoseok expressed.

"Plus, I happen to be an excellent dancer." He winked at you, and you giggled before playfully rolling your eyes.

"Is that so? Well then, teach me, oh great dance master." You said dramatically before Hoseok wrapped his arms around you and began to tickle you, making you squeal out and wriggle away from him.

You'd been to the HYBE dance studios a bunch of times but nothing compared to Hoseok's dance studio, it was a cosy space filled with mirrors lining one wall, reflecting the sunlight streaming in through the large windows. The wooden floor echoed with the soft shuffle of your feet as Hoseok led you to the centre of the room.

"Okay, babe, let's start with something simple," He said, a grin spreading across his face as he took your hands in his. You nodded eagerly, your eyes shining with determination.

"I'm ready." You giggled. Hoseok began to move, guiding you through the basic steps of a waltz, it wasn't a huge dance but it was something he wanted to teach you to warm up into bigger dances later. He demonstrated each movement with grace and precision, his movements fluid and effortless.

You watched him intently, trying to mimic his steps as best you could. At first, you stumbled and faltered, your movements clumsy and awkward. But Hoseok was patient, offering words of encouragement and gentle corrections as you danced together. With each passing moment, your confidence grew, and your movements became more fluid and graceful. You laughed with delight as you twirled and spun around the room, lost in the music and the joy of dancing together.

As the two of you danced, Hoseok couldn't help but admire your determination, he knew that once you put your mind to something nothing would stop you and he was happy to help in anyway he thought he could. You may have been insecure about your appearance, but there was a strength and beauty in you that he found truly captivating.

After what felt like hours, you finally came to a stop, your breath coming in short gasps as the two of you grinned at each other, cheeks flushed with exertion, beads of sweat dripping down your heads as you fell onto the floor and relaxed a little.

"You did great, YN," Hoseok said, pulling you into a warm embrace as you laid your head on his chest. This had been the best idea ever, you already knew the two of you were going to have so much fun on your weight loss journey.

"I'm so proud of you." The words were like music to your ears as you beamed up at him, your eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Thanks, Hobi. I couldn't have done it without you." The two of you cuddled closer together, catching your breath and relaxing on the floor of the dance studio. You knew it was going to be a fun weight loss journey, not something that filled you with dread everytime you went into it.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #hoseok #hoseok x reader #hoseok imagine #hoseok imagines #jhope #jhope x reader #jhope imagine #jhope imagines #jung hoseok #jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok imagine #jung hoseok imagines

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harlowhockeystick · 2 days

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would love a blurb based off of my boy only breaks his favorite toys & guilty as sin for nico hischier!

"he was my best friend" & "without ever touching his skin, how can i be guilty as sin?" | poetic prompts | warnings:

it had been ages since you'd last seen nico. the past three summers that he's come back to his homeland to see family, you were always the opposite direction. it wasn't a bad thing, though. you had left things with nico rocky and unresolved, and before it could get better he left the country for the nhl and wouldn't come back for another ten months. but now, this summer, he's coming back and you're in town. for once, you'd be in the same neighborhood as him. and now you can't avoid how messy you left things, and how awkward it's going to be.

"how do you feel?" your friend asked, knowing that nico was coming into town this week. she knew- hell, your whole friend group knew what it was like. the tension, animosity, but also all of the fun you had together. "do you think you'll talk about it?"

you sighed, "i don't know. he was my best friend, and he got scared when i told him i loved him." sitting next to your friend in the coffee shop you began to talk about things from the past, bringing up old memories and old drama from your friend group over four years ago.

you'd been in contact with him of course, keeping up with him across the sea, the occasional late night/early morning phone call to catch up. texting him when he was in the news, congratulating him on wins. it was nice to stay in contact with him, but you still had an underlying sense of anxiety and tension with nico, that you hadn't figured out how to move around yet.

"but, i'll admit to you, i've been thinking about him a lot." you drift off in the middle of the sentence, as you begin to think about how much you thought of nico on a daily basis. it didn't occur to you until now just how much you thought of nico. you thought of hugging him again, or even just touching him in general. seeing his eyes in person again, smelling his cologne, hearing his voice.

"you're so guilty, y/n! you're down bad for a guy you haven't seen in so long. make that make sense." your friend teases.

i just landed. i really want to see and talk with you, can we grab dinner? sent 5:50 pm

speak of the devil. you take a second to respond, before finishing your conversation with your friend. secretly, you hope he felt the same way you did. not riddled with anxiety of course, but you hoped he wanted to make things right with you. get on the same page, start over together.

"without ever touching him, how can i be guilty as sin though?" you share a laugh with your friend and finish the conversation.

i'd love that. need a ride from the airport? sent 5:56 pm

definitely. see you in a few ❤️ sent 5:58 pm

#j's writing #nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #this sucks i still haven't figured out how to write for nico yet

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aurorangen · 2 days

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OC Deep Dive Questionnaire Tag

Thank you for tagging me @matchalovertrait @mdshh @duusheen (and anyone else I might have missed, I'm so late to answer!) I'm doing it for Vincent, he's just interesting to talk about! It's a long one:

What uncommon/common fear do they have? Vincent has a fear of crowded places, how people could be watching or spying on him. What do they want? Why are they doing this? Who is behind it? Anyone could be doing it, but he knows it's from his past (unless something new has developed). Remember he has been spied on before, by someone from Strangerville. Now he doesn't know and we don't know if his Dad's disappearance and Strangerville are all linked, but you can probably guess. Also a fear of going into the operating room and surgery.

