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nereidprinc3ss · 4 days

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andromeda | (dybmn? bonus)

a bonus vignette from spencer's POV. we find out how he really feels about reader. takes place the day before the argument at the bar.

note: this is not part six! takes place between parts four and five, five being the most recent part. read part five here

18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, semi-graphic descriptions of sexual fantasies, some angst, you're not actually present, mention of alcohol, very vague discussions of murdery stuff bc he's supposed to be working, sassy spencer makes an appearance a/n: for all my angels who said they wanted a snippet of spencer's POV! i'm sorry if i'm overdoing it with this story or clogging the spencer tags, i'm just having a lot of fun! i hope you enjoy or that this may be clears some things up for you, pls lmk your thoughts:) ily!!!

Spencer is incessantly drumming the particle board table underneath his fingers.

The polymer veneer is one of his least favorite textures—he hates the grain of it and if he were to accidentally scratch the table with his nails he knows it would make the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

But of all the things he’s worried about, that ranks very low on the list.

He’s got a lot of mental tabs open all the time—and the tabs, he can deal with. It’s when he starts trying to operate with multiple windows that he begins to struggle. His brain, while it is a very fine tuned sort of computer, only has one monitor. Unfortunately, no human (except for the ones who’ve had their brain hemispheres surgically split) is immune to the inevitable pitfalls of multitasking. By dividing his mental energy between you and his job, he’s really fucking up his job. But he also thinks he really fucked up with you on that phone call the other night and for being as logical as he is he can’t seem to make that feel unimportant—even though he’s disgusted with himself for it because there are literally people dying.

Someone knocks on the open conference room door—he looks up, skimming his lips over his fist.

“What’s up?” he says too quickly upon seeing Emily’s mildly concerned face peering in on him.

Her mouth bridges into a sort of nonchalant frown and her brows kick up.

“Just… checking in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”

“Yeah, the, uh—the geo-profile. I’m still… I’m still working it out.”

It’s not like he’s ever been phenomenal with his syntax in a social sense, but Spencer is certainly aware he’s doing even worse than usual right now.

“Okay. Uh… is there anything in particular stumping you, or…?”

“Nope. Just not enough information. But I’m—I’m going to keep trying.”

“Alright. Got your phone handy?”

It’s an odd question—of course he has his phone handy. He’s been doing this job longer than Emily has. How else would he communicate with the rest of the team? He bristles.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Emily shakes her head. She’s always been particularly good at reading his moods.

“You’re not under attack, Reid. I was just asking.”

Just as he’s about to say, why would you assume I’m not prepared for my job, he manages to swerve away and stifle the words with his fist. Instead he looks back down at his copy of the map and nods. In reality, he truly isn’t prepared for his job today. The reason he has his phone so close, fully charged and at top volume is because he’s worried he’ll miss a call from you.

Emily says something else, and he hums in response, and then she’s gone.

He shouldn’t be reading into your reticence this much. It’s not like you just sit by the phone all day, eagerly awaiting a call or text from him (like he does you). You have a life. You’re busy. And even if you are intentionally dodging his texts, he can’t entirely fault you for it. Spencer knows he’s clingy. He knows he’s overbearing. It’s part of why he panicked the other night and told you the whole humiliating story about Elle. Because he can’t ever just be cool and he felt the need to explain himself.

But the problem was, and is, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without saying those three words that fucked him over all those years ago.

So he’d danced around them. Applied them to someone else to try and avoid outright professing his all-consuming love for you over the phone. However you feel, Spencer has to assume he feels more. Spencer always has to assume he feels more because he usually does and it’s gotten him into trouble before. And now he’s pretty sure he was exactly right, as often is the case, because you didn’t tell him he was mistaken and you’d clammed up and you haven’t talked to him since and he’s not supposed to be reading into it this much.

Three victims killed and dumped within a 6 mile radius of the first victim plus one victim killed and dumped 23.8 miles away. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Fuck this guy.

Spencer decides the problem is that he needs more caffeine.

Or possibly, if he were a different kind of man—copious amounts of alcohol.

So he stows his phone in a pocket and asks the first person he sees where the coffee machine is.

“Looks like you found it earlier,” the woman says, glancing pointedly down at his mostly empty mug. A playful smirk tugs at pinkish-brownish lips. She’s pretty, he realizes distantly. But he registers it the same way he’d take note of the model of a car, or the species of a bird, or the kind of shoes someone is wearing. It doesn’t actually interest him. It’s just part of processing his environment. “I can show you to it?”

He doesn’t have the heart or energy to explain that someone else brought him his cup earlier and he’s not flirting with her.

“If you could just point me in the right direction…?”

She laughs, short and dry, before she’s pointing down a hall.

“Kitchenette down there and to the left.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, already walking away without sparing her a second glance.

She’s the kind of woman he would have paid a lot more attention to before you came along. Not that he’d ever sleep with someone on the job (not since he was 25, anyway), but if he’d met her under any other circumstances he probably would have cared more about the way her pupils dilated and her eyes had widened slightly and she’d adjusted her posture and all the other small things people do when they’re attracted to someone else. 30 year old Spencer might have slept with her. 27 year old Spencer definitely would have slept with her. Current Spencer obsessively pines for a woman who is already his girlfriend and whom he has yet to sleep with at all far too much to think about other women like that.

But god, does he think about you like that.

His feet carry him down the dim, carpeted hallway but really it took barely a nudge and he’s thinking about you like that. At work. As he’s pouring himself coffee.

Spencer is confident in the fact that if anyone were to look at him right now, they’d never guess he’s running clips of you in his mind like a dirty supercut. Because he’s just pouring coffee. That’s one good thing about having all those tabs open all the time. He can toggle between them quickly. He has enough going on in the background that people look at him and all they can tell is that he’s thinking hard about lots of things. Some of them just happen to be the way you look when you’re naked on his bed, skin shining and glazed eyes sleepy, parted lips higher in color than usual and catching your breath. Some of them happen to be your hair brushing his stomach before he gathers it back for you. Some of them happen to be the way your thighs feel on either side of his face, or how you stretch around his fingers, or how you might feel when you stretch around his—

He hisses as hot coffee overflows from the mug and burns his hand.

Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he thought.

But on top of all the other things he’s dealing with, having been so close to actually sleeping with you the other night is really fucking with his head. Even if he tells himself he wouldn't have done it, he knows himself better than that. He's too familiar with the effect you have on his judgement.

“Found it okay?”

Spencer looks down, surprised to see the woman from earlier sitting at her desk and watching him as he quickly passes by on his way back to the conference room. Her legs are crossed. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a flouncy sort of blouse which seems impractical for working in an FBI field office. Maybe she notices his eye catching on her figure and misguidedly swivels her chair to give him a better look. But all he’s noticing is that it doesn’t look like yours. Now he’s picturing the curve of your hip dripping in silk after that first night at Rossi’s. How your waist and your stomach feel when he slides his hands over you. This woman—she might as well not even be here for all he’s actually seeing her.

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

Then he’s gone. Very briefly he acknowledges that he should feel sorry for so obviously brushing her off, but he doesn’t care even close to enough. He sets the coffee down on the table and rounds to the board where one of several maps is taped. On autopilot he draws lines between dump sites because one of the background tabs had deduced, while he was busy watching you like porn, that the distance between dump sites form the beginnings of the constellation Orion with some mathematical precision that’s too exacting to be coincidental. Orion’s Belt plus the most recent victim. Betelgeuse.

There are ten formally named stars that make up Orion. He marks all of them, but circles the transposed coordinates of Bellatrix, Saiph, Rigel and Meissa as the next most likely dump sites. Most probably it will be Orion’s head. They’re all in wooded areas. He calls Garcia. Garcia will call Emily, wherever she is. If the unsub sticks to pattern, which they always do, they have until midnight. It’s trite, really. Predictable, like people always are. Far too quickly he drinks half the cup of scalding coffee and retraces his steps through the office to find the bathroom.

It’s empty. The fluorescent lights hum. Spencer washes his hands with cold water and presses still wet fingers to his eyes. You’re waiting for him behind the black of his lids.

At first you would whine, and he would kiss you and you’d moan into his mouth and say his name when he opened you up as far as you would go. The air would be thick and warm with sex and vanilla perfume. Afterwards he’d take care of you and buy new sheets for his bed in your favorite color even if they didn’t match the walls and there would be nothing you’d want for that he couldn’t give to you ever again.

But.

That’s all contingent.

No matter how often he fantasizes about it, no matter in how much detail, and regardless of how often those details change wildly, one thing always stays the same.

The shape of your lips, swollen from kissing, bending around five or six vowels and only two consonants (it seems odd that there are only two consonants in I love you), sometimes before you start, sometimes in the middle or right at the peak—but always there, always moving in slow motion—and always silent.

In real life, they’d be aloud. It’s why his fantasies aren’t good enough. It’s why he can’t stop fantasizing about it. That’s the only part that really matters to him. The rest varies.

Not because having sex with you doesn’t matter—it matters so much he almost shatters his molars whenever he starts picturing it around other people. But because Spencer can’t have sex with you until you love him.

And he worries that you can’t love him until you have sex with him.

The last time he thought that about a person, it didn’t turn out well.

Maybe there is some magic number. Some amount of times you need to have sex with someone before they’ll love you back.

If there is, he knows for a fact it’s more than 32.

And he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot have loveless sex with you thirty three times while he waits to find out.

Not again.

But he's going to hold out as long as he possibly can until you say it because he so badly wants you to love him back. He'll let the weight of every ignored text, every reminder that you don't feel that way about him, hang from his shoulders until he collapses. And then he'll probably try to get back up.

Recycled paper towels scratch against his skin. He dries his face and hands and throws them crumpled into the trash can.

Outside the restroom, he pulls out his phone. For safety reasons and paranoia disguised as professionalism, you’re not his lock screen. It’s a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. Whatever distance lies between you and Spencer, it could always be greater. No matter where you are in the world, you will always be the same 2.537 million light years away from Andromeda that he is.

It makes Orion feel much closer. You, too.

He sends you a text—the third message in a row.

The distance between blue bubbles feels like light years.

I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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kaciidubs · 3 days

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For the Kids

I believe you used to be 🤍 nonnie, I remember seeing that emoji around~ I'm glad you're back! There won't be much mention of medical stuff because I'm nowhere close to being a nurse, but I hope this is what you were looking for, nonnie! ❣ Summary: This visit was for the kids, so why did Chris find himself vying for a Pediatric nurse's attention? ❣ ❣ Word Count: 1.9k ❣ Warnings: No medical terms, Idol! AU, Pediatric Nurse! Reader, fluff, slight humor, flirting, open ended ❣ ❣ Female! Reader | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Mr. Bang, Chris, and Christopher, Reader is referred to as Beautiful, lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

“I’ll let the nurse guiding you know that you've arrived, please wait here.”

Chris nodded enthusiastically as the nurse working behind the front desk turned away to grab a phone, turning his attention to listen to his manager and a few Skijigi discussing the schedule for the day.

This event was something the members had looked forward to ever since they were allowed to add one more Stay-centered event to their log of the year; the day they ventured out to meet hospitalized children Stays to give them an experience they wouldn't get to see naturally.

He'd decided to show up early in hopes of getting to meet the kids who weren’t able to make the time bracket due to an appointment or operation - the rest of the members scheduled to show up within the next hour and a half, according to his manager.

“Mr. Bang?”

He turned toward the unfamiliar voice, and the equally unfamiliar use of his last name, only to feel as if his world had gone into slow motion.

Walking up to him was a nurse, a fair assessment judging by the scrubs you wore, with a smile that made his heart skip a beat - part of him wondered if he’d have to check himself into a hospital based on his reaction alone; and when you introduced yourself he swore he heard bells ringing, your name suddenly becoming his favorite sound.

“Welcome to Seoul Mercy Hospital, I’ll be one of the nurses working with you guys today.”

“Hi,” smiling in earnest, he cleared his throat, his posture straightening ever so slightly, “and just Chris is fine, ‘Mr. Bang’ feels too formal, you know?”

Your smile grew, a small laugh floating through you, “Is ‘Chan’ too formal, too?”

“No, no, Chan is perfectly fine, too - you can call me whatever you’d like.”

Chris tried his best to ignore how suggestive the sentence sounded, but judging from the way you pressed your lips together, you’d already caught the unintentional double entendre.

“Okay, Chris,” a glimmer of humor sparkled in your eyes, teasing and warm - comfortable, “if you’ll follow me, I can give you a quick tour of the area you’ll be using today before we go see the kids.”

The tour was short, yet fulfilling; the brisk walk of the hall bringing him to the play room booked for them to use decorated in Skzoo memorabilia with the life size standees wearing makeshift doctor outfits - there was even a table that stretched along a wall filled with Skzoo plushies and gift bags undoubtedly prepared by Skijigi.

“They’re so cute!” He squealed happily, petting WolfChan- Doctor WolfChan’s head as if he were a real dog, “Do the kids have any idea of what’s happening?”

“Well, of course they know that Stray Kids are coming to the hospital, but we haven’t told them how the whole afternoon will go just yet - we’d like to keep some things a secret, you know?” You gently caressed the soft fur of the Dwaekki standee, gazing at the decorated room with a fondness in your eyes, “This really means the world to them, and we tried our best to make it as grand as possible.”

A warm feeling settled in Chris’s chest, and he had to take a quick breath to dispel the heat from warming the rest of his body in turn. “If that’s the case, I hope that we can help make their day just a little bit brighter - and, hopefully, the nurses’ day too.”

You smiled, catching his eyes, “Trust me, you’re way ahead on that goal.”

It wasn’t long until the rest of the members began to show up, everyone slowly filling the break room specifically reserved for their visit while managers and nurses coordinated bringing the kids into the Skzoo Hospital before revealing their bigger surprise.

Being one of the lead pediatric nurses on duty, you did your part in ushering the line of children from their rooms and into the playroom - catching a glance of a certain leader as he sneakily peeked through the crack of the break room’s door, watching as the little kids spoke excitedly amongst themselves.

Soon the room was filled with children excitedly taking in the decorations and standees, and after a brief moment of gathering and pep-talking from your coworkers, the grand reveal commenced - the eight idols entering the room to excited cheers and applause. Managers ensured the small recording crew caught every reaction and the surprise performance the boys had prepared, before your shift lead announced that the members would be splitting into groups to play and spend time with the kids in Skzoo Hospital.

From small tables arranged for arts and crafts to a controlled space for duck, duck, goose, the activities were enough to keep both the children and the kids irrevocably entertained.

Chris was having a riveting conversation with one of the children at the art station about the best color to draw with when he felt a tug at his shirt, turning his head to see a little girl - who’d happily introduced herself as Narae - holding a sheet of paper with a smile as bright as the sun.

“Wanna see my drawing?”

He smiled at her small, excited little bounces and nodded, “Of course! What is it?”

Turning her paper around, tiny fingers pointed to the colorful figures on the page, “This is me and Leebit picking flowers, I have a yellow flower because it’s my favorite color, and over here is PuppyM wearing a flower crown- Oh, and here is Nurse Y/n having a picnic with WolfChan! She’s my favorite nurse, and he’s her favorite Skzoo, so I drew them together!”

The innocent mention of his representative plush being your favorite sent his heart rate skyrocketing, and he could feel a sheepish blush beginning to take over his ears as he studied the drawing.

“She says he has a cute tail, but I think Leebit’s tail is cuter because it’s fluffy like a bunny,” Narae mumbled, turning her paper around as if inspecting it. “My friend says Bbokari has a cuter tail, but chickens don’t have tails! They have chicken butts!”

Stifling a laugh, he grinned, “You know what? You should go ask Felix if Bbokari has a tail or a chicken butt, he knows all about him.”

She gave him a quick nod before rushing off toward the dancer, determined to get her point proven, leaving Chris to grapple with this newfound knowledge; picking up a crayon and a piece of paper to draw with the children around him.

Eventually the little meet and greet came to an end, the boys handing out the small gift bags to the children who were able to make the event while some of the kids gifted their drawings to the members in return.

With a chorus of ‘thank you’s and well wishes, you led the idol group back to the break room while your coworkers busied themselves with organizing the children to be ushered back into their rooms for the evening.

“I’m never going to let you live down the fact that you actually lost at duck, duck, goose to a kid, Felix,” Seungmin laughed mockingly, the blond’s demise putting a glittering smile on his face.

“Hey! Dohyeon is really fast for his age, okay? I wasn’t going to try to beat a child at a silly little game!”

“I would,” Minho hummed as he passed by the duo, grabbing a bottle of water from the small refreshments table, “teach them early - life isn’t fair.”

“Hyung!”

Chris let out a heavy sigh as the chaos of his members slowly grew, though his anguish was quickly curbed by the sound of your laughter, poorly hidden behind your hand.

Making his way over to you, he nodded his head toward his friends, “I’m sorry about them.”

You waved his apology off with your hand, shaking your head, “Don’t be, that just means you guys had fun - I’m sure the children did too, I haven’t seen their faces light up like that in a while.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m glad we were able to make their day a bit more special.”

His voice was soft, earnest with a sparkle in his eyes and you felt a small flutter float through you as you hummed in affirmation.

“And a few of the nurses, too, it’s not often that we get visitors like you guys who have the time to come by and do little things like this, it means a lot to us.”

“You know,” he hummed, leaning his shoulder against the wall, “I learned something interesting while talking to one of the kids today.”

