#only one month away until the second season comes out

[reiding-writing]

AHH YAYAYAYAYAY I LOVE THIS SERIES SM IM SO GLAD YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTSSSS!! okay sooooo, i was wondering if you could do a lil continuation of the last part where spencer visits reader in prison and reader’s all confused because they never get visitors and then they see it’s spencer and get all excited (maybe spencer comes to tell reader that he spoke to the court or wherever is considering their appeal, idk how that whole process works lmao, and he’s told them that he believes reader isn’t a threat and that they should be moved to a psychiatric facility instead of staying in prison)

AHH OKAY LUV U BYE 🫶🫶🫶

THE FIRST VISIT

spencer reid&gn!unsub!reader || 2.2k || bloodied roses event!!

WARNINGS: sociopathic!reader, prison guards being dicks, early-seasons!spencer

a/n — thank you mllll 🫶 glad you like the series <333

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ unsub!reader masterlist!!

It’s been almost eight months since you returned to the California Correctional Institution. Back to the familiar concrete walls of your own personal hell and practically sitting stationary as the world span around you.

It was arguably worse than just giving you the death penalty, forced to live in a stupidly awful state of limbo where you did nothing but languish in your own boredom for 23 hours a day without so much as a pen and a piece of paper to satiate you—lest you stab someone with it during your ‘recreational’ hour outside your cell.

The progress of your appeal was slow, basically static, and whilst you weren’t surprised, it was beginning to frustrate you. Why would they drag everything out when you knew they were just going to reject you anyway?

It was stupidly idiotic and a waste of everyone’s time, including yours.

There’s a sharp knock on the door of your cell, then someone slides open the metal hatch, leaving a grating sound in its wake.

“Hands.”

The borderline condescension in his tone makes you want to shove his tongue down his throat, but you know when to pick your battles, so you stick both of your hands through the slot palms up and wait for the familiar cold metal of handcuffs against your wrists.

They’re far too tight as they’re clamped shut, pinching your skin uncomfortably to the point where you’re sure it’ll leave marks, and you bite back the urge to curse out the guard his clear incompetence as he unlocks the door and pulls you out by the metal connecting your hands.

His expression matches his rashness as he forces you down the corridor with another guard to his side, and you swear that if you weren’t acting on your best behaviour for the minuscule chance that they did actually approve your appeal you would’ve given the two a piece of your mind already.

“Where are we going?”

No answer.

“Why am I out of my cell?”

“Shut up before I muzzle you.”

Oh the urge to punch that man in the face.

You settle for a side eye that would probably be the only thing the State Officials needed to reject your appeal knowing how much they despised you for existing, and the rest of the walk is finished in a thick blanket of silence.

The room they lead you into is technically two, lined by a thick pane of glass that splits the room in half, an uncomfortable looking metal chair and floating table with a rotary phone on either side.

“Sit down.”

A small flare of your nose is the only display of your rising anger, your paper-thin composure shrivelling millimetre by millimetre every second you’re forced to look at his stupid face.

You sit down with an air of curiosity. It was very clearly a visitation room you’d been led to, but who in their right mind would choose to visit you? Who had the leeway to get to visit you from inside one of the highest security prisions in the state when getting access to do so was almost impossible?

You just hoped it wasn’t someone from the appeal board. They were always so monotonous and boring.

You sit waiting for almost five minutes, watching the barred clock on the wall tick away until there’s a click from one of the exterior doors and then the door on the other side of the room opens.

And the vexation in your expression shifted into something much more resembling amusement.

The sounds of the chair being dragged out from the table is muffled through the glass, as is the sound of him sitting down, but when he picks up the phone on his table a sharp ringing echoes through the one on yours as a physical show of his presence.

You watch it ring for a few seconds before you turn your attention to the guard standing behind you, and you hold your wrists up towards him expectantly, watching the indignation rise in his face as reluctantly pulls out the keys to remove your handcuffs.

The freedom of your wrists is short-lived though, and almost immediately after you’re uncuffed, your dominant hand is dragged back down to the table to be cuffed against it, a loud thud emanating from it at the edge of your hand catches on its edge.

You’re less perturbed under the presence of your visitor, but you’re sure the seething anger is present enough in your eyes for the guard to see it nonetheless.

Regardless, with one hand free of restraint, you pick up the ringing phone and hold it to your ear, leaning back in your chair with an almost entertained expression.

“Doctor Reid, came all the way to California to visit little old me?”

There’s a small twitch in the corners of his mouth as he restrains himself from smiling at your tone.

He shouldn’t be smiling at a serial killer. Especially not inside a maximum security prison with four guards present.

“I told you I would,”

“That you did,” You give a small nod of acknowledgment against the phone at his statement, eyebrows raised ever so slightly to break the otherwise barren planes of your face. “Didn’t think you’d go through with it,”

“It wasn’t easy,” Spencer lets out a small breath of a laugh, pressing his lips together awkwardly. “There was a lot of paperwork involved,”

He’s mildly embarrassed by his confession, that he’d jumped through so many hoops to be able to visit you like he told you he would. That he’d flown across the country to see you whilst lying to the team that he was going to visit his mother.

“That’s a lot of effort,” There’s a small scrunch of your eyebrows at your response, not a show of sympathy for everything he’d done to be there in person but more of judgement that he’d put himself through it at all.

You hadn’t asked him to visit you. He told you he would, and followed through on it of his own fruition.

“I thought it’d be better to speak to you in person rather than over the phone,”

“You’re still speaking to me over a phone Dr Reid,” You jostle the phone in your hand slightly as a show of your point, and the small quirk of your mouth tells him that you’re joking with him.

“You know what I mean,” Spencer’s expression mirrors yours in the way he almost smiles, and he lets out a short breath of light-hearted exasperation. “I wanted to see you, not just hear you,”

“Well,” You make an outward gesture with your freehand as you lean against the back of your chair again, crossing one leg over the other. “You’re seeing me,”

That he is. You don’t look quite like you did when you joined the BAU on the case, a little paler, thinner, your hair is a little longer and there’s a notable number of bruises covering your arms.

He doesn’t need an eidetic memory to know where those have come from. Although the sound of your wrist hitting the edge of the table at the start of conversation would definitely be stapled into his mind for a while.

“So then, what constitutes a visit from you Dr Reid?”

“I wanted to talk to you about your appeal,”

Any and all whisper of minuscule enjoyment at Spencer’s presence evaporates from your face the minute the word ‘appeal’ comes out of his mouth. It’s honestly fascinating just how fast your demeanour changes, although he’s not sure why it would, surely your appeal would be something of interest to you, not something you actively don’t want to talk about.

“Seriously? You fly all the way over here and you want to talk about my appeal? You do realise this—” You gesture back and forth between the two of you, “—is the one hour I get out of my cell today right? I’m not going to spend it talking about the stupid appeal.”

Seemed like he’d hit a sore spot.

“I just wanted to say that it’s looking pretty good for you,” He cuts straight to the point, not wanting to ruffle you more than he unintentionally had but also wanting to make sure that the main reason for his visit in the first place— apart from the fact that you’d inhabited a corner of his brain for the last eight months and wouldn’t leave no matter how hard he tried—was actually aired out.

You let out a small scoff into the phone’s receiver, and it’s almost grating as it meets Spencer’s ears. “You don’t have to lie to me Dr Reid, I know they’re just dragging everything out until they can find a reason to reject it.”

“They have three weeks before the deadline for their decision, they won’t find anything,” There’s an air of confidence in Spencer’s assessment, but it doesn’t do anything in chipping away your preconceived notion of failure.

“I submitted a report on the BAU’s behalf,” He is decidedly less confident in admitting that second part, left hand subconsciously reaching towards the rolled up sleeve on his right arm to ease the nervous tension in his hands. “To try and support it through the final stages,”

“Leave your arm alone.” You seem to almost completely disregard what Spencer says, and he practically does the same himself as his eyes flicker down towards where his left hand is absentmindedly scratching at the inside of his right elbow, leaving red streaks on his skin.

He pulls his hand away with his lips pressed taut into a line, stuffing it into his pocket so he can’t be tempted to do it again. “Sorry,”

“What did you write in your report?” You’re over it before he can even get his apology out, and he clears his throat to regain his sense of composure, tightening his grip on the phone so it doesn’t slip out of his hand under the small film of sweat coating his palm.

“You uh— displayed a lot of your humanity on the case, especially towards your family, and I thought it’d be beneficial for the officials considering your transfer to know that fact,”

You let out a small exhale through your nose, lips quirked upwards ever so slightly. He could almost believe that you were grateful for his contribution, but then you started speaking and the condescension in your tone was enough to tell him that you were definitely not displaying ‘gratefulness’.

“That’s not gonna do jack shit,”

Spencer sighs softly, eyes flickering downwards for a second in ever so slight disappointment in your reaction to his attempt at helping you.

He doesn’t really know what he was expecting from you, but having you disregard it so easily definitely blew the wind out of his sails a little bit.

“You’d be surprised I think,” His attempt at redeeming himself isn’t the most thought through thing he’s ever done, but then again he’s sat in a maximum security prison talking to a serial killer, so arguably he’s done worse. “In cases like yours for ASPD, having someone as a witness of your humanity could really help out your chances,”

“Yeah we’ll see about that,” You don’t seem as frustrated with him as you do disbelieving. Like no matter what evidence he tried to provide you of your decently likely chance of actually getting a transfer you’d made it up in your mind that it was never going to happen.

“Do you… want the appeal to go through?”

You scoff. “What kind of question is that?”

”It’s just, you’ve decided that it’s not going to go through, don’t you— I don’t know, want it to?”

”Of course I do.”

“Then—” Spencer presses his lips together with a short sigh. “…have some faith, If not in me being able to help you then at least in yourself,”

There’s silence over the line for a few seconds, and Spencer can see the cogs turning in your brain as you decide how you want to respond.

You don’t get the chance to.

“That’s it. Ten minutes is over.”

The phone is practically snatched from your hands to be placed back on the receiver, and there’s a sharp end-dial on Spencer’s before he puts his own phone down and readies himself to stand.

The roughness in the guards as the pull you from your seat and re-cuff you is almost aggressive, and the self-restraint you put on yourself to not respond to it is so decadently on display that it’s proof enough for him to believe your appeal will go through.

He hopes that your appeal goes through.

If for nothing else at least so you don’t get dragged around like a ragdoll by the people who are supposed to be reforming you.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #unsub!reader #bloodied roses 🥀

[beskarandblasters]

For You, I Would Ruin Myself

Part Four of Time, Wondrous Time

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cooper Howard Masterlist | AO3

Series summary: You’re California Crest Studios’ newest production assistant, getting the opportunity to work on the hit movie, The Man From Deadhorse. But when you meet the movie’s lead, Cooper Howard, you fall head-first into a secret affair. Enter a war, a cryogenic freezer, and a two-hundred-year time jump. And yet despite all that, you just might run into him again.

Chapter summary: An end and a new beginning. Big feelings come to the surface at the The Man From Deadhorse premiere and Reina offers you a deal you can't pass up.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied and wears a dress/makeup, oral sex (F receiving), semi public sex, vaginal sex, pull out method, pet names (sweetheart, love), angst, no use of y/n

It’s been four months since you’ve seen Cooper at Emil’s house. And to say you’ve been going through withdrawals would be an understatement. You’ve been so busy since then, diving headfirst into a new production at the studio, one without Cooper, of course. The only benefit of the new production is being there right from the start. You luckily made a small group of friends so you’re not forced to eat lunch alone anymore. 

And even though things are looking up in your career, you can’t help but miss those wild nights with Cooper in his trailer. January can’t come fast enough. 

-

Before the holiday season gets intense, you decide you need to shop for a dress for the premiere, thinking about calling Reina and asking if she wants to go with you. You haven’t seen her in a while so you figure this time would be nice for you two to catch up. Plus, getting a second opinion on the dress would be nice. It’s a nerve-wracking night littered with celebrities and cameras; if there was ever a time to be self-conscious about your outfit, it’s the night of the premiere. 

You call up Reina, hoping she’s free this afternoon. Ever since she started working for Vault-Tec you’ve been hearing from her less and less. Cooper made it sound like Barb was busy all the time, too. What is it about this company that pulls people farther and farther away from their personal lives?

“Hey, are you free today?”

“For once, I am.”

“Wanna go shopping? I need a dress.”

“Sure. Give me like an hour to hop in the shower and then I’ll come get you.”

“Sounds good!”

After getting ready you wait for her outside, swiftly hopping in her passenger seat once she stops the car.

“So what do you need a dress for?” she asks, getting straight to the point. 

“The Man From Deadhorse premiere.”

“You were invited?! That’s amazing!”

“Emil gave me a ticket as a thank you for joining the production so late.”

“When is it?”

“Not until January but I figured it’s better to get the dress now before the holiday season.”

“Smart.”

The afternoon is spent with your best friend, trying on copious amounts of dresses and catching up. Once again, you get the urge to tell her about Cooper. It’s less risky to tell her now since production for The Man From Deadhorse is done. And considering you haven’t seen him in four months…

Still doesn’t hurt any less.

But something in your gut tells you that you shouldn’t tell her. You can’t help but listen. 

“So how’s work?” you ask, coming out of the dressing room with a sleek black gown. 

“First of all, that’s the best one you’ve tried on so far. And second, I love it but it’s sucking the life out of me.”

“How so?”

“I’ve been working nonstop on this one experiment.”

“What is it?”

She looks around and takes a few steps closer to you, whispering, “Cryogenically freezing people.”

“For what reason?” you ask, your eyebrows raising. 

“You know… In case there’s a war and we need to freeze people in the vaults.”

“Do you think that’s really gonna happen?”

“I hope not… But we can never be prepared.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” she smiles. “We’re about to start the process of looking for test subjects.”

“What does that entail?”

“Right now, we’re looking at freezing test subjects for a week.”

“Interesting…”

“Well?! What do you think?! I think this is the dress,” she says, changing the subject.

“I think so, too,” you say, turning and looking at yourself in the mirror. 

-

After buying the dress and having lunch, she drops you back home. You try on your dress again and think about Cooper’s reaction to see you in it– his slack jaw, eyes wide, trying to hide his reaction from Barb. You think about what he’ll be wearing: a black suit with his hair slicked back. God, you can’t wait to see him like that. January can’t come soon enough. 

-

A relatively normal holiday season passes and the premiere looms over your head. You spend the entire week violently anxious, thinking about all the people, all the cameras. And in the middle of all the commotion is Cooper, your calm amidst the storm. 

When the big day rolls around you spend hours getting ready– eating, hydrating, taking an everything shower, perfecting your makeup. You look over your appearance one final time in the mirror before the cab arrives– perfect, flawless even. You grab your ticket and slip it into your purse, putting on a brave face for the big evening.

-

Flashing lights. Paparazzi yelling from all angles. Your senses are overwhelmed. You’re not even someone “important” and yet they’re trying to get your attention left and right. You can’t imagine what it’s like for someone like Cooper.

But once they realize you’re not an actress you’re quickly ushered down the carpet. An enormous roar erupts behind you. You glance over your shoulder and your jaw drops. Somehow he looks even better than you pictured all those months ago. All black attire, slicked back hair, a confident saunter in his step. And beside him is his arm candy for the evening. You can’t deny she looks beautiful, wearing a floor-length red dress that compliments her skin perfectly. You’re feeling a weird mixture of jealousy, envy, and longing. 

The pair splits so Cooper can get solo pictures. Barb notices you and smiles, immediately heading in your direction. You freeze, your entire body going stiff with fear. Her smile is unsettling like she knows something you don’t. But you put on your best fake smile, hoping it’s coming across as genuine. 

“How are you?” she asks.

“I’m good. How are you?”

“Vault-Tec’s working me to death. It’s a miracle I was able to come with him tonight,” she says, gesturing toward Cooper. 

“It’s a big night for him. I’m glad they gave you the night off,” you lie. 

“It’s a big night for you, too. Celebrating the first film you’ve worked on.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, starting to relax a bit. That part felt genuine, at least you hope. 

“Of course,” she smiles. “Enjoy yourself tonight,” she says, heading inside the theater. She doesn’t wait for Cooper to finish his photos, which strikes you as odd. 

You walk inside and get situated in a seat, waiting for the movie to begin. Cooper eventually heads inside, sitting in the same row as you a few seats down. Barb is on the other side of him, staring directly out in front of her, not glancing in his direction. Another weird occurrence. It’s like they’re not even a married couple, only putting up a facade when the cameras are out. 

When Cooper finally looks over at you it’s right there and then you get the reaction you’ve been daydreaming about ever since you picked out your dress. His eyes look like they’re pleading with you, begging you to save him. You turn your head and glance at the back of the theater, looking for an exit. Hoping he’ll catch your drift, you get up and head into the lobby once the lights go down, looking for a bathroom. 

A faint glow of a single-stall bathroom sign is your beacon of hope. You make a beeline for it and close the door behind you, hoping he follows you. A faint knock and a whisper of your name confirm your prayers. You open the door and usher him inside, swiftly locking it and turning to face him. 

His hands immediately gravitate to your waist, pulling you close. His lips attach to your neck, muttering “I missed you” over and over again to your skin. He pulls back and looks at you, the same look in his eyes like all the times before. You reach your hand out and cup his cheek, stroking his clean-shaven face. 

“I missed you, too.” 

“I know it’s risky but… I need you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for months.”

“You could’ve called.”

“I didn’t want to risk getting caught.”

“I get it,” you sigh. 

“I just miss what we had before, back when we were shooting.”

He’s right. Everything was so much easier back then when everything you wanted was within reach. The premiere feels like a symbolic end to this chapter of your life. But you’re not dwelling on the past tonight. You’re focusing on what’s right in front of you.

“But at least we have right now,” you smirk.

“That’s my girl… But you’re gonna have to be quiet this time. Think you can do that?” he teases.   

“Make me,” you shoot back. 

He grabs your hips and spins you around, prompting you to bend over the sink. He hikes up your dress, pulls your panties to the side. You watch in the mirror as he drops to the floor and soon enough you feel his tongue licking your cunt from behind. You fight the urge to let a moan slip past your lips, thinking about what he said, thinking about where you are. 

You clutch onto the sides of the sink for dear life, knees buckling underneath you as his tongue makes a mess of you. His hands grip your thighs, fingertips sinking into your soft flesh. You bite your lip as he works you up to the edge, tongue flicking around your clit expertly. It all comes to a head as your orgasm spills over, cunt clenching around nothing and begging to be filled already. You bite your lip harder, trying your best to stifle your whimpers and sighs. 

He stands up when he’s done, wiping his face with his fingers and tasting your wetness like he always does. He delivers a swift slap on your ass, pulling his cock out of his pants before collecting your release on his hand. He lubricates his cock and grabs your hips, pulling you into him. He expands your walls, sighing at the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him once more. You watch him in the mirror, his forehead already slick with sweat while he thrusts in and out of you. His perfectly slicked-back hair threatens to let loose with the movement of his thrusts, exerting primal energy as he fucks you. It’s so hard to stay quiet. You want to moan freely, letting everyone in this theater know who owns you, who’s making a mess of you, who’s making you feel pure euphoria. 

“Bet you missed this cock so much, huh, sweetheart?” he smirks, voice coming out as a gravelly whisper.

You know better than to open your mouth right now so you eagerly nod. 

“Then show me,” he says, leaning forward and whispering in your ear. “Cum on my cock like a good girl.”

As if his words have that much of a hold on you, you cum around him. Your walls clench and release him erratically, tears brimming on your lash line, almost rolling down your cheeks. God, you want to moan and scream, putting on a show for him like a good girl. But you know better and you keep silent, riding out your high in total bliss. 

He holds off his orgasm for as long as he can before pulling out and painting your ass with his cum. He curses under his breath, his voice low and filled with arousal. As good as that was, it almost felt like an end, a goodbye of some kind. He reaches for a paper towel and cleans off your ass, helping you stand up straight and smooth down your dress before returning his cock to his pants. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says, grabbing your hand. 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“Give me a spin, sweetheart.”

You giggle and twirl for him, holding onto his hand the whole time. You wish you could do this for him out there. You wish could just be his. 

“I missed you,” you say again, looking at the floor.

“I know, love. I missed you, too,” he says, his voice somber. 

Love. 

Love.

Love!!!

It’s as if that new nickname triggered something within you because you decide to say fuck it.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Of course.”

“I want… more than this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to be more than your dirty little secret. I want us to be real.”

“Oh, I-”

“I think these past few months without you made me realize how much I need you.”

“Sweetheart… You know I adore you but I can’t give you that.”

Oh.

“I have a family to think about… I have a reputation to think about.”

“I know but I-”

“Think about this. This would affect your reputation, too. You’re just getting in the business.”

“Right…”

“You should be with someone who can give you the things you want… the things you deserve.”

Tears roll down your cheeks and they’re not showing any signs of stopping. What he’s saying is logically sound but it doesn’t hurt any less. The man you’ve gotten to know over these past few months is nothing more than a passing fancy. You were destined to be just a dirty little secret, one he’ll most likely take to the grave. But your heart is louder than your mind. And your heart is telling you to get far away from the man whose words are hitting you like a thousand tiny cuts, the reality of the situation breaking the facade with everything he says. 

“You’re right.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t-” you say, voice cracking. 

You turn to leave but he grabs your hand. His other hand grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. There are tears in his eyes, too. He kisses you one last time, this one feeling different than any other kiss he’s given you. 

“Goodbye, Cooper,” you say, letting go of him for the last time. 

You leave the bathroom and race to the exit, power-walking as fast as your legs will carry you. Fuck the premiere. You need to get home now. You hail a cab and head home, trying to keep your meltdown at bay until you’re in complete solitude. 

Sitting on your bed you crumple into yourself, the weight of reality crushing you like a ton of bricks. It was foolish to think he’d ever give up his wife, his family, his reputation, all just for you. What you had was nothing more than passion, lacking the real love and intent behind a solid relationship. And now that the affair is over and done with, the clarity is setting in. You were doomed from the start. 

You fall asleep with your eyes in pain from all the crying. But at least it distracts you from your heavy heart. 

When you wake up in the morning, everything feels numb. You’re left in a puddle, feeling sorry for yourself. You call out of work for the day, giving a flimsy excuse so you can wallow in self-pity. 

But your phone’s ringtone rips you from your brooding. The overly optimistic side of hopes it’s Cooper. But the realistic side of you knows that it isn’t. You roll over and pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, I need to ask you a question and I need an answer quickly,” Reina says, her voice frantic. 

“…Okay?”

“Do you remember the cryogenic freezing experience I told you about?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Vault-Tec’s looking for people to test it out. You’d only be frozen for a day or two. If you say yes you’ll be paid a thousand dollars cash and you’ll be guaranteed a spot in the vault later on.”