Do they have any pet peeves? When people are late. He hates it.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom? His briefcase, his favourite cologne, iPad

What do they notice first in a person? Facial expressions, eye contact and body language: how they compose themselves.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance? He has high pain tolerance physically/emotionally so 8.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? In the past, it would be flight. But now that he is older it's always fight. In court, he can be under a lot of pressure, but he is always prepared to fight and win!

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person? From his mum's side, he has a big extended family, from Evergreen Harbour and Henford on Bagley! Growing up he has always wanted siblings. He loves having Isaac as a brother and they spend so much time together now! But his childhood was so lonely at home, while his mum was working and his dad always MIA before his disappearance. Vincent always went over to Billy's house to hang out with Charlie! Billy and Josh have always been his father figures, unlike his own. Now with kids, he'll do the best he can to provide a childhood full of love!

What animal represents them best? Vincent is obviously a lion and Isaac is an eagle. You know in an ecosystem there are food chains where predators catch prey. Well, they are Kingsleys, so they're the top of the "hierarchy". Think of it like they're going into enemy territory (investigating their dad or other cases) and they are bringing them down. But their dad is also a Kingsley...

What is a smell that they dislike? Any sort of science experiment chemical idk...I'm not saying anymore

Have they broken any bones? Nope

How would a stranger likely describe them? Secretive first. But that goes away to easy-going, amicable, reliable

Are they a night owl or a morning bird? Both actually

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love? Hmm Vincent is a bit of a foodie and appreciates good food, he likes a lot of stuff really. Something he hates? Mint ice cream lol

Do they have any hobbies? Cooking (I've not explored it though)

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises? He's all good with surprise birthday parties! Vincent would be full of gratitude to the people who took the time and effort to arrange it. He'll make sure everyone enjoys their time and divert himself from being the centre of attention haha

Do they like to wear jewelry? Ooh he likes fancy watches

Do they have neat or messy handwriting? Surprisingly quite messy. He likes typing stuff lmao

What are two emotions they feel the most? Pride, determination

Do they have a favorite fabric? As long as it's comfortable

What kind of accent do they have? British accent duh

#i should be doing it for renee smh but vincent is practically my heir. the story ive created for him is FAR MORE interesting 😌#like renee is a side character #ive already showed her background #i cant change that story and can only develop on her (character) now #there are more possibilities by making vincents story this gens focus #im not resuming postcard legacy yet sry #postcard extra #tag game #oc facts

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formulas-bitch · 6 hours

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Come Back Home - Charles leclerc X leclercsibling/reader

4.9k words

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the concrete floor of the garage. It was always like this, Charles thought, when his older sister, Emily, returned home from her latest tour in the army. There was a certain air of anticipation, of excitement, that seemed to fill the room, as if the very walls themselves were vibrating with the energy of her presence. Even the old, rusty tools hanging on the walls appeared to glisten under her watchful gaze, as if they too were proud to be a part of her story.

Charles could feel his heart race with a mixture of nerves and joy as he watched Emily walk towards him. Her uniform was spotless, her posture straight and tall, her hair tied back in a tight bun that emphasized her sharp features. Her eyes, a deep shade of blue that he had inherited, sparkled with an unmistakable twinkle of pride. She held out her hand to him, and without a second thought, Charles took it, feeling the warmth and strength of her grip.

"You look great, Emily!" he exclaimed, unable to hide his grin. "I can't believe you're finally home!"

Emily smiled warmly at her little brother. "I missed you too, Charles. I've been thinking about that race of yours. You know, if you want, I could give you a few pointers. I mean, I might be a bit out of practice, but I've got some experience under my belt."

Charles' eyes widened in excitement. "Really?" he asked, barely able to contain his enthusiasm. "That would be amazing! I've been practicing a lot, but it's always better when someone who's been there can help you."

Emily nodded, her expression softening. "Of course, little brother. I remember when you were just a kid, always tagging along with me to the track. I never imagined you'd grow up to be such a talented driver." She placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "We'll make a great team, you and me."

As they walked out of the garage and into the warm evening air, Emily glanced over at the dusty old trophy case by the side of the house. There, amidst the faded ribbons and tarnished medals, were a few shining reminders of her own racing days. She'd never won anything quite as impressive as the prize Charles was vying for, but she knew that didn't matter. Her pride in her little brother's accomplishments far outweighed any lingering feelings of envy or regret.

They made their way to the track, the familiar smell of hot rubber and burning fuel filling their noses. Emily's eyes scanned the course, analyzing the turns and the jumps, the potential hazards and the ideal lines. She'd spent so much time here, honing her skills, pushing herself to the limit. Now, standing here beside her brother, she realized that it had all been worth it.

"So," Emily said, as they walked along the fence, "tell me about your competition. Anyone I should keep an eye out for?"

Charles nodded, his expression a mix of determination and nerves. "Well, there's this one kid, Max, who's been winning everything lately. He's really good, but I think I can beat him. I've been practicing really hard, and I've got you to help me now." He glanced sideways at Emily, a hopeful smile playing on his lips.