Raising an eyebrow, you couldn’t help the fleeting sense of worry tug at your psyche from his curious tone. “Did you? And what would that be, Chris?”

“Well, let’s just say, if you want anything WolfChan themed, I’d be more than happy to get it for you.” A smug smirk began to tug at his lips, his voice lowering to a volume only you could catch, “And, if he were real, I think you’d be his favorite, too.”

Your eyes widened a fraction as a wave of embarrassment washed over you, though you recovered with narrowed eyes, “Which one of those rascals told you that?”

“Hey - my lips are sealed!” He chuckled, holding his hands up in moc defense, though the playful shine in his eyes remained. “I’m just the messenger here.”

Nodding slowly, you pursed your lips in thought, “Alright, then what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well, since you’re real and WolfChan isn’t,” your voice trailed off as you tilted your head inquisitively, “am I your favorite?”

You weren’t sure where the sudden burst of confidence came from, but he’d started the teasing act first, so it was only fair that you played with him at his own game.

Chris bristled at the sudden question, his posture straightening just a bit as his eyes searched yours for any sign of encouragement, a warmth setting over him as the corner of your lip ticked up in challenge.

“My favorite, hm?” He pondered for a moment, tapping his chin before glancing at you with a sparkle that had your heart fluttering, “I’d say there’s no contest, but I’d rather have more time to really figure it out, you know?”

“Is that a proposition, Christopher?”

“It’s a promise, if you’d let me.”

Stepping forward just an inch, you couldn’t fight the smile working its way onto your lips, “I would, but I don’t like when people can’t fulfill their promises.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t plan on breaking this one.” He murmured as he leaned forward the same amount, though his entire being begged to close the distance to feel your lips on his. “How about it then, beautiful?”

“Chan hyung! We’ve gotta go soon!”

Your heart sunk at the warning call, looking at him before giving a firm nod, “It’s a deal, but-”

“Don’t worry,” digging into his pocket, he pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper before slyly sliding it into your hand, “we’ll figure out the details, yeah? Patient-nurse confidentiality, and all that.”

Giggling, you tried to ignore the way his hand felt in yours, melting at the warmth he radiated, “Of course, completely confidential.”

He grinned, letting his hand slip from yours he ducked his head in a silent goodbye, “See you later?”

“See you soon.” You reassured him with a glittering smile, watching as he reunited with the rest of his members and management team and joining them in whatever discussion they were wrapping up with.

Taking the chance to unfold the paper he gave to you, your eyes quickly read the numbers neatly scribbled in blue crayon, followed by a cute doodle of WolfChan’s face and a short message.

‘P.S. I think you have a cute butt, too - Chris’

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes , @caitlyn98s , @ch4nn13luv , @ihrtlix , @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997 , @maximumkillshot , @y-ur--i , @acker-night , @dreamescapeswriting , @specialstay , @s00buwu , @tinyelfperson , @jj-stay , @katsukis1wife , @inlovewithmusician , @keen-li , @armystay89 , @main-character0 , @vampcharxter , @ddyskz , @prettymiye0n , @bbgnyx , @bahng-chrizz , @milknhoneyracha , @hann1bee , @palindrome969 , @newhope8 , @luminouskalopsia , @kpopsstuffs , @starquokka , @wolfs-howling , @laylasbunbunny , @zaethefangirl, @chxnb97, @4-chan-inpadella , @butterflydemons ,

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#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan fluff

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russellsppttemplates · 17 days

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A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it

Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".

"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.

"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".

"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.

Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.

The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.

You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.

On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.

"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".

Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.

"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".

"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.

"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.

"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.

"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.

"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.

"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.

When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.

"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".

"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.

"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.

"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.

You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.

Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.

When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.

"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".

Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.

"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".

He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.

"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.

"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.

"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".

"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.

"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".

"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.

"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".

Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.

After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.

"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.

"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.

"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".

"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.

Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.

"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.

"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".

"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.

"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.

"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".

"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.

"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".

"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".

You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.

"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.

"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".

"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.

"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.

"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.

"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.

"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.

"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.

"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.

Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.

"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".

"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.

Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.

"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.

"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.

"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.

"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.

"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.

"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.

"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".

"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.

"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.

"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.

"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".

"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.

"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.

"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.

After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.

"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.

"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.

"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.

"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.

"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.

"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.

"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.

"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.

"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.

"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.

"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.

"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.

Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.

"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.

"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.

"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.

"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.

"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.

"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.

You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.

"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.

Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.

"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.

"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.

"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".

"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.

"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.

"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.

"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".

"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.

When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.

Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.

Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.

"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.

"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.

The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.

"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.

You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.

"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.

"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.

The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.

"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.

"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.

"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.

"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".

"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.

"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".

"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.

"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".

"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fluff #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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ferrstappen · 10 months

Text

Max the wag: are we the drama? l Max Verstappen Imagine

happy note: hello my loviessssss! How are you all? It feels like it’s been an eternity and I am so so happy to be back to writing and interacting with your great and incredible asks and everything <3 and I know I said this was supposed to be ready by Monday or so? but I started an internship and it's been harder than expected, but I'm getting the hang of it so be prepared for more works to come!

Probably tomorrow I’ll be posting a list of all the requests I’m incredibly behind but that way you know I got them and are on my mind and will be written <3 I also don’t know if you like the idea of starting a tag list? Please please let me know, babes <3

ALSO I got an incredible request of the Max the wag series involving our boy Yuki AND I LOVED IT SO MUCH so it’s absolutely happening!

YOU CAND FIND THE MAX THE WAG SERIES HERE

summary: For the first time, Max and you find yourselves on the other end of the gossip.

Hungary Grand Prix, 2023.

Max wasn’t feeling like himself.

The car upgrades were supposed to be great, not to make him struggle and happy a shitty day, which meant shitty questions, passive aggressive press conference trying to not look so annoyed, but it didn’t help that the press was painstakingly working to get the worst angles with furrowed eyebrows and waving off strangers trying to aggressively approach him.

Of course, it didn’t help you weren’t there to hold his hand walking around the paddock, forcing his blue eyes to focus on your calming smile and the inevitable lovestruck expression plastered on his face.

And yes, he was letting out the fact he didn’t leave Monaco in the best of terms. He’d grown accustomed to you tagging along to most races, but when you informed him you wouldn’t be able to make it to the last two races before summer break he didn’t take it the best way.

Yes, Max understood you were needed at your job and deadlines were way more difficult to meet with changing time zones, bumpy flights and noisy paddocks and hospitalities, but it didn’t change the fact that he needed you and his selfish self really needed you cheering for him, even if you’d seen him win enough times already.

In conclusion, it was safe to say he didn’t really feel like putting on a genuine smile or goof around with interviewers who’d ask the same questions while Christian tells him off for looking unapproachable.

The only thing that turned the corners of his mouth was a WhatsApp attachment from you, Jimmy and Sassy sleeping with the F1 channel on full display on the TV.

It wasn’t long until Twitter and Instagram fan accounts came to the conclusion you weren’t there with Max, creating a small discussion with some people arguing that it didn’t make sense you’d tagged along to places like Baku or Melbourne and not go to a race less far away and arguably one of the most popular tracks of the season, while other people defended you saying you had your own life apart from being Max’s girlfriend, you had a job, conferences to attend amongst other things, so it was ridiculous to expect you to be there for every race, no matter how much you loved Max.

You don’t know whether it was the fact you didn’t post a story on Instagram celebrating Max’s win or the fact Max hadn’t been his best self, struggling with the car, losing control over the tiniest thing and just losing focus overall the fuel for some fans to start speculating about the status of your relationship.

User1: why hasn’t y/n posted something about max?? she always does when she’s not with him

User2: something’s sus

User3: no pls I cant handle another July break up

User4: max deserves someone who shows up for him! He arguably had the most difficult weekend of the season and she’s mia

User5: she’s always there for him and has a right to have her own life grow the hell up!

Belgian Grand Prix, 2023

Last race before summer break meant most people on the paddock were a turmoil of emotions between the desire for the weekend to be completely over and wishing to do the best possible job before the break.

Max convinced himself he was coming into the weekend relaxed, knowing he’d have to put his best strategies, talent and focus for Spa, but a few free weeks were right around the corner so he could recharge with you, staying in bed for the entire morning before getting up to get ready to go out, maybe arriving back to the apartment drunk and giggly only to regret everything during the morning, but with the knowledge you were going to do the exact same.

He was facetiming you when he came across lots of fans wanting his attention, asking for pictures, until someone asked for you and Max pretended he didn’t listen, not wanting to answer things about his relationship, and the woman that asked wasn’t even sharp enough to catch your face on full display on his screen.

Had Max known the chaos it would ensue not answering the simple question about you, maybe he’d reconsider, especially since Lando and him jumped from the paddock to a helicopter waiting to take them to the closing night of Tomorrowland where Martin Garrix was closing the last weekend.

User1: *attached video* pls pls you HAVE to see the discomfort on max face when someone asked him about y/n something is not right with parents

User2: we all know he never speaks about her thoo, im keeping my hopes up!!!!

User4: I’m calling break up and good cuz I never liked her always acted like she was too good for the f1 world and never communicated w fans

User3: that’s called being reserved moron!!1 you don’t see other wags taking pics with fans except maybe lily bc she’s a pro golfer!!!

You were sitting on your bed when Victoria sent a thread on Twitter (or X? or Threads? it’s confusing) pointing at every proof and detail about your supposed break up, ironically asking if you had something to inform the family since Max hadn’t said anything.

With widened eyes and unable to contain the urge to see what people were saying about Max and you, two hours later you were still reading gossip sites and didn’t even hear the door of the penthouse opening with both Sassy and Jimmy running away from the feet of the bed.

“Is this the welcome I get?” Max’s voice announced his arrival, catching you by surprise and throwing the phone in the air.

“Fuck, Max! You scared the shit out of me, I hate you!” You laughed, finally realizing he was right in front of you and kneeling on the bed to attach your arms around his neck, allowing Max to grab you by the thighs and spin you around while you left small kisses on his cheeks.

“What were you reading? You looked very focused,” Max carefully placed you back on the mattress before throwing his body and groaning at the feeling of his muscles relaxing.

“Did you know we broke up?” You questioned your boyfriend whose blue eyes opened as much as they could, eyebrows raised and slightly moving his head in confusion.

Max was confused but still demanded an answer on what was going on as he watched the corners of your mouth lifting and quiet giggles leaving them.

“Look, it’s full of theories because I didn’t attend the last races and after you went with Lando to watch Martin, some fans started drawing their own conclusions!”

“Are they insane? Speculating about other people’s love lives is so rude, and just because I didn’t answer a question about you which I never do? People are crazy!” Max exclaimed on an irritated tone, but quickly caught your eyes, making him realize the people commenting were doing the exact same thing as you, just on a larger scale.

“Baby, I think this time we are the drama…” You stated before the bedroom became quiet.

It was just Max and you staring at each other, recalling every time you eavesdropped a conversation that clearly wasn’t meant for either of you to hear, or discussed different theories on who had cheated, who had broken up with whom, why some partners were so young or looked almost identical.

“Schatz, I am not going to lie,” Max started with a frown and serious face before continuing. “I am very proud of us” After letting it out Max started laughing, his cheeks flushing and placing his hand over his mouth to try to stifle the sounds.

“Baby, this definitely means we made it!”

It was bound to happen, you were meant to eventually become a source of spectacle if you enjoyed gossiping about other people’s lives so much.

After laughing to the brink of tears, Max kissed your lips; softly, slowly and sensually, making it hard to separate but he stared right into your eyes and asked you in all seriousness: “Should we feed the gossip? Wouldn’t it be fun?”

#max the wag #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen au #max verstappen x you #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fic #f1 fics #Max Verstappen

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runningfrom2am · 6 months

Text

leveling the playing field V

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.6k (she's long today DAMN)

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and discussion of abuse, so read with caution!!

masterlists // nav // requests

join my taglist here

a/n: head empty, no thoughts. only this fic. but i should say if you enjoy it please reblog!! it means so much to us as writers, and who knows! maybe one of your mutuals is missing out on their future favourite fic ;)

next part

You're about to walk out the door, heading to the academy to meet Coryo before the games start. To try and prepare as best you can.

"Y/N, wait." Your dad stops you as you reach for the handle, and you quickly turn to him.

"Yes?" You know better than to rush him, but you already were running slightly behind schedule.

"Good luck today." He says and you nod at him.

"Thank you."

"And don't let Coriolanus down." There it is. "He is helping you, he didn't have to do that. Don't ruin this for him. If he needs anything, get it for him. If he tells you to jump, ask how high. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." You nod, a pit forming in your stomach. The pressure was on, not that it wasn't already, but now it was so much more real.

"Now, hurry up. Don't keep him waiting." He dismisses you, and you don't have to be told twice.

When you reach the academy, you rush inside. You were always rushing places, these days. The building was almost deserted, it was still quite early, but only two minutes until the time you agreed to meet Coryo in the courtyard. The Games were set to start in just under three hours, and you weren't sure what you would fill that time with, but that is what he asked of you so that is what you will do.

The last you had seen him was only about four or so hours ago, when he walked you home after stopping at the zoo to bring Lucy Gray the arena layout and he gave her a compact. One she promised to give back after the games, after crying over what today would bring. You felt bad, but mostly because you felt it was somewhat inconvenient that she would waste time over tears when you had important information for her on where to go and how to hide. This was valuable to her. Every moment counted if she wanted to walk out of the arena alive.

You spot Coryo pacing the courtyard through the window before you push it open, stepping out onto the path as the cool air brushes over your skin. It was July, but the mornings were still crisp.

"Sorry I'm almost late, I-"

"It's okay." He interrupts you as you get closer. He really only wanted you there for company, and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep in this time anyway. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, if a little tired." You shrug. "You?"

"Fine." He echoes your answer, just standing there staring at you in the silence. He really wasn't afraid of silence- but you were.

"What about your back? Recovering okay? I have some extra morphing if you're in pain." You offer, already reaching for your bag just for the sake of giving yourself something to do with your hands.

Confusion takes over his features. "Morphling?" He asks, brow furrowed. "Why do you have that on you?"

"Migraines, twisted ankles, cramps..." You answer. "You never know when you'll need some." You hold the small tube out to him, but he shakes his head, pushing your hand down.

He was sore, it wouldn't hurt, but something about taking it from you felt wrong. "No thank you, I'm fine." It would make sense that you would have it, though it was only accessible by prescription. It was likely your dad who prescribed it to you, if only so you could have it on hand. Or because he knows how often you're hurting, or he doesn't want you acting hurt- exposing the irony of having an abusive father who's also the most sought-after doctor in all of the Capitol. Morphling numbs the body, but also the mind. It's highly addictive, expensive to those who could access it, and not for the faint of heart- but you showed no signs of addiction. You must not take it often, therefore there's no real reason for him to be worried.

"Suit yourself." You shrug, tucking the vial away again. "Let me know if you change your mind. We have a long day ahead."

He nods in confirmation, joining you as you sit down on a bench nearby. "What did you give Lucy Gray last night, anyway?"

"A compact?" He feigns confusion, knowing the true implications of your question.

"Duh, Mister President." You tease. "I meant what was in it?"

Coryo chews on the inside of his cheek, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He has to answer casually, lest face your anger issues when he shows any guilt about cheating. "Uh, nothing." That wasn't a total lie, he just left out the part where he implied that Lucy Gray could find something within the cage at the zoo that would fit nicely in it, something like rat poison.

"Nothing?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. "You just gave her that as a gift?"

"Something like that." He shrugs, and your expression reads as though you're not buying it. "If she happened to find something to put in it, something that could help her, that would be just an unrelated convenience."

You freeze, staring at him in disbelief. "Coryo." You whisper, slapping his shoulder to get him to look at you as you read between the lines. "Something like rat poison? That's cheating! Are you kidding me right now?"

"What?" He defends, sitting up straighter as he looks over at you again. "It's my only shot! If she doesn't win, I can kiss the prize goodbye."

"It's not about her winning, Coriolanus. It's about the efficacy of the mentorship! Dean Highbottom said-"

"Dean Highbottom despises me, winning is the only thing I can do to get him to even glance at my mentorship as an option." He argues and you groan, burying your face in your hands.

He watches you, and suddenly feels regret for his decision. If only because you didn't approve of his actions. "Okay." You sigh, dropping your hands into your lap again and sitting up straighter. "Okay. We can work with it. As long as she is smart about it, we won't get caught. And like you said, we didn't do anything. It was just a gift."

"I warned her. She knows." He assures you. Really, there's no harm done unless you get caught. And should Lucy Gray become the victor, your life plan will fall beautifully into place. It will be worth it, you're ashamed you didn't think of such a thing first.

After everyone else arrived, the two of you decided to make a fashionably late entrance, walking into the newly decorated hall, containing many students and professors alike, the large screens against the back wall displaying all of the remaining tributes and the Hunger Games logo, where the games themselves will be aired. You were excited and scared all at once.

"Y/N, Coriolanus." Dean Highbottom greets you as you enter, taking in the atmosphere. Both of you grace him with just a nod. "I'd advise you to tell your friend Sejanus to find a seat near the door..." He adds quietly before walking off, leaving the two of you confused.

Coryo doesn't seem to think too much about it, just heading down the stairs. You follow behind him, head held high to counteract any of your peer's bitter staring or laughs. Everyone knew you didn't qualify for a mentorship, and to most, you just appeared to be following Coriolanus Snow around like a lost puppy, hoping to get the scraps of his success.