“Oh wow. I-”

“Yes or no?”

The same impulsive urge from earlier kicks in and you decide to say fuck it. 

“Yes.”

“Great, thanks! I’ll pick you up tonight at seven.”

“Okay. See you then.” 

What could possibly go wrong? 

End note: Only one more part left!!! Part five will be coming on Monday! I just wanna thank @clawdee for beta reading this every step of the way. And I wanna thank all of you for reading! Stay tuned for a little surprise announcement at the end of the final part 🤍

If you like my work, consider supporting me on Ko-fi 🤍

Check out the series playlist! 🎶

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

Tag list: @widowmakerow @bisasterbisexual @wowitsem @vegetarianvamp @celestial-vomit @ghoulsimper @anyzandy @justfoxymuffins @hobnob2020 @fallout-girl219 @ipostwhtifeel @awhoresjourney @chiyo13 @valkyreally

#time wondrous time #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard smut #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x female reader #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x f!reader #the ghoul fanfiction #the ghoul smut #fallout #fallout fanfiction #cooper howard #the ghoul

[doortotomorrow]

Arman and Thony : Season One

#The Cleaning Lady #Arman Morales #Thony de la Rosa #Armony #thecleaningladyedit #only one month away until the second season comes out #and I'm super excited to see them back

[hookingminor]

4 times you took care of him + 1 time he took care of you - nico hischier

a/n: rewrite of an old fic of mine

cw: brief mentions of blood, stitches, alcohol

word count: 7.4k

summary: nico is the cute neighbor boy across the hall

-

1. 

Sunday nights were your nights. After a long week of studying and working crazy hours, you only had one day to yourself where you weren’t running around like a chicken with its head cut off and could take five minutes to finally breathe. 

Sundays were also the only days you actually took the time to make yourself dinner. Most of your days were either spent in class or at the hospital, so you never prepared anything that couldn’t be done in less than ten minutes. Sometimes you were so lazy that you just counted on cafeteria food and granola bars to hold you over before having cereal for dinner and crashing by eleven o’clock.

Tonight’s specialty was your own take on a carbonara with some grilled chicken on the top. It wasn’t anything fancy, but you had been working on a recipe to perfect this for nearly three months now, and you were almost satisfied with the results.

It was in the middle of adding the finishing touches by combining the pasta and the sauce when you heard a knock on your door. Setting the towel on the counter and reducing the stove heat to a low simmer, you made your way to answer the door.

“Oh, hi, Nico,” you said with surprise when you saw your neighbor on the other side. He lived across the hall from you, but you rarely saw him in the building. Still, it wasn’t hard to notice that he was incredibly attractive.

“Hi,” he greeted you. The smells of your dinner wafted over him, and he peeked over your head to catch a glimpse of what you were preparing. 

“I just stopped by to drop this off,” he said, handing you an envelope. “They keep mixing up our mailboxes.”

“Thank you,” you replied as you glanced down at the letter. “I have a few for you as well, hold on just a second.”

You turned away from the door and walked back towards the kitchen to where you kept a stash of his mail. You’d been meaning to drop it off, but your hours at home never coincided with each other. 

Granted, you could have slipped it under his door, but you really just wanted an excuse to talk to the cute neighbor boy. You were just waiting until you worked up the nerve to knock on his door.

Nico took a few steps into your apartment, not wanting to overstep but also not wanting to stand in the hall awkwardly as you rummaged through some papers. As he waited, his eyes wandered back over to the stove where you were cooking some type of pasta. 

His stomach growled lowly as the smell of seasoned chicken and sauces flooded his senses, and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything in nearly five hours.

“Sorry,” he said with a blush. There was no way you hadn’t heard that grumble. “Guess I forgot to eat something after practice.”

“Did you want some?” You asked almost too eagerly. “I mean, I made quite a bit,” you backtracked quickly, “I usually survive the week on leftovers.”

“No, it’s okay,” he chuckled, but Nico wanted nothing more than to shove a forkful of whatever you had made into his mouth. “I’ll probably just order something for delivery.”

“Please, I insist,” you persisted, “I made a lot, and your food won’t be here for, like, another hour at least.” God, you were coming off as desperate, and you mentally slapped yourself for it.

He looked at you hesitantly, obviously not wanting to intrude, but damn if he wasn’t really hungry.

You didn’t wait for his reply before dropping the mail back where it was and crossing the kitchen to the stove. Pulling out an extra plate, you began piling it with pasta and chicken, and Nico figured it was too late to refuse you again.

“Take a seat,” you suggested as you plated a dish for yourself. “You’re not an intrusion, I promise. I don’t get a lot of company anyways.”

“Busy life?” Nico asked. It was then that he realized he really didn’t know much about you despite having run into you multiple times in the hallways.

“You could say that,” you chuckled humorlessly. It was a combination of being both busy and having no friends, but you weren’t about to tell him that. 

“What do you do?” He questioned as he rested his elbows on the table.

“I’m a nursing student, so I spend all my time studying or working at the hospital,” you explained as you brought the plates over to the table. He mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ when you set his food down in front of him. It looked delicious. Nico’s skills in the kitchen were subpar to say the least; he couldn’t make anything that didn’t come with box instructions or wasn’t baked chicken and vegetables. So having an actual home cooked meal was starting to feel like Christmas.

“Is that why I only ever see you coming home at midnight?” He wondered, picking up a fork to take a bite.

Nico was right, it was delicious. 

“Yeah, hours are a little crazy for me right now, but they should settle down once I graduate,” you replied as you took a bite. It was your best carbonara yet, but it wasn’t quite perfect. “What about you? Why are you always coming home at midnight?”

You’d never talked to him much after that first day when he helped you with a couple boxes as you moved in. Most of your interactions were restricted to passing each other in the halls and the polite conversation about how your day was going and the weather.

“I, uh, play hockey,” he started, “and we get back from road trips really late sometimes.”

“No shit, really?” Your eyes widened in shock, “like you play for the Devils?” You weren’t well versed in sports in general, and even less so in New Jersey sports. However, you did hear chatter around from your classmates and coworkers about various games.

Nico nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah, I’m the captain.” Every revelation about him continued to shock you.

“So I’m dining with New Jersey royalty then, huh?” You teased after a moment. Even though you didn’t know much, you did know the Devils were doing exceptionally well at the moment.

He blushed at your compliment, “I’m not royalty.”

“Your team’s current record says otherwise given the team’s horrendous past ,” you commented, dropping the little bit of knowledge you knew as you overheard your lab partner go on about the Devils’ hot streak.

Nico raised his eyebrows in surprise at your statement.

“I’m not an actual fan, so don’t test me,” you chuckled at his surprise, “My lab partner is always talking about the Devils, and I may have unknowingly processed some of the information.”

“It’s not because of me. The team’s just doing well in general,” he brushed it off casually, but you knew that wasn’t totally the case. The team may be good, but good leadership can be what makes or breaks them.

“So you’re not a big cook then, I presume?” You asked instead, changing the subject to something else. Nico probably talked about hockey enough with other people, you didn’t want to bore him even more.

“You could say that,” he said, repeating your phrase from earlier. “If it’s not something a seven year old could make, it’s not something I could make.” He had barely registered that he’d finished off everything on his plate by now while you were still finishing yours.

“Did you want more?” You asked, noticing his empty plate, but Nico shook his head.

“No, thank you, this was more than enough,” Nico insisted. “I’ve bothered you enough tonight.”

“Really, I don’t mind,” you said, clearing off your plate. “It’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t asking me about upcoming exams or patient reports or asking for more painkillers.”

“It’s nice not talking about hockey, too,” he agreed.

Rising from your seat, you took his plate and yours to the sink as you were both now finished.

“I got this,” Nico said quickly, following you to the sink and lightly hip checking you out the way. “I do know basic manners. You cooked, so I’ll clean.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but the look on his face said the conversation was already over, and he grabbed the sponge with one hand. Deciding to leave it alone, you held your hands up in surrender and backed away from the sink. While he was busy, you packed up the leftovers into a plastic container.

“I make dinner every Sunday,” you said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “So, if you want, you’re always free to join me.” You didn’t look at him when you said this, trying to keep it casual and so he wouldn’t see the way your face was riddled with embarrassment. You were trying to subtly ask him to come over more, and you didn’t want to be faced with his rejection.

You heard the sink shutoff and saw his body turn towards yours out of the corner of your eyes as he leaned against the counter.

“I���d really like that,” he said, “but I do have one condition though.” You looked up and met his gaze with raised brows.

“You have to teach me how to cook,” he continued with an easy grin as he dried off his hands with a towel.

“You’ve got a deal,” you agreed, matching his smile with one of your own.

You sent Nico home that night with the leftover carbonara and his mail despite his protests, but you argued that he couldn’t live off takeout forever and that you could always make more food whereas he could not.

The next Sunday he had showed up around dinner time once again, this time bringing over a plate of cookies that he most definitely bought at the store but tried to play off as baking them himself. He had said if you were going to be doing a majority of the work, the least he could do was bring you something in return.

Every Sunday after that Nico was at your place. On the off chance he was out of town, he always left you a note on your door saying he wouldn’t be making it and notifying you of when he’d see you next. You didn’t need the notes, he didn’t have to tell you whether or not he was coming, but they made your heart flutter every time you came home and saw a blue sticky note waiting for you. 

You taught him a few staple dishes, mainly how to cook pasta and rice and some salads. His capabilities weren’t all that vast, and he wanted to remain in the realm of foods that weren’t too complicated so he couldn’t fuck up.

Making dinner with Nico turned into messing around in the kitchen for a couple hours most of the time. You teased him about his chopping abilities and he teased you every time your small hands dropped something due to your lack of coordination, to which you complained how not everyone could be a professional athlete. 

And every time you two ate at your same spots at the table, sometimes splitting a bottle of wine that Nico would bring over. 

Every once in a while Nico would arrive with a bag of takeout in his hand, declaring that you needed a break from all the cooking. There was no reason to have dinner together since it wasn’t under the guise of teaching him something new, but you still welcomed him nonetheless.

Sundays were no longer your nights, but that was perfectly fine by you as long as you could keep sharing them with Nico.

-

2. 

Nico was getting a little desperate. 

Two months had passed since he started coming over for weekly dinners, and he was making no progress. It’s not like he was really trying, though. If he was being honest, he wasn’t quite sure how to flirt with a woman without the intention of sleeping with her.

Which isn’t to say he didn’t want to sleep with you because he definitely did, it just wasn’t all that he wanted.

He hoped he conveyed interest on his part, but he wasn’t positive you were picking up on his hints. Or maybe you just weren’t into him.

So, he decided to take it one step further. He bought some plants.

Nico knew next to nothing about plants other than that they needed water, but he’d noticed you kept a few in your apartment near your large window.

Once again, he found himself knocking on your door, but this time you weren’t expecting it.

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked him when you opened the door. It wasn’t like him to show up to your place out of the blue.

“I wanted to ask you a favor,” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got a week long roadie and was wondering if, maybe, you’d look after my plants?”

“Oh yeah, definitely, I can do that,” you said with a smile.

“Do you have a minute right now? I can show them to you really quick,” he asked, gesturing with his arm to his door. You nodded your head in agreement, and Nico took a few steps backward to let you into his apartment.

You followed him through the entrance and paused briefly. His apartment layout was the exact same as yours only flipped. He walked until he hit the same balcony window where you kept your plants, and you saw he had about four small pots along with a large pot that sat in the corner.

“This is the gang,” he introduced, spreading his arms to show them off.

“This is so cute,” you chuckled, stepping closer to get a better look at the plants. You noticed one of them was also one you had.

“I’m going to be honest,” he started. “I only recently bought them, so I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“Well, they seem to be still living, so you haven’t done anything too bad,” you teased lightly.

“Oh, let me get the spare key for you,” he said suddenly before he turned and left you alone to fetch the key.

Nico returned less than a minute later, small black key fob in his hand. You opened your hand for him to place it in your palm.

“When will you be back?” You asked, stretching back up from your squatted position.

“Next Wednesday,” he clarified, “and I leave tomorrow.” You nodded.

There wasn’t much more to say, so you told him a brief ‘good luck’ on his roadie before leaving. Returning to your own, you made a mental note to check in on his plants tomorrow.

The following afternoon, you let yourself into Nico’s apartment with the key he’d given you. You read the sticky note he left for you on the counter, the words reading ‘in case of an emergency’ along with his phone number.

You rolled your eyes at the note, laughing lightly at his phrasing of ‘in case of an emergency.’ You hardly thought watering plants would cause a catastrophic event, but the gesture was cute.

Filling up a few cups of water, you made your way over to his plants and distributed the water throughout until you’d gone over all of them. Before you could think better of it, you snapped a picture of the plants in the window before opening a text thread to Nico.

You: First day all done! :)

He didn’t reply for a few hours, but that was okay because you hadn’t expected him to reply at all.

Nico: They’re looking better already!

Ever since that first day, you began exchanging messages. His replies were sporadic, but you didn’t mind; he was a busy guy. Still, he managed to text you whenever he could, and your conversations quickly turned away from his plants to other subjects. 

You recommended some new shows for him to watch while he was on road trips, and he told you where his favorite takeout restaurants were when you felt too lazy to cook. 

Honestly, Sundays didn’t feel the same without him, but you didn’t tell him you stopped cooking when he didn’t show up.

Even when Nico was back in town, you found yourself texting him frequently in your classes and also on your breaks, and Nico found himself waking up every morning looking forward to whatever message you’d sent after he’d fallen asleep.

-

3. 

The incessant pounding at your door woke you up from your sleep. You knew who it was immediately as there was only one person who visited you, and you were ready to yell at him after you answered the door. 

Throwing on a sweatshirt, you stomped your way to the door and shouted out, “I’m coming!” so Nico could take the hint to shut the hell up.

“Oh my god, Nico,” you groaned as you threw open the door, “It’s two in the fucking morning.” But it wasn’t Nico you were greeted with.

Or rather, he wasn’t the only one outside the door.

“Uh, hi,” a man said as Nico leaned against him, very obviously drunk.

“Hi?” You asked, your eyes flicking over to the drunken Nico.

“I think he lost his key,” the stranger said, “and then he was knocking on your door before I could take him back to my place.”

“Of course,” you sighed. “You love bothering me, don’t you, Nico?”

“Y/N,” he slurred your name when he heard your voice. “I told you she was beautiful, Hughes.” He clearly meant to whisper the last part into his friend’s ear, but his impaired state changed his whisper into a quiet shout.

“Alright, buddy, let’s keep it down,” his friend said with a chuckle as he tried to spare him from saying something else embarrassing.

“Do you still have my key? I forgot mine,” Nico asked instead, lifting his eyes to yours.

“I left it in your apartment last time I watered the plants,” you answered and Nico let out an annoyed groan.

“It’s fine, he can stay here tonight,” you said, addressing his friend this time.

“You sure? I don’t want to bother you,” his friend insisted. “I can just bring him back to my place.”

“Don’t worry about it, you already dragged him all the way here. I can handle it,” you said and opened the door further.

His friend lugged him into your apartment and led Nico to the couch, plopping him down on the cushions.

“Thanks for doing this. I’m sorry for waking you,” he apologized once Nico was settled.

“No problem, I’m used to him interrupting my nights,” you chuckled lightly, though it sounded more sexual than you intended for it to.

“Yeah, well,” the stranger said with an awkward laugh, “I’ll get out of your hair then.” And then he turned to leave. “Hischier! Text me in the morning!” He called out one last time and Nico grumbled his acknowledgement. Then his friend was gone, leaving you alone with a drunken twenty-something year old.

“Alright, Nico, let’s get you ready for bed,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. He was splayed out on his back on your couch, head lolled against a decorative pillow. If it weren’t for his indecipherable sounds, you would’ve thought he was asleep.

You left him alone for a minute as you retreated back to your room to grab a couple extra blankets and a pillow that wouldn’t end up hurting his neck.

When you returned, Nico was now on his stomach with one arm dangled off the couch.

“Feeling okay, bud?” You asked gently, brushing back a few strands of his hair to check if he was still awake. He hummed a quiet ‘yeah’ and you lifted his head to replace the throw pillow with a fluffier one from your bed.

You draped one large blanket over his body and then set another smaller one on top of that. Nico sighed in content and you made a quick trip to the kitchen to retrieve a couple Advil pills and a glass of water.

“Can you drink this before you fall asleep?” You asked when you got back to the living room. 

Despite his intoxication, Nico managed to sit up just enough to swallow the pills down with a drink of water before flopping his head back down. You set the half-full glass on the coffee table and leaned over to turn off the lamp.

“You good to sleep?” You questioned, and Nico nodded his head to the best of his ability.

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything,” you said finally, making your way back to the hallway.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said quietly before you were out of hearing range, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nico,” you murmured with a small smile.

-

4.

“How the hell did this even happen? Sticks are supposed to remain on the ice, you know,” you wondered with curiosity. 

Nico knocked on your door at nearly midnight, hair still damp from his shower and still in his Devils sweats. If it weren’t for the fact that you were awake and watching a movie, you wouldn’t have noticed the knocking. 

When you opened the door, you were met with split stitches and tired eyes. Ushering him into your apartment, you led him to the bathroom where you kept the first-aid. 

Nico pushed himself up so he could sit on your counter and gave you a sheepish smile.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “They stitched me up after the game, but they came out.”

“So, why didn’t you contact your trainers or something?” You inquired, opening your kit and grabbing the alcohol.

“Because I have a perfectly good nurse here at home to stitch me back up,” he answered with an easy grin. You gave him an incredulous look.

“It seems like I’m constantly getting the short end of the stick in this relationship,” you said as you stepped between his legs to inspect his face. It wasn’t anything serious, just a few stitches that broke. In all honesty, he probably could’ve survived the night without fixing it, but you weren’t going to turn down an opportunity to be this close to him.

“Close your eyes,” you ordered before he could say anything back. Nico followed your instruction obediently, fluttering his eyes shut as if he had all the time in the world.

Using a small pair of scissors, you snipped at the remaining stitches. You took the tweezers next and gently pulled at the broken strands, slowly removing them from his cheek. Nico’s eyes twitched slightly at the discomfort, but he said nothing as you reopened his wound.

“You’re really good at this,” he stated, and you noticed that he had opened one eye to watch you. You blushed at his compliment, your cheeks heating at the warm feeling you got when you looked into his eyes.

Averting his gaze, you muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ before opening an alcohol pad.

“You’re going to want to really close your eyes for this, it might burn,” you recommended. The cut was along his cheekbone, stretching about three inches and oozing just a little bit of blood.

You cleaned along the cut lightly, one of your hands cupping his cheek while the other managed the wipe. After throwing the bloodied pad off to the side, you brought out the small bottle of lidocaine you had stashed away underneath all your bandaids. You squeezed a bit onto a cotton swab and dabbed the area around the cut. The lidocaine took a few minutes to kick in, so you busied yourself by preparing the thread and sanitizing the needle.

“I want you to know that I’m not actually a certified nurse yet. I’m still in training,” you explained. “So, if this hurts it’s your fault.”

“I trust you,” he said simply with a smirk.

“I would hope so,” you scoffed, “You’re letting a nursing student with a needle stitch near the eye of the New Jersey Devils Captain.”

“Besides, if you fuck up, I’ll just blame it on you when we lose after I can’t play because I’ve been blinded,” he teased.

“Don’t even joke about that, Nico. All of New Jersey would burn me alive,” you said, slugging his arm in response.

Was he about to let a beautiful, uncertified girl stitch him back together just because he wanted an excuse to spend more time with her? Absolutely.

He gave you a light chuckle as he leaned back on his hands, the fabric of his t-shirt stretching deliciously over his broad chest. It took everything in you to not linger your eyes over his arms and how large they looked right now.

“Is it numb yet?” You asked instead, refocusing your attention on threading the needle.

“Yeah, I think so,” he replied, bringing a couple fingers to poke at his cheek, but you swatted his hand away before he could do more damage.

Taking the same position as before, you stood between his legs again and angled his head slightly to the side so you could examine it under better light.

“Just let me know if it hurts, okay?” You insisted, holding the needle between your tweezers. You waited for Nico’s nod of agreement before starting.

You punctured the skin with the point and crossed the wound before poking through the other side. Nico’s hands instinctively reached out to grasp at your hips as he breathed in a sharp breath of air. 

“Oh my god, is it not numb?” You panicked, pausing all your movements as you gauged his face for any signs of pain.

“It stung a little bit,” he replied, but the tightened grip on your waist said otherwise. “I was just a little shocked, is all.” He added that last part when he saw the worry spread across your face as your eyes widened in fear of hurting him. “Keep going, I’m fine.”

You gave him a hesitant look, not wanting to continue if it was going to cause him pain. This time when he squeezed your sides, it was to reassure you and encourage you to continue. 

Nico kept his hands where they were, sliding his thumbs just underneath the hem of your shirt to trace soft circles into your skin. Recommencing your movements, you repeated the same crisscrossing threads over his cut, trying to work as quickly as possible.

When you’d finished, you knotted off the ends, clipped the remaining thread, and applied a salve over the sealed wound.

“There you go,” you said as you finished touching him up.

“And my kiss to make it feel better?” He asked with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at his presumptuousness but leaned in to press a light kiss near his stitches.

“Can I trust you to not pull them out again?” You retorted, stepping out of his grip to clean up your supplies.

“I don’t know…” he trailed off as in deep contemplation, “I might need you to spend the night and keep an eye on me.”

“Nice try, bud,” you chuckled, “but it’s not going to happen.” He pouted. 

“And if you do tear them again, I’m not restitching it.”

You finished packing away your materials and walked Nico back to your front door.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said when you opened the door. 

“Anytime,” you replied, “Goodnight, Nico.”

Leaning forward, he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek in appreciation before crossing the few feet to his door. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your eyes widened in shock, but if he did see, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

-

+ 1 

For the first time since you’ve met Nico, it was finally your turn to cancel on dinner. You really didn’t want to, as the dinners with him were the highlight of your week, but you knew if you broke concentration for even a minute to entertain him, your mind would be thinking about him even after he left. And you were not going to pass the NCLEX if Nico was invading all of your thoughts. You’d been studying for this exam for months, but now it was a week out and it was crunch time.

You: Gotta cancel on dinner Sunday, sorry :(

Nico: Going out of town? Got a hot date?

You: The only dates I’ll be having for the next week is between me and my millions of notes for my board exam 

Nico: Stressed out?

You: You wouldn’t even believe, so if I’m MIA for a few days, don’t worry 

Nico: Are we still on for next Sunday?