Emily placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I believe in you, Charles," she said, her voice steady and calm. "I know you can do this. And even if you don't win, remember that it's about having fun and challenging yourself. That's what matters most." She gave him a wink, trying to ease some of the pressure he was feeling.

As they continued to walk along the fence, they came across a familiar-looking car, its paintjob faded and its tires worn thin. Emily recognized it immediately as Max's car, the one that had given her brother so much trouble during practice. "Hmm," she mused, "it looks like your competition could use a little help too. Maybe I could take a look at his car before the race and see if there's anything we can do to give you an edge."

Charles' eyes widened in surprise. "Really?" he asked, unable to hide his excitement. "That would be amazing! I mean, I don't want to take advantage or anything…"

Emily smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it, Charles. It's not about taking advantage. We're here to help each other out, remember? Besides, if we can help Max improve his car, it'll only make the race that much more interesting." She glanced over at the car, her eyes assessing its condition. "Let's take a look at it, shall we?"

Together, they approached Max's car, and Emily began to inspect it carefully. She checked the tire pressure, the alignment, and even took a look under the hood. After a few minutes of examination, she pulled out a rag and began to wipe away some of the grime from the engine. "This car has a lot of potential," she said to Charles, "but it's not being used to its fullest. If I were you, I'd focus on these few areas." She pointed to a worn-out suspension and a faulty spark plug. "With some TLC and a few simple adjustments, this car could be unstoppable."

Charles nodded, his eyes shining with determination. "Thanks, Emily. You don't know what this means to me." He paused, his expression growing more serious. "Listen, I've been thinking… I know you're my big sister and all, but what if we were to team up? I mean, not just for this race, but for future ones too? We could be unbeatable together."

Emily considered his words carefully. She had always been close to her little brother, but the idea of actually racing alongside him had never crossed her mind. It was an intriguing prospect, but she wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do. "It's a nice idea, Charles," she said finally, "but you need to remember that we're still competing against each other today. I can't help you win the race if it means losing it myself. and also i never know when i will be called back to base and go on tour again."

Charles nodded, understanding her dilemma. "I get it," he said, his voice softening. "But maybe…maybe we could just see how today goes, and then talk about it afterwards? You know, if we both do well and have fun, who knows what could happen?" He flashed her a hopeful smile.

Emily smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Okay," she agreed, surprised by how much she wanted to make this work. "We'll see how it goes. And even if we don't end up teaming up, I promise I'll always be your biggest fan, no matter what."

As they continued to walk around the car, Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with her brother. They had always been close, but this newfound understanding and trust was something special. She could tell that Charles felt the same way, his movements more confident and his posture more erect.

The race finally began, and both Emily and Charles took their places at the starting line. Their engines revved in unison, and the air was filled with the smell of burning rubber and hot metal. As the flag dropped, they roared forward, their tires squealing against the pavement.

Emily and Charles stayed close together, watching each other's every move. They weaved in and out of traffic, avoiding potholes and other obstacles with ease. They could feel the tension between them, a mixture of determination and sibling rivalry. But they also felt a newfound respect for each other, a mutual understanding that they were in this together.

As they raced past the halfway mark, Emily began to pull ahead slightly. She glanced back at Charles, hoping he was doing alright, but didn't want to lose focus on the track. Suddenly, she heard a loud pop from his engine, and saw him slowing down. "Charles!" she shouted over the radio. "What's wrong?"

Charles gritted his teeth as he fought to keep the car under control. "I think I blew a tire," he replied, his voice strained. "I'm going to pull over and see if I can fix it."

Emily felt a pang of guilt as she watched her brother struggle. She knew how much this race meant to him, and she didn't want to be the reason he lost. She considered stopping as well, but she didn't want to give up her lead. Instead, she radioed back, "Don't worry about it, Charles. Just focus on getting the car fixed. I'll keep an eye on things until you're back."

As she continued to race, Emily couldn't help but keep glancing back over her shoulder. Each time she looked, she could see Charles frantically working on his car, trying to get it back up and running. The delay gave her a slight lead, but she knew it wouldn't last forever. She had to keep pushing if she wanted to win this race.

The track twisted and turned, winding its way through the lush greenery of the countryside. Emily expertly navigated the turns, her tires squealing against the pavement as she forced them to break traction. She could feel the engine beneath her, purring contentedly despite the recent setback. She knew that if she could just make it to the finish line, she had a good chance of winning.

In the distance, she could see Charles' car slowly making its way back onto the track. His progress was steady, but it was clear that he was struggling to keep up with her pace. Still, she couldn't help but feel a surge of pride watching him battle his way back into the race.

The finish line came into view, and Emily redoubled her efforts, pushing her car to its limits. She knew that she had to maintain her lead if she wanted to win. The stands were packed with spectators, their cheers echoing across the track as they urged her on. She could feel the heat of the sun beating down on her helmet, but she refused to let it distract her.

Behind her, Charles was gaining ground steadily, his car running more smoothly now that he had fixed the tire. The determination in his eyes was unmistakable as he closed in on her, inching closer with each passing second. Emily could feel her heart racing, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through her veins.

As they neared the finish line, the cheers from the crowd grew louder, their voices a deafening roar that seemed to envelop the entire world. Emily glanced over at Charles, her heart in her throat as she wondered if she would manage to hold on. With a final burst of speed, she crossed the finish line, her tires squealing in protest as she slid sideways. She looked up to see Charles just inches behind her, his face contorted in a grimace of determination.