They won't be laughing when you are Head Gamemaker, that's for sure. But even then, will that not also be the scraps of his success? Him appointing you to the job of your dreams after his inauguration, will that not appear to be out of bias or pity? This isn't a question you have time to let bother you. Your future starts today.

When the games are about to start, you follow Coryo over while he decides which desk to take, deciding on one in the back row close to where you will be sitting. "Good luck." You grin, placing a hand on his forearm.

He looks down at where your hand is brushing over his coat sleeve and he nods.

You get closer, standing on your tip-toes to whisper to him. "Snow lands on top."

A small smile forms on his face. "Snow lands on top." He whispers back, grabbing your hand for only a moment, afraid of the Dean or Dr. Gaul taking notice. That would only serve to get you both in trouble.

You sit in the first row of benches where Coryo can see you, can easily look to you for help. He's grateful to have you in his peripheral, knowing that you're there, and you're not leaving, is what he didn't realize he really needed.

You both watch silently as the tributes walk out to their designated spots surrounding the pile of rubble in the center of the arena. You were there just last night, but now it looks scarier- even in the light of day. Maybe it's because you know what you are about to witness. All you can do is hope Lucy Gray won't be the first down.

Your heart drops into your stomach when the camera pans to show Sejanus's tribute- the one who escaped, hung from a beam by both his wrists. It's hard to look at, and along with the gasps that echo through the hall and Lucky's commentary, you hear a chair scraping and your eyes land on Sejanus, who's now standing in the middle of the room. He's seething, you can see it in the exaggerated rise and fall of his chest and in the contraction of seemingly every muscle in his body. That's what Dean Highbottom meant- he knew Sejanus would be leaving quickly. You stand as well, your intuition telling you he won't be leaving quietly. Neither would you, if you were in his place.

In a second, Sejanus is throwing his desk and everything on it at the large screen in front of him, screaming in anger. "You're all monsters!"

You find your feet carrying you toward the screaming boy, but he's shoving past you to leave before you get the chance to talk to him. Hug him, something. You stumble back at the contact, able to save yourself from falling as your eyes follow Sejanus out the door.

Coryo saw you get knocked back by the force of Sejanus's misplaced rage, and he wanted to check on you. Make sure you are okay, but the games are about to start. He promised Dr. Gaul that you would receive no sympathies from him, and her eyes are burning into both of your backs so he settles for shaking his head at you when you look like you want to follow Sejanus. Doing so would not only leave him alone, but sympathizing with him would align you with his attitudes, however irrelevant to your own opinions.

"Y/N." Coryo says to you, and when you look at him he shakes his head. Stay, he's saying. It's like he can read your mind. But he needs you to stay.

Surely, Sejanus needs you more. Surely, it would just be a few minutes. Then you remember what your father told you this morning and you smooth your shirt back down, returning to your seat. The games hadn't even started yet, and you're already facing hard decisions.

"You should go home." Coriolanus mutters to you, readjusting his posture in the uncomfortable chair.

"Huh?" You ask, looking up at him from where you're sitting on the floor next to his desk. After everyone else left, there was no use in sitting so far away when you could finally talk candidly about the events of the day.

"Go home." He repeats and you shake your head, attempting to salvage what was left of your hairstyle, which was carefully pinned back this morning.

"I can't, I'll stay. You can go home." You reply, looking up at the screen again. Nothing new had happened in a long time- but you didn't want to miss it if it did.

"Why not?" He yawns.

"My parents are expecting me to stay with you until it's over." You explain.

Coryo sighs, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "I'd invite you to stay with me, but we aren't prepared for guests." Neglecting to mention, of course, the unmaintained mess the Snow apartment had turned into over the last twelve or so years.

"Of course, I wouldn't expect that of you. One of us should be here anyway." You wave it off. "Go home, get some rest."

As soon as he's packed up and left, insisting he won't be gone for long, you make yourself comfortable in his chair with your eyes trained on the screen. You have to stay awake. Lucy Gray could make an appearance any second in search of water, food, anything. You have to stay alert. You can't let Coryo down.

You're jolted awake by the sound of gravel crunching under footsteps, echoing over the speakers from microphones inside the arena. Shit. You fell asleep, you weren't supposed to fall asleep. Immediately you're looking for Lucy Gray onscreen, looking for her body, looking for any sign of her but you see none. If there had been a fight, if she had been screaming, that would have woken you up before footsteps did.

You squint to see what's going on, eyes landing on two figures in the middle of the arena, under the beam that Lamina is lying on, still seemingly asleep. The hair on the back of your neck stands up when you realize who the two people are. Sejanus and Coryo. Your friends. Inside the arena, standing over the body of Sejanus's tribute. You recall that one of the female tributes, Lamina, had killed him and cut him down. You suspected that he asked her to- so what were the boys doing in there?

You can't tear your eyes away- what can you even do? They're talking too quietly for the microphones to pick up. Why are they even there? If Coriolanus had planned this he would have told you. This is too reckless, even for him.

You're not helping by sitting and watching. You have to get there.

Abandoning your bag, you walk as fast as you can manage out of the Academy building before making a run for it, heading in the direction of the arena. You don't even have a plan as to what you'll do when you get there. Do you go in? You'll be risking your life without a doubt. You can't risk calling them, you'll practically be summoning the most violent and angry of the tributes right to them, and to you.

When you see the arena, there are people standing outside and several peacekeeper trucks. At least people know.

"What the hell is happening?" You ask, walking up to the first person you see. A peacekeeper.

"You can't be here, Miss. You have to go." They start to push you back and you shove them away by the front of their helmet.

"Don't touch me! My friends are in there and I need to know what's happening right now!" You're trying to keep your voice down, but you need answers- urgently.

"Miss Y/L/N," You hear Dr. Gaul's voice and the peacekeeper lets you go, motioning for you to go over and join her where she is standing with the Dean, and people you recognize as Sejanus's parents are standing by a black vehicle nearby.

"What's going on?" You ask again, firmly as you walk up to the group.

"Sejanus got inside, we don't know who let him in. Coriolanus went in to coax him out."

"What? Why not send peacekeepers? Coriolanus could die in there and you let him go anyway?" It's hard to even believe they would allow a student to walk into harm's way like that. And not just any student, either. Coriolanus Snow.

"If we sent in peacekeepers Sejanus would run. Coriolanus is the only one he would trust so they could leave unnoticed." Dean Highbottom explains.

You scoff, pointing into the gates. "Then why are they still in there?"

"Sejanus is in a difficult place right now, Miss Y/L/N-"

"Yeah. Fuck this." You roll your eyes, taking off your blazer and dropping it on the ground before rolling up your sleeves, and making your way over to the gate.

"Miss Y/L/N, you can't go in there." Dr. Gaul half-heartedly tries to stop you.

"Watch me." You state and the peacekeepers open the gate, letting you in. She must have allowed them to, otherwise they wouldn't.

You're mindful of your steps, trying to be as quiet as possible. You hop over the turnstiles, your landing making the two boys' heads snap toward you.

"It's just me." You whisper, knowing they can't see you in the dark but the large open space will still carry your voice.

"Y/N?" You hear Coryo reply, clearly confused.

"Yeah. We have to go, come on. Come with me."

"Go back!" He hisses. "You can't be here!"

"Neither can you!" Now is not the time for fighting. For once, he needs to listen to you.

He just huffs, turning back to Sejanus, you're assuming to try and talk him down.

"Okay, I've got a plan." You say this time walking back through the bars, triggering the mechanism.

Enjoy the show!

You try not to wince at the loudness of the voice, knowing by now that any nearby tributes must have heard that. If the Coral's pack had heard, clearly being the biggest threat, they'd be here soon so you pick up your pace, running back to the bars that surround the arena in one large circle.

Coryo is calling you to try and get you to stop, to leave, but his whispers don't make it to you anymore.

"Give up?" Dean Highbottom asks you from the other side, and you pick up a large rock from the ground.

"Nope." You shake your head, beginning to walk around the outside, far from the entrance before you start banging it against every bar you walk past. Just for fun, you begin to sing one of Lucy Gray's songs. Maybe, that will be less obvious of a diversion.

When Coriolanus and Sejanus hear the ruckus you're making outside, the banging accompanied by the sound of your voice moving slowly around the outside of the large arena, they look at each other in a mutual panic.

"Sejanus, please. We have to go now." Coriolanus pleads with him, and he looks back down at Marcus for a moment before nodding.

"But we're taking Marcus with us."

"Okay, whatever. Yes." Coriolanus agrees desperately, already grabbing the boy's legs.

They start to carry him toward the exit, picking up pace as they hear that your diversion has worked, echoing voices working their way around the outside of the arena. That's Coryo's primary concern- until they hear what can only be attributed to a war cry from behind them, another tribute with a large knife sprinting after them.

Wordlessly, they both drop Marcus and start to run.

Once you heard what you were sure was Coral's group running up behind you, still out of view, you changed your tune.

"Gem of Panem, mighty city, through the ages you shine anew!"

With this, you hear their confusion and anger increase tenfold, along with their speed.

You start running, dragging the rock along every bar.

"Come back, Capitol Princess! What are you so afraid of?" You hear Coral's familiar voice shout at you, getting closer.

They're laughing now, following you around the outside of the arena. Hopefully, Coryo is out because now it's a race. You're on the opposite side now, and have a long way to go to get back around. You ditch the rock, picking up a full sprint.

You can hear them gaining on you with every step, and you ditch your pride and start to yell about halfway back. "Open the gate!" You scream, hoping someone can hear you, and open it for you to make a quick escape. Every inch you have on the three tributes following you counts, and you're losing that valuable space very quickly. You've never been much of an athlete.

You round the side of the building, seeing the gate partially open, and Coryo is standing there holding a hand out to you. "Y/N/N! Come on!"

As soon as you get close enough he grabs your arm and pulls you through, yanking you back as the peacekeepers slam the gate again in the faces of the tributes. Barbarically they slam their weapons against the bars, making you jump as you crash into Coryo's chest. He's got his arms around you now, holding the back of your head protectively as they eventually give up and walk away, stalking off like a pack of wild animals who had lost their prey; except you don't think they planned on eating you. Just killing you for the fun of it, to leave your family and the city tortured the same way it was over the murder of Arachne Crane.

You're breathing heavily and you can hear your heartbeat pounding in your head, maybe it's his. You can't even really tell.

"You shouldn't have done that." He mumbles to you, gripping onto you as tight as ever. He wants to scold you, tell you that you were too reckless for your own good. That you could have been killed; but he can't. He doesn't care. In this moment, he is only concerned with one thing. "Are you alright?"

You inhale, trying to focus on slowing your laboured breaths as you nod against his shoulder. You couldn't speak, even if you wanted to. You couldn't argue with him and tell him you were only trying to help, and you would argue that you did.

"Coriolanus." Dr. Gaul says, walking up and looking him over. "You'll need stitches, come back with me to my lab." She instructs and he lets you go.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks, pushing your hair back out of your eyes to look at you more clearly. You just nod, biting on the inside of your cheek.

"Fine." You assure him quietly, heart still racing behind your ribs. "Go get stitched up."

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#tbosas #tbosas fic #ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #the hunger games #thg #thg fanfiction

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rhey-007 · 7 months

Text

Love is a flame that thrives in the darkest corners of our hearts.

Fernando Alonso x goth mommy!reader || 18+

Summary: A Halloween party led Fernando to meet his one and only Morticia.

A/N: So it's the first time I write for Fernando so I might have not caught the essence of him, but I tried my best. Also, I love all the young readers (especially young mommy readers) but I'm kind of bored of them :// And I've never yet encountered an older reader so I decided to make this fic's reader around Nando's age with two sons - a 17 year old and 3 year old (which aren't really relevant here). She's also taller than him (181 cm, something like Lance). I'm also not that deep into the f1 universe yet and I don't know who's friends with who from the drivers so I just picked Carlos and Lando for Fernando's closest paddock friends (correct me pls).

+ The situation is completely made up. And I apologise if the Spanish and German parts are bad 😔🤚

Warnings/Tags: smut, 18+, older female reader, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, older reader, kids

Art to the fic

Wordcount: 4219 (around)

Masterlist

✧༺♥༻✧

Halloween was approaching with huge steps, just as a particular big costume party in Berlin did, to which all the F1 drivers were invited. Everyone was excited, besides the oldest one, driving for the turquoise team – Fernando Alonso.

His indifference was caused by the feeling he was too old for such parties and the fact that he had no one to go with. But after on going persuasion from Lando and Carlos, the poor man gave in and agreed to attend the event.

Although there was another problem – lack of creativity. Fernando had no idea what he should wear and if only he could, he would just throw on the first two things he'd find in his wardrobe. But he couldn’t. No, he had to have some costume. That’s when Norris and Sainz stepped in once again.

„What about Ghostface? "

The youngest asked enthusiasticaly. The three of them sitting in a cafe, drinking their coffees and teas and discussing their costumes. Both of them already knew what they were going to wear but refused to tell for a surprise effect at the party.

„Cliché! "

Carlos responded before he put forward his proposition.

„How about Beetlejuice?”

He asked sipping his chocolate macchiato but earned a displeased look from Lando, who didn’t agree.

„Really? Beetlejuice? Come on! I know his 40 but no one has to know! "

Noriss huffed crossing his arms.

„But Beetlejuice is iconic! "

The two started to argue, making everyone around them pay attention to them. Fernando sighed shaking his head, a little embarrassed by his friends’ behavior.

„If you won't stop arguing I'm not gonna go... "

He hissed trying to calm down the boys, who acted like children.

„Isn’t there a character that doesn’t need a lot of preparation from me? Someone... I don't know... Looking like me? "

Alonso asked after the boys finally stopped their childish quarrel. They both looked at Fernando, then at themselves with mischievous smiles and back at Nando.

„You know... "

Lando started, circling his finger on the wooden table.

„There is that one easy... spooky... Spanish character... "

Carlos continued smiling sweetly at his friend. Alonso quickly understood who they meant, his eyes widening and shook his head disapprovingly.

„No, no, no. I ain't going with Gomez. He makes no sense without Morticia. And you know well I DO NOT have one... "

„It doesn’t matter! I'm sure there's going to be a lot of Morticia's trying to find their Gomez! "

Lando smiled excitedly, he already could see Fernando as the head of Addams family dancing on the dance floor with some beautiful, georgous woman. It was also a great opportunity for the spaniard to find a new lover.

„But it's the easiest character for you! All you need is a striped suit, which I already know where to buy, and some gel for your hair. That's it! "

Lando tried to argument their point as well as he could with a slight help from Carlos.

„He's right. And maybe you’ll be lucky enough to find yourself a chick, finally. We have enough of you grumbling you have enough being alone... „"

The man whispered the last sentence hoping Nando won't hear it, but he did and softly smacked the back of Sainz's head. He did in fact had enough of being alone, as well as seeing all the guys glued to their girlfriends on the paddock, kissing, giggling and being happy. He wanted to puke at the only thought. After an hour of Carlos and Lando stating their pluses for the idea, and Fernando sinking in them, the older man finally but reluctantly agreed.

✧༺♥༻✧

When the time came, Nando put on his Gomez suit – it had not only white stripes but also turquoise ones as well as white – turquoise rose in the chest pocket - that Lando found for him and brushed his hair back with gel, leaving some loose strands for the hairstyle to look better. Carlos and Charles picked him up dressed as Mario and Luigi. Fernando could swear they argued which one would be Mario, and it amused him a little when he saw them.

„Hey man! Where's your Morticia? "

Leclerc teased with a smirk. Fernando just rolled his eyes and kicked Sainz’ sit to make him drive away already.

Soon they arrived to the party, stepping out of the car Norris and Piastri quickly greeted them dressed as Scooby and Shaggy with Lily dressed as Velma. The six of them walked in, loud music filling their ears. They filled one of the booths and immediately ordered drinks. Halloween sangrias, raven coktails and other drinks as quickly appeared on the table, as quickly disappeared from it.

While the guys danced Lando tried his best to find a Morticia for Fernando. He was right, there were a lot of them. All of them looked the same with small alterations to the dress, well they were all the same character after all.

Neither of them grasped Alonso's interest and the man was about to give up when he run into one of them after leaving the bathroom. She was different. Taller, older, mature, more dedicated to the role, more passionate. She caught his eye immediately.

„Oh god, I'm sorry”

He said after bumping into her, before she turned around and took his breath away.

„It's okay liebling~” (darling)

The woman smiled down at Nando, her voice like honey to his ears. The man took a good look at her.

Her slender fingers were wrapped around a glass - he wished they could be wrapped around his neck - pale skin shined in the lights as if she was one of the Cullens - he wondered if it burned in the sun - her eyes so dark he wasn’t sure if they were real, sharp canine teeth he wanted sanked deep in his neck so bad. She seemed like a real life vampire.

„Let me guess... You're a Gomez looking for his Morticia? "

She spoke up, getting him out of trance. A soft blush spread across the man's face, barely visible under the red light he was standing in, and he nodded sheepishly. The woman chuckled warmly, her tone changing from a playful to flirtatious one.

„Well, then I guess you're lucky. You've got yourself an einzigartig one~” (unique)

Stretching her hand towards Fernando, expecting him to kiss it she didn’t have to wait long as he obliged immediately. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of her palm before asking in a gentleman manner.

„Would you like to dance? "

The woman agreed and after finishing her drink they were off to the dance floor.

They had a pretty good time, the woman taught Fernando a few moves, they were chatting throughout and giggling at the ridiculous costumes.