You: Yes. We will either be celebrating or commiserating, so get your wine ready

Nico: I’ll bring over the best since we’ll be celebrating :)

You didn’t know how to reply, so you reacted to his message with a thumbs up before leaving him on read.

-

For the next few days, you studied your ass off. Sunday came, but when six o’clock rolled around, you couldn’t help your thoughts from straying from your studies and over to what you would be doing with Nico if it weren’t for this stupid exam.

And as if he had read your mind, your phone dinged with a new text message.

Nico: Open your door

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you read the text, and you were just about to tell him off for disturbing you after you already told him you didn’t have the time.

However, that wasn’t the case because when you opened your door, Nico was nowhere to be found although a paper bag rested on the ground in front of you. 

Cautiously, you picked up the bag and brought it inside, immediately smelling the tzatziki sauce from your favorite Greek restaurant.

You: What’s this?

You texted him, along with a picture of the bag.

Nico: Even if we aren’t making dinner, you should still eat, and I figured gyros were better than cereal 

He was right. You had planned on pouring yourself a bowl of cereal when the hunger became too much and forced you to take a break. And gyros definitely were better than Frosted Flakes.

You: You’re a lifesaver, truly. Thank you!

Nico opened the message and didn’t reply, even though he really wanted to, but he knew you had studying to do and the last thing he wanted was to distract you.

-

After pulling an all-nighter, Sunday slowly turned into Monday, and you had finally decided to go to bed at nine on Monday morning. The few hours of sleep you got were welcomed, but rest did little to calm yourself down. The exam was on Friday, and you still had four years worth of material to remember. 

So, you dragged yourself out of bed around three in the afternoon and plopped yourself on the ground in front of your couch where all your notes were still spread on the floor.

You’d gotten through about four chapters in your review book before you heard a knock at the door. 

Pushing yourself up by your hands, you crossed the length of the apartment to the door. If it was Nico, he was about to be really turned off by how messy you looked.

And once again, it wasn’t him. 

Just like yesterday, something awaited you in front of your door. This time, it was a four cup drink tray filled with different coffees. 

Picking them up off the ground, you walked it back into your home and set it on your kitchen counter. There was a blue sticky note attached to the top in true Nico style, and you were smiling at the familiar handwriting before you even read what it said.

Thought you could use a pick-me-up :)

PS: I didn’t know what you liked, but you’re NOT allowed to drink these all at once

You chuckled at the last sentence. Of course he would send you four different orders because he didn’t know what you wanted. In all honesty, you could survive on just plain black coffee with nothing added if needed, but the fact that he sent you options had your heart swelling. 

You scanned through each cup, reading the labels on each one as they ranged from a standard black coffee to a sweet caramel latte, all of them iced (you had mentioned once that you only drank iced coffee, even in the middle of the winter). It didn’t slip your mind that this was from that expensive shop a few blocks down, the one you could only allow yourself to go to once a month because you knew it would drain you quickly.

Deciding to tease Nico a little bit, you stuck a straw in every single lid. You connected all four straws in the middle and closed your lips over them and took a drink. The resulting taste wasn’t fantastic, but it was worth the funny selfie you took drinking them that you sent to Nico.

You: What was it that I wasn’t allowed to do? Your note wasn’t clear 

Nico: I’m never sending you coffee again

-

On Tuesday, Nico sent you a bouquet of sunflowers. They were massive and bright and you couldn’t see over them as you placed them on the table.

Hope these sunflowers brighten up your day

-

On Wednesday, Nico got back from his short roadie. Maybe it was the constant studying, or maybe it was the little gifts Nico sent you, but your stress levels seemed to calm down as the week went on. There was still the pressure to do well, but every time Nico sent something to you, it was as if everything became a little bit more manageable.

You invited him over to hang out for a little bit, just to thank him for the things he’d done for you. You expected him to stay for a few minutes, maybe a half hour at the most, and then you’d send him home with some cookies you’d baked for him. Instead, he grabbed the plate of cookies and made himself comfortable on your couch.

“You just made these?” He asked with a mouthful of cookie as he picked up a stack of flashcards. You nodded as you took a seat on the opposite side of the couch.

“What’s the therapeutic drug level for theo… theoph…” he began to say, but trailed off, “Never mind. I was trying to help, but I can’t pronounce any of these words.” He ended the sentence with a chuckle before flicking the flashcard over to you.

“The word is theophylline,” you laughed, “and the answer is 10-20 micrograms per deciliter.”

“I understand none of those words, so that probably means it’s right,” he said as he finished his second cookie.

“If you want to help me I know something you can do,” you said eagerly, “And you don’t even have to speak, just sit there and look pretty.”

“That I can do,” he agreed with a nod and sat up to place the cookies on the coffee table. “Where do you want me?”

“Right there is fine. I’m just going to do a standard routine checkup like you’d get at the doctor’s,” you explained, grabbing your small bag of medical tools.

You ran through your procedure, checking your notes periodically to make sure you asked all the questions. Nico had no problem being your puppet, even answering some questions with ridiculous answers.

“And are you sexually active?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He asked with an eyebrow wiggle. You gave him an unamused glare.

“It’s part of the questions, dumbass,” you rolled your eyes and Nico laughed. “Never mind, I already know the answer anyway.”

“That was one time!” He groaned as he flopped his head back against the cushion. You were obviously referring to the one time you had a run in with one of his hookups. “I haven’t had anyone here since then.”

“Thank god for that,” you muttered, “but she did seem like a nice girl.”

Nico gave you a disbelieving look. You’d ran into them as you were returning from an overnight shift at nearly seven in the morning as Nico was trying to get rid of her, but she was hoping to get another date out of him before she left.

It was an awkward interaction to say the least, and Nico immediately called over to you to get your attention. The girl was displeased because you were interrupting their conversation and also because Nico had used you as an excuse to get out of scheduling another date.

“Oh, Y/N, you still needed me to fix that thing for you, right?” He had asked when he saw you walking down the hall. It took you all of two seconds to process the situation and Nico’s panicked and pleading eyes before you were agreeing. You even threw in the fact that it was urgent and that he needed to help right now, to which the girl gave you an eye roll.

Needless to say, Nico thanked you profusely for saving his ass and never called the girl again. That was over three months ago, and you had yet to see another girl leave his apartment.

“Well, I think I’m done with all the questions,” you concluded finally. “I think it’s safe to say you are in impeccable shape, Mr. Hischier.”

“Is this your subtle way of kicking me out?” He asked.

“Technically, I never invited you to stay. You kind of just sat here and made yourself at home,” you replied.

“I’m sorry for wanting to catch up with my friend after not seeing her in a week,” he joked.

“And you’re going to have to wait another few days for that, bud,” you chuckled.

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, “I’ll go, but I’m taking the cookies.”

“They were yours to begin with, idiot.”

-

On Thursday, you received one final package. It was a wrapped box, obviously done by someone who’s never wrapped a gift in their life. 

Opening it, there was Nico’s same scrawl on the familiar blue sticky note.

Something to look forward to after you ace this exam tomorrow!

Underneath the note was a ticket to a Devils game on Sunday against Vancouver, but it wasn’t the only thing in the box. You pulled out a red sweatshirt with the New Jersey Devils logo on the front. There was nothing on the back, but the number ‘13’ could be seen on both sleeves.

The thought of Nico sending you something with his number on it had your cheeks heating instantly. He’d been teasing you about coming to a game, and it seemed you finally had a reason to go now.

-

After you took your exam, it was like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Your school days were behind you now, and you could now start your career. The exam results still took six weeks, but you were feeling pretty confident in yourself.

Nico had texted you instructions to wait for him after the game on Sunday. He wanted you to try and meet him somewhere, but your navigation skills were terrible and you were sure to get lost in an arena you’d never been in.

So, you met him outside his car in the parking lot where the team parked.

“There he is,” you called out, clapping, when you saw him exit the arena, “First star of the night with two goals, Captain Nico Hischier!” You gave him your best announcer voice.

“Shut up,” he replied with a chuckle, but his face was beaming with a wide smile.

“Good game tonight,” you said with a smile of your own. “Trying to impress someone?”

By this time, Nico had reached the car, and he was dropping his bag on the ground before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground in a hug.

“I’m always trying to impress you,” he mumbled against your hair before he set you back down.

“Well, consider me impressed,” you gushed. 

“I was thinking...” Nico said after a moment.

“Uh oh,” you interjected with a worried look.

“Don’t be a dork,” he chuckled. “I was thinking that instead of going back home and making dinner I can take you out tonight instead.”

“Celebratory dinner for your win?” You questioned.

“And for your exam,” he added, “And also maybe as a date?” Nico said the last part quietly and quickly averted your gaze.

“Are you asking me on a date, Nico?” You asked for clarification, but the smile on your face was spreading wider as the seconds passed.

“Yes, I am,” he said with a deep swallow.

You squinted your eyes, as if in deep contemplation.

“Well, I’ve only been waiting, like, months for you to ask me,” you teased. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” He asked, eyes bright as he reached out to pull you closer to his body. You hummed in agreement and connected your hands behind his neck.

“I was starting to think you’d never get the hint,” you said quietly.

“I was just waiting for the right time,” he insisted, hands resting on your hips, “And if I’m being honest, I really want to kiss you right now.”

You didn’t answer him in words. Instead, you pushed up on your tip-toes and leaned in to connect your lips to his. The kiss was soft, neither of you wanting to push too far too fast. He moved his lips against yours gently, taking his time to convey how he felt about you.

When you finally pulled back to catch your breath, you both had stupid looks on your face as you were both giddy with joy.

“Atta boy, Cap!” A loud voice shouted across the lot along with some hoots, and you let your head fall against Nico’s chest as you chuckled to yourself.

“Fuck off, Jack!” Nico yelled back before dipping his head down to kiss the top of yours. “Ignore him, he’s annoying. Let’s get out of here before they try and come over.”

“Lead the way,” you said, breaking apart so you could climb in his car. 

-

Six weeks later, your results came in.

You let yourself into Nico’s unlocked apartment. Ever since you started dating, it just seemed a lot easier to leave your apartments unlocked during the day so you could easily bounce between places.

“Nico, it’s here!” You exclaimed, spotting him on the couch. He looked up from whatever show he was watching and paused it immediately when he saw the envelope in your hands.

You basically sprinted across the room and plopped down onto his lap before shoving it into his hands.

“You open it, I can’t do it,” you murmured against the side of his head, your arms slinging over his shoulders as one of his arms wrapped around your waist.

Nico chuckled as he ripped open the paper and pulled out the letter.

“What does it say?” You asked, your head tucked into his neck so you couldn’t read the results.

“Babe…” he said softly, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” You asked worriedly, peeling yourself from his neck to read the letter yourself.

Congratulations! You have passed the NCLEX exam!

You didn’t even bother to read the rest of the letter once you’d read those first two sentences.

“You asshole, that wasn’t funny!” You said, pushing his head away from you as he laughed.

“I thought it was kind of funny,” he replied, “And now my girlfriend is officially a sexy nurse.” Nico pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“You better get that idea out of your head right now,” you said warningly, already knowing where his thoughts were headed.

“All jokes aside, I’m proud of you, baby,” he said happily.

“I probably would’ve combusted from stress had it not been for your little gifts,” you admitted.

“What can I say? I was so whipped for you,” he said.

“You really were, weren’t you? The flowers and the sweatshirt with your number on it…” you teased, and he poked your side in retaliation.

“Kidding,” you giggled happily, “and I’m whipped for you, too, Nico.”

#nhl imagine #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #hockey imagine #fics #my writing #nhl fic #nhl x reader

[daycourtofficial]

Deceptive Domestication

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 7.7k | Warnings: sexism, misogyny

Summary: The two of you have to pretend to be a married couple for a mission. Can you live with this false reality? Or will your feelings for Azriel eat you alive when it’s over?

Author’s note: started making it, had a breakdown, bon apetit

“Angel, where are you?”

Azriel’s deep voice moves on the wind, finding you at the back of your cottage. You twist the new ring adorning your fourth finger, the skin beneath it showing no tan lines, “I’m back here, just one second!”

Azriel laughs, his voice sweet and full of honey, “the wife’s an avid gardener. When we were first considering moving here, she insisted we check the soil to make sure she would be able to have her prized blackberries.”

You appear from the side of the house, wiping your hands on the apron around your dress. Azriel’s arm reaches around you, clasping you on your shoulder as you get next to him. 

“He’s right, I love my blackberries greatly,” you say, reaching out to shake hands with your new neighbors. They lived in the house closest to yours, a red thatched roof adorning the black building. Delicious smells came from it, and judging by the smoke from the chimney, they were likely preparing dinner when they saw you two.

“We just wanted to come by and meet the two of you, we saw you come in last night and wanted to introduce ourselves. I’m Arben,” the male points to himself, “and this is my wife, Alija.”

You nod to both of them - they looked to be a good bit older than you and Azriel, wrinkles adorning their tanned faces. “Thank you, this used to be my Uncle Sal’s home. Since he passed away recently, he left the home to us and we wanted to leave our home village.”

“I’m so sorry about Sal, sweetheart,” he says, a sympathetic look in his eye, “he was a nice male, talked about you all of the time. Alija has to finish dinner, but we’ll see the two of you around, yeah?”

You press your lips into a firm smile, nodding before pressing into Azriel’s side and turning back to the house. His arm on your back guides you to the door of your new home, his touch a familiar warmth amidst all of the new. Once you cross the threshold, shutting the door behind yourselves, Azriel’s hand falls from your back and he immediately puts distance between you two, walking towards the bedroom he was staying in. His smile drops, the air in the room frigid. Rhys’s words clang through you, a shock to your senses.

Go to this village as a married couple. I’m unsure how long it will take.

You jolted as Azriel slammed the door behind him. Sighing, you move to your own room, taking in the bags left to unpack. You had taken great care to pack enough to last you as the season changes. The two of you were here indefinitely, marooned in a quaint village of about forty-three people.

Move in, become friends with the neighbors, find out what you can.

There was a circle of villages in the western part of the Night Court where females kept disappearing - six had gone missing in the last month. The villagers were not speaking to outsiders, but Rhysand thought a long term mission might allow the spies to get close enough to get some questions answered.

So he decided on you and Azriel.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

It had been strange seeing Azriel play this version of a spy, even if it had only been a day. You were so used to him lurking in the shadows, it felt so strange to watch him play the part of a doting husband, and to do it well. Introducing you to the neighbors and random villagers, a hand kept on your skin at all times - on your lower back, your waist, your shoulders. It was so easy to get swept up in the illusion you two were selling - even you were convinced you were newlyweds, moving for a fresh start.

Until he slammed his door, reminding you it was all fake, a farse for information.

Things between you and Azriel have always been easy. You two were the best of friends, most of your free time being spent with him since joining the Inner Circle two years ago. The two of you spent countless nights sitting together when sleep wouldn’t find you, you two had even developed a code - open bedroom doors at night were a silent invitation for the other to come in, spending most nights in each other’s rooms, wrapped up in sheets that smelled of the two of you.

All of that ended very suddenly a few months ago. Suddenly his door was always closed to you, your own cracked every night. A call to him, begging him to acknowledge you.

You started keeping your door closed a month ago. It didn’t feel right, shutting him out, but clearly you had done something wrong. Your entrance into a room would cause him to leave immediately, changes in his training schedule to avoid you, abruptly turning around when he saw you.

It was all pissing you off.

The rest of the Inner Circle were just as clueless as you were as to what happened to cause Azriel’s sudden distance. Cassian tried to interfere - making plans with both of you for dinner at a restaurant and ditching, trying to force you two to spend time together.

Azriel just left once he caught sight of you.

That was your tipping point. You stopped going to training, you pulled back from family dinners. They were his family first, and you wanted to give him whatever space he needed. Everyone protested, telling you it was his problem, and in Cassian’s words “if he’s going to be a jackass, I don’t want him around anyway.”

Still, you retreated, hardly seeing much of the family you had forged over the past few years. No matter how much it hurts you to do so.

Once you began accepting this new Azriel-less reality, Rhys had called you into his office. The high lord looked almost conflicted, your entire family aware that something weird was happening between you and Azriel. None of them dared to ask Azriel, his darkened mood making it incredibly easy to anger him, and anytime they asked you they were met with a shrug and a soft, “I don’t know.”

All of them had been scratching their heads, desperate for an explanation for the sudden iciness between you two. It had been weeks of this, and everyone missed seeing the two of you exchanging whispers in the corner or watching Azriel’s shadows wind through your hair.

Which was why Rhysand decided to insert himself into the situation. He called you into his office, and after asking you to take a seat, he began asking after your week. Your eyebrows knitted, confused about the formality of it all, when you realized you haven’t actually seen Rhysand in almost a month. 

You had taken up residence in the House of Wind - since you were a scholar it lended easy access to your work, and whenever you wanted to leave, you asked Azriel to ferry you around. You tried to remember the last time you saw anyone in the inner circle that wasn't Cassian or Nesta, and it was when Cassian offered to fly you into town to get lunch with Feyre three weeks ago.

You’re not certain how to tell Rhysand the past few weeks had been filled with silence, whatever happened between you and the shadowsinger led you to avoid Cassian and Nesta, avoid training, avoid anything that wasn’t being buried in your work in the library.

You look into violet eyes, and you check your mental shields because he’s looking at you as if he already knows how sad this whole situation has made you.

You take a deep breath, shrugging. “Time is passing, I suppose.”

Rhys’s face falls a bit at just how dejected you sounded. It wasn’t supposed to be like this - they all knew there was something between you and Azriel, they all saw how you two gravitated towards each other. Neither of you would open up about whatever it was that shifted things so quickly and easily and it was pissing all of them off.

“I need your help with something.”

It was the best plan they could come up with to try to salvage things.

-

You woke up early the next morning, determined to tend to the garden before the sun reached its peak in the sky. You had plans later in the afternoon to meet with a few of the women of the village, but you had to get to working on this garden. There was no time table on this mission, and the two of you only had food stores to last you a few months.

If you were to be stuck in this purgatory that long, you needed new food to replenish whatever you use.

Your story to tell the villagers was that the two of you were quite young from the other end of Illyria. The two of you were extraordinarily lucky that one of the older fae males in this village happened to pass away a few weeks ago, allowing the two of you an easy in. You merely reviewed some family records, and were posing as his beloved niece, here to lead a new life with her husband.

You tended to the garden behind the house - the weeds had grown wildly in the previous owner’s absence. Your ‘uncle's absence, that is.

You spent all morning pulling weeds, making quite an improvement to the garden before you decided to go in and make yourself lunch. You came in, rinsing the dirt from your fingers, the water feeling nice against some of the minor cuts you acquired outside. After drying off, you pulled out a loaf of bread, slicing the bread to prepare some sandwiches. 

You hummed to yourself, trying to fill the silence of the house. It wasn’t large - a quaint two bedroom house with two bathrooms, a nice little kitchen, and a sitting room. You were a bit surprised at how well the interior of the house had been maintained by your ‘uncle’. 

Azriel was headed with the rest of the males to the war camp, spending his day training as a lesser ranked Illyrian. He was glamoured to look enough not like himself to the other Illyrians that they wouldn’t think anything of him. You had also glamoured some of Azriel’s siphons, only allowing one on his chest to remain. He was not happy about it, not wanting to seem so much weaker than he truly was. He wouldn’t listen to any of your points about it, but Rhys eventually convinced him to allow your glamour to cover six of his siphons because “it’s quite obvious who you are”.

Azriel’s refusal to listen to even your opinions on the mission was grating. You wanted to get to know the local females, and Rhys agreed with you, but Azriel kept arguing that ‘it wasn’t safe’.

Stupid Illyrians and their stupid pigheadedness, you suppose. If you’re not supposed to speak with the other females, why were you even here?

You knew this mission would be difficult for Azriel - his hatred for his own people fueling centuries of anger and resentment. You thought being trapped here was an appropriate punishment for how he had iced you out of his life.

You had just finished making your sandwich when there was a knock at the door. You brushed your hands down your dress, glamouring wings back to life behind you, breathing deeply before you answered the door.

An Illyrian woman stood in your doorway, her dark curls slightly hiding her tanned face that was turned down. She was taller and broader than you, but still small for an Illyrian. Her demeanor told you they treated her that way as well. Her wings were tucked in tight behind her and her shoulders shook lightly before you.

Her voice was weak as she told you, “we go every day, bringing lunch to the males, if you wish to accompany us.”

Wish.

You knew the reality of coming here - you knew they would give a few days of grace to settle in, set up your garden, bereave your uncle before they assigned you to a chore rotation. In communities like this one, everyone had to pull their weight.

It was just astonishing how ‘pulling your own weight’ made the females seem two to three times heavier than the males.

You nod your head to the female, closing the door behind you as you meet her outside. You had no idea where the war camp was, knowing it mustn’t be too far from the village. You vaguely remember Azriel and Rhys discussing the three villages that filtered into the camp, how all three were short walks from the villages.

Dirt crunches beneath your boots as you walk alongside the female, her deep brown eyes downcast towards the ground, shoulders hunched to make herself as small as possible as you walk. “What’s your name?” You ask, your voice causing her to flinch. Her eyes were wide as they looked at you, shock at being addressed you presumed. It was astonishing how awfully they must treat her, because her face resembled a wounded dog’s.

“Kaltrina.” Her words are mumbled, and you have to strain your ears a little to hear her. 

“Kaltrina - it’s nice to meet you. Um, are you married?”

Not your usual first question, but around these parts marriage was as good as social standing. Also any unwed women over the age of 24 were considered ‘unwanted’ or ‘untameable’. This village was harsh on women - even by Illyrian standards. The males of this village made Devlon look forward and free-thinking.

“No, not married. I live with my brother, Dardan.”

Her tone didn’t suggest anything about him, but you weren’t sure exactly what it meant. She offers you a smile and a soft nod, “is your husband nice?”

You offer the same soft nod before you hear her say, “he’s quite good looking, too.”

You pause, trying to remember everything Cassian and Rhysand had told you about Illyrians to prepare for this - they told you males were incredibly territorial, treating their wives more like trophies and laborers rather than spouses. A male would take this as a compliment - one mention of a good-looking wife would be something to boast about, mentioning it more than once would be an offense.

But how did the females treat their husbands, how did they speak to each other about them? It was the biggest gap in your knowledge, but you suppose you can explain away any discrepancies on how far away the two of you came from.

“Yes, he’s quite pretty.”

She giggles at your words, and you feel a swell of pride at getting it right. She walks next to you, standing a little straighter for the rest of the walk.

The two of you made it to the war camp, joining the other females to distribute food to the males. The males look at you like you’re not much more than a piece of meat or some dirt on their boots, but your eyes scanned the crowd for Azriel, not finding him the entire time you’re there.