The race officials waved their checkered flags, signaling the end of the race. Emily slowly pulled her car to a stop, her heart still racing, her muscles aching from the effort. She climbed out of the car, her helmet in her hands, and took a deep breath. She glanced around, searching for her brother, and saw him emerge from his car a few feet away. His face was flushed with exertion and emotion, and there was a mixture of pride and disappointment in his eyes.

They met each other halfway, clasping hands in a gesture of camaraderie and understanding. "I'm sorry, Charles," Emily said, her voice hoarse from shouting over the engine. "I didn't mean to cause you to blow your tire."

Charles smiled, his expression softening. "It's alright, sis. You didn't do it on purpose. Besides, you helped me realize that I can still keep up with you." He glanced at the track, a distant look in his eyes. "I'm just sorry I couldn't pull ahead this time."

The two of them stood there for a moment, lost in their thoughts. The sound of the crowd slowly faded away, replaced by the gentle rustle of the leaves in the trees and the occasional hushed voice. Emily reached up and adjusted her helmet, feeling the sweat beading on her forehead. She knew that despite their sibling rivalry, she and Charles were a team. They always had been. all of a sudden Emily hears her phone ringing and sees it is her captain from the army calling.

"Sorry about that, Charles. I'd better take this. It's probably about my orders or something." Emily says, already walking a few steps away from her brother. She answers the call, pressing the phone against her ear. "Hello, Captain. What's up?"

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line before the captain replies, his voice grave. "I'm afraid I have some news, Emily. Your unit has received orders for a deployment. You're to report to base immediately for processing." Emily feels a chill run down her spine. "But, I thought… I mean, I was supposed to be here for the rest of the season. What about my brother's race?"

The captain hesitates for a moment. "I'm sorry, Emily, but these orders are top priority. You need to put your training first. We'll work something out with your brother's race, but for now, you need to focus on getting to base." He gives her the details of where to go and when, and then hangs up the phone.

Emily feels a mixture of shock, fear, and guilt wash over her. She glances over at Charles, who is watching her with a concerned expression. "I've got to go, Charles," she says, her voice barely audible. "The army's sending me into deployment." She takes a deep breath and tries to steady her racing heart.

Charles's face falls, and he steps forward to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "It's alright, Em. We'll get through this together. You're not going alone." He pauses, looking at her seriously. "I'll race for both of us now. I promise."

Emily looks up at him, tears welling in her eyes. She knows he's right; they've always been there for each other. "Thank you, Charles. I love you." She returns his hug, feeling the familiar weight of his arm across her shoulders.

Together, they walk back to their pit area, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the empty space. Emily can't help but feel a sense of loss, not just for herself, but for Charles as well. She knows that this will change everything for them.

As they approach their cars, they see their mom and siblings waiting for them, concern etched on their faces. Emily's older brother puts his arm around their mother's shoulders, offering what little comfort he can. Charles's mother reaches out to him, her hand trembling as she wipes away a tear.

The two of them get into their cars, Charles taking the lead as they pull out of the parking lot. Emily looks over at him, noticing the determination in his eyes as he focuses on the road ahead. She can tell that he's not just racing for himself anymore; he's racing for her too.

Their mother and siblings follow close behind, their mother's tears silent but steady as she watches her two children drive away. Emily's brother drives a bit more slowly, occasionally glancing into the rearview mirror to check on his sister.

The race track stretches out before them, the sun dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the track. Charles takes a deep breath and focuses on the task at hand. He shifts gears, pressing his foot harder against the accelerator as he speeds up, his car whipping around the turns with precision. Emily watches him from the passenger seat, a mixture of awe and pride filling her heart.

In the car behind them, their siblings talk quietly among themselves, trying to distract their mother from the tension of the moment. They know that this race is more than just a race for Charles; it's a way for him to honor his sister's sacrifice and to show the world what they can achieve together.

Their mother, though quiet, is fiercely proud of both of her children. She wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. She remembers the day Emily left for basic training, how proud she was to see her daughter stand tall and strong. And now, she watches Charles race with the same mix of awe and pride.

and now she has to watch her only daughter be shipped out again and prays she make to back home safe.

Emily leans forward in her seat, her knuckles white as she grips the dashboard. She can feel the tension in her body, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She's not the one driving, but she feels like she is. Every move Charles makes, every decision he makes behind the wheel, feels personal to her. She can't help but wonder if this is how he feels when he's on the track with her.

Their mother glances up at the sky, watching the shadows grow longer. She wonders if Emily is thinking of her at this moment, if she can see the sky the same way. Perhaps they're both looking up at the same stars, hoping that one day they'll be able to watch Charles race together again.

Charles speeds past the finish line, his car screeching to a halt as he crosses it. He jumps out of the car, his heart racing and his lungs burning. His eyes dart around, searching for his family in the stands. their brothers are already there, clapping and cheering, their mother close behind. They spot Charles and their faces light up, relief and pride washing over them.

Emily watches from the pit area, her heart in her throat. She knows Charles did his best, and that's all she could have ever asked for. As he waves to them, she waves back, feeling a sense of accomplishment and love wash over her. Their mother stands up, wiping away a tear, and gestures for them to join her. They hurry over, their siblings forming a protective circle around them.