„I have to admit, you're an amazing dancer. You could make it to Dancing with the Stars”

She teased with a gorgeous smile, making Fernando practically melt in her embrace. He held onto her waist tightly as if she was going to run away the moment he'd let go.

But she wouldn’t. She was too mesmerized by the man to do so. Fernando shook his head at her words.

„No, no, cariño. You're the one who can really dance here”

Nando praised her then pressed another kiss to her hand and squeezed it gently. He was such a sweet gentleman it made butterflies fly in her stomach. Soon Alonso took her back to his booth where he realized he didn’t even knew her name.

✧༺♥༻✧

„I'm Y/N”

You said with a smile while shaking the guys’ hands. You’ve managed to catch that they all were F1 drivers and the girl was a girlfriend of one of them.

They were really nice people, aside the fact they were joking about your height difference, but still the only one you were really interested in was Fernando.

He was amazing - charming, handsome, soft, flirty. He had strong arms you wanted wrapped around yourself all the time, gentle hands that made you shiver, his wrinkles made him even more handsome and the shining hazel eyes made you loose yourself in them.

After some time you were left alone with the girl as the boys went to order more drinks.

„Are you as much invested in racing as them?"

You asked Lily and the girl shook her head.

„Not really. I support Oscar as much as I can but I still don’t get some of the things, like penalties, nor the whole hype. But y'know, I try my best”

Nodding your head you reciprocated the smile. You wondered how it was to be an F1 driver's girlfriend. For sure it wasn’t easy, especially because of the media and rumors, but you believed they could overcome it.

„So are you all here because of a race? Or did you just get the invitations to boost the event? "

„Well, there is a race here in a few days, but I wouldn't be surprised if the boostin up was true too! "

You both chuckled amuzed, you had to admit you wouldn’t be surprised either.

You quickly started to like the girl, she was really mature and smart for her age, not like her boyfriend.

Lily liked you too, she enjoyed the youthful vibe you radiated and the fact that Fernando seemed to finally find a woman perfect for himself. She just hoped you wouldn’t be just a one night stand.

„Well, well, well. I see our girls already get along. It's a good sign buddy~”

Piastri teased, nudging Fernando’s side as they came back. The older man rolled his eyes a bit annoyed before sitting down beside you and handing you your black magic margarita.

You took it after a quick ‘thanks' escaped your lips and took a sip, meanwhile your free hand made it's way to his lap to sooth it and signal everything's okay and there was no need to be annoyed. Nando relaxed under your touch and took your hand in his, interwining fingers together.

You continued your chat with Lily, from time to time joining the men's conversation. You really enjoyed their company.

✧༺♥༻✧

When the night passed you were finally left alone with Nando. Your legs layed on top of his, his arm wrapped around your waist pulling you close while your hand toyed with the hem of his jacket.

You both were a little tipsy, but sober enough to notice the sexual tension.

„My chauffeur will be here soon, thought we could get out of here and have some more fun~”

You purred into his ear. Feeling his hand squeeze your hip afterwards was enough for you to know that he was more than keen on it.

When your chauffeur arrived you left the bar and quickly hopped into your 50s Cadillac Hearse. The man completely forgot that someone might have seen you and take photos, he was too occupied by you.

Fernando’s lips immediately attacked yours the moment he closed the door. You were devoured into the passionate kiss and didn’t even notice the man’s hands starting to roam your body.

They were warm, burning in contrast to your freezing ones. When you burried them under Nando's shirt you could feel him shiver but soon he relaxed.

The drive to your small ghotic castle in Zehlendorf took around 30 minutes, but felt like 5 as you were drowned in your dirty ministrations.

Good thing the window to the front of the car was closed, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to do that. It was nothing much sexual, just kiss by kiss while your hands explored each others’ body respectfully.

You belived Fernando saved his – what Lando and Sainz called – freaky side for while you were in the bedroom and you didn’t want to rush anything, it was perfect as it was.

The man pulled you out of the car when it stopped, he didn’t bother to look at the facility as he carried you bridal style to the door. Your butler opened it and instructed Alonso to your bedroom where he quickly took you and gently settled on the bed.

You pulled him into another searing kiss while fiddling with the buttons of his jacket. The man took it off after you slowly and playfully unbuttoned it, while not breaking eye contact, and tossed it to the floor.

Next was your black fur. His shirt. Your gorset. Bit by bit you undressed each other. You appreciated how gentle he was with your garments, he figured they were expensive and he also liked them too much to ruin them.

Once you finally layed naked underneeth him he examined you in a lustful but also admiring way.

Your breasts were rather small - but he didn’t mind, stretch marks graced your lower belly, hips and thighs - he already knew he was going to follow the patterns with his fingers afterwards while softly tickling you, he could aslo see your ribs – barely but still – and he knew he would have to be careful with you. You were even more thin than he thought, almost slander like, but he liked that.

You were a change from all the younger, tanned, almost everywhere full woman he usually hooked up with, and it was a nice change.

You also were able to survey him better. He was even better built than you imagined, his tanned skin looked like caramel compared to your almost ghostish one, and the beautfiul samurai tattoo made you gasp when you noticed it in a mirror behind.

Also his ass cheeks... They were bigger than yours and you felt kind of jelous, in a funny way.

„Hermosa... perfecta... asombrosa... “ (beautiful, perfect, breathtaking)

He praised, his lips slowly making their way down your cold body.

“Y apuesto inteligente” (And I bet intelligent)

Fernando stopped just before your womanhood and said with a smirk painted on his face, his eyes piercing yours. His words were like spells, making your body shrink under his and warmth spread across it.

“Fernie...”

You breathed out, begging him to go lower which he obliged right away. It felt like bliss when he finally reached your rose, slowly licking it from the very bottom up to your sensitive bud, before starting to slowly devour it.

Saying he was skilled was an understatement, he was an expert. He was nothing like your ex-husband, who just used you for his own pleasure.

No. For Fernando your pleasure was a priority, making you enjoy your time with him was numero uno on his to do list for the rest of the night, and you didn’t complain.

When you were wet enough the man brought one of his fingers up to your entrance, touching it slightly while his eyes averted to yours, an asking expression on his face.

He didn’t have to say anything for you to nodd your head eagerly. After that he pushed his digit inside slowly, his eyes not leaving your face searching for any sign of discomfort. But there was none, so after a few thrusts that made you moan his name in such a beautiful way, he pushed another one and went a little bit faster.

The pace was neither painfully fast nor boringly slow, it was just perfect – his fingers hitting all the juicy spots and making lewd noises each time they pulled out and reentered you - enough for you to come undone in a short period of time.

Your hand gripped his brown locks while you came on his face. Nando tried his best to ride you through your high - his lips joining his fingers - then clean you the best he could.

Your heavy breaths were interrupted by his face suddenly appearing in front of yours. A huge grin graced it - you could tell he was proud with himself and his actions – and your juices were spread across his lips and beard.

You giggled a little at his puppy like behaviour, you could swear if he had a tail it would’ve been wagging like craz in that moment. You’ve managed to grab a tissue from your nightstand then clean his face.

“Es war wundervoll” (it was amazing)

You praised him with a smile while ruffling his hair.

“It wasn’t the end”

The man said before pressing his lips against yours. This time the kiss was more hungry and lustful than soft as the ones before, but you didn’t mind.

His palms toyed with your breasts, they fit in them perfectly making Nando groan satisfyingly. He kept teasing you until you couldn’t take it anymore and moaned out.

„Nando please... I need you... I need you inside of me liebling...” (darling)

You didn’t have to repeat yourself. The man grabbed your hand and run it gently through your sore core to gather your juices, then wrapped it around his member, giving it a few pumps before aligning with your hole.

He interwined your fingers together and slowly pushed inside, the stretch he gave you burned a little but soon was a delight.

After pushing almost all the way in Nando let you adjust, his free hand soothing your cheek as he observed your face shine in pleasure.

“Maravilloso” (wonderfull)

A whisper escaped his lips and just then did he start to move. His movement was slow but deep, his member burrying deep inside of you with every thrust.

“Tan bueno...” (So good)

Fernando moaned into your ear then hid his face in the crook of your neck, where he nibbled at your skin and left a few hickeys along with wet kisses.

His movements became more and more erratic with every push and pull as he lost himself in the feeling of you. He loved the way you clenched around him every time he hit the A spot, as much as he loved the challange to find your G spot to grant you ultimate pleasure.

You wrapped your free hand around the man, long, red nails scratching his skin gently and leaving soft red marks.

You couldn’t remember when was the last time you had such an amzing sex. Maybe because after your husband you opted for younger men, neither able to satisfy you.

But Fernando? He was your age and knew well how to satisfy a woman. You felt like a queen while in his embrace, his priority to make you feel good amazed you and sent a thrill down your spine.

Both your legs were wrapped around him too, trying to pull him even closer to yourself. A smirk appeared on his face at your actions and he pulled it away from your neck to look at you.

“Necesitada~”(needy)

The man teased, one of his hands finding it’s way to your breast to fiddle with your hard nipple. It earned a loud moan out of you, so loud he feared someone could hear you two, but soon the thought left his head when you started to breathe rapidly.

You were close to your orgasm, which meant he could finally let himself go and make his movements faster and sloppier.

Grunts, pants and moans filled the room as both of you reached your highs, the man pulled out before cumming which you really appreciated.

Fernando collapsed on top of you as you both breathed heavily, yours hampered by his weight.

“Fernie liebling... I can’t breath...”

You mumbled kissing the top of his head, a chuckle escaping your lips when he shot up, a worried expression on his face.

„I-I’m so sorry cariño. Are you okay?”

He asked and cleaned you from his seed. His hands soothing your rib cage gently, from time to time brushing against your breasts as he looked down at you, eyes full of worry and brows furrowed.

„Nein... I’m great” (No)

You smiled brightly and the man sighed in relief. He flopped down beside you and pulled you close then covered your bodies with your cashmere blanket.

Just as he predicted his hands immediately wandered to your hips, drawing your stretch mark patters, while you layed your head on top of his chest and listened to his heart beat.

If only you could you would have gone another round, this time you on top and in control as you usually would, but you were too tired to even think about this.

„Next time I'm in charge”

You murmured into his chest, earning a quiet, surprised gasp. He didn’t question your words though, he just enjoyed the fact you wanted there to be a next time.

The rest of the night you’ve spent in each others’ embraces, whispering sweet nothings and drawing patterns on each other’s bodies until you fell asleep.

✧༺♥༻✧

Sun peaked from between the black, floor length curtains into the dark room, reaching his skin and burning his eyes.

The man grumbled a little before finally waking up from the deep sleep. Fernando sat up on the bed and rubbed his eyes then looked around the room.

„Where the hell am I?...”

He questioned confused. He didn’t bother to check his surroundings the night before and now he wondered if he didn’t get abducted.

The walls of your bedroom were burgundy red with black stripes, a black chandelier hanged from the ceiling as well as black canopy above the bed.

The bed was huge, in the same colors as the walls and everything else in the room. It felt like straight out of vampire novels.

Quickly putting on his clothes, he almost tripped and fell down the stairs, his bum actually hitting the last step at the very bottom - as his head was still heavy - made the people gathered in the kitchen check what was going on.

„Mama! Dieser Wichser ist endlich aufgewacht!“ (Mom! That motherfucker has finally woke up!)

„Klaus! Pass auf was du sagst!” (Klaus! Watch your mouth!)

Soon Nando felt the familiar cold hands grip his arm and help get up.

„Are you okay?

The woman asked, her hands soothing his cheeks worriedly. He leaned into her touch and noddded with lidded eyes.

„Oh mi amor, you scared me”

She continued while leading him to the kitchen and sat him down by the table.

„Here, this will wake you up”

A cup of dark liquid and a pill appeared in front of him, he figured it was coffe and hangover pills. A single sip helped him regain his mind.

The first face he met after fully opening his eyes was of a small kid’s, brightly smiling at him. The boy waved his hand enthusiastically when he noticed Fernando’s soft smile.

The man had to quickly take the pill before the boy could reach it then ruffled his hair gently, earning a giggle and a warm look from his mother.

„Good morning~”

You purred running your hand through the spaniard’s hair while his arm wrapped round your waist pulling you close.

„Buenos dias, cariño” (Good morning)

He kissed your hand then his head snapped to your older son who let out a sound of disgust.

The boy looked nothing like you aside the fact that he was a giant as well. He had blonde locks covering his forehead, green hooded eyes and tanned skin. He could not believe he was your son.

The younger one, on the other hand, was more similar to you – with dark hair and eyes, only with a tanned skin like Klaus.

„Those are my sons – Klaus and little Benny”

You explained while giving Fernando a plate full of food.

„They just came back from my brother”

You quickly added, to dispel his thoughts they could hear you two the previosu night. The man sighed relieved and started to eat, from time to time looking at your sons and earning death stares from Klaus.

He didn’t mind you had kids, but started to worry he was just a one night stand before your husband comes back.

Although if that was the case you wouldn’t let him sleep as long as he wanted, feed him and let him meet your children. Nando had no idea what to think anymore, he didn’t want your ‘realtionship’ to end after one night.

Soon a doorbell disturbed his thoughts. A doorbell that was about to start chaos. You left the boys alone to open it and you didn’t manage to say anything before Lando and Carlos burst in.

“Fernando! Where the hell are ya?!”

He could hear their scared voices from the kitchen and chuckled a little. They run into the kitchen after you instrcuted them and sighed.

“God you’re alright! Knew we shouldn’t have left you alone. No offense Y/N. Your manager is going to kill ALL THREE OF US if you won’t be at the track in an hour! He’s been calling you all day but you left your phone in the club!”

Lando blurted out on one breath while Carlos picked the spaniard up and proceeded to push him out of the building. You’ve managed to catch them before they got inside their car and gave Fernando your business card along with a chaste kiss.

“Call me!”

You waved your hand goodbye as you watched them drive away, standing in front of your black castle in nothing more than your long, pitch black robe with feathers and full of hope that he would call.

489 notes · View notes

scoonsalicious · 1 month

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 16, Unaccompanied - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, allusions to sexy stuff, a long overdue conversation with Steve.

Word Count: 2.4k

Previously On...: You went to Tony for answers about how Carthage ended up on the Quinjet; he asks you to attend his annual shareholder gala on Saturday. You, vomiting, + a bunch of stuffy rich people. What could go wrong?

A/N: Quick note about how text messages are written herein: Outgoing messages (in this instance, from Pocket to Bucky) will be indicated by ">>" in front of them. Incoming messages are labeled with the contact name the phone owner has for that person in their phone. In this instance, Pocket has Bucky saved in her phone as "Magic Dick🍆🦾" lol

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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The gala had barely begun and you were already exhausted. Your stomach bug hadn’t let up, and you’d been vomiting for the last two days. Fortunately, you were able to get an injection of an anti-nausea medication from one of the interns down in the med bay, so even though you didn’t currently have to worry about puking your guts out on some obscenely wealthy financier, you just had to deal with the constant exhaustion you’d been feeling from your illness.

Just a few more hours, you told yourself as you brushed off the advances of yet another man old enough to be your father. Not once had anyone actually wanted to discuss the Crisis Prediction Algorithm System. It seemed you were being viewed more as potential arm candy than Stark Industries’ CTO. That alone was enough to leave you longing for an early night in your bed.

You did look amazing, though, you had to admit, even if you’d had to go a little heavy on the makeup to mask your pallor. When you asked Tony for a new dress, you’d anticipated taking the girls on a shopping trip. Tony, however, had other ideas and had sent a designer from one of the city’s top fashion houses to the Tower to collect your measurements, and then, the following day, a garment bag appeared in your room containing a striking dress in shimmering Iron Man-red. The bodice was form fitting and strapless, with an asymmetric neckline, and the skirt was full and came down to just below your ankles.

It was gorgeous, and when your hair and makeup had been completed, you looked like a princess straight out of a fairy tale. You’d sent a picture to Bucky and he’d immediately sent you back a series of panting emojis that had you laughing. The following string of text that described exactly what he wanted to do to you in the dress then had you panting, yourself. Fuck your parameters, apparently.

But now, you couldn’t wait to get out of it for an entirely different reason. The call of your pajamas was so alluring. Not only were you physically tired, but you were bored out of your mind. As this was a Stark Industries party, and not an official Avengers gathering, most of your friends had opted not to come. Rhodey was here, now almost fully recovered from his gunshot wounds, but Tony wouldn’t leave his side, so he was constantly being surrounded by people and you couldn’t really find an opening to go talk to him.

When you’d asked Nat and Wanda if they wanted to come with you, Wanda had politely declined, letting you know that she and Vision already had plans to go out of town for the weekend, while Nat just scoffed at you. “I would literally rather swallow broken glass, Pocket,” she’d said. “Those things are boring as fuck and there is not enough money you could possibly pay me to go to one, sorry.” She’d ended up going bar hopping with Clint and Sam, instead.

So, there you were, all by yourself, not even able to distract yourself with the elaborate spread of food that Tony had provided, as the thought of eating still turned your stomach, when you felt a hand at your elbow.

“Hey,” Steve said softly. His presence took you by surprise– you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d truly spoken to one another, aside from clipped conversations about work and missions. “That’s a lovely dress.” A slight blush tinted his cheeks. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Steve, hi. Um, I’m good, thank you. Just really tired. Not quite in the right headspace to schmooze, you know?” you asked him, trying to fight off the awkwardness you were feeling at speaking to him again after so long. “You look very dashing tonight.” And he did, with his dark navy suit and cream button-up.