You do get a chance to speak with a few of the females as you all head back to the village, carrying leftover food with you. Most of them seem to welcome you - suggesting what crops grow best in the area, telling you to reach out if you need any help with anything.

The other females head off at the fork in the road, telling you and Kaltrina they would see you the next day. You breathe deeply, looking to Kaltrina once more. She hardly spoke once the two of you had met up with the other females at the war camp, keeping her distance from them the entire time.

“How’s your brother?” You ask, the innocent question causing Kaltrina to flinch. 

“He’s a fine male.”

Her answer feels so dry, so rehearsed. You don’t press the issue, changing topics instead. “How will you spend the rest of the afternoon?”

“Chores.”

You listen to the birds singing around the both of you, their song a beautiful melody across the skies. You eventually pass a house similar to your own, but a bit smaller, the roof not well cared for. Kaltrina gives you a small wave before turning down the path to her house, disappearing behind the door. 

You kept walking towards your own house, but you did see her appear in the window briefly, watching you walk down the road. It made the hairs on your neck stand up, but you quickly looked forward again, making your way back to the house, determined to finish unpacking this afternoon.

-

You had finished unpacking by the time you heard the door open, Azriel traipsing through the house. 

“Hello my loving husb-“

Your sarcastic words die as you turn to see his face, a cut on his lip and a black eye. He shakes his head, trying to tell you it’s nothing, and he starts moving to just head to his room, but you’re not having it.

“We have some bandages in the bathroom.” Your words don’t have a command in them, but he heads towards the bathroom. You pick up a bottle of alcohol, dabbing some on a rag. You motion for him to sit on the edge of the tub, and he goes.

You’re a few inches from his face, the closest you’ve been in months. His scent was so comforting, you just wanted to wrap yourself in it and stay for a while. He stays silent, his face a blank slate you could slap any emotion to. 

His shadows have been having fun whizzing around the house. He had told them they had to stay completely hidden if they were to come to the war camp with him, otherwise they had to stay in the house or go off wherever they wanted. They didn’t like the options, but most of them stayed with him, tucked into his boots, his pants, the hilt of his sword. Now that he was back, they scattered across the house, energetic wisps of darkness moving through the house, through your hair, against your skin.

“What happened?”

He huffed, his fingers dancing on his thighs in irritation. “I’m a new male, they’re just seeing if I can take it.”

You nod, and from the irritation in his voice, you know he’s shutting you back out. You hold the alcohol covered rag up to his lip, cleaning the blood from his face. He had healed a good bit since he received the beating, and you notice his knuckles are bloody. 

Hopefully he put up a good enough fight. 

“I went with some of the women to the war camp to distribute food.”

His eyes snap to yours, his wings rustling behind him. His eyes were dark, a look to them you’ve never seen directed at you. He reaches his hand up to your wrist, his grip tight but not uncomfortable.

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

You’re taken aback by his tone - even if your relationship was tenuous, he never took such an aggressive tone with you. In all your years of friendship, the most strain in his voice you had heard directed at you was when you were free climbing up the cabinets of the kitchen to get to the top shelf for some cookies.

“Because Rhys thinks-”

“I don’t give a damn what Rhys thinks when it comes to you, I said it was a bad idea and to stay away from them.”

“They’re battered females, Azriel! The males treat them like dirt! And their friends and sisters and mothers have gone missing. I can help them, I know I can - that’s why we’re here!”

His hand tensed around you before he pulled his hand away from you. He looks away from you, his harsh breathing echoing through the small bathroom.

“You’ll only get yourself hurt by talking to them.”

He snatched the rag from your hand, pushing past you out the bathroom and into his room, slamming the door on your once again. You want to scream or stomp your feet at how ridiculous he was being.

“I’m not a kid you can boss around, Azriel.”

His silence didn’t make you so certain about that.

-

The next week goes by much like your first full day in the village - you wake up after Azriel’s gone, tend to the house (your ‘uncle’ left it in semi-decent shape, but it did need a few repairs), head with Kaltrina to the war camp to feed the males (where you were even able to meet Kaltrina’s brother and several of the female’s husbands), and spend your afternoon preparing dinner for the two of you.

You’re not on speaking terms with Azriel after his outburst while you cleaned him up - every day he’s returned with some minor cut and scrape, and all you do is point to the alcohol and provide him with fresh rags. You won’t clean him up yourself, you’re too pissed at him for that, but you still urge him to do it himself

You still care, despite it all. 

Despite the ice between you and Azriel, the females of the village began opening up to you, accepting you as one of their own. You join them every day to serve lunches to the males, and several of them even invited you to their homes to help teach you how to cook with the regional vegetables. 

“Your husband’s too skinny,” one said, “I’ll teach you how to cook.”

You weren’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult, but you took it for what it was - an offering. You spent the afternoon with her, learning how to smoke pig ‘the correct way’. She had told you her name was Bora, she and her husband have lived in this village for several centuries, and she has had many, many smoked pigs.

“None compare to my family recipe.”

She was quite intimidating, and you could tell she took shit from no one, not even her husband. You were touched that she would share her family recipe with you so readily, thinking perhaps she took a special interest in you until another female stopped by and, after telling her Bora was teaching you her family recipe, she told you, “it’s how she inaugurates new females to the village’.

You were less touched and your ego deflated a bit, but you were still grateful she would spend so much time with you. The afternoon flew by, time not registering as you helped Bora peel her vegetables while the pork cooked. 

You looked up, noting the dark sky through the window, dropping the zucchini. “Oh no,” you mutter, running out of the house to the road, eyes wide to find Azriel running up the road, blades drawn. His siphon was glowing in the dark, it’s cobalt blue blazing with intensity.

He was frantic, and you could have sworn you saw his shadows frantically zipping around him, moving in and out of houses. His body visibly relaxes as he spots you, rushing towards you. His arms wrap around you, crushing you into an embrace. His breathing is ragged, “I thought- I thought- you-”

His words come out choppy, but he pulls back, his hands on your face. He’s breathing hard, trying to string words together. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing with the movement.

“Is everything alright?”

Bora’s voice startles Az, and one of his shadows whips into a defensive position before you shoo it away. He quickly collects himself, moving one of his hands to the back of your head, pulling you to his chest.

“Sorry, I got worried when I got home and my wife wasn’t there.”

He pats your hair, his hands combing through them softly. “Just need her to be safe, s’all.”

Bora nods, perhaps more understanding than she should be of Azriel’s concern. “Ah, to be newly married again. She was safe,” she turns away before adding, “she’s always safe here with Bora.” 

The older female waddles back inside for a moment before coming back out to the two of you, the tray of pork and vegetables on it. “Here’s dinner tonight - Bora’s family recipe.” She winks at you, and the two of you politely thank her before heading back to your house. You carried the tray, but Azriel kept both of his hands on you the entire walk back.

The walk back is mostly quiet, Azriel’s heartbeat slowing as the adrenaline leaves his body. You swivel your head around, noticing no one out in the village at this hour.

“Why were you being so nice and touchy to me out there and anytime we see the neighbors?” Your words come out barely more than a whisper, but you knew he heard them. “The men in this village hardly view their wives as more than livestock, it might be more suspicious for you to be so nice to me.”

He turned, just enough for you to see the side of his face, to watch his mouth as he said, “I could never do that to you.”

You spent the rest of the walk in silence, spending the entire time dissecting the way he said “you”.

-

Your house with Azriel is still quiet, the two of you living separate lives behind the oak door. Sleeping apart, eating dinner in different rooms. You two only spoke when you were outside of the house. 

A few days after cooking with Bora, you and Kaltrina were headed back to the village from the camps for lunch when she offered to help you make dinner. 

“I want to say thanks, for being my friend.”

Her words make you feel terrible over how strange you had found her. Maybe she was just awkward. You weren’t sure, but you knew you’d be safe inside your own home, so you agreed to let her stay. 

The two of you prepare dinner, Kaltrina seeming a bit nervous as she skitters about your kitchen. You make idle small talk, but the air in the room seems so off you can’t put your finger on it.

“What will your brother be doing for dinner tonight?” 

She looks a bit downcast as she tells you, “he has plans tonight, he’s eating at his friend’s house.”

Her tone tells you not to ask anymore, and you don’t press the issue any further. 

The two of you eat in silence, Kaltrina’s eyes moving around your house, taking in every detail. She excuses herself to the bathroom, and you show her where it is. 

In Kaltrina’s absence, Azriel makes his way through the front door, his shadows beginning to spread throughout the house in contentment. You quickly shake your head at the tiny wisps that come to you, sending them back to Azriel. You point towards the bathroom, jerking your head at the noises from behind the door trying to tell him someone was here.

The water runs, and Azriel quickly moves across the room, his arms circling your waist. Your eyebrows pinch, but you quickly relax them as Kaltrina leaves the bathroom. Her steps halt at seeing Azriel, her eyes wide at his sudden appearance.

“Kaltrina, this is my husband. Valon, this is my friend, Kaltrina.”

He nods to her before squeezing your waist and giving a swift kiss to your temple. Kaltrina’s eyes linger on the display of affection, not breaking contact even moments later. Azriel rubs your back, eyes fond as he looks to you, “I’m going to head to bed, take your time with your friend, but don’t leave me waiting too long.”

Was that a signal? You two slept in separate rooms - what did his words mean? You lean up, kissing his cheek before rubbing at his jaw and nodding. He turns his attention towards Kaltrina, “it was nice meeting you Kaltrina, my wife is quite fond of you. Have a good night.”

Her mouth is slightly ajar, her cheeks a harsh shade of red as she squeaks, “good night.”

Azriel nods at her and he slips into your bedroom, a sight that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You turn back to Kaltrina, her eyes lingering on the door to your bedroom, and you could almost feel the yearning radiating from her. 

“Come on, we should clean up a bit.” The two of you head into the kitchen, cleaning and scraping the dirty dishes from earlier. You two work in silence, the only sounds in the room are the scrubbing of pots.

“Your husband seems quite nice.”

Her voice is full of want and yearning. You stop cleaning pots before you, Kaltrina’s eyes fixed on you until you look. She turns her eyes away, looking back to the pots.

“Yes, he is very kind.”

“He’s unlike any of the males around here.”

This conversation felt a bit dangerous. Azriel said it was fine, that he couldn’t treat you the way any of these males treat their wives - like servants, like cattle, like nothing. But you knew the females of the village would notice how he treated you, if they haven’t already. You start to wonder if they had noticed, discussing the odd outsiders, figuring the two of you out, getting you-

“He’s very good-looking.”

Kaltrina’s voice startles you, and you look to find her not even looking at you, gazing off to some point on the wall. Had she meant to say that out loud? The two of you finish up cleaning, although it is mostly you doing the work, Kaltrina’s gaze is lost somewhere on your kitchen wall. You quickly escort her out, wishing her a good night. You offer to walk her home, but she declines, saying she’ll be fine on her own. 

You close the door behind her, taking a deep breath. Azriel was in your room - your room - the one with the unmade bed, clothes haphazard around the space. You two used to frequent each other’s private chambers, but now you can’t recall the last time he laid in your bed, perused the books on your shelves, or sat in the chair in the corner of your room at the House of Wind.

You push open the door to find him pacing in front of your bed, his shadows lounging lazily on your bed. You nod to him, picking at your fingernails.

“I think it’s Kaltrina. I think she’s the one doing this.”

“Kaltrina?” His voice is full of surprise and misunderstanding. “You think Kaltrina, that little thing is behind all of this?”

“Yes! I just.. Don’t know why.. The way she talks about you…”

“We can’t go off of silly little feelings when convicting someone of a crime, you know.” He stands in front of you, his wings blocking the light from the candles, casting shadows across his face.

“I’m well aware-”

“You have to think - where would she keep them? How could she overpower so many Illyrian women? And besides, why does it matter what she thinks of me?”

Your anger was bubbling to the surface, his condescending tone leading you to yell out, “what the fuck is your problem, Azriel?”

He looks at you, turning away quickly while muttering, “we are not doing this here.” His shadows are ever so slightly trying to push him back towards you, but he ignores their attempts, plowing through them to your kitchen.

“No, I think we are doing this right here, right now. I’ve let too much shit go by and I can’t keep acting like everything’s okay anymore.” You take in a shaky breath. “I’m tired of pretending. Just tell me whatever it was that I did that made you hate me and we can move on!”

“No.”

His curt reply annoys you even more, and you’re directly in front of him poking his chest.

“Just tell me what I did!”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s clearly not the case.”

He groans in frustration, running a hand down his face, but you are unrelenting in your pursuit for the truth.

“We were friends, you used to like spending time with me. I don’t know what happened that made you hate me-”

“I don’t hate you.”

You laugh, “well you could have fooled me. For months everyone’s been asking me what happened between us, and I have no clue! It’s like you woke up one day and decided we couldn’t be friends anymore!”

“That’s not what happened-”

“Oh, it’s not? So you were pretending to be my friend while you secretly hated me before cutting me off one day?”

“I HAD TO.”

His eyes were wide with an almost feral-like look to them. He looked almost more beast than fae.

“I had to. Those fae that were trafficking females and males, they… “ His hand shakes as he curls and uncurls it, his scarred fingers twitching with the motion. “One of my spies found your name in one of their notebooks, reported it to me immediately.”

His ferocity is turned on you, hazel eyes looking into your own, as if he was searching through your soul. “Don’t you get it? They know you, they know who you are.” His voice raised an octave, squeaking, “because of me.”

“So, what? Because someone knew that I was important to you, you cut me off?”

“No it wasn’t-“

“Oh, no, was it that someone pointed out to you that I was important to you and you didn’t like that?” Your voice was raising, getting louder, but you couldn’t care. 

“That’s not-“

“I’m a big girl, Az, I deserve to know everything before making decisions. I don’t deserve my decisions to be taken from me.”

“Will you let me speak?”

His shadows were covering the windows, the doors, the walls. His chest was heaving as he tried to get the words out, tried to make you see.

“I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“So instead of explaining this to me, you cut me off like I meant nothing to you? Why couldn’t you just tell me that? Why couldn’t you tell me-”

“You would talk me out of it! Convince me it was in my head. I needed you to be safe, for cauldron’s sake!”

You sniffle, eyes catching on the door. “I have a lot to think about,” is all you say before storming out, closing the door behind you. You walk from the house, your boots sinking into the grass at your feet as you walk aimlessly around the village. Your thoughts whirled and swirled of Azriel’s words, your hands pulling at your hair in frustration.

“Hey, there.”

You whip around, fist raised, to find Dardan looking back at you. You quickly drop your fist - he could still tell the others you showed defiance towards him and you’d be in a lot of trouble. 

“Oh, hey, Dardan, right? I must not have heard you. How are you tonight?”

You try to make your voice sound as pleasant as possible, as feminine as possible. 

“Just taking an afternoon stroll,” he muses, “care to join me?”

You look around, noticing you’re much further from the village than you intended. Even though you were a married female to the rest of the village, it was still disrespectful towards your husband to be seen on the outskirts of town with an unmarried male. 

“Um,” you start turning around, your gut trying to tell you this was wrong, wrong, wrong. “Actually, I should get back to my husband. I need to start working on dinner soon.”

You turned your head just in time for something hard and metal to make contact with it, the last thing in your vision was the ground before complete darkness.

-

Your head was killing you, your neck at an unnatural angle as you opened your eyes. The room was dark, but still too bright for the pounding of your head. You take a deep breath, trying to note your surroundings. 

Your hands were bound behind you, some fabric you should be able to easily pull apart. You were on the ground, some dirt beneath your body as you laid on the cold ground. You began tugging on the fabric, trying to maneuver your hands to slip through the knot.

“Tug all you want, we got a talented witch in these parts.”

Your body goes cold at the voice.

Dardan.

Fuck.

You want to slam your head on something, but there’s nothing. Your breathing speeds up, your mind moving through all your interactions with Dardan.

You thought he was nice. He had been amicable to you at the war camp, you barely even thought of him during this mission. You thought it was Kaltrina. How could you have gotten things so wrong? 

He smiles as he watches your brain try to figure things out. His smugness was a new look for Lee - one that made him look very unattractive. “We knew one of Rhysand’s dogs was bound to show up at some point, just didn’t think they’d bring a pretty bitch like you with ‘em. Color me surprised when my little sister brought you around.”

You snap at his words, “bitches bite.”

He goes by to sharpen whatever knife he was wielding before replying. “We got big plans.”

Dardan wouldn’t say more than that, continuing to sharpen his blade before inspecting it. Once it was to his satisfaction, he grabbed you by the hair, yanking you from the ground. You scramble, trying to get your feet on the ground, kicking at the dirt he was dragging you across to gain some footing. His pull on your hair was unrelenting, even as your arms flailed back trying to hit him.

Eventually you’re able to get your feet beneath you, trying to keep up with his steps. He opens the doors to the structure you were kept in, the light of dusk surprising you. There was no way to tell time in that barn.

“It’s almost sunset, girl.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, trying to take a big inhale so you can scream. The sound was piercing - a loud screech coming from you. Dardan just laughed. “Screech all you want, no one’s around for miles.”

Rhys’s words echo in your mind.

Stay close to Azriel.

A warning you had forgotten when you stormed off. Dardan’s tight grip brings you towards a clearing full of other Illyrians from the village you had been staying in and several of the nearby villages. You’re about to call, to beg them for help, when you notice six of the males are each dragging a female in some way towards the center of the clearing. You can’t see over the wings and heads in front of you, but the crowd parts for your eyes to land on a stone altar with ancient languages carved into it.

The crowd gave enough space for the six Illyrians to stand in a circle around the altar, each one cradling a woman by their neck with a blade pressed to it. You start fighting back against Dardan, trying to scratch him, hit him, but he throws you towards the altar where two winged males stand, catching you in their arms easily. You throw out your hand, making contact with one of their jaws, a soft “bitch” hissed at you. 

You throw your bound hands into the other one’s gut, but the first one grabs your elbow, twisting harshly. You struggle in the hold, winding your head back to headbutt him, but the other one grabs your head, holding it in place. You start kicking your legs out, hoping for any kind of contact, but a male from the crowd comes up and catches your ankles. 

The three males hold onto you, moving you on top of the altar. Your movements do nothing to stop them as they clamp down your feet, moving towards your hands, shackling them to the altar as well. Your pleas to be let go fell on deaf ears.

You turn your head to the left, two of the females coming into your view. Their wings twitched as their captors held them, not much fight in them. You yell to them, begging for them to fight back against the males at their backs. Tears stream down the side of your face, leaking into your ears as you watch their complacency, what they’ve been conditioned for. 

Nausea rolled in your stomach at the idea of how long they’ve been aware of this fate. These girls have been missing for weeks and months of their lives, kept Mother knows where to beat them into compliance. 

They stood at attention, knives to their throats, unmoving. 

Your eyes water seeing Kaltrina amongst them, her eyes downcast.

It was sickening.

Dardan comes from the crowd, looking down at you over the crook of his nose. He raises a knife to your throat, your skin nicking on the blade as your breathing quickened. 

“Any last words?”

You look up at Dardan, mustering every ounce of defiance onto your face as you pull back, spitting into his smug face. His face falls for a moment before wiping the saliva off. Dardan looks towards the sky, “just a moment until sundown. If only your pretty little shadowsinger could be here now, to watch you become the ultimate sacrifice.”

Breathing gets harder as the seconds tick by, knowing the sun will set at any second. You felt a cool breeze blow over you. 

Not a breeze.

A shadow.

“Get your fucking hands off of my mate.”

Your heart stops in your chest, something sparking deep within you at Azriel’s growl of warning in a tone you’ve never heard from him before. Dardan’s knife is still pressed to your neck, but you’re able to move your eyes enough to see wisps of shadow pulling the knives away from the necks of the other females in the circle. 

You tilt your head back, barely able to make out Azriel standing behind Dardan, his shadows angrily darting all around him. Several more of them make their way to you, almost cloaking you in the scent of their master.

Dardan’s arrogance doesn’t balk at the sight of Azriel, his grip on the knife tightening. 

“You can drop the ‘mate’ act, freak,” Dardan spat out, his words causing the shadows to whirl in agitation. “We need her-”

In a flash the shadows coating you slithered up your torso, slithering around the wrist that held the blade. They pulled the wrist away, the knife narrowly avoiding slicing your throat. At the same time, Azriel moved for Dardan, his fist connecting with Dardan’s jaw causing a crack across the clearing. Dardan hit the ground, but Azriel dove after him, landing punch after punch.

In the chaos of the fight breaking out, the crowd was in hysterics, all of the males attempting to fly or flee, pools of shadows surfaced at their feet, tripping them up, their bodies slowly disappearing into the darkness. Some of them tried to crawl from the darkness, but to no avail. The crowd quickly went from about 30 males to just the six females left, all unharmed, huddling together for some form of protection.

Azriel was choking Dardan out, scarred fingers forcing the breath from Dardan’s lungs. “I will enjoy taking my time with you.” Azriel’s words hung in the air as Dardan slowly slipped into the shadows underneath him, but Azriel remained on the grass. He quickly got to this feet, most of his shadows gone, likely to keep the Illyrian prisoners in check.

He stumbles over to you, quickly undoing your binds before wrapping you in his arms, pulling you from the altar.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” are all he says, his words repeating as you feel tears fall onto your shirt. You gripped him just as tightly, finding it easier to breathe in his presence for the first time in ages. 

“I can’t live in fear anymore.”

He lunged for you, capturing your lips in a kiss. It’s rushed, full of fear and trepidation. 

But by the cauldron was it warm and full of life. 

He pulled back, wiping spit from his mouth, his fingers covered in blood pushing the hair out of your face. “When I heard that your name was on one of those books, the bond snapped for me. I flew in a rage, killing all those traffickers. But I knew there were more like them out there.”

His eyes were full of regret, “I should have told you, but I thought you’d be safer not knowing. Then I figured this mission was my last time to actually have you, to play pretend.”

You laugh at the ridiculousness of it, pulling him in closer to you. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling that deep smell of cedar that you adored more than anything. It felt like coming home.

“I’m still pissed at you for not telling me.”

He chuckles, a deep, warm sound you haven’t truly heard in ages, “can I make it up to you? I won’t keep secrets from you ever again.”

He holds your face in his hands, his own eyes wet with tears. One of his hands pulls away, his tan skin radiant in the moonlight. You bring up your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You keep your eyes on his, “no more secrets. From either of us.”

He nods, a bargain tattoo beginning to snake its way on your skin. 

“No more running.”

The tattoo wove its way on your skin, dark tendrils solidifying where your forearms meet. When you pull your hand away, the tattoo is incomplete, missing the gaps where Azriel’s arm belongs.

Much like a one-sided duet, your tattoos look empty without the other there to complete the song that echoed in your chest, the song that hummed at the sight of him. The bond didn’t feel so much like a snap as a slow sinking, as if you had finally opened your eyes after so long. 