Their mother takes Emily's hand in hers, her grip firm and reassuring. "I'm so proud of both of you," she says, her voice cracking. "You did her proud, Charles. And you, Emily, you've been his strength when he needed it most. You've both shown such courage and resilience."

Charles squeezes his sister's shoulder, feeling the weight of their mother's words. "Thanks, Mom. And Em, you have no idea how much I appreciate everything you've done. You've been my rock, my inspiration. I couldn't have done it without you."

emily wipes her eyes as she pulls her mother and brothers in a hug.

" now lets get out of here and grab some dinner before i have to report back to base"

Their mother smiles through her tears, nodding in agreement. "Of course. We'll celebrate tonight, just like you wanted." She turns to her oldest son. "Arthur , why don't you and Emily go with Charles to pick up some food? We'll head straight home and get everything ready?."

Arthur nods, stepping forward. "Sounds good, Mom. We'll be back in a jiffy." He turns to Emily, offering her his arm. "Shall we?" They begin to walk towards Charles' car, a light breeze rustling through the trees behind them.

Charles pulls up to a local food truck park, parking his car between two brightly colored vehicles. The aroma of various cuisines fills the air, making their stomachs rumble in anticipation. "So, Em, what do you feel like getting?" he asks, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.

Emily shrugs, her mind already wandering to the dinner table at home with their family. "I'm not really sure. Whatever sounds good to you, I guess."

Charles nods, glancing at the menu board above the truck. "Hmm, I'm in the mood for some Mexican tonight. How does that sound? Chicken tacos, maybe some quesadillas?"

Emily smiles, feeling her stomach growl in agreement. "That sounds delicious. I'm sure Mom would love some help with the dinner too."

They step up to the window, watching as the friendly food truck owner takes their order. As they wait for the food, they lean against the car, enjoying the warm evening air. "Hey, Charles, I wanted to thank you again for letting me come with you today. I know it's not easy for you, being away from everything and everyone back home."

Charles shrugs, trying to downplay his emotions. "Hey, it's fine. I'm glad you're here. I'd rather have you by my side than anyone else. Besides, it helps me remember what I'm fighting for." He pauses, looking at Emily seriously.

Their food arrives, they grab it and start driving home.

"I'm sure you'll make a great soldier when you're back in the field," Enzo says, taking a bite of his quesadilla. "I mean, you're already so strong and brave. And I know Dad is so proud of you and remember he is always watching you em"

Emily feels a lump in her throat as she listens to Enzo. She knows he's right; their father is always watching over them, and she wants to make him proud. She takes a bite of her taco, savoring the flavors and the warmth it brings to her insides. As they continue to eat, she can't help but feel a sense of pride and love for her family. They've been through so much together, and she knows they'll always be there for each other.

as soon as they finish their dinner Emily stands up from the table

and hugs her mother and brothers tightly before leaving to go back to base. she kisses her mother on the cheek and tells her that she loves her. she walks with Charles to his car and they drive off in silence. as they pull up to the gate, Charles turns to Emily and says, "you know, em, you're not just my sister. you're my best friend. and i want you to know that I'm always here for you, no matter what. if you ever need someone to talk to, or just want to hang out, you know where to find me." Emily smiles at him through her tears and says, "thank you, Charles. i feel the same way about you. and I'm always here for you, too. little brother. take care of everyone for me ok, and make sure to take care of your self too alright?"

He nods, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. They get out of the car and hug tightly once more before Charles heads back to his car. Emily watches him go, wiping away the tears that fall silently down her cheeks. Even though they're apart now, she knows that they'll always be connected.

As she walks towards the base, she can't help but feel a sense of determination growing inside her. She's going to make it through this, for her family, for Charles, and for their father who is always watching over them. She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, and marches forward with renewed purpose.

Emily arrives at her barracks, dropping her duffel bag onto her bunk with a sigh. The familiar sounds of soldiers going about their duties fill the air, but she hardly notices them as she lies down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. .

The days blur together in a haze of training exercises and long nights. Emily throws herself into her work, determined to prove herself as a soldier and make her father proud. But even as she pushes herself to the limit, she can't shake the feeling that she's missing something important. Something that was once a constant presence in her life.

She tries to stay in touch with Charles as much as possible, sending him letters and care packages whenever she can. In return, he sends her stories about their mother and brothers back home, about their father's garden and the new puppy they've adopted. Their conversations are brief but filled with love and support.

soon Emily is off to Iraq to start her tour.

The days in Iraq are long and brutal. The heat is relentless, and the dust seems to get into everything. Emily spends most of her time patrolling the streets, keeping an eye out for danger. At night, she huddles in her tent, trying to sleep amidst the constant hum of generators and the occasional gunfire.

She finds solace in the letters from Charles and her family back home. Their words are a lifeline, reminding her of the love and support that she has waiting for her when this is all over. In one particularly heartfelt letter, Charles tells her about a time when they were kids and they would go fishing with their father. They would spend hours by the riverbank, laughing and telling stories, and their father would always cook up their catch for dinner. Reading this, Emily feels a pang of longing for those simpler times.

As the weeks turn into months, Emily begins to see the impact of her service on those around her. She meets soldiers who have been through multiple tours, their eyes haunted by the memories of what they've seen and done. She tries to be strong for them, to be the steady presence that they can rely on, but sometimes she feels so young and inexperienced. She wishes she could talk to her father about it, but she knows he's not here anymore.