He smiled, then held out a hand. “Would you care to dance?” he asked. You thought about it for a second. You didn’t want to lead him on, let him think you had any interest beyond the platonic relationship you’d always shared, but you were so fucking bored. One dance couldn’t hurt.

“I’d love to,” you said, taking his hand and letting him lead you to the dance floor.

He was surprisingly light on his feet, given his hulking frame, and he led you through the steps with ease. You somehow managed to only step on his toes twice, which gave you both a good laugh.

“I must have forgotten all my finishing school lessons,” you teased.

“Nah, you’re doing great.” Steve sent you out for a spin, but as he twirled you back into his arms, you were overcome with a wave of dizziness and stumbled. You felt your knees give out and your body begin to collapse in its exhaustion.

“Whoa,” said Steve, using his super soldier reflexes to grab you before you could fall and hold you steady. “I got you. You wanna sit down? Rest a bit?”

You nodded and he led you over to a quiet corner where some couches had been arranged for that very purpose. He guided you down to sit, then placed himself next to you, concern clouding his features.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Just, you know, between the nausea and the vomiting, I haven’t really been able to keep a lot of food down over the last two days. It’s got me so tired. I think I overdid it with a dance number.”

Steve chuckled, then stood up. “Let me go get you something to drink,” he said. “It’s important that you stay hydrated.” You nodded, and he was off.

With a sigh, you reached into your clutch and pulled out your phone, sending a quick text to Bucky, but knowing that, due to the time difference, he was probably sleeping.

>> I miss you.

You were quite surprised, then, when you saw the three dots appear almost immediately.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Not that I don’t miss you too, because I desperately do.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: But aren’t you supposed to be livin' it up like Cinderella at the ball?

You chuckled at that before responding.

>> This Cinderella is tired and bored and would much rather be snuggled up in bed with her metal-armed Prince Charming watching a movie or literally any other activity aside from being at this ball unaccompanied.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: You better be talking ‘bout me, doll.

>> How many other metal-armed men do I have in my life, dipshit?

>> Why are you even awake, anyway?

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I’m just teasin’ you, smart ass ;)

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I’d much rather be curled up in bed with you doin any variety of bedly activities, too >:)

Magic Dick🍆🦾: And I’m up because we’re getting ready to act on our intel and raid the communications office we were sent to find.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Hit 'em at dawn when they’re least suspectin’ it, ya know?

>> Jesus Christ, baby! Be careful!

Maybe it wasn’t a good thing you hadn’t gone on the mission– you didn’t even have the energy to imagine yourself having the energy to conduct a raid in your current state.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Always, doll. Gotta get back to my best girl, don’t I?

>> You absolutely do. Cause if I found out you died, I will kill you.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I have no doubt that if someone were to find a way to murder me from beyond my grave, it would be you.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Shit. Sorry sweets, I gotta go.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Try to have fun. I love you.

>> I love you too, Buckaroo.

You stared at the screen for a moment longer, but there was no further reply. Wonderful. Now you would be spending what little energy you absolutely did not have to spare worrying about Bucky’s safety.

Steve returned then, handing you a cold glass dripping with condensation. “It’s lemonade,” he said as you took a sip. “I know how much you like lemons.”

You smiled in thanks, but it came out more like a grimace. Steve noticed immediately.

“Are you alright? Does it not taste good? I could go get you something else…”

You put a reassuring hand on his arm. “No, Steve, the lemonade’s fine. Thank you for getting it for me; that was very thoughtful. It’s just,” you sighed, “I was texting Bucky. He and Carthage are running a raid on a communications office as we speak, and now I’m just nervous and worried about him.”

Steve’s brow creased. “Oh,” he said, though you could tell there was more behind the word than the single syllable would imply. “I didn’t realize the two of you had gotten back together.”

Fuck. You were by far too tired to be having this conversation. Squeezing your eyes shut for a moment, you decided it was time to confront the giant elephant that had been sitting between you and the Captain for far too long. “We haven’t, not officially, anyway, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t still love each other, in spite of everything that’s happened. We’re just working on building trust. Or rather, he’s working on building trust, and I’m working on determining if I can trust him again. It’s a process.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, the movement so minute you would have missed it if you hadn’t been watching him so closely in the moment. You took a deep breath before you continued.

“Look, Steve,” you began, “I know about your feelings for me.” His eyes shot up to meet yours, and he opened his mouth to protest, but you gently held a hand up to stop him from speaking. You needed to get everything you had to say out while you still had the energy to do so. “I’ve known for a bit, and while I’m truly flattered, and honored, that you care for me, I’m also so sorry that I don’t feel the same way about you. You’re a good man. A wonderful man, and I know most people would tell me I’m an idiot for not reciprocating, but I just don’t share those feelings.”

“It’s because of Berlin, isn’t it?” he asked softly, not meeting your gaze, and for a moment, you could see the small, shy boy Bucky had told you about from his youth.

“Berlin altered our relationship, it’s true,” you told him, “but the nature of my feelings for you were cemented long before that. You’re my family, and do I love you, but I love you as a member of that family. The way I love Tony, and Nat, and Thor, but maybe a little better than I love Clint.” Steve chuckled softly at that, and you smiled, glad you could make him laugh even a little. “I’m sorry this isn’t the answer you want to hear, and I’m sorry that you’ve had to watch me be with your best friend. None of it was ever done with the intention of deliberately causing you pain, but at the same time, I need to do what’s going to make me happy, and I hope you can accept that, as my friend and a member of my family.”

Steve looked like he was going to argue with you for a moment, but he kept his mouth shut and just nodded. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “I can accept that. It hurts,” he chuckled humorously, “but I want both you and Bucky to be happy.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” you said, suppressing a yawn. “Holy shit, I’m tired. I think I’m going to call it a night. I put in enough time to fulfill my obligation to Tony.” You stood, but immediately stumbled, the motion of standing enough to make you dizzy.

Steve was instantly on his feet, an arm out to steady you. “I got you,” he said. He put a hand to your forehead, checking your temperature. “You don’t seem to have a fever, but I’m getting worried about you, Pocket. I should escort you down to med bay.”

You waved the suggestion off. “No, it’s fine. The last thing I want is a bunch of doctors poking and prodding at me all night. I’ll be fine, I just need to sleep.”

“You can barely even stand up on your own,” Steve protested. “Let me at least walk you back to your room. Make sure you get there without falling over.” You were going to tell him you’d be fine on your own when a wave of nausea overtook you.

“Yeah, okay,” you said, clutching tightly to his arm for support. You had planned on going over to Tony and Pepper to say a proper goodbye, but given the way you were currently feeling, an Irish one was going to have to do, instead.

Steve put a hand to your back and led you out of the banquet hall. You had to stop more than once to steady yourself, and you were grateful for Steve’s assistance. By the time he’d walked you to your door, you were running on fumes.

“Do you need help getting inside?” he asked, looking worried.

“No,” you assured him. “I’ll be okay. I am literally just going to collapse into my bed. Might not even bother taking the dress off, to be honest.”

Steve blushed, and you regretted putting the idea of you getting out of your clothes into his head. “Well, if you’re sure,” he said, running a hand behind his neck, the movement so similar to Bucky that it threw you for a moment. “If there’s anything you need in the night, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me, alright?”

“Sure, Steve,” you said as he placed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. You were grateful for his help, but you knew that, even if you were suddenly dying, you would not, in fact, be calling him. “Thanks for your help.”

You wished each other a goodnight, and soon you were once again within the sanctuary of your room. Managing to summon the will from somewhere, you shimmied out of the dress, draping it over your vanity chair; it was, after all, probably far too expensive to either sleep in or leave in a puddle on the floor overnight. You debated whether or not to take the time to remove your face full of makeup but, God, your bed was just so inviting, you’d deal with the consequences in the morning.

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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pulisicsgirl · 10 months

Text

breathe, you're okay - mason mount

summary: when the mounting pressure of a Women's UCL run is falling on Y/N's shoulders, she isn't handling it by herself as well as she would like everyone to believe she is

pairing: Mason Mount x footballer!reader

word count: 2.9k

warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, no established relationship, !!descriptions of a panic attack!!, discussions about mental heath, supportive Mase

requested: no

notes: surprise!! I'm sorry I haven't posted in months-- my life kind of went up in flames over the summer and I haven't had the time to write that I was hoping to. I have a few WIPs in my drafts, and I am still working on all of your requests! Please let me know what you think of this!

The hot afternoon sun beat down on you, and you felt the drops of sweat sliding down the side of your head and tickling the hairs on the back of your neck. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you ran up and down the field, weaving between cones, carrying the ball at your feet, running through a series of consecutive drills that were designed to refine your skills and test your endurance.

You did your best to recall the instructions that your coach had carefully laid out before the team began the drill, but with the heat and the fatigue that was seeping all the way into your bones, it seemed impossible to remember. You wound up relying on the teammate in front of you to recall what you needed to do next.

You let out a heavy sigh of relief when you heard the sound of the whistle—two short chirps, signaling for you to halt your movements. You draped your arms over your head, drawing in deep, heaving breaths as you attempted to get your heart rate under control.

You joined the rest of your teammates as they gathered around the coach, preparing for his parting words before everyone was dismissed.

“Good session today, ladies,” he clapped his hands in front of him, looking around the circle. “I’m seeing a lot of good things. A lot of improvement in our touches and finishing. You all are looking really good.”

A couple of the girls clapped at his words, the rest too exhausted to do anything but listen.

“We have the day off tomorrow, so use it well. Rest, recover, and come back Monday ready to go. We’ve got some heavy prep next week before the second leg on Friday,” he continued, and a couple others whooped, getting excited for the upcoming big game.

“They’re gonna be a really tough opponent, I’ll be honest. We know that their back line is really strong, tough to break through.” Your coach’s eyes fell on you, and you knew what was coming next before he even began to speak, your stomach sinking slightly. “But that’s what we have Miss Y/N, for, right?”

Several of the girls cheered for you. The girls near you slapped you on the back, trying to get you hyped up. And the weight that had settled in the pit of your stomach grew heavier.

The Manchester United women were on an impressive UEFA Women’s Champions League run, overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds to make it to the semifinal. And according to the media (and now your own teammates and coaches), it was all thanks to you.

In the group stage, a decisive game in which your team had gone down 2-0 in the first half had seemed hopeless until you had scored two goals in the second, assisting on the third to put your team through to the knockout games. Another three goal contributions in the quarter-final matches had put you in the spotlight of all of the team’s media coverage, thrusting a wave of attention upon you that you had never asked for.

You had gone down 1-0 in the first leg of the semi-final, and now you were playing from behind. And it seemed that everyone expected you to be the one to pull them out of it.

So now, you were left feeling the pressure as the second leg was fast approaching.

“Alright, ladies. Have a good rest of the day and a great day off tomorrow.” He clapped his hands, dismissing you all. The circle of girls dispersed, chatting among themselves.

“Am I still leaving the cones out for you?” the coach raising his eyebrows at you. You only nodded in return. “Okay, don’t work yourself to death.”

You laughed humorlessly as you fiddled with the ball at your feet, not meeting his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, resting a hand on your shoulder to try to draw your attention to him. “Get some rest tomorrow, okay? We all see how hard you’re working. Give yourself a break.”

Another nod is all that you can muster, and you don’t miss the short sigh that he lets out as he drops his hand from your shoulder and walks to join the rest of the group moving indoors.

You repositioned a few of the cones to set up your own drill and got right into it.

Across the field, on another training pitch near yours, Mason watched as you carried the ball with you up and down the field, weaving between cones, practicing a few skills that he had seen you implement in games, and taking a shot on the goal at each pass.

He was supposed to be doing a bit of extra work with a few of the boys. The men’s team had finished their training session about an hour before, but a few of them still felt like they wanted to get a bit more done before calling it a day. So here they were, running a few small three-a-side games to utilize the last of their energy that day.

But he couldn’t help but notice how you never stopped.

During the team training, you were always one of the hardest-working ones out there. When he had returned to the pitch from lunch, you were taking shots on the goal with the rest of your team nowhere in sight. He wasn’t even sure he had seen you eating lunch inside when he thought about it.

And now here you were, sprinting across the length of the field, over and over, after the rest of your team had hit the showers.

He felt a twinge of worry for you but brushed it off as one of his teammates called his name to pull his attention back to the game they were playing.

Your head was spinning as you pushed yourself to keep moving. Your entire body was drenched in sweat. Every muscle ached from overexertion as you gritted your teeth, forcing them to keep moving. The sun was dizzyingly bright as the evening set in. You could feel the heat practically radiating off of your skin. Your lungs were burning with your heaving breaths and your mouth quickly grew dry.

“That’s what we have Miss Y/N for, right?” Your coach’s words echoed through your head as you carried the ball down the field.

“Y/L/N carries the Man U Women through to the semifinal!” You recalled the title of the article as you weaved between the cones.

“I really believe Y/N Y/L/N could be the one to lead Manchester United to their first Women’s Champion’s League trophy!” You heard the words of the pundit clear as day as you planted your foot, striking the ball cleanly. It soared through the air, curving toward the goal, and struck the crossbar. The ball flew away from the goal, bouncing pathetically on the ground in the penalty area.

You took a pause, the words and expectations crashing around your mind leaving an unsettling feeling in your chest. As you stood there, you couldn’t seem to get your panting breaths to grow steadier.

Your shirt suddenly felt too tight on your neck. You grasped the fabric, pulling it away from your body in an attempt to allow yourself to breathe easier, but nothing seemed to be helping.

Your head was spinning. You felt your stomach sink, a feeling like when you plummeted down the tall hill of a rollercoaster, a sick feeling settling in your abdomen. Your skin began to crawl, and you just couldn’t stop hyperventilating.

You began to panic. Eyes searching frantically for relief. You weren’t sure what you were looking for—something, anything.

You suddenly felt like you were too out in the open, needing to seclude yourself away from the sight of prying eyes. You set into a sprint, off of the field and around the corner of the nearest part of the building to you, trying to find some shade from the hot sun and hide yourself from anyone who might see your pathetic state.

But it was too late. Mason had seen the whole thing.

They had just paused their game for a short water break. He had seen you take the shot, instead hitting the crossbar. It only took him a few seconds once you paused to realize that something wasn’t right.

He watched the way your chest rose and fell rapidly in quick, short breaths. When you began attempting to pull your shirt away from your body, he instantly knew what was taking place. He’d recognize that feeling anywhere.

You were having a panic attack, whether you realized it or not.

As soon as he saw you take off for the side of the building, he was running after you without so much as a word of explanation to his teammates.

Once in the shade of the wall you hid behind, you began pacing, unable to keep still. Every inch of your body felt jittery, and you felt unsteady on your legs. You couldn’t manage more than rapid, shallow breaths. Your throat felt tight, your breaths sounding more like wheezes, and it was starting to make your head spin. Your hands flew to your head, scratching at your scalp in an attempt to somehow rid yourself of the feeling.

You were startled by Mason swiftly rounding the corner, concern written all over his face as he stopped in front of you.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he spoke calmly and evenly. He quickly reached up, taking your wrists in his hands so he could gently but firmly pull your hands out of your hair to keep you from hurting yourself.

“I can’t, Mason. I can’t,” you panted, shaking your head ‘no’ frantically and still trying to weakly pull your hand from his grip.

“You’re okay, Y/N. Try to slow down your breathing,” Mason’s calm voice directly contrasted your frantic behavior, speaking in short sentences so as to not overwhelm you more. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

A short sob fell from your lips, and you felt the tears spilling over and down your cheeks.

“We’re gonna lose,” you sobbed, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. “The semifinal, we’re gonna lose it, and it’s gonna be all my fault.”

In that moment, everything clicked into place for Mason-- the UWCL run, your success in the games leading up to the semi-final leg, the pressure from the fans and the team, the countless extra hours you had been putting in.

A loud noise in the distance, coming from the direction of the parking lot, startled you, snatching your attention and you whipped your head to the side, eyes searching frantically for the source. He released your wrists from his hand, testing the waters as he turned your head back to look at him with a hand on your cheek.

He cradled your face with a hand on either side, keeping your focus on him. His thumbs wiped the tears away that had slipped down your cheeks.

“Hey, look at me. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you,” he repeated the affirmations he had already been telling you.

As he stroked his thumbs softly over the skin of your cheek, he felt that your breathing was already growing a bit slower. You had reached up, holding onto his wrists with both of your hands to steady yourself, feeling too unsteady on your feet. His hands were gentle and soft on your skin.

Mason watched your expression, taking long deep breaths for you to emulate. Your eyes were still wide, darting frantically around his face, but you were trying your best to follow his breathing. He continued whispering short reassurances.

“You’re safe.”

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“I’ve got you.”

You were beginning to calm down, but your eyes darted to something behind Mason, pulled away from the calm atmosphere he had tried to create for you.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he spoke gently, pressing his forehead to yours so you would only focus on him. You were shocked at how little the intrusion on your personal space bothered you. In fact, to your surprise, the closeness seemed to settle you a little more.

You continued focusing on your breathing, gripping tightly to his wrists as if you thought he’d disappear if you let go. Your eyes were clamped closed, listening to Mason’s soft and slow breathing. You felt your pounding heart being to slow its pace.

The panic you had been feeling subsided, leaving behind a wave of extreme fatigue. You felt completely and utterly drained.