Wrapped in his arms, the two of you had a lot to figure out - the females, what to do with the strange occult Illyrians, but the two of you could do it.

He promised - no more running.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading 💕

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #acotar writing #azriel x y/n #azriel angst

[leclerced]

control | op81

summary: oscar and lando make a bet on who can last longer for no nut november. oscar’s girlfriend is not happy with the situation. inspired by this request that was supposed to be a quick blurb but turned into 2.6k by accident

warnings: 18+ minors dni. wrap it before u tap it! no real smut until the end and its quick and desperate sorry!

author’s note: i did not proof read this and was high writing so sorry for mistakes. i accidentally lost track of time writing this and i wanted to post tn so sorry for mistakes! i rly need to make a masterlist atp

Oscar and his girlfriend cannot keep their hands off each other, and Lando is kind of sick of having to cover for the two lovers when they sneak away during the race weekend. He can’t count on both hands anymore how many times he’s walked in on them in the midst of getting down and dirty, one of them on their knees or Oscar between her legs fucking her. The three of them grew unusually close because of it, with them whispering in his ear to cover for them while they sneak away instead of just disappearing like they did in the beginning of the season.

The three of them don’t realize it, but Lando has this way of staring at them like she’s the sun and he’s the moon and everyone is obsessed with the idea of them being a thrupple. Oscar was asked about it once, and said he hated questions about his personal life, and that he had to even say it, but no. He was not in a three way relationship with his teammate. Despite that, he loves knowing he’s got the hottest girlfriend on the grid and that everyone, including his teammate, wants her, but only he gets her. It ends up weird a weird dynamic between them, Oscar giving Lando too many details of all the things she lets him to do her, and come November, after walking in on them for the umpteenth time, Lando made a bet that Oscar can’t keep it in his pants for a month. Oscar said he could easily lie about it, but Lando brought up how she didn’t travel with him in the beginning of the year and he was an absolute menace compared to the angel he turned into after the first race weekend she attended. Oscar told him he wouldn’t go without sex for a month unless Lando did, and Lando corrected and said it’s no nut November, meaning no self supplied or otherwise, but he would do it because it wasn’t hard when he didn’t have a girlfriend at all, much less one as sex crazed and hot as Oscar’s.

They fucked like rabbits on Halloween and she assumed it was because he really liked the costume she’d worn, but come November first, he stopped being so affectionate. She didn’t notice it until the race weekend really got started and kept trying to spend his free time alone with him but he stayed by Lando’s side the entire time, even when she leaned in and whispered in his ear that she was dripping for him. His hand had tightened on her thigh and he quietly told her, not now, before focusing back on Lando on his other side.

The first and second time she excused him brushing off her advances. They were in the paddock the first time she tried pulling him away, she could excuse that because he was working. The second, they were at a club with Lando and she was trying to pull him away to the bathroom for a quickie after she had a few shots, she could excuse that because he didn’t want to get caught fucking in a bathroom in Brazil. But the third time, they were back at the hotel and she’d just brushed her teeth and showered, walked out of the bathroom naked and she crawled up his body, kissing his body through the sheets. He just rolled her off his body off his when she settled her hips on his and twisted her around to spoon her as he tugged the sheets over her. She thought he was going to fuck her like that, but she snapped when he yawned, pressed a kiss into her shoulder and mumbled goodnight. “Why won’t you let me touch you?” She demanded more than asked and he blushed.

“I- Lando and I made a bet on who could last no nut November longer.” She twisted back around and stared at him blankly, hands moving back towards his sweats as she asked, “Seriously, you’re not fucking me for a month over a trend? Why the fuck do you care if each other cums?”

Oscar didn’t have an answer so he shrugged weakly, “I don’t wonna lose. He’ll never let me live it down.”

She scowled, “No. I’m not going to let you live this down.” She rolled off of him before going to the bathroom, “I’ll fuck myself, since you won’t.”

He rushed off the bed to follow her to the shower, thinking even if he couldn’t cum, he could still make her cum, but she’d shut and locked the door behind her.

She tortured him for the next two weeks, locking the bathroom when she showered and refusing to let him join her even just to wash her hair. She wouldn’t let him pull her into his lap, wrap his hands around her waist, but then they’d be back at the hotel and make out on the couch. He tried touching her, but she pulled his hands away and told him, “If I can’t touch you, you can’t touch me.” She’d end up holding his hands behind his head so he couldn’t touch her as she kissed him until he was achingly hard in his sweats and then she’d pull away, retreat into the little bedroom of the suite, and fuck herself with her fingers, the door hanging open as an invite to come in and join.

All three of them were getting frustrated, it was obvious with Lando and Oscar during the race in Brazil even though it had only been five days. Oscar was used to going back to his hotel and fucking his girlfriend until they passed out, used to being pulled away to closets and bathrooms so they could feel each other up and if they were daring enough, he would fuck her like she begged. Fans noticed Oscar trying to pull her into his arms in the background of some livestream and she pulled herself free of him and sat in the free chair next to his teammate. People went crazy thinking the couple was having a fight, even though she was there at the finish line with his team to congratulate him with a kiss.

Then there was the race in Vegas, just over halfway through the month, and she’d been planning the entire trip and a new wardrobe for it. She’d been ordering things and having them shipped to a friend in California who then drove her entire Vegas wardrobe from LA to Vegas for her. Oscar had no idea what was planned, but she’d teased him when she shyly admitted she was going all out with her outfits when they went out. She suddenly seemed less shy about the money she’d spent when she leaned in and kiss his neck for the first time in three weeks and whispered, “Too bad you won’t get to see half of it.”

He’d choked out a single word, why? She giggled and pulled back, “Well, I bought a lot of lingerie for this weekend. I thought we would be having fun, but you and your teammate have ruined them for me.” Her eyes were suddenly dark and he was blushing and kicking himself for still not really wanting to give up on the bet. He had a few weeks left, he was halfway there, and if he gave up now then the last two weeks of torture were for nothing. And because Lando wouldn’t let him live it down, he would tease him about being young and not being able to handle it, not being able to control himself. He wanted to prove to himself more than anyone that he could do it now, he’d gotten it stuck in his mind that if he could somehow resist the woman on his lap for a month, he could do anything.

It was bad.

She was practically playing dress up in their hotel room the night before the race, she didn’t even pause the movie as she pulled the suitcase into the room and stripped down after unzipping it.

“I thought you said I wasn’t going to see them?” He asked as she pulled out a small bag and retrieved a set in the same baby pink silk as the bag. She watched herself in the mirror as she put it on, then turned to him.

She had a wicked look in her eyes as she grinned, “I decided I didn’t want them to go waste.”

He clenched his teeth and forced his gaze back to the movie as she stripped back out of the set and retrieved a new one. She tried on dresses between sets, tried them on with different bras and pressed her breasts together to see which bra complimented which dress the most. He’d forgotten about the movie despite trying to keep his focus on it, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her for longer than a few seconds.

She kept glancing at him in the reflection in the mirror and wondered if he could see her watching him. She could see him getting hard through his sweats, especially when he shifted and adjusted himself in his sweats. Oscar squeezed himself once before he pressed his hand back into the cushion like he forgot his self imposed restriction. She wanted him to lose control already. She was on the verge of dropping to her knees and begging for him, she needed him so badly. She was on the verge of not being able to make herself cum when she tried to convince him by touching herself in the next room with the door wide open. He had broken her and he wasn’t even trying to. She didn’t want him to touch her because every time he put his hands on her body, she felt the ache between her thighs grow then she was reminded of his stupid bet and she got angry. Horny and angry was a bad combination when angry sex was off the table because all sex was off the table. Every fibre of her being ached for him and her heart was breaking a little as she watched him watch her and do nothing.

She stripped out of the black dress she’d just tried on and was left in the papaya set she’d ordered for the race night. Oscar watched as she stretched the fabric over her hips and ass and let it pool to her feet before she turned to him. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she bought lingerie in his team color, or that it looked better on her than it did on his car, or his suit, or anything else McLaren branded it with. They should just put her in his car, in that lingerie set, and they’d make fucking millions off one photo. He was certain of it.

He found his heart was racing as she slowly walked towards him then straddled him, her fingers automatically curled into his hair as she brushed her lips against his. “Bought this for your race tomorrow,” she whispered, and he dug his fingers into the couch cushions by her legs. He wanted to touch her so badly, but after two weeks, he knew the new rule she’d imposed. She pressed her lips to his softly and he automatically kissed her back, leaning into her as he sighed. It was the first time he’d touched her all day other than when she woke him up with sleepy kisses and made him get out of bed and go to work. She’d stayed at the hotel then went out shopping and met with the friend who brought the suitcases, so he didn’t see her until he returned to the hotel and she had room service hot and ready for him.

She let him deepen the kiss and pleasantly tugged on his hair, eliciting another sigh from his lips. Oscar felt dizzy as she sucked on his lower lip then bit it teasingly, tugging it back and letting it go to pop against his upper lip before she kissed him again. He was paralyzed as she began rocking her hips against his, the pussy he had been dreaming about pressed up against his cock as she pressed herself into him.

Oscar reveled in the feeling for a moment before hanging his head back against the cushion, abruptly ending their kiss. She whined and chased his lips before settling on his jaw before she moved down his neck. He let out a shaky breath as her teeth scratched against his skin and she sucked softly. Her hips gained more momentum and he moaned, “Fuck, stop.” He could already feel himself growing close just from her grinding on him and kissing his neck, he wasn’t going to last much longer.

She licked softly at his neck before sighing blissfully, “Make me.” Her hips continued rocking against him, each roll of her hips was sending him into a frenzy. He hadn’t been touched in two weeks and he had reverted back to a horny teenager about to cum in his pants.

His fingers dug into the sofa and he gritted his teeth, “You said I can’t touch you.”

She nipped at his throat before humming, “Nothing’s stopping you.” She slowed her hips a little then swiveled them a few times, making his abs twitch under his shirt.

Oscar’s knuckles turned white as his grip tightened, “If I touch you, I’m gonna fuck you.”

She moaned at his words as she rubbed herself against him before brushing her lips against his as she teased, “I guess we’re at an impasse then, you can’t touch me, and I can’t stop touching you.” Her lips met his again as he moaned and rocked his hips into hers. She pressed down in the same motion and he suddenly grabbed her hips and flipped them over, “Fuck you.” He groaned, pushing his sweats down with one hand and tugged the papaya panties to the side. She’d had the panties on for mere minutes and they were soaked, so he had no problem pressing his cock inside of her without any prep before hand. She pulled his hair harshly when he pushed in without any warning, but the sudden pain of his cock stretching her faded into pleasure as he began fucking her with an urgency she hadn’t seen in him before. Neither of them could say anything as they gasped and moaned into each other’s mouths, his thumb found her clit and in less than two minutes she was yanking his hair again as he pushed her over the edge. The pain of her pulling his hair and the pleasure of her cumming around him sent him spiraling over the edge and his entire body shook with his orgasm as he filled her with his cum. He collapsed onto her after their orgasms washed over them and laughed as he buried his face in her neck. “I’m sorry, that was stupid of me.”

She nodded and curled her legs around him , “It was. I would hate you for it if you hadn’t given up right now. I would have gone and made Lando cum first just to get you to fuck me, if you hadn’t just now.”

Her words were teasing, but Oscar heard a bit of truth behind her words and he laughed, “I think you should do that still. Make him think I won the bet.”

She laughed, her chest pressing into his as she pet the back of his head lovingly, “You want to win so bad you’d let me go make your teammate cum?”

He shrugged, “It’s just Lando, he’d probably last thirty seconds cause he’s had a crush on you since you met. Probably feel like he won just because you tossed him off.”

She flushed at the thought of his teammate crushing on her, “He has?”

Oscar rolled his eyes even though she couldn’t see him, “You don’t notice him watching you constantly? Haven’t seen the way he looks at you?”

She huffed, “I should say the same about you and him, you look at him the way you look at me.” Oscar was glad she couldn’t see his face as it heated up and he changed the subject back to her, “You really don’t notice him watching you? What about Charles?”

Her eyebrows raised at the mention of the Monegasque and she squeaked, “Cha?”

He huffed this time, “You want to fuck all my friends?”

She blushed again and whined, “You’re the one who said I should make Lando cum.”

He laughed, “Mhmm, still think you should. I don’t want to lose. But like tomorrow morning, before I have to go to work so he won’t know I fucked you just now when he sees me happy tomorrow.”

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #op81 #op81 smut

[pickingupmymercedes]

She's here and she's not only ours - Lewis Hamilton

Sequel to She's here and she's ours. Bit of angst, lots of fluff.

pairing: Dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Navigating the journey from being a couple to becoming a family is often likened to entering a whole new world—one filled with unpredictable challenges and profound joys. The radiant 7-month-old girl had effortlessly woven herself into the fabric of your lives, captivating not only you and Lewis but everyone who crossed her path. Yet, adjusting to new routines, shifting priorities, managing emotional and physical changes, and, most crucially, cultivating a deep bond with your child were aspects of parenthood that no book, class, or well-meaning advice had adequately prepared you for.

And so, the real test of parenthood often lay in learning to prioritize.

“Oh my God, she’s growing up so quickly!” Susie exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she entered the living area of your apartment, making a beeline for the giggling toddler seated in her bumbo seat on the kitchen island.

“Please, don’t remind me. Time is flying by too fast already,” you replied, your smile widening as you watched your baby recognize Susie and reach out to be scooped up.

“I’m sorry for dropping by unannounced… I just... I had to know why,” Susie said, her expression curious and concerned.

You had expected people to comment and be surprised, but you hadn’t anticipated the attention coming so soon, even before you and Lewis had a chance to share your news.

“So, I take it everyone at Mercedes already knows?”

“More like everyone on the paddock, probably,” Susie confirmed.

“Do you remember her first few days? When she struggled to gain weight and every day felt like a battle?”

The first inkling that something was amiss came mere hours after you had returned home with your newborn daughter. Her incessant cries and insatiable hunger, even after an hour of breastfeeding, had raised red flags.

You had been warned that the initial days would be challenging—that you were now solely responsible for nourishing a tiny human. So, you soldiered on, suppressing your growing panic and tears, dreading the 40-minute feeding intervals where you’d bite your tongue and cheeks to keep from crying.

You tried every trick in the book—increasing your water intake, warm and cold compresses, dietary changes, pumping between feeds, consulting lactation specialists, and even consuming magic lactation cookies. Yet, your milk supply remained stubbornly low.

The sense of failure weighed heavily on you; your primary role was to nurture your baby, something you had done successfully during pregnancy. Instead of relishing the joys of new motherhood, you felt like a failure, a lesser mother to your daughter and a villain to your husband's fairytale of having kids.

Lewis was acutely aware of your distress and tried to be supportive. Despite knowing, as doctors and specialists had advised, that you needed to supplement with formula for both your daughter’s and your own well-being, he refrained from pressuring you. Every night he would feel as though you were punching him in the face when you went out of his sight to cry, or how his chest would tighten when he carried your screaming daughter in his arms, knowing she needed more, from him and from you. Still, he didn’t have in him to lecture you, yet again, on how that little girl needed more, not when you were giving your life and sanity away for her.

It wasn’t until the day before her second week checkup that you broke down. You knew the scale wasn’t going to give her much more grams than she had the past week, way less than she deserved and the added burden that he would be going for his first race of the season in a couple days had you reaching your breaking point.

Seeing Lewis on the sofa, looking worried and worn-out, you collapsed in front of him, letting your tears flow freely. He held you, comforting you with gentle whispers, and you both agreed that transitioning to formula was for the best. Despite the months of hearing about the benefits of breastfeeding, you had come to understand that sometimes the most challenging part of parenthood was knowing when to stand your ground and make the best choice for your family.

“We don’t want his job to feel like a burden every weekend,” you said.

“So, the Hamiltons will be a staple in the paddocks?” Susie asked, her approving smile revealing her pride.

“Life doesn’t always go as planned, does it?” You shrugged

“The media is going to love that smile,” Susie cooed, her attention directed at the toothy grin of your daughter.

“Yeah… She won’t be only ours, but Lewis needs her as much as she needs him. I guess it’s a small price to pay,” you replied, smiling at your yawning daughter in Susie’s lap, her little hands rubbing her eyes—a clear sign that her naptime was due.

“Please, let me. She still loves Disney songs, right?” Susie absentmindedly asked, already heading towards your daughter’s room, laying the toddler on her cheast and ready to lull her to sleep with a familiar melody. As you watched, you couldn’t help but marvel at how your daughter had already captured so many hearts at such a young age.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk

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#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton #formula 1

[horrorhot-line]

brontide

(n). the low rumble of distant thunder

➵ pairing: saiki kusuo/female! reader

➵ word count: 3.2k

➵ genre: smut, nsfw

➵ warnings: unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, hate sex, rough sex, overstimulation.

➵ summary: studying for exams is never easy. add kusuke into the mix and it’s a whole different ball game. alternatively; saiki and you spend the day studying in your dorm room until kusuke drops by unannounced to see you. saiki is not happy.

➵ masterlist  (requests are open)

➵ previous part - quell

I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING POSTED BY ANYONE ELSE ON ANY PLATFORM

before you read:

‘saiki telepathically communicating with reader.’

‘reader thinking or interacting with saiki through thoughts.’

“saiki talking without moving his mouth.”

“saiki talking using his mouth.”

notes: i’m still here guys don’t worry, i just won’t be posting multiple times a week like i did before cause of work, i saw this request, well there were two and i thought i’d post this while i still had inspo, as always, hope you enjoy!

this oneshot was requested here and here.

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"No, you don't understand," Apart from losing your mind, there was little you could do when the month of June came around. "Kusuo, I have SPOTS!" Exam season- your number one enemy when it came to skin.

You stared at the handheld mirror, shifting your face from left to right to look at the cluster of angry red pimples drowning your forehead. You swore you could make out constellations from them.

You exhaled through your nose and held back the need to sigh yet again; all the while, Saiki sat comfortably on your bed as he highlighted notes in his textbook. You resisted the urge to grab your phone and order more skincare off of tik tok to solve your predicament, instead opting to grab your own textbook before it fell off the edge of the bed.

The stress alone weighing you down was enough to motivate you to take a walk, but Saiki being around was the only thing keeping you rooted. "It'll clear up by itself," Saiki stated matter of factly, to which you responded by rolling your eyes. "I know that- but what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

Saiki finally looked up, his blue highlighter pausing centimetres away from the page as he stared at you through his eyebrows. "Study." The fear of spreading the spots was the only thing stopping you from slapping your hand to your forehead.

You rubbed your eyes and grabbed a pen to make flashcards- and an hour passed by in no time.

Your cramming session paused when the doorbell went off. You, knowing Saiki and yourself were the only people home for the weekend, meant that one out of the two of you would have to get the door. You looked up at the psychic with glassy eyes, blinking through the blurriness that came with studying too hard.

He gave you one look before silently going back to memorising the flashcards you had made earlier. You sighed, knowing full well it would be you answering the door. A second chime rang through the house, and your shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine. I'll get it." You announced before slipping off the bed and stuffing your feet into your fluffy slippers.

You quickly walked through the house, shouting, "I'm coming!" when the doorbell rang yet again. You grabbed the keys from your jacket on the coat rack and shoved them in the lock before pulling the handle down. When you opened the door to reveal the person who came calling, you realised it was none other than Kusuke—Saiki's older brother.

You raised an eyebrow at the man in front of you, feeling nothing but annoyance that he had shown up unannounced to your dorm room. Why had he not tried Saiki's room first? "What are you doing here?" Kusuke only gave you a small smile, one that meant he had anything but pure intentions. He held up the bag he was holding in front of you.

"I come bearing gifts." On closer inspection, you realised it was books- textbooks. "Are those...?" You trailed off, recognising the names on the spine of the books. "It's to help you on your finals," Kusuke said matter of factly, and all you could do was stare at the bag, wondering how he had managed to get his hands on them when even you couldn't.

You didn't get a chance to utter a word of thanks- Saiki appeared behind you, pulling you back with a hand on your waist. You gazed up at him and watched as Saiki glared at his older brother, his laid-back demeanour from before completely gone.

'I knew it.'

'Woah, how'd you get here.'

'I teleported.'

'Go figure.'

"Get out." Was all Saiki said, not even greeting Kusuke as he stood in front of you. You stared at the back of his head, the pink engulfing most of your vision, before you stepped to the side to gaze over his shoulder at Kusuke.

The blonde only gave his brother a closed-eyed smile, one that you knew wasn't sincere. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" Saiki only narrowed his eyes at his older brother, and the two started a staring contest. “No.” You could only run your hand through your hair in exasperation, knowing full well that neither of them would yield and look away first.

You stepped past Saiki, banking on the fact that Saiki would read your thoughts- Kusuke would not leave; he would camp outside your dorm room door until you let him in. So you put your hand on top of Saiki's, which was on the door handle, softly taking it off before letting the blonde genius in with a sigh.

"Do you want tea- coffee?"

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

You leaned forward to take a sip of your coffee awkwardly. You gazed up from the mug's rim and observed the situation before you. Saiki and Kusuke sat parallel to each other while you sat at the end of the dining table in the small of your kitchen.

They stared each other down, and all you could think was how goddamn quiet it was, save for your occasional sipping. The tension in the room was so thick you swore you could cut it with a knife. One thing that never changed from high school was that Saiki still resented his brother.

You had tried to make small talk, but the conversation had quickly died out, and the two brothers decided to lock eyes for an incredibly long period. You wished to any higher power that would listen- that this was not how you were fated to spend the rest of your night.

The sipping of your coffee halted when you realised you had drank all of it, and with yet another sigh, you got up from your seat- only for both Saiki brothers to look over at you. "Anyone want a refill?" You asked, holding up your empty mug.

You felt uneasy with the sickly sweet smile Kusuke sent your way. You gave him a strained one in response, feeling awkward yet again under his sharp gaze. "I'd love more coffee, thank you." You looked to Saiki, the corners of your lips stretching in sincerity as if to ask him the same question. Saiki only shook his head to say no.

With that, you briskly made your way to the cabinets on the far left of the kitchen. You put on the coffee machine, the whirring doing well to fill the silence from before. You hummed to yourself as you rinsed the cups before setting them on the kitchen counter.

Getting the sugar was always the hardest part of making any warm brew. Saiki had a habit of putting it on the higher shelf; you always wondered why- since you were sure he knew you weren't tall enough to reach it. It was because he liked it when you called for him to help you.