One day, as she's sitting in the makeshift chapel, writing a letter to Charles, she notices a familiar face in the corner. It's Sergeant Johnson, the veteran who has been giving her extra training. Something in his eyes tells her that he understands what she's going through, and without a word, he comes over and sits beside her. They sit in silence for a while, listening to the chaplain's voice as he reads from a worn book. Finally, Emily musters the courage to speak.

"Sergeant Johnson," she begins, "I don't know why you're even talking to me. I'm just a rookie, and I don't know half of what you've been through." He looks at her kindly, his eyes creased at the corners from a lifetime of smiling and frowning.

"Ah, Emily, you're not a rookie. You've been here, through this, just as much as anyone else. You're just new to it. And that's the important thing. You're here now, you're doing your job, and you're making a difference. You don't need to have been through ten tours to know that." He pauses, looking out the window at the dusty, barren landscape beyond. "Look, Emily, I've seen a lot of people come and go through here. Some of them…they just couldn't handle it. They couldn't find their footing. But you're different. You're strong. You've got a good head on your shoulders. and you have lead many tour to successes "

" So and with that me and the board have seen all the hard work and dedication you have put after each and every tour that we have decided to announce you as first lieutenant"

"Wait, what?!" Emily exclaims, her eyes widening in surprise. "But I'm not even halfway through my tour!"

Sergeant Johnson chuckles. "Ah, you're a quick learner, that's for sure. But you've earned it, Emily. You've earned it ten times over. And I can't think of anyone I'd rather have by my side as my second-in-command." He puts a hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Now, let's go tell the others. They're going to be just as pleased as I am."

As they walk back to their base, Emily feels a strange mix of emotions coursing through her. Excitement, of course, but also a deep sense of responsibility. She knows that she still has a long way to go, and that there are countless challenges yet to face. But with Sergeant Johnson's guidance and the support of her new family here in the army, she knows that she can make it through.

The news of her promotion spreads like wildfire through the base, and the looks of surprise and admiration on her fellow soldiers' faces are enough to make her heart swell with pride. She spends the rest of the day sharing stories and laughter with them, feeling more a part of this unit than she ever thought possible.

Emily is quick to write a letter to her family telling them of her promotion and how she is doing.

As the days turn into weeks, Emily finds herself growing more comfortable in her new role as first lieutenant. She spends countless hours planning missions and training exercises, pouring her heart and soul into making sure that her soldiers are prepared for anything they might face. Her father's words echo in her mind: "A good leader isn't born, Emily. They're made." And so, she strives to be the best leader she can be, learning from her mistakes and always seeking the counsel of Sergeant Johnson when she needs it.

The landscape around them slowly begins to change as the seasons pass. The once barren earth turns green with life, and the skies grow heavy with the promise of rain. Even in the midst of war, there is beauty to be found, and Emily takes solace in the small moments of peace that these changes bring. She finds herself thinking more and more about her family back home, and the day when she'll finally be able to return to them.

anyone a part two maybe????

#charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc one shot #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 x y/n #f1 blurb #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #leclerc siblings #army #family leclerc

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bixbythemartian · 2 hours

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Okay, I wasn't going to say anything, but I've seen posts about this get passed around. And it's probably too late to push back on this, anyway, but I'm so frustrated I feel the need to say to say something. This is coming from a place of love- I just hate seeing this going around, and I want to offer some perspective on the matter.

First of all, regarding that poll where the user did not know how to pronounce 'Miette'- if you look in the replies, it doesn't take long to discover that the OP was genuinely confused about the pronunciation and, when corrected, was working to get it right. That poll came from a place of innocent ignorance. I hope the OP took it down and stopped reblogs and turned notes off or whatever, because some people said some awful shit. I hope you are the kind of person who is kind and understanding, in the face of such ignorance. Or, if you can't be that, I hope you can at the very least be quiet. (And props to the people in the replies who patiently and kindly explained things to the OP.)

Second of all, I've seen a lot of posts talking about literacy rates, and I'd like to point out that English literacy has very little to do with figuring how to pronounce a French fucking word, goddamn. The OP just didn't know. The dunking, the pointing, the laughing- rude, unnecessary, not helpful.

Thirdly, in response to the complaints of 'they don't even teach phonics in schools these days'- that's bullshit. Because the odds are very good that they didn't teach phonics in schools when you went to school, either.

When I was a kid, it was called Whole Language. It was the new hot literacy technique, and a lot of schools adopted it. It used cueing techniques and sight words and was very similar.

If you're a millennial, you might remember the commercials for Hooked on Phonics, and you might conclude that teaching phonics in schools was perhaps not common, if you think about that for a bit. If it was worth it to sell a whole reading tutoring program for struggling readers based in phonics, perhaps it might lead one to conclude that phonics weren't as common as other methods, right? You might not have been taught phonics to start. What you do know about phonics, you might have picked up in the past 20-30 years, right?

Okay. Lets go back further, you know Dick and Jane? It was based on, more or less, the same sight words principle, and those primers date from the 1930s, although I don't think that teaching technique came really into vogue until the 40s.

If you are alive, today, in the United States, the likelihood that you were not taught phonics in school is well above non-zero. Especially if you're a millennial.