Mason must have noticed the way that your body slumped over, and he guided you to sit down on the grass, leaning back against the brick wall of the building. He sat down next to you, leaving space so he didn’t make you more nervous. But in the haze you felt in your mind, you felt a need to still be close to him, leaning over so you could place your head on his shoulder. A short pang of guilt washed over you as you noticed the crescent-shaped indents you had left on his wrists, your nails digging into the skin as you had held onto him.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, your eyes slipping closed as you continued focusing on breathing slowly. A gentle breeze blew through, cooling your clammy skin and brushing through the blades of grass.

“I used to get them sometimes, too, you know?” Mason broke the silence, speaking softly.

You responded with a quiet, “hmm?” unsure of what he meant.

“Panic attacks,” he explained. “At the end of last season, before I left Chelsea. There was a lot of pressure. Any time I played, everyone had something to say about it. Even when I didn’t play, some would find a reason to be upset. It all just got to be too much.”

A deep sadness filled you while you listened to his words. “How did you get through it?”

“Ben found me having one in my car after training one day.” He was quiet for a moment. “I tried to power through it—like you. Skipping lunch and staying late to train a bit extra on the field or put in an extra session in the gym. But once Ben realized what was going on, he made sure that I was taking care of myself properly and wasn’t dealing with it on my own anymore.”

You sat up so you could look at Mason’s face, and you saw a hint of sadness there. “So I’ll tell you what he told me. There are 10 other people with you on that field at all times. If you fall down, there are 10 pairs of hands ready to help you back to your feet. If you succeed, there are 10 others to celebrate with you. But it’s not all on you.”

Your eyes were misty, welling up with tears at his words. He slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a secure hug as the tears began to stream down your cheeks.

“No matter the outcome of the game next week, you’re an incredible player, Y/N.” He placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve already done so much so early in your career. The media and the fans will say what they want—don’t let them get to you. And your coaches may get carried away with their expectations for you, but it’s just because they’re so excited to see you succeed. Just be the player you know how to be, and your achievements will speak for themselves.”

“Thank you, Mason,” you whispered after pondering his words for a moment. No words could express the gratitude you felt for the relief he had brought you just by letting you know that he was there and he understood. But as he squeezed your shoulders lightly in response, you hoped he knew just how thankful you were.

Eventually, Mason helped you to your feet, guiding you back toward the fields. You were still feeling a bit weak and unsteady, so he made sure you remained upright with a gentle hold on your arm as you walked. Deciding it was time for you to call it a day, he insisted on collecting the cones that you had been training with, not allowing you to help him by picking up even one of them.

It took some convincing but you told him you would be fine to drive yourself home—his only condition was that you texted to let him know you made it there safely.

“Alright, then. Rest on your day off tomorrow. Give yourself a break, okay?” he spoke as he put the last of the cones away. “I’ll check in with you on Monday, if that’s okay.” He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. The two of you had been friendly before today, but you wouldn’t have considered yourselves close friends. He just wanted to be sure that you knew you had people in your corner.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” you nodded, smiling at him. With a final hug, he sent you on your way as he turned to rejoin his (undoubtedly confused) teammates where he had left them.

“Remember: rest!” he shouted back at you as you parted ways, and you couldn’t stop the blushing smile that worked its way onto your face.

tag list: @landoslover @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount fic #mason mount fluff #mason mount angst #chelsea fc #footballer fic

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cho-aaacho · 5 months

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(HC's) Malewife! Gojo Satoru

Masterlist

Tags : Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Living Together, Soft Gojo, Caretaking, Teasing, Comforting Words, Kissing.

He loves spoiling you. Everything about you is his priority. After all, you are his and his alone.

Showering you with so much affection, love, and tender words. Sometimes it makes you float into the atmosphere or snuggle shyly inside the blanket.

His calmness is so warm, and his blue eyes are so comforting.

He'll read you a good romance novel when you're worn out after work. His soft voice creates an endearing feeling in your cubicle mind and transforms into a warm lullaby.

Such a passionate man.

He's a patient listener and always catches the notes of your struggles after work, letting your tears pour over his chest.

No mockery is hinted in the air, and no upset lingers in his voice. He was just listening to you. Whispering, "Everything is going to be okay." and "Everyone loves you." or "They just simply misunderstood."

He makes sure you have a good night's sleep and beautiful dreams. As a lovely treat, he would have prepared a nice, warm bath with strawberry-scented soap.

He combs your hair after you've showered and compliments you, letting his fingertips caress the strands of your hair. "You're the most lovely person I've ever met. Thank you for loving me."

"I'm so lucky to have you in my life. Although I still lack in many aspects, you make me complete."

But deep inside, you realize you're the luckiest person in the world to have a man like Gojo Satoru.

He enjoys playing games with you, even though he always pretends to lose to you. He just wants to see your smile.

He loves watching your movie suggestions, reading your favorite novels, and discussing your favorite actors. Despite his jealousy when you bring them up, he still respects you.

Hungry? Don't worry, he'll be there after all!

He memorized all your favorite foods and recipes. He even asked your grandma about your favorite cakes, cookies, and candy. You know it's a secret family recipe, but Gojo Satoru has a free pass.

Your grandma loves him. Even your dog loves him too!

He loves it when you say, "This cake is really good." and "Perhaps you could bake me this cake again, Satoru-kun," or when you're teasing. "You're so sweet. How could I possibly live without your cake?"

Oh... God, he'll ask you to repeat these compliments. Again. And again.

Sleepy? He'll let you sleep on his lap as his gentle fingertips caress your face and wrap you in a delicate embrace.

He awoke earlier than you, without setting an alarm. Of course. He is naturally a morning person.

After stretching a little, he drinks some water and writes in his journal.

He enjoys seeing the dew fall through the window or maybe seeing the dawn rise on the horizon.

When he drew closer to you, he would seal your lips with a morning kiss, savoring each breath you exhaled as he pinched your nose with his lips.

Sometimes you'll purr from his gentle and compassionate kiss, which makes him unfurled with a soft smile.

Whispering "I love you." or "Good morning, sleepyhead," he ensures that he loves to tease you too.

So loveable. Dependable.

He left a letter beside your bento, allowing you to feel his love both through the bento and his heartfelt letter. Although it was just a simple, love-endearing word, you always kept that letter in the jar.

Your desk is constantly full of photos of him. So whenever you have a hard time at work, the only solace you find is in gazing at his photo.

He's sending you a photo of him cooking while you're at work, so you'll know what's being prepared for dinner.

Or sending you a message when you are at work, like...

"Hey, I'll cook you pasta for dinner. I hope it can help you with your overtime."

"I know you had a bad day at work. So I'm thinking about baking some brownies. What do you say?"

"Please come home early. I miss you."

"I'll prepare a warm bath for you; just tell me where you are now."

"Please go home safely. I love you."

His Instagram feed is full of photos of you with him or a cute cake he baked.

You once gave him a recipe book, and he thanked you by kissing you multiple times.

When you hug him, he kind of smells like biscuits or chocolate.

"It's been eight years since we met, and I cherish every moment I spent with you, especially those moonlit nights. Despite everything that has happened, I still love you. I hope we can continue to share our blue skies and red roses, and I hope that you still love me, just as much as I love you."

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk gojo x reader #gojo jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen

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cheapshrimpysheep · 11 months

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First Date - Scarabia

SUMMARY: What would your first date with him be like? I know first dates might not go so well, but let's pretend these are different. ;)

CHARACTERS: Kalim Al-Asim & Jamil Viper

TAGS: Fluf; GN Reader; Flirting; Kissing

WARNING: Spoilers from: Book 4 AND A Firelit Sky: over the Sands

WORD COUNT: An average of 670 words per character.

Heartslabyul / Savanaclaw / Octavinelle / Scarabia / Pomefiore / Ignihyde / Diasomnia

COMMENTS: I managed to write this one in one day. First because there are only two characters. But second, because I feel that Kalil is relatively easy to write and because I'm similar to Jamil in many ways, what I write about him tends to flow easily.

I hope you enjoy ;)

Kalim's already taken you on a carpet ride, took you to Scarabia’s Oasis, taken you to his homeland, showed you the fireworks of Al'ab Nariya. What the heck is he going to do for your date?!?! JAMIL HELP!!! First of all: No animal parades!

They both discuss it for some time until Jamil says that it’s not a bad idea to do something you've done before but in a different way. Kalim's taken you on a carpet ride before, but not in a romantic context. And you two have been to the Oasis, but not alone.

He still wants to do something new, something bigger, but he trusts Jamil's opinion and advice. After all, he knows you too, maybe he's right and that's enough for a first date.

He surprises you one night. You hear someone knocking on your bedroom window, which is on the first floor. When you draw the curtains, he's there, sitting on his flying carpet. And he invites you to go with him, somewhere. It's a surprise. Do you trust him?

You ride around the NRC for a while, enjoying the view of the campus at night, before he takes you to Scarabia, to fly once more through those skies, this time at night. And it's Beautiful! The sky was clear, revealing all the stars surrounding the large half moon. And this time, you weren't talking about Jamil, but about each other.

He talks and smiles a lot. He asks a lot about you, you likes, your world, etc. He's so curious about the person he has a crush on. And he ends up getting very close to you without realizing it. Your shoulders touching. Maybe the carpet fakes a little turbulence to get the two of you even closer, to the point where you're in each other's arms. If you don't show yourself uncomfortable, or on the contrary, even smile about it, then you will stay that way for the rest of the ride.

You arrive at the Oasis. The moon reflecting in the calm waters. He helps you get off the carpet and starts looking around muttering something like “Where was it again?” The carpet flies to one of the nearby palm trees and returns with a basket and picnic blanket, and Kalim thanks it. Needless to say, it was Jamil who put the basket in there and prepared the food.

The two of you continue talking as you eat, sitting on the picnic blanket by the water. He looks like he's having as much fun as you are, until his expression gets slightly less excited because he's remembered something: “Um... (Y/N)?... Are you enjoying the date? I mean, I think you are, you're smiling a lot. But... is this really enough? It doesn't feel enough.”

You tell him that this is enough, of course it is. The two of you being together is enough to make you smile. Being alone with Kalim like this, on an official date, is more than enough. And he's so glad about that! He is so relieved that he can make you so happy with so little. That means he can always make you happy and see your wonderful smile.

He hugs you and tells you how he’s felling, how happy he is that you are happy by his side. Then the carpet nudges him in the shoulder. He looks confused for a moment, until he realizes what the carpet brought him that he had already forgotten about. “AH! Yeah, I was having so much fun I forgot. You're a lifesaver.” he says to the carpet.

He gives you a big bouquet of jasmines. At Scalding Sands, he told you about the story of the thief who gave jasmines to the princess he loved, remember? You look at the beautiful flowers and Kalim's big and sweet smile. You have nothing to give him... except for, maybe, a thank you kiss.

Jamil is always busy and stressed. Yet somehow, he managed to arrange a night for the two of you. He's managed to get some Scarabian students responsible enough to take care of Kalim while he's with you. However, if something happens he won't be too far away, because he took you to Scarabia anyway.

He took you to the empty room where you stayed when... well, he kinda kidnapped you... You had no idea what he had planned until he opened the door. It wasn't empty. It had cushions on the floor, a small table for eating, opaque and translucent fabrics decorating the walls. It reminded you a little of his dorm lounge, but more romantic. And it was night, so the only things illuminating the interior were the moonlight coming through the small window and the lighted lamps. He did all that for you?

A quiet and comfy place where he can have a dinner and rest with you, this is what he prepared for you two. You enter and sit on the cushions in front of the table full of food prepared by him. He made your favourite foods, his favourite foods, new foods that you said at some point you wanted to try, an authentic feast to the taste of both of you.

He will look at you discreetly while you eat something you like, to appreciate the face you make when you're delighted by it. When you try something new, he will offer to feed you, again because he wants to see your reaction. Of course everything is delicious, he doesn't have to worry about you not liking the dishes and he knows it. After all, he was careful to make things he knew you would like, removing all the ingredients you didn't like.

You're on a date, which means you have a crush on each other and which makes him allow himself to be more cheeky. At the end of dinner, he will take advantage of you leaning back a little and lay his head on your thighs. When he sees your blushing face he smirks a little. Truth being told, he's blushing a little bit himself. You can see he's tired, despite his attempts to hide it from you. That and you can feel his body relaxing. After all, it's his date too.

You start petting his head his head and playing with his hair, and you see a smile so sweet and so rare that it warms your heart. He reaches out to caress your cheek. “Can I ask you something?” you nod and he smirk once more “Could you feed me some grapes?” you raise an eyebrow, still smiling a little “Please? I've always been curious to know what it felt like.”

You take the bunch of grapes and bring them close to you so that you can take one grape at a time and feed it to Jamil. You see his expression is a little smug, but grateful and appreciative too. You two chat while you feed him the grapes, until he gently takes your hand before you can take it back to the bunch of grapes and kiss it.

His kiss was so soft and caring, you couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to have them on yours. He gets up, sits beside you, and look you in the eyes. Your first reflection? After what happened when he took you to Scarabia the first time? Quickly look away, as if dodging something.

He lets out a low gasp. “Wait, no, I’m, not...” he gives you a moment, until he brings his hand to your cheek “I'm sorry, really sorry. But I promise you I won't do it to you ever again. It's different now. I didn't know you. But now I do.” with his other hand, he takes yours “I don't do that to people I care about. And know I care about you. Please... let me see your eyes.” You give in and look into his eyes. And you feel nothing but your heart racing. And his face comes even closer to yours.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twst fluf #Twisted Wonderland Fluf #Kalim Al-Asim #Kalim Al-Asim x Reader #Kalim x Reader #Jamil Viper #Jamil Viper x Reader #Jamil x Reader

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 6 months

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Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ SUPEERR sorry for the late update! i went through a hellish week but I really wanted to go on with the story 😭 i wrote down the setting so the ending’s kinda set in stone, so buckle your seatbelts and prepare yourself for a ride.

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker [CAN THE OTHERS REDO THEIR NAMES I CANT FIND YALLS ACCOUNTS IM SCARED OF TAGGING THE WRONG PEOPLE IM SO SO SORRY IM NEW TO THIS]

⚠️ 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⚠️ PLOTTTTT. This chapter onward will mark the beginning of heavy themes. There will be mentions of death, manipulation, discussion of political issues, and profane language. Discretion is advised.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

And when the rain stopped, you two were back to the same scene, but with your hand on his sleeve.

You and Miles walked down the same Brooklyn road, your fingers pinching the corner of his jacket while he led your bike on with his free hand. Your shoes crunched against the autumn leaves, each step like a snapping twig, marking your each step.

Even at its darkest, Brooklyn never slept along with its sisters. The bright windows, the music playing from the underground bars, and the other couples maneuvering through the night like mice on the run. Still, everything seemed lazier and slower— and you didn’t know if it was just Miles or the atmosphere in general. Miles rambled on and on about his childhood show, going on about how his seven-year-old-self thought olives would be the greatest thing to snack on after seeing Jerry pine after it so much, and how after plopping it into his mouth changed the entire course of his life.

“Ever since then, I never ate another goddamn olive for the rest of my damn life.”

You laugh at his dramatics, at the way he shakes his head, but despite the dramatic way he moved, Miles never shook the arm your hand was clinging onto— you needed it more than his story-telling.

“I mean, olives do look like grapes, so I kinda understand the confusion.”

“That’s the biggest foul, really: that olives look like grapes.”

“It is kinda one hell of a foul. Mine’s the fact that raisins also look like grapes.”

And the image pops in his mind like a bubble. “… Jesus. Why the hell does everything look like grapes?”

“Ionno.” You shrug. “Same thing can be said about your head, though.”

He feigns offense, parting his mouth into an ‘o’ while leaning back. “Stop projecting your grapefruit-lookin’ ass.” Miles shoots back, earning a sharp swat from you. “Fucker, you’re the one built like a bamboo shoot.”

"You're the one talkin taller than your own height, you lil, dehydrated, un-sunned potted plant lookin' ass."

You gawk at the full-blown insult, earning nothing but a guffaw from Miles who shook his head.

"I'm just kidding, my girl, m'just kidding." He swiftly pulls you closer, pulling you in with his hand over your shoulders. "You know I'm just playin' with you, ma, you're the prettiest in my eyes." The way he sweetly coos tugs at your heartstrings, your tiny giggles muffled while he sways you around.

"Apology accepted," You snicker. "Riley Freeman.”

“… Future child bride.”

“Future enemy of the state.”

“Thas why you daddy don’t want’chu.”

“At least I got a daddy.”

And the squabble just went on and on.

Tiny jabs of flirting disguised as well-crafted insults, and subtle touches concealed as playful punches. The two of you were crazy in the sort of way that only the two of you can drive each other insane.

Ironically, you loved these sorts of moments with him— just two people simpering down the streets in good ol' New York. But in the back of your mind, there was still that lingering guilt that endlessly knocked against your psyche, begging you to tell the truth.

But the truth wasn’t the hotel, or the life you were living. The truth was a decaying matter locked in a finely decorated cage, where everyone could smell the stench, but they instead choose to ignore it all for the sake of preserving peace.

Miles would never do that. He wouldn’t turn around and shrug his shoulders just for the sake of preserving whatever peace or comfort New York had— he would absolutely fucking riot to disturb the comfortable.

But the thing was, all you had left was that peace, and the slightest piece of your dignity scrapped up like leftovers of a meal.

“Hey, ma.” Miles snaps you out of your thoughts, earning nothing but a small hum from you.