With one hand on the lower shelf, you got on your tip toes and blindly shuffled your hand around so you could feel for the sugar. When you felt someone else's body heat very close to yours- on your back, you assumed it was Saiki coming to your rescue yet again, like he always did. Your eyes trailed to the hand that reached higher than yours to grab the sugar, and you felt a hand grab your hip.

That was when you heard one of the mugs you had set down earlier- shatter, the distant sound of thunder accompanying it, and you whipped your head around to be faced with someone's chest. Saiki hadn't come to help you; you realised as you slowly looked up at his older brother. It was Kusuke that had decided to get the sugar for you.

You recoiled from his touch on instinct, stepping to the side, away from the broken ceramic that had landed on the kitchen tile. You looked to Saiki, whose face was stone cold as he stood up from his seat slowly.

"Get out," Saiki said, his voice icy. All you could do was gulp, too scared to say anything. You had never seen Saiki look so pissed off before. "Come now, baby brother. I was just trying to help." Kusuke reasoned- his shit-eating grin still on his face. "You come uninvited and put your hands on what's mine. I won't say it again. Get. Out."

You were sure Kusuke realised that the young psychic wasn't in the mood for his games today, considering you watched his smile falter. "Alright, Alright." Kusuke lifted his hands as if to admit defeat and left soon after that.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

It had all happened so fast. You had no idea how you had ended up pressed against your dorm's door. Well- you did, but you still had trouble wrapping your head around it.

After Kusuke left, with Saiki practically dragging him by the collar and kicking him out the door, you hot on their heels- he had locked the door to make sure his older brother wouldn't get back in. He then turned to you, his expression cold as he watched you.

All you could do was gaze up at him silently, feeling small as Saiki practically towered over you. Curse you for finding him hot when he was angry. Why did he have to look so goddamn attractive when he was glaring down at you.

You parted your lips to speak but didn't even get a chance to say one word.

Your vision went blurry, and you let out an "Oomph!" when your body made contact with your front door. You inhaled sharply when you felt Saiki's hand lift your shirt before resting his hand on your hip. Curse you for being so sensitive to his touch.

"Why did you let him in?" Saiki asked, bending his head down so it was right next to your ear, and it took everything in you to hold in any sounds when you felt his hot breath fanning the side of your neck. "You know why." You tried to keep your voice steady.

You couldn't lie; you were turned on- and you were sure Saiki knew as well. He pressed his hips into you, and you had to brace yourself when you felt how hard he was through his pants.

Saiki's hand found purchase on your neck, he gave it a light squeeze, and you clenched your jaw. You squeezed your legs, wishing the shorts you were wearing weren't there. You wanted to feel him, feel his skin on yours.

"You let him touch you." A gasp escaped your mouth when he pushed you forward and trapped you against the door with his body. Your head was turned to the side; your cheek felt cold against the cool surface of your door next to your hands. "I thought it was you, that's wh-" You didn't get to finish your sentence; Saiki brought his hand up to cover your mouth.

You had to strain your neck to look at him, wondering what had gotten into him. Saiki's eyebrows were furrowed, and you watched as he clenched his jaw. That was when you felt his free hand make its way under your top. Your thighs clenched on instinct; his hands felt so warm. All you could do was squirm as Saiki traced circles into your skin.

You exhaled through your nose, trying not to struggle as he slowly made his way to your shorts. A muffled moan left your lips when his hand covered your pussy; you could tell he was teasing you on purpose. "Look how wet you are. Is that for him? For Kusuke?" All you could do was shake your head at the notion. You knew, and so did Saiki, that it was all for him. So why ask? A moment of weakness on his side.

You squeezed your eye shut when he rubbed slow circles around your clit. This was torture. You wanted him- needed him inside you, and yet here he was, taking his time. He pulled his hand out of your shorts abruptly, and all you could do was moan in protest at the loss of warmth.

He brought his hand up to your eye level. "You're dripping," Saiki stated, pulling his fingers apart so you could see the clear strings of arousal clinging to his fingers. "I've barely touched you, y/n." You closed your eyes in embarrassment. Damn him and his ability to turn you on so easily.

Saiki grabbed your hand roughly and dragged you to the kitchen. You had no idea what he had in mind. You realised when he pushed you in front of the kitchen counter, his hips going back to pressing against your ass. "Grab the sugar, y/n." Was he trying to rewrite what Kusuke did?

You didn't need to be told twice- the cabinet was already open, so all you had to do was try and reach for it. Easier said than done, considering it was still on the top shelf. You stood on your tip toes, struggling.

When you heard shuffling from behind you and the feeling of your shorts sliding down your thighs, you expected him to shove his dick inside you. What you didn't see coming was him just putting his dick between your legs. Your arousal made it easy for him to move against your pussy. "Don't make me repeat myself; get the sugar."

Now he was just being cruel; how were you supposed to focus with his dick so close to you? You raised your arm yet again to try and grab the sugar with no luck.

"Squeeze your legs together." You could only do as you were told, not wanting to piss him off even more. Every time he rocked his hips back and forth, his tip dragged against your clit. Saiki's breathing sped up, and all you could do was moan. You squirmed against him, wanting him to stop teasing you.

"Stop struggling." Saiki's hand wrapped around your front and pressed his body against yours to limit your movements. His hand reached between your bodies, and every now and then, he'd slip the tip in. You cried out as he edged you, stopping when he knew you were close to cumming- the sugar long forgotten.

Saiki's lips brushed against the side of your neck, his hand still covering your mouth. He pulled his tip out, going back to teasing your clit, and that was it. You couldn't hold back anymore, feeling the familiar sensation of all your muscles clenching as you ended up cumming.

Saiki didn't let you ride out your high, his hand releasing its hold around your mouth so he could grip your hips, shoving his dick inside you in one go. You gasped, crying out at the feeling of being so full. He didn't wait for you to get used to him like he usually would, setting a brutal pace as he slammed his dick into you over and over again.

Tears pricked the side of your eyes, finding it hard to breathe. Saiki grunted, one hand letting go of your hips so he could cup your tits underneath your shirt. When you used your free arm to reach out behind you, placing your palm on his thigh to try and slow his sharp thrusts, he grabbed your wrist, pinning it against on the kitchen counter.

"You're mine," Saiki stated, dragging your body back with his before placing his other hand to make you bend forward. He folded the arm you used to try and stop him behind your back and continued pounding into you. "Take it. Take it," You moaned as he kicked your legs further apart before speeding up.

He slowed down, rolling his hips into you, hitting your cervix every time he did, and you whimpered. He let go of your hip to grab your other arm, stretching them behind you and using them as leverage to fuck you. You cried out his name because that was all you could do.

Without warning, he let go of your arm so he could use his free hand to wrap it around your neck, and forced you to stand straight. With his dick still inside you, he lifted you up with ease and carried you to your bedroom.

Using telekinesis, he opened the door and placed all the textbooks and pens on your that were on your bed onto your desk before pushing you forward so you fell on the bed. "Turn around, y/n. We're not done." You listened to his instructions, turning your spent body to face him.

Saiki placed a knee on the bed, making his way toward you as he gripped the bottom of his shirt before raising it above his head to take it off. He did the same with your top, discarding it on the floor before grabbing your ankle to pull you to him.

Saiki didn't give you a chance to protest (not that you would), lining himself up with your pussy before pushing himself back in. He bent down so all his weight was on you, placing his head next to yours on the bed as he kept thrusting into you.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you down so you couldn't leave. You scratched at Saiki's back, unable to do anything else but moan at his fast pace. "I'm close. I'm gonna cum." You clenched your eyes shut, overstimulated. You could feel him in your gut, and it didn't help that he was trying to go as fast and deep as possible.

Saiki pinned your wrist against the bed, bringing his other hand up to cover your mouth. The sound of his hips slapping into yours, his pelvis rubbing against your clit, it was all too much. You came yet again, your thighs clenching at the feeling, but that didn't stop him.

He sped up, as if that was possible, fucking you until you were a mess and could barely think. "Say my name. Who do you belong to?" His hand left your mouth, and you threw your head back, pain and pleasure mixing into one. "You! I belong to you!" His name was all you could repeat, your back arching off the bed when you felt yourself cumming again.

Saiki grunted, trying to get as deep as he could. He filled you up with his cum, still thrusting as he emptied himself inside of you. "Cumming, cumming, cumming!" Saiki rolled his hips into yours slowly, making sure his cum was deep inside you.

You panted, feeling Saiki relax as he put all his weight onto you. All that could be heard was the sound of your breaths. You ran your free hand through his soft pink hair, "So this is what happens when you get jealous?"

"Shut up."

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bonus:

"Hey, Kusuo- what do we do with the textbooks?" You asked, holding up the bag on the kitchen table that Kusuke left for you. Saiki regarded it with one look, of disgust, and turned away from you. "Throw it away."

You furrowed your eyebrows at his remark, "But they'll help with the exams!" Saiki looked over his shoulder before turning back yet again so he could pay attention to the ramen he was cooking for you on the stove.

"I don't care. It's from him. Throw it."

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

next part - cause for celebration (coming soon!)

general taglist: @biscuit-buddy @gvthic-gvrl @dunnieko @milkierei @kyrasworld @baby-unidorn @moonflowerpetals @the-mellokid @bangtxnbby @alexiswheeze @tanzaniiite @mo0o0milk @omilkandhoneyteao @turntechsquishy @gukkarchive @peachesuck @hartbeat-art @franko-pop @ima-attention-whore @ola-is-dead @daisysinadarkmedow @froppysgirl @xjaelee @beanst0ck @llamaavocado @tanakassimp @kooksmono @loving-is-the-antidote @toebios @tvwhoresblog @delta-698 @victory-is-here @chuchaycha @saeranoppa @erinbing @draco-kasai @nocturnalcreature998 @just-snog-already @sunnsettee @saikikslut @juju-la-tortue @plutoneu @womanizerbucky @bakugohoex @thatasiandumbass @krazyotakunerd @totallyinlovewithsaiki @kenmascockwarmer @squishiyy @choridion @memorableminds @kyrah-williams @animeboysimppp @soft-levi-girl-blog @aunty-grandma @mindofess @beccawinter @valeriasannchez @unlimitedsimping @bigdumbobsessedbi @tanzaniiite @introvertatitsfinest @windex-princess-ami @knighted-princess @vernon-dursley @emeraldbluexxxx @iwachanslove @skelingtonfreak @dora-the-grownup @peachymichu @amaranth-fuchsia @strawberryjam8 @notaroyal @chaeyal @kuntent-t @heyitsmelilly @mango-bear @sugaamykookies @mrs-todo-roki @joyidonuts @hxney-lemcn @prlan @quiescentelle @alexloveskili @subtropicace @hoshi4k @echothepuff @kindalollipop @ameliabs-world @babyshoyo @animedweeb333 @celamoon @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @froggi666 @loser-keiji @lucilleifer @lunachelly @kaylenn @queenof-saigon @dudufodd @multifandomcat @fresa-luna @kohi-zeri  @anyaswrld @saltandapepper @scar8o @where-i-do-things @potatochic2003 @fishfetus @chaotic-fangirl-blog @acidicloveee @noodlenerd101 @aurorakingsley @crystalgman25 @healpeony @chims-kookies @track5enthusiast @mommymi1kers @aboveasphodel @strawberriesareprettycool @princeizuku @mythical-mushrooms13 @stellalorelei @cole-silas @queenof-saigon @thecupcakezombie @dudufodd @multifandomcat @multifandoms99 @skylarmoon119 @hyejoolips @soggyxfroggy @imkumichan  @honeyyslvt @theawkwardspork @gabile18 @magikmina @ampheenix @siriusly1 @elwasheree @itsskyvoltage @luna-astro @r4td0lll​​

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[theemporium]

[2.3k] when your boyfriend achieves a podium at his home race, it’s only right that you give him the reward he deserves. even if you only have fifteen minutes to do so. (smut)

part two

.

He had barely stepped off the podium before you were dragging him into his driver’s room.

Silverstone was always an important race, regardless of the racer. It was a historic track and an iconic race to drive in. It was one of those races—alongside Monaco—that every driver dreamed of winning, of standing on the podium and looking down at the cheering crowds. 

And for Lando Norris, it was also his home race. 

After the struggles the car had been putting him through all season, seeing his smiling face as he climbed off the car behind the number two sign made your heart swell on Saturday after qualifying. Watching him run towards his team, cheering and celebrating and slapping him on the back. 

For the first time in a long time, he felt hopeful this season. 

Then Sunday came along and it had been full of nerves and butterflies and silent prayers that your boy would do well, that the team wouldn’t screw him over. 

Truthfully, your faith wavered after the safety car pit stop that put Lando’s car on hards. You stood by his team and his parents, practically watching the release of the safety car between your fingers as you watched your boyfriend be squished between the Red Bull and the Mercedes, both on soft tyres. 

And then the fucking unbelievable happened. 

Your stomach flipped as you watched your boyfriend fend off the seven-time world champion. Your nails were digging into your palms as each corner came and went, and before you even realised it, the checkered flag was waving and Lando Norris crossed the line in P2. 

P2 in his own home race when even McLaren themselves doubted they would be able to pull it off. 

The roars of the crowd was surreal, the way they clapped and chanted as he walked out onto the podium. The way he lifted the trophy over his head, a massive grin split across his face. The way he hit the bottom of the champagne bottle off the podium, soaking himself and his fellow drivers until champagne was dripping off their bodies. 

You don’t think you had ever been as attracted to your boyfriend as you were in that moment, in that snapshot of seeing him be the happiest he had been in months. 

Lando, like the rest of the drivers, had around fifteen minutes to freshen up before they were whisked away to their media duties. 

You weren’t going to waste a single second of it. 

“Baby,” Lando laughed as you tugged him into his driver’s room, the door locked quickly behind you before you turned around to him. “What’s up—mphm.”

Your lips were against his before he could even finish his question. But talking was the last thing on his mind as his hands fell to your waist, bunching the fabric of your dress in his fists as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Congratulations, baby,” you murmured in between rushed kisses, your nails scratching along the back of his neck in the way that made him shiver. “You did so fucking well.” 

“Yeah?” He grinned in such a way that you didn’t know if your heart was going to beat out of your chest or if you were going to clench your thighs together in hopes it did something. “Feeling proud?” 

“So proud,” you mumbled before pulling him closer, but Lando just chuckled slightly.

“Baby, I gotta get changed for media,” he told you, squeezing your hips to exaggerate his point. “Someone is gonna come knocking in ten minutes—”

“So we have ten minutes?” you interrupted, your eyebrows raised in questioning.

“I mean, technically—” he started but that was more than enough. 

“We can do a lot in ten minutes,” you said to him, your eyes wide and eager and he felt something in his stomach clench. 

“Yeah?” he rasped. 

“Yeah, baby,” you grinned before you leaned forwards, your lips meeting his in a slower, meaningful kiss. “Let me show you how proud I am.” 

Lando gulped, only nodding his head in response. 

“Words, Lando. I need words.” 

“Fuck, please,” he all but whined as he ducked his head back down to meet your lips again. 

The grip he had on your hips was desperate, fuelled with a newfound need to have you. Ten minutes was more than enough time, plus the media team could always talk to the other drivers first. He wanted you, he needed you and he was going to have you—consequences be damned. 

The noise he let out was almost like a whimper, need and want so clear in his voice as the heel of your palm stroked along his length through his thick face suit. 

“Baby—“ Lando wheezed out, his eyes clenching shut as you began to undo the zipper of his suit. 

“Gonna give you want, pretty boy,” you murmured, your lips falling down to the skin peaking through his race suit as you finally began to start shrugging it off his shoulders. You leaned closer, kissing down his jaw and the column of his neck as your hands worked on getting him undressed. “Gonna make you feel good.” 

“You always do,” he breathed out, his voice a little shaky as he helped you pull his arms out, pushing the race suit until it was pooling at his knees. But before he could even try removing it the rest of the way, a hand on his chest stopped him. 

He watched you, his eyes focused on you like a hawk as your fingers traced along the waistband of his boxers. He reached for you, reached for the skirt of your dress but you swatted his hands away before he could even make a move. He opened his mouth, a small pout on his lips but he quickly fell quiet as he watched you sink to your knees. 

“Baby—”

“Be a good boy and stay quiet for me, yeah?” you asked, looking up at him with such an innocent expression that he could’ve blown his load there and then. 

“Promise,” he murmured, his heart beating against his ribs. “Gonna be your good boy.”

And you just smiled. A simple fucking smile and Lando knew that regardless of what you did, he wasn’t going to last long at all. 

His back was pressed against the thin wall of his driver’s room, his hands tightened into fists in his hand as he watched you. The way your nails traced along the length of him over his boxers, the way your eyes lit up as his cock jumped at the simple act. The way you leaned forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his clothed length as your hands wrapped around his thick thighs, watching the way he squirmed under your touch.

“Please,” he whined.

But you didn’t listen, your nails lightly raking up and down his thighs as his legs shook with a strong desire he had never felt before. He needed you. He needed to be inside you. He didn’t think he needed anything more than he needed you right now.

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers, slowly tugging the material down his legs until it was pooled at his knees with the rest of his race suit. He let out a soft hiss as the cool air hit him, the tip of his cock already leaking a small bead of precum. 

But before he could even get used to the cool sensation, you were leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, letting it lay heavy on your tongue.

“Shit,” Lando whined, his hips bucking on instinct and it was your hands pushing him back against the wall that made his eyes snap back open. He looked down at you, the tip of his cock in your mouth and your wide eyes staring at him, and he was starting to wish this was how every race ended. 

You bobbed your head further along the length of him, your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock as the tip brushed against the back of your throat before you pulled back. You pulled back until his tip was brushing against your lips, a thin line of salvia connecting them both as your hand moved to replace your mouth.

“You know what I want?” you asked, your voice a little raspy and low and it only made the blood rush to his cock. “You know all I thought about when you were up there?”

“What?” Because he knew, no matter what you asked, he would give you. He would give you anything you asked when you were on your knees in front of him with your hand wrapped around his cock.

“You,” it was as simple as that, if it weren’t for the fact you were reaching for his hands, slowly prying his fists open and guiding them towards you. “You taking out all that extra energy…on me.”

His stomach coiled in desire. “Baby—”

“Please, Lando,” you whispered, your tongue darting out to collect some precum leaking from his tip. “Just need to feel you inside me.”

And who was Lando to deny you? Who was he to not give you what you so desperately wanted and desired?

There was a voice in the back of his head that tried to remind him where he was. The same voice that was reminding him he had duties to uphold, he had journalists to talk to, he had a podium to celebrate with his team. The same voice that was reminding him that the locks on the driver rooms aren’t absolutely secure, that a hearty shove would be enough to get past it.

And yet, that voice in the back of his head was the last thing he was focused on.

Not when his pretty girlfriend was on her knees in front of him. Not when he had his fingers tangled in her hair as he guided her head up and down his cock. Not when his hips were thrusting, the debauched and needy sounds you were making as his cock hit the back of your throat echoing through the small room.

Not when Lando wanted to stay in this moment forever.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he reached closer and closer to the edge. “Feel so fucking good for me, so fucking good for me, baby.”

You moaned, the noise muffled and garbled but he felt the vibrations along the length of him all the same. You pushed your hands under his fireproofs, your nails scratching down his toned torso as his abs clenched softly under your touch.

“Like you were fucking made for me,” he muttered out, his voice a little breathy and whiny as he found himself clenching his eyes shut. “Shit, baby—”

His head fell back against the wall with a soft thump as he came, his cock still deep down your throat as he spilled inside your mouth. The noises he let out were pathetic and needy as his hips bucked up as your tongue teased the tip of his cock. He slumped back against the wall, his chest rising and falling with heavy pants and little white dots blurring his vision.

He let out a soft whimper as you finally pulled away from him, pressing a chaste kiss against the head of his cock before you began to pull his boxers back up. He let out a noise of aversion, trying to bat your hands away and instead pull you closer to him which he allowed.

“Lando—” you started but you didn’t get far before he had both hands on your cheeks, pulling your face to his so he could kiss you. He didn’t even care if he could taste himself on your tongue, he just needed to kiss you.

“I love you,” he sighed wistfully against your lips in between kisses.

“I love you too,” you murmured before pulling away, a hand on his chest to stop him from trying to kiss you again. “You need to go.”

He looked like a kicked puppy. “Why?”

“You have media, Lando,” you murmured with a soft smile, looking at your boyfriend’s flushed cheeks and glazed eyes. You almost felt bad that you would have to send him out like that. 

“Fuck the media,” he grumbled as he tried to lean down again, but you stopped him once again.

“Your team will kill you,” you snorted, shaking your head. “Go. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Lando let out a huff. “You give me the best goddamn blowjob of my life and expect me to just go about my life like everything is normal.”

You patted his chest. “You’ll survive.”

He sighed dramatically. “Barely.”

“Tell you what,” you said as you watched your boyfriend scamper around the cramped room to make himself look somewhat presentable before he headed out towards the media pen. “If you go out and be a good boy and do all your media duties, I’ll let you do whatever you want tonight.”

Lando paused, glancing up at you. “Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want,” you murmured, leaning to kiss him one last time before he left. “But only if you’re on your best behaviour.”

“Deal,” he blurted out quickly, a giddy smile spread across his face and something almost like mischief shining in his eyes. 

“That’s my boy,” you said with a fond smile. “My winner.”

Lando snorted. “I was P2, baby.”

“Like a winner to me, anyways,” you shrugged before you leaned down to playfully smack his ass as he walked past. “I’ve got my eyes on you, Norris.”

He flashed you a cheeky smile. “Keep ‘em up here, darling.” 

And you could only laugh when he barrelled back into his driver’s room two hours later, grinning like a cheshire cat as he did so.

“A deal is a deal, baby, gotta pay up now.”

So you did.

.

#lando norris #formula one #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #lando norris smut #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one oneshot #formula one smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot #f1 smut

[samkerrworshipper]

acl’s | sam kerr x reader

this is me trying to work through my devastation but it’s 3am, i’m crying and writing this on my phone. :( it’s a blurb btw

you have to admit the timing of the call should be a little bit of a shock.

it doesn’t cross your mind when your girlfriends contact pops up on your phone, but in hindsight it probably should.

it’s not odd for sam to call you multiple times a day when she’s away on camp, if she has a spare minute here or there, so you are delighted when you see her face pop up on your screen.

you press the green button almost immediately, pulling your phone up to rest at your ear.

“Hiya chook, how’s the weather treating you?”

When you don’t get an immediate response you become a little bit worried, but nothing abnormal.

“Y/n? It’s Emma here.”

It’s when the voice of your fiancés coach hits your ears that you are immediately worried.

“Emma, what can I do for you?”

You’ve talked to Emma hundreds of times, but you can tell from her voice that this is different.

“Look, Sam’s just come off the pitch after a little incident, it’s looking like she’s done her ACL.”