The notable exception is the 1970s. And during that period of time, there were probably plenty of schools that still used fucking Dick and Jane. And plenty of schools that were starting to adopt Whole Language, because while it was popular in the 80's and 90's, it was developed before. So, Gen X, you didn't get out of this unscathed either, though you had a better chance of getting a phonics-based reading program, I think.

'Kids these days' are not less literate because they were taught wrong. A great deal of us who are alive and speak English as a first language were taught wrong.

(I also think this is the common way English as a Second Language is taught and I'm sorry if you learned sight words, it's so much less intuitive than phonics, and English phonics aren't particularly intuitive. But I know a lot less about this, and I'm not sure.)

The reason some younger people struggle with language and words that I, for example, don't, is that I've been reading and speaking the language a lot longer. That's it. That's likely the same thing for you.

Please quit mocking people for their lack of information, for a start. I don't blame you for not knowing this about the literacy programs, for example. I had to do a lot of research on this. Right? Odds are good, you didn't know this.

And you are hitting people who struggle with literacy for other reasons- English as a second language, for example. The people who deal with dyslexia, there's plenty of autistic people who struggle to communicate fluently in their first language, and many more people who struggle with learning, speaking, and otherwise communicating in English for a huge variety of reasons.

Even if you're right, you're hitting people who had no choice in the language method they were taught from. They were five.

I don't think people mean to be unkind, generally (some do, but we block and move on), but it's really frustrating to a lot of snark circulate without the greater context of 'actually, a lot of English speakers of all age groups were taught English this way, especially USAmericans' and 'hey, what does English literacy have to do with pronouncing a French word, anyway?'

Okay? Okay.

Love you bye

#literacy

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levmada · 3 days

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sequel to this post

[@dressycobra7 :3]

➥ c/w: gn!reader, some angst, oral (m!receiving), praise, subby Levi canonverse, established relationship, handjob, finger sucking?, turned into smut somehow

➥ wc: 1.8k

The boy appeared to you and Levi later to apologize profusely like that was the reason he'd been born. You didn't have the heart to turn him away, and filed inside the small recovery room behind him, with its half-exposed brick walls. The curtains were shut, but enough light penetrated. Levi looked too tired to stop him, and it took an arduous amount of time to get through, but his answer was short, to the effect of, If you're not court-marshaled, don't do it again. A slightly upper angle and I would've bled out. Then where would we be?

You're still thinking about that as you stock the closet with some of his clothes. Mandatory bedrest for at least a week, and after that, take it slow. Levi practically shriveled up when someone said 'wheelchair', and he preferred if hospital germs didn't get into his quarters.

You'll have his squad up there every day doing routine cleaning, "trouble" which Levi didn't need to exert his mind over. He's busy being stubborn.

You turn around when you hear porcelain clink. He's leaned over the dresser next to the bed, trying to take the tea.

"Levi," you scold.

"We don't need Hange to tell me my arms are in fine working condition," he grumbles, leaning back as you come over.

He's right, though. No one would even notice any arm wound because the bandages and plaster wrapping around his lower leg are bordering-on gaudy. It's propped up on a fat pillow, also white, the same as his soft-looking boxers and collared shirt (of which many buttons hang loose). In the glowing late afternoon, he looks ethereal, not quite of-this-world. A dove which is angry and stubborn and trapped.

"Still," you say quietly.

"I'm fine... I don't need anything."

Mikasa and Sasha had picked flowers, which you set in a watered glass jar atop the dresser. White again.

You watch him sip, and go over when he's done, laid propped up against pillows. A wooden bench at the side; you sat for hours while he slept through the day (the whole incident happened this morning). You sit on it now.

"I know... But why not want?" you repeat, quietly looking down at your hands.

"Who are we to want anything?"

You sharply look. "Why are you talking like this?"

He just watches you, shrewdly, but with a weakness not indicative of him. It might be exhaustion talking...

"We could always die. Titans could get in—"

"I'd kill them."

"Not like this..."

You said the wrong thing—the wrongest thing. His lips press into a thin line, barely-concealed contempt and clean daggers for eyes. The way he looks, like he believes if he tensed up enough, then he'd turn invisible and leave this argument in the dust.

You gesture slightly. "Because I would protect you. Even if I wasn't one of your comrades, or a soldier."

His lip twists in a unique disgust, which is the most you can see, his head turned towards the wall. Over his stomach, his hand tightens into a fist. "If you weren't, you'd die. Then I'd be dead anyway."

You swallow. You want to yell, and cry.

"I don't want that, either way. You didn't deserve to... see me like that. That seems to be why I'm talking like this."

The anger has left him. Delicately, you stand and seat yourself on the edge of the bed by his waist. "I've seen you be lots of things. 'Weak' is okay too. And I'm okay with seeing you like that as many time as I must, which is once so far."

He scoffs softly through his nose.

You lean forward more, and walk your fingers through his hair. Blacker than night, soft. There's a little piece you tuck behind his ear. His eyes flutter, letting out a deep breath. You can almost see the goosebumps.

"I know we'll die, and I know we belong to something much bigger, but can't I love you anyway?"

His breathing hitches a little, and his eyes open. It's a wonder what he's thinking, if he's even thinking about it, his adam's apple bobbing.

"Do whatever you want. I'm fine, if it's possible I can be with you."