“… Do you know anythin ‘bout about parallel universes?”

You pause for a moment, processing that question like a printer— eyes slowly traveling to meet his as if to confirm if what you heard was correct. Miles shifts a bit, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“.. What?” You airily query, brows knitted together in confusion. He laughs at the way your mouth hung like a lost toddler. “Parallel universes? Ionno, I just heard ‘bout it from my dorm mate.” His fingers reach to scratch the nape of his neck. “Something ‘bout there being another version of us in another universe n shit like that— slight changes, maybe?”

“.. I’ve heard about it from my Physics professor, but I never really delved much into it.”

“Well, I’ve been thinkin a lot ‘bout it.”

Your nose scrunches. “Why though?”

“Well,” The two of you start walking again, with the pace much slower. “It made me wonder if there’s another us in another universe.. Doin’ shit like this.” His hand gestured at the both of you, soon dropping by your side. “You n me, just walking and talking. I wonder if we also like each other in another universe.”

It sounded cheesy. Being lovers in more than one world.

But you liked the sound of it. Lovers.

“I probably hate you in every other universe.” You laugh, lightly pushing him away.

“Well, maybe there’s somethin’ special ‘bout me in this universe that made you fall for me.” He smoothly chimed, leaning a bit closer. You try to hold back a smile, but it still seeped in the corners of your lips.

“Ionno ‘bout that.”

His grin only widens. “You know you love me, ma.”

You stare a long stare.

I do.

“Shut up.” You mumble, pacing faster when Miles reaches out to hold your hand. “Maaaaaaaa.”

“What do you want, Miles?”

And he looks at you with those eyes of his. The kind that dragged you into this whole mess, the kind that made you crawling back in four days. Subtly, he leans down to your level, eyes in line with your own. Only then, so gently, he presses his lips against yours for a second.

"I wonder if that happens in every other universe too?"

You blink at the act, somewhat speechless.

“I’d be missin out on a lot if I don’t get to kiss you like this in every universe.”

You try to snap back at him, but you could no longer find anymore ammo to fire. Miles sets your brother’s bike aside, kicking the stand down just to take both of your hands— placing them over his shoulders.

"How about you? What do you think?" He suddenly asks. "Who would we be to each other in another world?"

There were a million thoughts blundering your mind, a sort of disarray you weren't used to— the thing was, you didn’t even know who the two of you were supposed to be to each other in this world. Everything seemed all blurry in the future, and you couldn’t even think of one for yourself.

But for once, you couldn’t help but think of what could be.

“In another universe, we’re just us.” You mumble, your fingers tickling at the back of his neck.

“In another universe, I’ll be doing painting commissions at random shops to save up for Christmas. I’ll be working at that café we saw. You’ll be there, and we’ll meet up and I’ll be the one to ask for your number.” Your hand runs down his sleeve just to intertwine your fingers with his.

“What do you mean you? You can’t do nothing, I’ll be the one asking for your number.”

Your gaze narrows. “It’s another world, Miles. We ain’t entirely sure if we’re going to be the same people.”

“You’ve got a point,” He piques. “But—“

“Let me finish.” You sigh, and immediately, he snaps his jaw shut. “… I don’t have to escape every night just to see you, nor do we have to meet exclusively every Friday and Saturday. We’ll see each other everyday, and you’ll go to my house— and my mom will make us food while going on and on about us dating, and my dad’s going to scold me to keep the door open just so he can keep an eye out on you.”

Suddenly, all the fantasies you’ve mentally illustrated for yourself every night to dwell upon came running out of your mouth.

“Maybe, I’ll have a few childhood scars, and I’ll paint my nails any color I like— I’ll get a new set monthly, and I’ll let you choose the color. We’ll walk to school together, and I’ll never miss any of your basketball games…. We’ll just be,”

Normal.

“Us.”

Realizing your rambling, you shift away a bit, somewhat embarrassed of all the stuff you’d blurted out. It’s like you could sense him trying to piece together what you’d just said. With a cautious hand, he wraps it around your waist before nuzzling his head into your hair.

"What's stopping us from being like that in this world too?"

You hold onto him a little tighter.

“… It’s getting colder these days, huh?”

Noticing your hesitance to break open, Miles decides to simply play along for now. “Yeah, it’s getting colder, ma, so you,” He softly pulls away, placing both of his hands over your cheeks. “You should start taking care of yourself or else you might start a whole new bubonic plague.”

“Why the fuck do you keep linking that to me?”

“Cause you’re a host of viral plague.”

“I’m not even sickly, damn it.” You say, while feeling an itch in your nose. “You’re just making shit up at thi— hACHOO!” You sneeze down to the ground, narrowly missing your sleeve. Miles takes a step back, shaking his head with a smile on his lips.

“… Maybe I should be a plague doctor for halloween, and you should be a medieval patient dying of the bubonic plague.”

He pictures you with comically large bags beneath your eyes, frail lips, and a white dress with its frock lost in the wind— and he’ll stand beside you, with the large black beak of the mask poking at your hair, with a large black cape flying behind his back.

“… Isn’t halloween this Saturday?” You think back with a frown. “I haven’t celebrated that in a long, long time.”

That was a lie. You’ve never celebrated halloween before.

“Huh?” He snaps in shock. “You don’t celebrate halloween?”

He watches you shrug. “It’s a kid’s thing.” Was what your Father always told you, in the same tone you were currently speaking.

“Awe man,” Miles mumbles. “… I thought you got the hint that we’re going trick or treating for our date.”

“Trick or treating?” That too, you also haven’t done. “I-Isn’t it dangerous? My mother said people would poison the candy and plant shit inside the chocolates.”

“What?” At that point, Miles was piecing together an image of your family with each passing story. “That almost never happens— who can afford poisoning children in this economy? Shit, might as well just use it on yourself with all the bills you have to pay.”

And there it goes again. The economy.

And it strikes you a bit. That guilt of being brought up pristinely uncomplicated. Privileged, as most would call it. Your problems were rather personal, never financial. Growing up, you’d been living lavishly in the comforts of your manor, never having to worry about tomorrow or next month or next year.

And, admittedly, it was unfair.

“… Miles, can I, um, discuss something with you?” You silently query, unconsciously matching your pace along with his. Miles only hums.

“Look. I don’t mean to get political, and I don’t want to sound privileged— but honestly speaking, I kinda am, and I can definitely recognize it.” You confess. “I wasn’t.. Raised in a home where we had to be conscious about money. My parents are well-off, in the way I’m sheltered as hell, but I’m not blind. I can see the city crumbling apart. My brother says that it’s all because people don’t wanna work anymore, and I never understood why.”

He raised his brows. “That’s… Well, I’m not gonna judge your brother from that alone,” Miles states, keeping in mind that he still wants to appeal to your family. “But honestly, that whole view is kinda whack. Listen, nena,” He takes a deep breath. “Imagine working your ass off nine to five— and you’re still getting paid the minimum wage. Rent is due, groceries are expensive, and you’re tired as hell, but it’s all not enough. You can’t even spend any of the money on yourself.”

“Well,” You pique. “… My father said that if the people would just stop buying irrelevant things and save up, they’d be able to live.”

Miles grimaces. “Do only the rich deserve happiness?”

Your head tilts. “Don’t they say that money can’t buy you happiness?”

He shook his head. “They say that because they’ve got the money.”

He spots the confused look on your face. Relatively, he takes your hand and further conveys. “Well, as you said, it’s a capitalist world. Only the wealthy say that because they don’t know what it’s like to be down here,” His hand points below. “In the slums, starving to damn death. Money can fix that shit. Money can fix all this, but they choose not to.”

Your mouth hung open.

“… I never thought of it that way.”

“Mhm.”

“My whole life, my parents have always chalked it up to hard work— but the city never sleeps, so it’s impossible that nobody here ain’t doing nothing.”

And it all processes through you. “Huh, it’s all.. New to me.” Naturally, your hand drags up to pluck the skin off your lips. “I never delved into that sort of issue before. My parents have always been kind of.. Sort of,”

“.. Elitist?”

“I was going to say stuck-up, but that makes so much more sense.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda seein’ it, not gonna lie.” His clicks his tongue. “Look, ion really talk ‘bout this sort of thing much, but I like discussing these sorts of things with you— ‘cuz it’s interesting seeing how open you are to these kinds of topics, even if you were raised like that.”

You turn your head to look at Miles, and your brow twitches ever so slightly at the pang of anxiety drumming at your chest.

“We’re… Really the opposites of each other, huh?”

He hums. “But in a way, we’re still kinda similar.”

“How so?” You ask, a bit dubious of the remark. You were all this, and he was all that. You doubted any sort of similarities you two had, but Miles holds your shaking hand.

“If you and I were solely made to be opposites, we’d be nemeses by now.”

And you ponder.

How long would it take before you start hating me?

How long would it take before I stop seeing that loving gaze of yours?

How long would it take before you discover the truth?

From afar, you could already spot the Gristedes building, as though it were the portal parting your world from his. You eventually take the bike back to yourself, dragging it by the handles. As the edge of the block materializes, you turn to look at the boy behind you.

“I’m gonna have to go ride back now.”

And when he draws closer, a flick of your mind takes the image of Miles’ exhausted face, assuming it’d be similar to what he’d look like once he recognizes the truth about you. You wonder if he feels it too— this strange air between the both of you, going past tension, and delving into something deeper and darker.

You’re so unsure. So afraid of how fragile this entire thing was.

“Ain’t I getting a kiss, nena?”

“You’re so needy.” You huff, opening your arms anyway. “If you get the bubonic plague, you’re gon’ be the one complaining all about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, nena, whatever you say— just gimme my kiss.”

And he penguin walks his way to you, leaning down like a kid in search of candy. Miles steps into your view, following wherever you turned— his hands making their own journey across your waistline. Your palms snake up his shoulders, heels faltering backward when he presses you up against a brick wall. Your hands fall down to grip his arms instead, head tilting ever so slightly before taking his lips.

He takes you like you were his favorite drink, digging his fingers into the side of your waist— his body melting like ice on a summer day. With his hand, he angles your chin much higher, while yours trail up his chest, parting your lips to gasp for air, only for Miles to steal it away from you.

And when you part, you’re left a heaving mess.

“Trick or treating on Saturday?” He asks again. “Please?”

“… I—“

“I’ll take a bite of every candy you’ll get just to make sure it ain’t poisoned.”

You laugh at his remark.

“Fine.”

It was strange, almost unfamiliar to you, to meet the gate of the manor at this time of night.

It had you questioning your choices, your rationality, and the soundness of your mind. Your mind wasn’t entirely sound to begin with, fortunately for you Miles liked that about you.

After bribing the security, tossing Antonne’s bike to the side, and creeping into the damn place, suddenly, you’re thrust back into the stillness of your family’s generational household.

The marble tiles, the limestone brick walls, and the grandeur steps that parted by the center were all normalcy to you— in spite of how you’d always deemed your family as ‘capable’ to Miles.

Instead of childhood photos and potted plants, you were greeted by the sight of marvelously carved statues and antique paintings. Rather than a home, it felt more like a museum to you— but in a way, it was also your fault for keeping everything too clean.

It’s unfair.

One day you’ll leave this very house and leave it under the care of Antonne who hardly bore any interest for managing things. Despite the way you’ve learned to force yourself to take interest in numerous fields of whatever-the-fuck, this manor was something you treasured along with the hotel. Your father was well aware of your passion, your skills in tidiness, and that was the reason why he appointed you as Antonne’s proxy initially, but you were greedy for more.

You were a little too greedy to want Miles and the life you’d desired for the longest time. You didn’t know what the future was like, and you’ve grown too sick of having everyone else decide your own future for you. This life of infinite spending and glamour was the only life you’d ever known, and you weren’t prepared to abandon it all. As your mother said, no one’s privileged enough to be born as wealthy as you, and you’d likely carry that sort of financial ignorant bliss to the grave.

But Miles didn’t have that.

His family didn’t have generational heirlooms worth thousands of dollars, nor did they have antique paintings bought from highly private auctions. His home only had two bedrooms, unlike your own which housed tens of them.

You and him were astronomically different in more ways than one.

One of these days, those differences might end up either empowering or deadly to one of you.

Step. Step. Step.

As you treaded up the staircase, your hand jolts away from the icy ivory-pillared railings, cussing a subtle “Fuck,” as you went on. In the dead of the night, the halls appeared eerier and darker— as though you could see your own ancestors walking past the red carpets with their frilly gowns and downcast looks of disappointment. Like you could see them shaking their heads just after seeing you there, wearing Miles’ hoodie.

A scandal capable of ruining the family name. As if Antonne wasn’t enough, you ended up falling for a boy you’d likely run away with had you ever gotten the chance.

Elopement. Dramatically cliché, and somehow it still exists in the twenty-first century— for the star-crossed lovers and the filthy rich. Or maybe you just have really bad taste in men… Or parents! Pick a struggle.

You carried your shoes along with your guilt while trudging down the corridor, knowing you’ll likely have to have someone secretive clean the mess up for you. Antonne’s room was in a separate hall, with Malachi’s closer to your own. Even then, like a mouse, you scurry in silence just so you wouldn’t get caught. When you finally reach your door, a thousand burdens escape from your shoulders, only to hear a faint click when you try to twist the handle.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“Why won’t it fucking open?” You whisper to yourself. A few more Click Click Click Click Click’s and you manage to finally recognize that you’ve been locked out of your own damn room. You search through your clothes to find the key, only to realize that it’d been in the pockets of the hoodie you’ve left at Miles’ place. In your anxiety, you pull on the edge of your hair, cursing a million words.

I can’t wake up Malachi.

You place your hand over your mouth.

Your breaths begin to stagger, your exhaustion taking hold of you. You tug at your hair a little harder, as though your current goal was to rip your scalp out— and it hurt, it hurt like absolute hell, but nothing was up to par with the pain brought to you by your own mean mind.

But you think, and you think.

Then you lean back, take a breath, and sigh.

And the next thing you know, you’re stabbing through the lock with a knife.

Well, it was less of a stab, more like a saw to jam the bolt. It took a few several tries, but it did manage to unlock after a snap. You heave a sigh of relief, heading right in before gently closing it shut. Immediately off to rest your head against the flat of your door as a sort of celebration for your success.

“… Where have you been?”

You celebrated a little too soon, unfortunately.

Antonne stared at you from the sill of one of your opened windows, the gleam of the new dawn gleaming in pink and blue behind him, casting a long shadow that trailed past your fluffy carpet and dawned over your darkened face. Ever so slowly, he plucks the dying cigarette from his teeth, the intoxicating scent tugging at your nostrils. For once, Antonne’s taken you aback after the longest while. He looks similarly exhausted, with his unbuttoned dress shirt and disheveled hair, while also reasonably confused by your current appearance.

“I was out.” You shallowly answer, as if it weren’t too obvious. Antonne furrows his brows, only heightening the permanent arch he already endowed. At the sound of your words, he clicks his tongue and flicks the cigarette out the window.

“Was it that boy again?” He speaks a baritone lower, like something being dragged through gravel. His shoulders heightened as he rested his palms above the sill. You sense a sort of imposing façade.

“… Miles Morales?”

Your eyes flit open, ventriloquist-esque. Like a dummy brought to life to perform for the circus. At that moment, the two of you siblings began to notice the semblances mirroring your parents’ ways; the younger sister who weaponizes her own ignorance like her father, and the older brother who, like a dog, barks endlessly like their mother. Your body leans against the handle, placing all your weight down a single foot while preparing yourself for whatever Antonne’s spared to speak.

“… Fifteen years old, lives with his single mother, Rio Morales, who’s a nurse at Langone. He’s close with his uncle, Aaron Davis, and he keeps steady high marks at Visions Academy... And yet,” His gaze narrows distastefully. “Despite going to such an elite school, he continues on to live a shady life, having at least once or twice participated in vandalism, destruction of private property, and simple assault.”

Antonne eyes your reaction, but you only shrug.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

He clears his throat.

“His father, Jefferson Davis, momentarily worked for father and applied for security three years ago.“ Antonne takes a step forward, the shadow over his face growing darker. “And on the opening night of Aureum, he signed up to take a shift at the evening party.”

Antonne stood eerily, and so did you. The tension a blur, cuttable with a single slice from the knife hidden behind you.

“Did you know about that too?”

“... What are you insinuating?”

Antonne yells out your name in a bellow, but you don’t flinch. Like a deer, round and wide, your eyes were hauntingly frozen, scrutinizing the way he heaved. He struggled to search for the words to describe you— crass, cruel, wicked, bitch. And it only mulled him downer seeing you look guiltless. With his hand, he drags you by the collar.

“You’re wearing the hoodie of a boy whose father died in the tragedy you’re fucking covering up.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

+17479256640 sent a picture || Just now

Aaron peers at the message at his phone, swiping it upwards, thinking it must’ve been some sort of scam or bot. He chugs down the final sip of his coffee, settling by the couch with a disgruntled moan. He rests his head by the armrest, placing his mug down by the table before him. As he stretches the ache off his limbs, another chime goes off from his phone.

He lazily plucks it from his side, wincing as the bright screen flashed him.

+17479256640 || Just now

This is your nephew, right?

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“Shh." You pull a finger over your lips, hushing him as though he were a child. Your other hand drafts away from the lock, and you toss the knife to the side. The loud, clacking way it fell made Antonne jump. And he sees you, and the way your lips curled into this amused smile.