Your gut wrenches, and it takes all of your power to stop your lunch from pouring out across the dining table your sat at.

“What?”

Your head immediately begins to reel, 9 months. That’s the Olympics, Emma’s last season at Chelsea, so many things that Sam has over this year that are now done.

Your mind goes back to Sam’s previous ACL injury, how she’d talked about how it had been the hardest thing mentally and physically for her, that it was almost the end of her career.

“It’s not looking good, we’ll have to wait until she’s had scans to confirm the severity but both her and our doctors are fairly certain it’s her cruciate ligament.”

You take a deep breath, fuck.

“Okay, okay. Is she okay?”

It’s a stupid question, of course she isn’t okay, she’s done her fucking acl, but your concern goes further than her obvious injury.

“She’s in a lot of pain, and she’s pretty torn up. Millie has been keeping her company but all she wants to do is talk to you.”

You nod your head, you know you shouldn’t have to prepare yourself to talk to her but you take your time to take a deep breath, keep yourself strong for her.

“Can you put her on for me please, Emma?”

You hear some bustling around.

“Of course, she wanted me to call you to get the facts straight, but i’ll put her on now.”

You hear a little bit more bustling before complete silence, and that seems to be your queue.

“Sammy, honey?”

You hear a deep, laboured breath crackling from the other side of the phone.

“I’m here.”

Her words are strung out, you know that Sam will be trying her hardest to keep it together, she simply isn’t one to be publicly over emotional, no matter the situation.

“Hi honey.”

You know the best thing right now is to leave her to talk about her injury, you leave ghe ball in her court.

“My whole year is over.”

You hear her voice break, and you know that she’s crying even though you can’t hear any sobs or evidence of tears.

“I’m right here chook, so are all the girls, whatever you need.”

When you hear a sob, it takes everything you have to not start crying with her.

“Need to see you, need you here.”

Sam’s not a needy person, so to hear her asking for something like this is concerning to you.

“How about I turn on facetime chook, will that make you feel a bit better?”

When you hear a little murmur of a ‘yes’ you click the button, waiting for it to connect once she accepts the request.

It’s a matter of seconds before you are met with the visual of Sam, her head resting on Millie's shoulder on a physio bed, tears cascading freely down her olive skin.

“Oh Sammy honey.”

She only begins to cry more, and you are fairly certain once this call ends you’ll be rushing straight to the bathroom to expel all of the bile that’s built up in your throat.

“I’m supposed to be captain, I need to be okay, I need to play the olympics, I couldn’t play the fucking world cup. This could be my last major tournament.”

You want to tell her that she’s being ridiculous, but it would achieve nothing, Sam needs to feel validated in her feelings right now, not like you and the whole world are against her.

“Sam this isn’t your fault, you couldn’t have avoided it, it was just a stupid freak accident, unfortunately it happens in the sport you play.”

Sam looks so broken, Millie’s matching her energy, the normally energetic blonde looking very sullen.

“What if this is it for me?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, it’s a stupid statement but a very real feeling that Sam has.

“Sam, how about I come to Morocco? I’ll catch the next flight out, and i’ll come and be there for you, is that something you want?”

You don’t want to step over her boundaries, but just the look on her face tells you that she needs to be comforted, she needs to cry and whilst her teammates are great, Sam is never going to be that vulnerable in front of them.

“You don’t have to.”

Her own statement contradicts every single feeling you can see inside her.

“I want to.”

Sam’s tears only begin to fall heavier.

“Please, I need you.”

#woso #woso community #sam kerr appreciation post #sam kerr imagine #i love sam kerr #samantha may #sweet sam #sam kerr x reader #sam kerr #screaming crying throwing up #woso imagine #woso imagines #chelsea wfc #chelsea women #acls #fuck acls

[harmonictechnicality]

It’s 1998 and Steve Harrington is waiting in line at a local department store’s Black Friday sale. The new gameboy color was just released a few days earlier - he figures it’ll be the perfect Christmas gift for all of his little dweebie friends.

Eddie Munson is standing directly behind Steve in line. He’s waiting to buy a new guitar amp - been saving his tip money for months and still can’t afford one at full price; he desperately needs any discount he can get.

After about the first hour of waiting, Steve notices Eddie mumbling to himself. Counting, then re-counting the money in his wallet. Steve Harrington has never re-counted money in his life. Never had to worry about not having enough. Especially not like this guy.

They spark up a conversation in the third hour of waiting. Steve compliments Eddie’s industrial bar piercing in his left ear. Eddie compliments Steve’s beaded hemp bracelet. Steve explains that his best friend made it for him after their first summer apart from one another.

By the final hour, they’re both tipsy. Eddie brought a thermos of spiked hot chocolate and offers to share it with Steve. Both of them tell stories about their worst hangovers and reminisce about their most memorable Christmas mornings as kids. They’re both buzzing and giggling at the stupidest shit. Buzzing so much that they don’t even comment on the fact that they’re huddled close together under the wool blanket that Steve supplied. Thighs touching. Arms overlapping.

Steve has finally worked up the courage to loop his pinky finger around Eddie’s when the line begins to move. He’s more than a little disappointed, but they both gather their things and enter the store.

Luckily, Steve is able to snag enough gameboys for his entire crew of nerdlings. As he gets in line, he watches Eddie studying the price on the amp he has been saving for. He re-counts his cash once more, before hanging his head and walking away without his item.

Not wasting a goddamn second, Steve jumps out of line and grabs the amp box off the shelf. Eddie looks back at him, shaking his head.

“Hey man, you don’t have to do that.” Eddie pleads with him.

But Steve has never had to worry about not having enough. Not even once.

“I know I don’t have to.” Steve shrugs, lugging all of his items to the checkout counter. “But it’s the season of giving, or whatever hallmark shit they say.”

Eddie protests a few more times, but Steve is adamant on doing this. It feels right.

As they walk out of the store, Eddie digs in his back pocket, pulling out a wrinkled neon flyer.

“You should come see my band next Friday.” Eddie hands the paper to Steve, then motions to the amp. “You know, to see this beauty in action.”

Steve nods. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.”

The sun is starting to rise as they both load up their cars. Steve is about to turn the key in the ignition when he acts on his impulses. He runs up to Eddie, who is closing the trunk of his van.

“Here.” Steve grabs Eddie’s wrist and pulls out a black ink pen. He scribbles his phone number there, only legible enough for Eddie to read it.

“Just in case you want to see me before next Friday.”

Steve walks away before he can see Eddie’s reaction, good or bad. He’s brave, but not that brave.

“Hey, Steve!” Eddie calls back.

“Yeah?” Steve takes a deep breath, then turns around. Can’t avoid his reaction now.

"Thank you for this." Eddie winks. "All of this."

He waves his wrist, the one with Steve's phone number sprawled all over it.

"Anytime." Steve answers back. He heads back to his car full of gifts. Smiling the whole ride home.

Eddie calls Steve that Sunday night and they spend their evening just like they had on Black Friday: talking until the sun comes up.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #just to get everyone in the spirit of the holidays #seasonal steddie is very special to my heart

[totaly-obsessed]

can you write for mary where readers ment to be away working but shows up at an important game and surprises her

Two-Week Notice

Mary Earps x reader request

-> Domestic fluff, reader can't attend Mary's game but surprises her.

-> Also for this request

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Meeting Mary had been one of the best moments in your life. Not because it was such a nice or cute moment, but because it let Mary into your life – bettering it by a hundred times.

The goalkeeper had just moved into a new Apartment building after joining Manchester United after a season at Wolfsburg, and she had not met anyone in her building. Life had come at the 26-year-old hard and fast.

And just as fast came the first fire alarm at her new place, and while she had been warned that the alarm often malfunctioned, she would not take any chances. After a quick walk through her apartment, checking that every window was closed and that she had grabbed her essentials, she was out the door into the flooding rain.

You however had lived in the building for a while and should have a routine by now when you were rudely ripped out of your well-deserved sleep. But you did in fact not have a routine, panicking every time.

This day was no different.

You were the last one out of the building, as usual – with no jacket. The rain was not something that you took notice of at first, too shocked that there actually was a fire in the building. It was a taller woman, with a very friendly smile who made you aware. “Aren’t you cold, love?”

As if a switch had been flipped, you started to shiver. “Forgot my jacket.” Mary was a goner the second she saw you shivering in the cold rain, the only thing in your hands, being a pillow, while she had her entire training kit.

The footballer didn’t hesitate to extend her jacket around you, effectively pulling you so close to her, that you could feel the heat radiating off of her. “You don’t mind, do ya?”

That was the beginning of something wonderful. Before you started dating, many evenings were spent together as ‘friends’ cooking and watching movies together. You listened to Mary moan about training and her teammates and she would sit and listen to you complain about your annoying co-workers who apparently could not function without you.

And while it was easy to fall in love with Mary, it was even easier to love her.

It took two months until you officially started dating each other. The first move was made by Mary who just sat you down one evening and asked you out on a date. Just like that, with a calm and collected mind, like she was playing one of the biggest games of her life.

A year later you moved into her apartment. It was the bigger one and your lease came to an end. If the two of you were being honest you could have moved in with each other the second you started dating – you could practically count the days you had spent in your own four walls on one hand.

One of Mary’s favorite parts of living together was the joined naps. Most of the time when she had come home from training you were on the couch napping, trying to stay awake until the goalkeeper came home, but you never quite managed – too tired from the early shift you had worked. After changing she would join you on the couch, setting an alarm so that you would not sleep away the day.

Waking you from your slumber was another one of the brunettes’ favorite moments. You were just so cute. Scrunched nose, red cheeks, and adorable whining that it was much too cold. Mary tended to stare at you, tempted to let you sleep longer, before she eventually just kissed you awake, making you giggle – a noise she loved oh so much.

Once it was later at night and time for bed came the playful fighting. Your favorite topic to fight about? The blanket and Mary’s tendency of stealing it, which was bad enough, but also denying it – blaming it on you.

“Mary, stop hogging the blanket!” She was curled up in it like a burrito, leaving you with just a corner of it. “Mary? Who’s Mary? My name is Baby, or Love, or literally anything else.” She had turned over to you lightning fast when you had called her by her government name, clearly offended by it.

“Okay, ‘literally anything else’ move over, I wanna be warm.” A shriek of speechlessness filled the room when a mischievous smile took over her face. Carefully she unwrapped the blanket, and just as you thought that you had gotten what you wanted and could finally head to bed – she pounced.

“Mary, no. No. No! Don’t you dare! Mary!” your incredibly strong girlfriend had jumped up from the bed, picking you up and holding you like a baby, making you unable to move. You thrashed in her arms as well as you could. “I’m mad, Mary! Put me down. Put me dooown!”

Whining took over the room as you struggled, eventually making Mary lose her balance but before she dropped you and herself, she just threw her body forward, taking you with her, toppling onto the bed.

Silence filled the room for a minute, both of you lying on the messy bed. “Are you still mad?” Instead of answering you pressed your ice-cold feet onto Mary`s very warm back. Swears and shrieks left her mouth as she took your feet in her hands and jokingly rolled you over, straddling your lap. “Let’s see where this night is going, ey cheeky?”

---

---

One of your favorite aspects of living together, aside from getting to hang out with the love of your life for the entire day, was a joined wardrobe. In the beginning, both of you had sections in the huge dresser and wardrobe, but over time your section was left untouched and Mary kept missing things.

“Baby, have you seen my blue Nike hoodie?” The goalkeeper wanted to wear it to a nice night in with the Manchester City girls, but could not find it anywhere. “No! Try the bathroom.” Of course, you had seen the hoodie. You were in fact wearing it, but you hoped, that Mary wouldn’t notice.

At first, she did not, searching the entire apartment before flopping down on the couch, burying her face in your chest – when she noticed that the blue of your hoodie was familiar. “Baby, that’s mineee.” She whined at you, trying to take it off you. “Love – please no. It’s so cold without it.”

For ten long minutes Mary tried to get her clothes back when she discovered that you were also wearing her joggers and socks – but it was useless. She caved once she saw your cute pout. With a loud huff, she went back to the bedroom, getting dressed in a green version of the same hoodie. “Baby, we’re matching – look!” You excitedly held out your arm, showing the material to a very unimpressed lioness. “I think I should join you for dinner.”

“Nu-uh! You don’t deserve it – thief!” But once Mary was opening the front door, she turned to you, asking why you were not ready. She clearly didn’t expect you to be actually dressed.

But alas you were and accompanied her to dinner. While she acted all mad about it, you knew that she loved it – she loved seeing you with her teammates who took such great care of you.

The joined closet was a mutually loved concept – you loved wearing Mary’s clothes and she loved seeing you in them.

---

---

As much as you loved being a WAG, and attended every match Mary played, sometimes it just didn’t work out. That was the case for the quarterfinal of the European Championships on home soil, here in England. The girls were playing against Spain, a feisty match, an incredibly important one at that.

And you? Stuck at work.

Why? Because the men in your company decided to punish you, ‘losing’ the form you had handed in as a request to get the day off. So there you were, stuck at work while Mary was preparing for one of the most important games of her life – without you.

Not only did you have to be at work which was already annoying but your colleagues were weaponizing their incompetence more than usual, making you do everything. Just 20 minutes after kick-off you have had enough. So you stood up, entered your boss's office, and handed in your two-week notice that you had filled out for a while now.

And with that, you just left. Ignoring your boss and colleagues who told you that you could not just leave.

Ten minutes later you entered the Falmer stadium, joining Mary’s parents in the family section who immediately ushered you off to the changing rooms. It was eerily silent as you sat down in Mary’s cubby, fidgeting with her second pair of gloves.

Just a few minutes later you could hear a bunch of cleats hitting the floor, a nervous chatter filling the hallway. Leah was the first to enter, eyes wide in surprise when she saw you. But the skipper did not say anything, as did the others who followed.

As usual, Mary was one of the last people, busy talking to Millie about what they needed to change. She nearly just sat down on you, when she finally noticed. “Baby! I thought you couldn’t come!” Kisses were spread all over your face, the brunette being teased by the other lionesses.

Quietly you explained how you had gotten there, your girlfriend happy that you finally quit, when Sarina and the coaching staff joined the girls in the room. Mary had pulled you on her lap, holding you as close to her as she could, trying to calm down and compose her thoughts.

With a good-luck kiss on her lips and gloves she left for the pitch again. Alessia and Ella followed, also wanting a good-luck kiss on their foreheads, and soon the entire squad of the lionesses had gotten a forehead kiss from you – Mary watching with curious eyes.

---

The second half was tense, especially after Esther scored in the 54th minute. But it was a freshly substituted Ella who got the equalizer in the 84th before Georgia shot the game-winning goal in the 96th. But there were still 20 minutes to go, and Mary did brilliantly.

2-1 to England and the crowd erupted in cheers once the final whistle sounded.

It was Millie and Lucy who had made their way over to you, lifting you over the barrier and onto the pitch – just to be tackled by Ella. “Your kiss helped! Ya must be my lucky charm now.” The excited brunette kissed your cheeks over, and over again, giggling in excitement.

“Get your own good-luck charm Tooney!” Mary had finally gotten to you, pulling you out of Ella’s hands and into a bruising kiss that left Ella squealing. “It's like watching my parents make out!” But you were met with whistles and claps on the back by other lionesses, who laughed at Ella’s reaction.

“I don’t think you have a choice to be at the next game, babe. Good luck charm of the whole team.” Your girlfriend’s smile was infectious, making you laugh as well, knowing damn well that you would be there at the semi-final even if hell froze over.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso imagines #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #mary earps x reader #mary earps

[adventuringblind]

Mr. Blue Sky

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

Genre: Fluff

Request: Yes, I loved every second of this. Y'all are welcome to send me your own ideas :)

Summary: After Max gets cheated on, he can't stand being in the house where it happened. Reader and Charles take him in and show him he's still loved.

Warnings: cheating

Notes: No hate to Kelly. I just needed this as a plot point.

Fun fact: my mom calls Valentine’s Day ‘legislative love day’ and will only do any remotely related activities on the 15th because she has a point to prove.

Masterlist

The sound of Charles' phone buzzing at an ungodly hour is what you woke up to. The room is still pitch black, and you can hardly make out Charles in the bed.

He rolls over and pucks up the phone. "It's Max." He states. Voice filled with the sleep from which he was dragged.

He answers the phone, and you curl up into him, hoping to listen in. "Max? Are you-"

You can hear faint mumbling and the occasional choked sob on the other end of the line. "Breathe, Max. I'm going to come get you. Can you stay on the phone with me?" Charles is throwing off the covers and looking for his car keys.

You look at Charles for some sort of answer. To which Charles pulls the phone away from his ear and kisses your head. "Kelly cheated. I'm going to go get him."

You nod your head in understanding. You clamber out of bed and see Charles off to the door.

Your grateful that Monte Carlo is a small city and that it doesn’t take long for him to come back. His body shouldering a drunk Max through the door.

Max is no coherent and reeks of alcohol. His eyes are puffy and his cheeks tear stained. His lips tremble as them mutter words neither of you can understand.

Your heart hearts for him. You and Charles had made an effort to be around the Dutch. You both actively became friends with him and found yourselves in each others company often.

And did you both end up falling for the same pair of blue eyes? Yes.

It was actually Charles who brought it up first. You’d never considered the idea of being with more then one person. Then you got to know Max and you found yourself considering more often then you’d admit.

Neither of you knew if Max would ever be into that and neither of you wanted to ask. The possibility of ruining what is currently a good friendship was not on the to-do list. Plus, he had Kelly and P.

You shake of your thoughts and help Charles get Max into the guest bed. You and him do your best at cleaning him up and making him comfortable despite the fact he is less then cooperative.

When you two are finally back in your own bed, Charles sighs in pained defeat. “She cheated on him while he was out with P.”

You cringe in disgust. “Has it been going on long?”

“Apparently so. About four months.” Charles climbs further into the blankets and pulls you into his chest. “He gave her the apartment. He was out late because he didn’t know where to go.”

“We could offer him a place here for the time being.” You suggest. The slightest hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

“Pretty sure you are just wanting to see more of him.” He chuckles. “But yes, I think it’s a good offer until he figures things out.”

“Don’t lie, you stare at him all the time! You’re going to be the one who outs us.”

“Shush amour. I’m exhausted and I know you are also. Now sleep.”

~

The week brings interesting events. Max does take the offer to move in, though he’s been quiet and reserved since he started staying with you. Max, Charles, and Lando went back to, now Kelly’s apartment, to get his stuff.

He comes back into the house crying. His heart shattered and the apartment a mere reminder of the events that occurred.

Your grateful it’s the off season and Max will hopefully have some time to process before the start of the new season. You and Charles don’t push him and give him space when he needs. Though you also invade when you can see he’s spiraling. Desperate attempts at not letting him go into those dark places are often just you being in the same room as him.

~

By the time Christmas rolls around, he’s doing the slightest bit better. He’s been out of the room more and you haven’t had to force him to eat. He decorates the apartment with you and Charles.

It’s disastrous.

The three of you can’t stop laughing at the mess you’ve made of the decor.

The three of you spend Christmas Eve with Charles’ family. Max hadn’t wanted to go home to his less then festive father and Victoria was away with her in-laws.

You obviously weren’t going to leave him alone and Pascale had been thrilled when he said he’d come to dinner.

You could tell he felt awkward and out of place at first, but everyone did their best to make him feel welcome. Soon he was relaxing, sipping on his drink and engaging in conversation.

~

Christmas and new years had gone by to fast. January had now descended and the cold weather had yet to completely let up.

Originally you thought Max would be out by now. That he’d want his own space as soon as possible. It’s not like he couldn’t afford it. Yet he stayed and you and Charles welcomed him in.

Max was seemed like he was healing. His eyes had regained their light. The one they lost those first days of December. He definitely hadn’t moved one though. You and Charles could still hear the soft sniffles from his room at night.

He may be smiling, but he’s still broken hearted.

The most interesting new additions are the cats. The felines that are Max’s children. He would probably murder for his cats and become the next John Wick. There is something wholesome and sweet about his interactions with his pets.

Charles on the other hand has a bad relationship with animals in general. Small felines included. He like them, they just don’t like him back yet. Max has been letting him feed them until they realize he is nice.

You also have learned that you can share meal prep with Max. You’d banned Charles from it after he tried once and failed miserably. Max isn’t the best in the kitchen, but he helps out and cooks some nights.

~

February. The month of love.

Everything around reminds Max of what happened. How he will not be doing anything special for the holiday. He doesn’t even want to go out of the apartment and you and Charles have to drag him to go get fresh air.

The fateful day comes around and you and Charles have agreed to keep it small.

Corny, sweet, and romantic is Charles definition of a good day and treats you accordingly.

You try to get Max to come eat something but end up just leaving it at the door.

Despite what people may think, Max is romantic at heart. Charles learned this last year when the Monegasque asked him if he was doing anything with Kelly for the holiday.

You and Charles are lounging on the sofa with a movie playing in the background. His arm draped around you and mouth pressing silly kisses along your jaw.

“I can feel your worry radiating from here.” Charles stops his kisses and you roll your eyes at him in response.

“He’s not eaten all day and I’ve heard him crying. Just wish I could help is all.”

Charles hums in your ear. “We could see if he wants a distraction.” He punctuates his sentence with a cheeky smile.

“Charles Perceval Leclerc! You can not seriously be suggesting what I think you are.” You playfully bat his arm. “I highly doubt he would neither want that or like that.”

“How about we ask and then go from there.”

“I think you just want him to fuck you.” This time it’s your turn to give a cheeky smile.

~

This is definitely not how you envisioned asking Max about this would go. His teary eyes haven’t looked away from Charles since the pretty male started talking.

This left you in an odd place of trying to read his reactions and getting absolutely nothing.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to or if you’re not into it. We would completely understand.” Charles laughs but you can tell he’s nervous. His body language betrays him.

Max looks between the two of you like he’s considering something. “You’re telling me you’ve both been crushing on me since last year? And I didn’t notice?”

“You’re very oblivious at times.” You shrug.

“That’s fair but also not the point.” Max stands up out of the bed and starts pacing. “I just don’t understand why me. You two are amazing people and you’re so great together.”

“Y/N has a numbered list of reasons in her phone that we’ve created in case this ever happened.” Charles looks at you expectantly but Your already pulling up the list.

“-please don’t read it I’m already blushing and that will make it worse. Maybe one day but not now.”

All of you freeze at the fact he insinuated a future.

“Does this mean you like us back?” Charles almost purrs. He’s so flirty now but if this goes farther then just a confession tonight he’ll be stuttering and weak in the knees. You know from experience.

Max is the stuttering mess right now however. He’s lost all of his words and is simply gesturing with his hands.