It's your heart's turn to flutter, and just as soon, lean over awkwardly, your head resting on his chest and your arms around him (at least as much as they can be). You hear his heartbeat. The slowing, smooth rhythm of his choppy breathing carrying your upper half. His arm slips around your waist, content to rest his lips in your hair. As the time passes, he's more and more comfortable to hold you to tame the fear his anger betrayed. By that time, your arm's fallen asleep; you rub his side.

As tempting as it is to go down to the mess crowded for dinner, and contend with questions, you stay, just appreciating existing next to him.

"Your back," he mutters. You've been bent over a while.

"Mm." He's officially being ignored.

His hand slips over yours on his side, stopping you. His face doesn't give anything away, maybe purposefully so, and so you smile.

Leaning up, a fond kiss to his cheek. "You're cute when you make that face. Is your leg feeling okay?"

He clicks his tongue mildly with his head turned out, just showing you his cheek and one blue-grey eye. "'m fine," he says quietly.

Curious eyes search. Maybe he's downplaying something, but not lying. With nothing you'd rather do, you kiss down his jaw now, to the tender, pale column of his neck. His chest lifts suddenly against yours.

His question sounds like an afterthought. "What're you doing?"

"'m loving you," you lift your lips to say. (A little embarrassing to say out loud.)

"Yeah." His lips are still in your hair, but are stirring.

You remember he has your hand when he starts bringing them down. All across your upper half, you feel him breathing, and it's a little deeper.

You switch sides, putting you at an awkward angle to kiss him. He starts to move over towards the wall, but you stop him with a firm hum fast enough, and sit up. No walking, Moblit had told him firmly. What you kind of wish he'd said now is no moving his legs. For now you ignore it pushing snugly against the front of his boxers, but there's a wisp of a giggle in your chest.

You shift the pillow carefully, and he follows, until there's enough room for you there beside him. The mattress is only half-decent, but it's warm from his body.

He looks annoyed that you're smirking, if only he could come off the slightest bit intimidating blushing so hard like this. Pink warmth creeps down his neck and disappears beneath his open, rumpled collar.

"Tch." He just captures the nape of your neck and pulls your lips against his—a little slowly that comes with tiredness, but that much more passionately.

While you play with his lips, giving him away to you, your palm roams between his thighs. You pause there. Right as he shivers with his lip trapped between your teeth, you pull away and leer over him. "Don't move, baby. Move and I'll stop."

His eyes narrow in a bratty display.

"I mean it." You smile. "Even a touch" You stroke through his clothes slow and firm, immediately bringing a dreaming-like quality to his eyes. He almost can't look at you, especially as he huffs and it throbs under you.

"Baby?" You lick your thumb.

"I won't move." He huffs again, harsher this time. "Ugh, I won't fucking move, but you can't just—"

Your free hand, your thumb, falls against his jaw and stops his soft lips from flapping, so now a whole new quality of lust emerges in his expression. You're freeing his cock from his shorts as he instantly takes you in, so soft and sweet and giving. The heat that immediately consumes your thumb is melting, almost too intense to handle.

"Good boy, letting me."

His eyes flutter as you find where wetness has drooled from the tip of his stiff cock, spreading it around in your palm. It's easy to hold him, how he was made for you, and even easier to touch him to attract his hips, and the beginning of whispered whines he always always tries to suppress.

He hasn't forgotten, though. At the moment you send him a warning look, he relaxes, and his eyes are closed. You didn't notice him take hold of your wrist, holding just to hold, and gripping the front of his shirt with the other hand, since you're not close enough.

"Good boy," you murmur again. A moan vibrates round your thumb, his cock straining in your fist. "That's my good boy..."

It seems all the squirming he doesn't do has to go towards suckling and nipping your thumb instead. You watch his brows furrowed in deep focus as you build up your firm strokes. It's getting just as wet. He can't last.

You smile to yourself as your pumps rise to his tip, firm but quick flicks of your wrist. His back bows against the bed, the moan in his throat breaking apart into a whine. That aside, he stays perfectly still, so you let it slide.

"Does it feel that good when I touch you? Going to come, sweetheart?"

"Mm," his voice comes firm and tightly-wound. His eyes open into slight slits, see you watching shamelessly, and shut again. "Mm!"

Just as he throbs and tenses up. You bend over gripping down low, abruptly tearing your hand away from his mouth to sink his cock inside yours; pinning his hips, rubbing his heavy balls in your grasp.

"F-Fuck, fuckfuck!" He takes sudden, almost too-tight hold of your hair, gasping, and tearing the sheet, and shuddering. He moans all through it, broken whispers of your name, almost hummed at the top of his throat at the quietest, and always eagerly throbbing in the hot suction of your mouth. You take everything in deep swallows.

When finally, his hips are threatening to squirm to shy away and his cock softening, you pull off. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as he melts into the sheets. He has half of his bright red face hiding under his arm, catching his breath.

"Fuck, I don't know how you expected me to stay still. Come here." He lowers his arm.

"For the mess." You smile sweetly.

"Come here."

"You're not doing anything." But you do, and let him give you a kiss. He looks extremely unhappy about that, but for once, it looks like he'll listen when you say.

Levi masterlist | main masterlist

#mostly unedited :s #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x y/n smut #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman smut #aot smut #levi smut #captain levi x reader #captain levi x you

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