“Breathe Maxy, take your time.” He manages a few and usable to get a grip on his thoughts.

“I’ve to confess something first.” You both look at him expectedly but don’t push him. “The reason Kelly cheated on me is because she’d found a journal of mine. It was a thing my therapist told me to do and so I did. When you two started coming around more, I fell hard. For both of you. I wrote about to hopefully understand myself better and get the thoughts out of my head but they stayed and I hated myself for it. She read it and thought I cheated first so she just did it back.”

He’s in the verge of tears again but you and Charles can only stare I’d utter disbelief. Apparently, both of you are also oblivious.

“Please say something.”

“I think it must be fate.” Again that smirk is tugging at Charles lips.

The air in the room is replaced by a new tension. The kind Charles was originally insinuating before you three started talking.

“So about that proposal then…”

Valentine’s Day definitely couldn’t have ended any better.

#x reader #fanficion #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 #racing #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #angst #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #redbull racing #formula racing #charles leclerc fic #f1 #scuderia ferrari #max verstappen x charles leclerc #lestappen #redbull f1 #redbull #ferrari formula one #orange army #forza ferrari #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagine

[princess-tulip-writes]

honey bun • poly!batboys

genre: smut

summary: reader is ovulating, so her three mates make it their mission to get her pregnant by pumping her full.

a/n: this piece serves two meanings: my 1k special, with a dedication to my lovely @redbleedingrose for both the idea and a lil gift. i hope you all enjoy!

you knew that the moment you agreed to move into town house with all three of your mates that it was going to be very chaotic— sexy, but chaotic.

and mother, were you right.

everyday was something new, adventurous and full of love, even though each male had a different way of expressing their love, communicating was never much of an issue. you were spoiled rotten by the three illyrian’s, both emotionally and financially, and never doubted the amount of love they had for you.

although, they were very wholesome and sweet, they sure could fuck like they hated you— especially during fertility season.

“fuck, get ready take another load, baby.” cassian grunts out into your shoulder, feeling his balls tighten as he ruts into you.

you were already pumped with your high lord’s cum, twice, and you knew there was four more rounds of semen to come before you were anywhere near finished for the night— not that you were complaining.

it was like a dream to be pumped full with not only one, but three different sets of illyrian cum, and at least two times each at that. the consequences being a sore cunnie the next morning and a possible babe announcement next month; exactly what they were hoping for.

cassian came seconds after for the first time that night, joining his brother’s sticky mess inside of your womb with his own. his heavy breathes cascaded off of the skin of your neck and sent shivers down your whole body, your shaking legs tightening around his waist and pulling him in deeper— if that was even possible.

“f-fuck, your cunt’s so lovely.” he chuckled into your shoulder, but the laughter faded into a whimper as the new sensitivity of his cock came apparent when you became tighter around him.

the both of you took a breath before the general slowly pulled out of your dripping pussy with a hiss, and softly pushed back into the sopping mess of your cunt.

“so fucking messy in here now.”

a dark chuckle sounded from the right side of the bed, snapping you out of your subby and filled headspace as butterflies abrupt within you from the familiar sound.

rhysand.

you turned your attention to the male, eyes quickly finding his violet ones and softening them as he takes in your fucked out state. the smirk on his face gentles, yet the fist around his cock doesn’t flatter.

he cocks his head at you, a tell of his fake sympathetic mood.

“awe, my darling, do you feel full already?” he asks softly.

you babble an incoherent agreement, one that only your mates would understand, followed by a fast nod and a whimper as cassian hits your sensitive gummy walls over and over and over until your stomach knots again.

your mates knew too well that you were close again, and the two beside you quicken the pace on their cocks as the one inside of you fucks you faster, ignoring the painful sensitivity of his cock.

“look at me, pretty girl.”

azriel.

you obeyed thoughtlessly, immediately directing your eye contact to the shadowsinger, where your head had been laid on his thigh all night.

“good, good girl.” his free hand found the side of your face, grimacing at the left over saliva on your cheek where rhysand had licked a few tears away earlier, but smiled down at you anyway.

“wanna cum baby?” he asked gently, eyes intently watching yours for hesitation or pain but was met with an enthusiastic nod instead. “you can cum then, princess. go ahead.”

with a small scream and a harsh arch of your back, you did. you clenched tightly around cassian’s cock once more, creaming around the thick base and pushing some illyrian cum out accidentally.

“such a pretty girl.” rhysand spoke as he watched the way your body shook. “one more round from you cass, then it’s azriel’s turn.”

“ ‘s not gonna be long then.” cassian responded, feeling the euphoria of another orgasm closely approaching as his strong hips picked up inside of you, slamming into your hips roughly and undoubtedly bruising them.

you didn’t seem to mind, in fact they all recall watching you buck you hips to meet his, as if you were begging for another fill of his cum.

a wish that would very soon be fulfilled.

“she wants it, cassian.” azriel encouraged. “she wants it so bad.”

with a loud growl, warm liquid coated your walls once more and joined the other three puddles in your womb.

the male above you shook lightly, huffing out breaths as he regained his strength to switch. but you were too tight, too warm, too wet to pull out of, a drug cassian shamelessly become addicted to as he stilled his hips.

after a minute too long, the oldest brother shoved at the male’s shoulder with a hiss that meant ‘move’.

“you’re lucky she likes you so much, brother.” he groaned before reluctantly removing himself.

though he didn’t roll over without a ‘thank you’ kiss to your lips, slipping his tongue along your own quickly before joining rhysand against the head board.

“my turn, isn’t it, beautiful?” azriel mumbled to you, his thumb stroking your jaw softly as he carefully slid his thigh from under your neck and slipping off the bed. “do you need a break?”

as usual, you shook you head to the offer as you made grabby hand motions at him, watching your mate position himself between your thighs with a lazy smile on both your faces.

his eyes studied your face for any pain or discomfort as he tapped the head of his hungry cock on your clit lightly, teasing you just as he always did.

“put it in, please.” you whined causing all three of your mates to chuckle softly at your eagerness for the spymaster’s cum.

rhysand quirked an eyebrow at you. “i don’t remember you being in any place to call the shots, darling.”

before you could apologize, azriel slipped inside of your aching cunt, still standing between your legs but his eyes moved onto your harden nipples. memories of sucking on them previous to your first load of cum of the night flashed through his mind as your lip wobbled at your lord’s scolding tone.

“leave her be, rhys. it’s not her fault her womb loves my cum so much. is it, princess?”

you shook your head, babbling another incoherent version of ‘no’.

“gods, she is so fucking full. so much godsdamn cum inside this cunt, it’s practically leaking out.” azriel hissed to his brothers as seed poured around his cock with each inch deeper that he pushed inside.

“don’t worry, she won’t let it spill, will you, sweetheart?” cassian cooed at you.

“n-no, i-i-i promise.”

azriel smirked at you proudly, and increased the speed of his hips for you.

you gasped when his cock directly pounded into your spongey spot, and you could feel another orgasm approaching already.

“good fucking girl.”

before azriel could announce your impending arrival, rhysand kneeled beside your face, hands cradling your cheeks. confusion spread across your face as he maneuvered your head to his liking, but you understood once the leaking head of his cock pressed to your lips.

“i’d hate to waste my cum, darling, but i’m afraid i can’t wait.” he explained. “open up.”

#the bat boys 🦇 #rhysand x reader #rhysand smut #azriel x reader #azriel smut #cassian x reader #cassian smut #poly bat boys #poly acotar #acotar x reader #acotar smut #acotar blurb #a court of thorns and roses smut #acotar x reader smut #azriel 🌷 #rhysand 🌷 #cassian 🌷

[seikkoi]

ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ | natasha romanoff x hacker!reader

18+ minors DNI

warnings: mentions of alcohol, arguing, harsh language, explicit s*xual content

genre: angst, a lil fluff, a lil sm*t

word count: 2,060

a/n: reader is gender-neutral

You've spent far too long trying to be more than just a warm bed for the infamous Black Widow.

Oh, Natasha’s a poison alright.

An intoxicating, slow moving poison that captures everything it encounters. Her recent favor of the season’s no exception- hooked on something that kills you. 

It’s not like Nat physically hurt, not at all. The problem was quite the opposite. Nat provided you near limitless pleasure at one cost-it’d never be love. That hurt worse than any physical pain the poor woman could imagine. The nights in the Black Widow’s bed would continue to stagger so long as that was understood.

You would never be Nat’s- no matter how much you wanted to be.

Despite her making this quite clear when you first expressed your interest, you couldn’t help longing for it. You’d had been her mission half a year ago, and quite the challenging one indeed. A propensity for computers coupled with a shitty moral compass led you to a lifetime of digital crime. The ante only seemed to raise every year, the stakes rising alongside the payment. You were good enough to get a job going after SHIELD, but not good enough to actually succeed. The client was pissed, and money was lost, but you shook it off.

When you awoke to the barrel of a gun and cold, beautiful eyes, you realized you didn’t cover your tracks well enough, either. 

Thankfully, Fury was more interested in hiring you than killing you. 

You hadn't been more than twenty four hours away from her since that day. At first, not intentionally. The next night, Nat took you out for drinks- mostly to make you feel less like a target. 

It’d turned out that you two had great chemistry- talking the night away until it bleeded into the morning. She spoke about the Red Room, and how the Avengers gave her a second chance. It helped you feel better about your own morally gray life. 

Many, many drinks and swapped secrets later, and your hands are full of red hair, mouth absorbed in the same woman who might’ve killed you a day ago. While your eyes are fluttering, Natasha’s hands disappear behind your pants, telling you how happy she is that you decided to join them. 

Maybe it’s because she doesn’t leave in the morning, or because she invited you over again that night, but you thought it meant something. To make matters worse, Natasha seldom held anything back from you- the good, the bad, or the ugly. You were the same, sharing parts of your life that made you see your relationship as more than just a consistent hookup or even friends. 

About a month and a half in, Natasha frustrately picked the lock to your apartment after waiting twenty minutes for you to answer. She walked into your bedroom to find you typing away at lit-up monitors, absorbed in your work, headphones muffling any phone calls or impatient knocks. 

You flinched at the sudden removal of your headphones, gazing up to an angry scowl. To her dismay, this wasn’t the first time you’d gotten lost in your work and forgot she was coming by. The assassin was adamant that if you just gave her a key, this wouldn’t happen. You playfully joked that giving her a key would denote commitment. The red-haired woman laughed at the suggestion to the tune of your heart cracking.

In all the nights and weekends following, Natasha would continue to do things that left you feeling insane. Her actions said one thing, yet she always made it clear that this was never, and would never be a relationship. After a while, it started to feel like she just didn’t want to be committed to you, specifically. You worried if there was something wrong about the idea of being in a public, loving relationship with you- as opposed to just someone she fucked. 

Tonight, like most nights, she’d let herself in after a particularly tiring day. Frustration and resentment boiled at the sound of her footsteps. She laid on your bed, illuminated only by lines of code, waiting for you to finish whatever new encryption Fury requested. Tonight, like most nights, you stared at the screen as swallowed down your hopeless pining with a fifth of whiskey. 

Despite any ignored feelings, you relished in Nat’s company, speeding up your work to get into her arms sooner. You loved that she was comfortable with you, hearing her get up and head for the shower. Yet, the bitter, angry part of you hated that she would never love you in spite of any trust or comfort. 

You listen to Nat return and open one of your dresser drawers full of her clothing to change (strictly for convenience, of course). Eyes still trained on your work, you return the kiss she graces on your cheek as she pours herself a glass as well. 

When you turn your chair to Nat, she’s looking at you with one of those smiles that makes your stomach turn into butterflies. You take a second to admire her relaxed appearance, hair down and messy, in baggy, out-of-date clothing. It’s easy for her to make you forget you were ever upset.

You must have been staring too long, because Nat crosses the distance between you two. Before you can ask her how her day was, she straddles you in the chair, pulling you in for a deep, long kiss. Your hands find their way to her waist, pulling in her closer and sucking at her bottom lip. 

Natasha’s hands cup your face gently, sighing into you. It’s not long before your kisses grow more hungry and passionate, hands traveling and caressing every inch you can. When she breaks the kiss, you’re completely intoxicated once again- dazed and longing for me. 

“Hello to you, too,” she says, with cloudy eyes and a small grin.

“You started it.”, you reply distractedly, dancing your fingers along the waistband of her shorts. 

Natasha gets distracted herself, by the program still running on your computer screens. 

“You know,” she starts, running her hands through your hair. “I never understand what it is you do.”

You can’t hold back a laugh as you push your hand past the elastic, fingers pushing against the soft fabric of her underwear. Natasha lets out a quiet moan while her head droops back to your neck. 

“I’m serious,” Natasha lamints. Her breath hitches when you pull her underwear away with your free hand, sliding your index finger into her entrance. “I want t-I wanna understand all of this.”

You are much too concentrated on eliciting more raspy breaths from the enamoring woman on top of you. You pump your finger into her with tender, slow strokes, feeling her wetness pool at your hand. Natasha softly whines your name into your neck, causing you to groan as you add another digit. 

“Didn’t think you cared all that much,” It’s an honest admission, one that give without much thought. You speed up your fingers, curving against her walls right where you knew she needed it. Your own breathing becomes erratic, caught up in the way Natasha clings to you. 

Russian curses come out short and heavy the moment your thumb brushes her clit. You grip her hip to keep her place, and more pleas of your name follow suit. It was the moments like these, when you knew that you were all she wanted, that made everything else worth it. 

“I do care.”, she manages between moans. 

The cracks in your heart start to come undone once more, taking you out of your lustful daze. For what was the 100th time in months, you had to tell yourself she didn’t mean a damn thing by that- she cared about you as much as the next person did, nothing more. 

You ignore her and pick up your pace even further. The all-too familiar shudder of her body, accompanied by the velvety, strained moans from her mouth, told you that she was close. You quickly become reabsorbed in giving her as much ecstasy as you could. Natasha’s hands in your hair pull tighter as she gets lost in her own pleasure, forcing your gaze slightly up.

Her eyes are squeezed shut, mouth in an open gasp, burrowed against you like a lifeline. A moan of your own escapes at the sight. You think you could die just like this, with this perfect image of the most perfect woman. 

Right as you’re certain she’s about to reach her peak, you draw circles on her throbbing clit, watching her body twitch. 

“I love you,” Natasha’s words pass through your quiet and broken ears as she climaxes. 

It sets you into shock, making you think you imagined it. In the few seconds that follow, neither of you speak, as Natasha regains her breathing and you stare at the ceiling, pissed off again and confused. 

You feel Natasha shift, eyes making their way to your confused face. 

“I-”, she starts to stutter, to which you roll your eyes and push her gently off your lap.

As you start to head for your bedroom door, her hands wrap around your forearm, yanking you back. 

“What the fuck, Nat?” You rip your arm away from her, even more shocked by her aggression towards you.

The assassin simply stands, still stuttering over what to say. That only becomes the final straw for you. 

“Get the hell out, now.” You swing the bedroom door open as you speak. All you wanted for months was to hear those words. Now, all you could taste was poison. She’d broken your heart time and time again. You’d spent so long learning to handle loving someone who’d never love you back. To suddenly act like she ever gave a damn after all that was insulting. Even if she meant it, how long did she really mean it for?

“You don’t mean that.” She has the audacity to sound hurt. 

“Yeah, I do, leave. I’m not gonna let you keep doing this to me.”

“Doing what to you? I’m telling you that I care-”

“Oh suddenly now you care! After how many months of me begging for you to feel the same, now that I’m finally getting over it, you care?”, you shout as you cross the room towards her. 

“I always fucking cared!”, she yells back, and you notice the tears brimming in her eyes, fists balled at her side. In all this time, you’d only seen Nat cry twice. Once, when talking about Yelena. The other when Clint lost his family. To be crying now because of you, felt like hell.

You immediately soften when you notice, tears of your own forming. You’re left in speechless shock yet again at her words.

“Then why say the opposite for so long?”, you ask, voice hoarse.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Everything good in my life goes away. I didn’t want to ruin this.”, she goes quiet herself, staring at the floor. 

“You didn’t think telling me over and over again that we aren’t anything would make me go away?” 

“You’re still here, aren't you?” Natasha gives you a shy smile when she speaks. It’s true- you were too addicted to Nat to let her go. Even just a minute ago when you told her to leave, you knew you’d be following after her. 

“Honestly, I don’t know why. You made it clear how you feel.” She could joke about it all she wanted, you were still hurt and replaying months of rejection in your head. 

“I’m trying to tell you I didn’t mean it, please.” The remaining space between you is closed while she takes your hands in hers. Her gaze locks onto yours, staring into teary, green eyes. 

“I love you, that is the truth. I promise.” It’s never a challenge for Nat to break your resolve. Especially when you've been dreaming to hear the spy say that. 

“How do I know you mean it? That you're not ‘gonna change your mind?” 

You feel her thumbs graze over hand, a mischievous glint forming in her eyes. When your confusion grows, Natasha drops to her knees before you. As she lowers herself to the floor, she places kisses along your hands before moving to tug at your jeans. Whatever mixed feelings you still had, flew out of the door. 

“Let me show you how much I love you.”

#mcu fanfiction #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #natasha romanoff x y/n #marvel fanfiction #natasha romanoff smut #seikkoiwrites

[bad268]

could you write some fluff for kimi antonelli?? you write him so well 😭😭 maybe when kimi's caught out in public by fans w his girlfriend being affectionate or something 🙏💗

Caught (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (thank you for being patient <3)

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: You/your

W.C. 1276

Summary: Secret relationships get revealed when celebrating the championship win.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Kimi was a very private person. He just wasn’t very open with his personal life. Especially those who are closest to him. This includes you, his significant other.

You two had originally met in karting but officially met at the Italian Formula 4 Championship as competitors and teammates. However, certain circumstances led to you dropping out of the championship.

Kimi was the only person to stay in contact with you after the departure.

One thing led to another, you both stayed in contact, and you have been together for just under a year now. 

Not that any of the fans would know! As said before, Kimi is a very private person, and that includes you. The only people who really know about your relationship are your respective families and the Prema team. The team found out when you suddenly came back into the garage with Kimi’s dad after leaving the sport almost six months prior. In all honesty, they saw it coming from a mile away. 

You tried to come to the most recent race, the last race of the season. You really did, but it was not your fault that you were bedridden with the flu in Italy. Kimi still wanted to try his best at the last race because he wanted to show his skills to Prema and Mercedes, maybe to you too knowing how you were feeling unwell, despite already securing the championship.

After he finished up the podium celebrations from race 2, he sent you a text, letting you know he was cleaning up and would be doing media before he could call you. In all honesty, you were asleep, so you did not see it until nearly two hours later.

Instead of responding, you decided to send him a selfie of you laying in the bed with the text, “Just woke up, did I miss anything?”

On the track, Kimi stepped away to get some peace from the chaos that is media and fans after a season closer. He found a fairly desolate section as he opened his messages. He had been checking them periodically, hoping to see a response from you, but he never saw one. It never even showed as read, so he assumed you were asleep.

Just as he opens his messages, he sees the notification of a picture sent by you. He opens the picture without a second thought, laughing lightly at the face you made before he immediately sends one back with all of the updates he has. After sending a couple of funny pictures back and forth, you decided to just call him.

Little did he know, a couple of fans had walked up behind him, hoping to record his reaction to a picture they made him, and they watched him send you pictures and listened in as he talked to you. They had evidence that Kimi had a significant other; they just needed to find out who it was.

~

A week later, back in Italy, you and Kimi were finally able to celebrate his championship win. Despite insisting that you wanted to plan everything and arguing (shortly) with Kimi over it, you both decided that you would alternate things to do.

Kimi chose breakfast. It was only right that as the champion, he got to choose where you started. It was a simple breakfast at home that you both made together and it definitely did not end with you both covered in flour. 

Then, Kimi had a couple of meetings, so you had to put a hold on the celebrations. This gave you time to think about what your plan was for the rest of the day as if you did not already know exactly what you were going to do.

So when lunch came, you chose Kimi’s favorite restaurant. Plus, he was finally able to eat it since the season was over, and you got special permission from his nutritionist. It was the best place to splurge after a win. An added bonus, it was fairly empty save for a few small groups. No one paid either of you any mind.

After lunch, Kimi chose to do a walk around your favorite park. It was a fairly desolate park, but it was one that you grew up going to all the time. Kimi knew it was a calming place for you.

Not to mention, there were swings. Who doesn’t love swings?

The swings were side by side, so as soon as you arrived at the park, you took off toward them, laughing as you left Kimi in your dust. Just as you were about to reach the swings, Kimi catches up. He picked you up and spun you around briefly before setting you back down.

You turned around in his arms as you held onto his biceps, smirking up at him. “You think you’ve won, don’t you?” He chuckled as he looked at you skeptically, but it changed immediately when you darted off into the open field. You shouted behind you, “You’ll need to catch me first!”

And once again, it was like you were on the track again. Living life like there was no tomorrow, having fun doing the most minuscule things, all the while with someone you really cared about. It was like the old Prema challenges you did with Kimi and Conrad. It made you miss the simpler things. 

You were off in your own little world, casually going back and forth laughing and chasing after each other around the park. At one point, Kimi tackled you and you rolled around the grass before he stopped, leaning over you, “I caught you.”

Just as he was leaning down, that was when you heard it. The clicking of a camera. Turns out a group of fans saw you at the restaurant earlier and followed you to the park.

Your heads snapped toward the group, and instead of getting upset, Kimi calmly walked over to them to offer autographs and pictures. 

“Are you two together?” One asked immediately.

“Weren’t they your F4 teammate?” The other asked.

“You two are cute together,” One gushed.

“How long have you been together, if you don’t mind us asking?” The last one asked.

“Yes, yes, thank you, and almost a year,” Kimi answered honestly with a small smile as he continued signing things. He took a couple of pictures with them before chucking as he continued his original thought, “We haven’t announced it yet, but we’re planning it.”

“I got a good shot,” The third fan exclaimed, pulling out their phone to show him the picture. It was of him leaning over you just before you noticed their presence. This was the picture that alerted you of the audience. “I can send it to you if you want to use it.”

“That would be great. I’ll credit you in it too,” He laughed, looking back at you, still sitting on the grass, hiding your face from the onlookers. Kimi sighed, turning back to the group to make a deal, “I’m going to head back to them, but send it to me, and we’ll post it tomorrow. Just don’t post any of the pictures please.”

He didn’t give them much time to reply before he walked back over to you and sat behind you. His body shielding you away from the rest of the people, your backs toward the group. Kimi leaned his head on your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your torso and showed you his phone.

The Instagram DM from the fan had already arrived, and he wanted you to see the picture. “I think this is the perfect way to announce us.”

~~~

Part 2 ->

~~~~~

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