At that smile alone, he falters, remembering so suddenly every detail about the mother you two shared. Every strand of her beautiful hair which you endowed, the darkening of her gaze when she was having fun, and the deriding way she looked at the people she deemed inferior.

I don’t need a knife to kill you, Antonne.

That look you had, a smile which he now recognized as a sneer, was what true hatred was.

“Antonne, maybe you’re forgetting that I’m not covering up just any fuck up, I’m covering up your fuck up.”

And when you took a single step forward, all of what was left of Antonne’s confidence crumbled.

“The building collapsed because you forced the workers to rush the process of the construction— and when the media got a hold of what was happening, you ran to Switzerland with Richard just to avoid the consequences, and all of who dealt with everything was me.” You dug an accusing finger into his shoulder. “I took care of everything in your place, and I sacrificed so much for it. But when you realized how I might take over your spot in the hotel, you came back after three whole years— going through every detail of me that you could find as a weakness. Well, let me tell you one thing, my dearest brother,”

You whisper over to his ear. “You can’t beat me at a game you’ve never fucking played before.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“What the fuck?”

Aaron sits right back up, clutching his phone with strength he never thought he had. Swiftly, he presses the notification— greeted with a photo of Miles and some girl walking down the streets with their hands clasped together. When the text bubble reappears, another photo surfaces with the girl’s face being much clearer. A sense of familiarity strikes him, and he couldn’t quite place what it was.

He zooms into the picture, fingers grasping the bottom of his chin while scourging through his memories.

His eyes trace the details of your hair, every curve and curl— your eyes, downcast and very attentive of Miles’ presence. So aware of him, it’s as though he was all that was left in the world. And he looked at you the same way. For a moment, it was like witnessing Rio and Jeff once more, with those gazes smiles.

‘Pretty. The kind of pretty who knows what she wants, and she can use her own face to get it. When you say something stupid, she’ll let you know that what you said was stupid with just her eyes alone— and it’ll shut me up, and I love it.’

Those were Miles’ exact words. For the last two months, you were all he ever really talked about. Seeing you now, Aaron couldn’t help but raise his brows at the sight of your hand intertwined with his nephew’s. He ought to be lying if he ever said that Miles was exaggerating— you were definitely a looker. And that was what unsettled him the most. He had this gut feeling he couldn’t shake, a burden gnawing at his stomach.

He soon drags his thumbs across the keyboard, typing out immediately.

Aaron Davis || Just now

who’s this?

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“… What’s happened to you?”

It was genuine. And it wasn’t just curiosity, Antonne was seriously wondering with worry.

“What have you done to the sister I grew up with?”

The sister he grew up with?

Antonne could still remember, every aspect and smile you bore three years ago. And he remembered as though it’d all disappeared just yesterday. You were a smiley little girl— always a little too smart for her own good, and always a little too cheeky. But you were shy, and often kept to yourself. Even during those days, you often hid yourself in the shadows, crawling into the corner of every room you entered with a book in your hand.

He recognized you then. Now you were a complete stranger.

Your hand drops, and you shove your shoulder against Antonne’s. “Grew up with? You never grew up.” You trudge towards the window, closing it shut as soon as you got to the handle. “Meanwhile, I had to be an adult as soon as possible because if not me, then who? Mom’s not here, Dad’s a mess, Malachi’s ten years old, Montrell’s in London, and you ran away.” Your body sinks down to the floor. “When I’m with Miles, I feel… Sixteen, like how I should be.”

“… But if you’d just give me the job—“

“I’m not giving you shit.” You spat. “Not yet, at least, stop fucking rushing.”

Antonne stood, watching you sit by the sill, hand over your nightstand to reach out for your vape.

And the way it exits, so lividly and hatefully, like how mother would smoke after every silent dinner.

You were everything like her.

No matter how much you tried to erase yourself from your mother’s legacy, it didn’t help that you were the spitting image of her.

Even in the way you struggled, you were still your mother’s daughter.

“You.. Remind me of...” Mother. The comment slips after seeing her image overlap with your silhouette. You already knew the ending of the sentence as soon as it exited his lips. As the smoke trickles past your teeth, you look up.

“… You want me to do what she would’ve done?”

The way the moonlight pooled before you reminded him of how the glass shards glimmered around your mother after she’d wrecked her own room.

“You’re already doing what she did,” He murmurs. “Doing stupid shit for stupid ideals.”

You grab whatever you can off of the nightstand, throwing it right at Antonne who steps back from the impact of the book. As you heave, he stared hauntingly.

“You think you’re the only one trying so hard in life? I’m also doing my fucking best. You’re basing me off of a mistake I did when I was seventeen.” He took a step forward. “You weren’t the only one forced into adulthood. Instead of playing soccer and going out on first dates, dad made me run a hotel. Sure! I didn’t do half as great as you’re fucking doing, but once you fuck up, dad’s going to abandon you too.”

“I know that.” You shakily admit. “I know that no matter what I fucking do, the hotel’s going to end up in your hands, and all I’ve got is a shitty arranged marriage bound to go down the drain and a few many nights with too much wine and regrets ahead of me.” You rub your hands together for the sake of warmth, your voice growing shakier as it settles to break.

“But what I want, what I really want— I just want dad to look at me and think, ‘oh, maybe she can take hold at least a part of the conglomerate!’ instead of selling me off!”

It’s as though the Hotel was Antonne’s toy, and you’d been polishing it all these years with great care, knowing damn well he’d leave it off to rot.

But you never wanted that toy in the first place. You wanted your father to see you taking care of that toy, in hopes he’d gift you one that you could take care of for yourself.

“The reason why he’s not giving you any of it is b—“

“Because he doesn’t want the Fisks to use me after the marriage, I know.”

You run your fingers through your hair, tugging as though it were about to fall of your scalp.

“I’ve found… A way to escape it.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

+17479256640 || Just now

Do you recognize the girl beside him?

You replied || Just now

No.

His knee jumps along to the drumming of his chest. He thinks of Miles, wondering if he’d been kidnapped, coerced, or attacked. He knew the boy— he’s strong enough to fend for himself against many things. He’s well taught, he’s a genius and…

He’s a fucking fool for his lady. Just like his father.

God, who knew that the lone weakness of the Prowler was a sixteen-year-old with a pretty face?

Ding.

+17479256640 || Just now

Sent an attached file

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

You and Antonne’s heads swerve at the sound of your phone’s ringing. Begrudgingly, you pushed yourself off of the floor, scrambling to get your phone. With another hit off of the pen, you answer the call.

“What is it?”

And in the background, you hear yelling— commands being thrown in chaos and panic. You look at the ID, finding out that it’s one of your father’s aides. With a hushed whisper and a jagged breath, he reports.

“The Warehouse is being raided, miss–“ A gunshot soars through the air, chillingly searing through a momentary silence. The man whimpers, his voice muffled by his hand. “Raided?” You repeat, voice coming to a hush. “Raided by who?”

And with his jaded breath, he answers.

“.. The Prowler.”

245 notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 3 months

Note

okay i know this is kind of a specific request but can you do something with professor Spence and uni reader where they get into a spat and argue bc she did something stupid and he gets mad and she’s like “noooo pls don’t be mad i hate when you’re mad at me I’m sorry🥺” bc she literally cannot function knowing she let him down (me with everybody) but he’s like super stubborn and goes all closed up and quiet so that he doesn’t like blow up on her until she finally says like “pls talk to me” and he’s all pissed and like “hell na bitch u crazy!🗣️‼️” but then later he’s like “it’s ok i love u but neva do that shit again ho” then they make up and it’s good again 🎀 ok i explained that so poorly (and comedically if i may) but i hope u get it and pls make it SO DRAMATIC bc I live for drama! like she steals test answers or something or does something that could like get her kicked out of school OR him lose his job 🤔 sigh … idk I’m leaving now. Also i LOOPOOOCE ORRKGOOVI love your fics. Luv em

hey girl (gender neutral) this made me laugh bc genuinely sometimes i write spencer so ooc that is what he sounds like. and i'm not sorry! anyway this is potentially a vyvanse fueled nightmare but i wrote it and i'm posting it MY BLOG MY RULES BITCHESSSS!!!! but genuinely read the content warning LMAO this one got a lil kick to it

warnings/tags: ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, fem!reader, spencer and r get into a for real argument like they're mean to each other, spencer is a lil toxic but its resolved, emotionally neglects reader just for a teeensy second but then he's really nice and sweet again, discussion of his past addic+ion, gets fluffy because i'm not EVIL, gets suggestive at the end bc i am secretly evil.......

a/n: i don't know whats happening. this confuses me just as much as it confuses you. its 3 am in the morning. im gonna post nice happy things soon. Gootbye

“I cannot believe you right now. I don’t even—I don’t even know what to say.”

“Spencer, you don’t have to say anything. It has nothing to do with you, and I’m not looking for your approval.”

He looks up from where he’d been rubbing his temples, like you’re a headache, eyebrows raised and lips parted in indignant disbelief.

“Oh! You’re not looking for my approval? Well thank god for that, because if you were one of my students I would recommend expulsion to the board.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I just said I don’t care about your opinion on this, much less your hypothetical opinion from some alternate universe where you have any authority over my education whatsoever.”

“You distributed an answer key to half of your class! Objectively this is the kind of thing that gets people expelled. I don’t understand how someone so smart could do something so fucking stupid.”

The words bite more than you were prepared for—but what hurts even more is how much he seems to mean them. In arguments past you’d both said things you didn’t mean, and then would immediately melt into I’m so sorry’s and the fight would resolve itself. Spencer’s clenched jaw and inability to make eye contact with you do not lend themselves to tender apologies. They cannot be attributed to miscommunication.

You take a step closer to where he’s bracing himself against the countertop, arms crossed defensively in front of your chest.

“Spencer, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was such a big deal. People cheat in college all the time.”

Still no reply. His head shakes so minutely you wonder if you’re imagining it. Panic wells in your chest.

“Please talk to me. I really hate when you ice me out. I’m sorry, okay? Just... please say something.”

Finally, his eyes slide to you. They lack the fiery anger of moments ago but there’s not much softness there either. His normally warm gaze now feels too abrasive, too cold and sharp on your bare skin. You're exposed, much too soft for that grating look, and it feels like he can see everything that’s wrong with you.

“Believe me when I tell you this. I am doing us both a favor by not speaking to you right now.”

And then he’s leaving the kitchen—nothing but a breeze against your cheek and the sound of a door slamming to prove he was ever there.

The apartment is silent. You stand in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of what to do next. Spencer very, very rarely gets angry at you to the point of neglect, and you know he’s doing his best with what was modelled for him as a child and his tendency to feel things so deeply it’s nearly disabling; but that doesn’t make it hurt much less. It doesn’t make you feel less abandoned or alone.

You’re sad, and you’re still pissed, and maybe you’re in just a bit of shock as you robotically move back to your nest of blankets on the couch and resume your schoolwork. What else is there to do? Unless Spencer is right—unless you really are about to get expelled after getting the answer key for an upcoming test from a friend, who then gave it to another friend, and so on. But is that really your fault?

It’s a struggle to stay focused as your mind keeps drifting back to Spencer in the other room, those cruel words and that cold steely look in his eye that isn’t supposed to ever be aimed at you. It’s not a secret that side of him exists, but it doesn’t belong in this apartment. It’s not something he needs to use against you. He’s supposed to be on your side. But instead, he’d said you should be expelled and essentially called you stupid. And now you’re doing homework for a class at a school you may not even be a student of come Monday.

---------------------------------------------------

The sound of the office door opening forty-five minutes later spikes your blood pressure and simultaneously makes your heart flutter, because no matter how mad at him you might be, Spencer is still Spencer.

He comes to stand behind the couch quietly, but you don’t acknowledge him. Maybe your typing gets a bit more aggressive, but aside from that you flat out reject his presence.

“Can we talk?”

You let him sweat for a minute as you finish your paragraph.

“I don’t know, Spencer. Can we? Or are you not done with your temper tantrum?”

“That is... well deserved,” he sighs, rounding the couch and tapping the bottom of your foot, signaling that he wants you to move your legs. You despise how automatically you comply, pulling your knees to your chest to avoid touching him as he sits next to you. There’s a long moment of silence, in which you resume typing. Spencer scoffs, leaning in slightly to peer at your screen. “Are you doing homework right now? I’m a complete asshole to you and you just... do your homework?"

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” you almost-yell, slamming your laptop shut and blinking away potential tears. “The only person I wanted to talk to called me stupid and fucking left!”

The tears realize their potential once you admit the blunt truth.

Spencer carefully moves your laptop and pulls you into his arms—and you just let him. There’s not much fight left in you. There wasn’t a lot to begin with.

“I am so sorry, angel. You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have yelled, I shouldn’t have said what I said, I shouldn’t have walked away. I overreacted.”

“Yeah, you really did,” you cry, allowing him to run his hand over your hair. “Why did you do that? Why were you so fucking mean?”

His voice shakes slightly as he responds, betraying his own anxieties, and a new, unwelcome sense of trepidation slithers through your veins.

“I was wondering that, too. Even as I was saying it, I knew—I knew it wasn’t what I wanted to be saying. And then I was in the other room and I wanted to be out here, and I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t. But I think I was just scared. Which—I know, doesn’t really make sense, but... I think about when Ethan dropped out of the academy, and ended up doing heroin in New Orleans for three years, and I think about when I almost left the BAU because I was so convinced I’d never get clean that I didn’t even want to anymore, and—and the idea of you losing your education and your direction like that terrified me, probably unreasonably, and I took it out on you. And I’m sorry.”

“But I’m not like you or Ethan. You don’t have to worry about that. Even if I... even I do get in some sort of disciplinary trouble. That’s a road you don’t have to worry about me going down, ever.”

He fixes some unseen wrinkle on your shirt.

“Yeah, but, remember... I used to not be like me or Ethan either. Do you think twelve-year-old Spencer would have ever even considered that of the infinite realities and universes which exist, he was living in one where someday he’d be shooting up in the bathroom at work?”

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head and burying your face in Spencer’s shoulder. The sound is more of a plea for him to be less descriptive than an answer to his rhetorical question. It’s still much easier for him to talk about that part of his life than it is for you to have to actually imagine it. You didn’t know him then, but you’ve seen pictures, and you know Spencer now, and it’s... it’s just too much. Too sad.

“Okay,” he agrees soothingly, still playing with your hair. “I digress. My point is that literally anything is possible, and while it’s not necessarily likely, I more than anyone know that anxiety even over the most improbable of things is never completely unfounded.”

You sniffle in response, too emotionally and physically exhausted to contribute much to the conversation by this point. Thankfully, Spencer can talk for two. An idiosyncrasy which you love and comes in handy every once in a while. He can play his own devil’s advocate; in this case, you.

“But that doesn’t mean I get to take it out on you. Ever. I truly, truly, sincerely apologize for that. I never want to hurt you.”

You let the apology sink into your skin like a salve, soothing every abrasion those earlier words had left in their violent wake.

After a few minutes, you find the energy to ask a question that might best remain unanswered.

“Are you still mad at me?”

He’s quiet for a beat, seemingly contemplative as his fingers trace abstract patterns in a language all his own on your arm.

“I’m not thrilled. But you were right earlier. It’s not my place to be mad at you for something like that.”

“Mm... it’s a little bit your place. You’re an actual professor.”

He chuckles.

“At an entirely different university.”

“Thank god,” you laugh. “You and me at the same school would be such an HR clusterfuck.”

While it’s almost a serious matter, the smile in his voice is evident.

“Yeah... I, uh... try not to think about it.”

“Okay, but seriously. In your professional opinion. Am I fucked? Like, do I need to prepare an appeal and character witnesses or whatever?”

Spencer sighs.

“It was incredibly reckless and irresponsible. You should be ready for disciplinary pushback from the schoolboard if you get caught. That being said... because over sixty of you got a hold of the answer key, I doubt anyone is getting expelled, and even if they did, it would likely only be the TA and the student he gave the key to. It’s my tentative, professional opinion that you’ll probably be fine.”

You relax slightly, allowing a tension you didn’t realize was there to shed like an old skin.

“I’m not gonna cheat again,” you promise on an exhale. It’s simply too much risk for too little reward.

Spencer’s response is quiet, and comes much faster than you’d expected.

“Oh, I know you aren’t. Because if you do, you’re going to have to worry about disciplinary action from me. And I’m not nearly as nice as the dean of your school, darling girl.”

But something about the way he says it—a thinly veiled threat/promise contrasted by a sweet kiss to your forehead—doesn’t exactly make academic honesty look all that exciting.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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cupidsloove · 1 year

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•MICHAEL KAISER BF HEADCANONS•

Just Kaiser being Kaiser

[Fun fact I'm interested in blue lock and besides the Itoshi brothers & sibling!reader angst in my Google docs, I decided to write some bf headcanons of this lovable asshole called Kaiser]

Tags: fluff, Kaiser being kinda clingy and annoying, mentions of Kaiser's morning routine(dick and ass too) very unorganized hcs,

★You being in a relationship with Kaiser was a shock for everyone in your life. The surprise on your parent's face when they saw you introduced him was still memorized in your brain somewhere in the back. It was an interesting family dinner afterwards, but at least they approved of the relationship.

“Kaiser…still wondering how my father approved of you”

“Maybe because I'm really that lovable~”

“Shut up”

・⁠。⁠・

★ He is REALLY into physical affection, quality time and words of affirmation. Since he needs to travel because of his matches, every moment with you is important to him especially if Kaiser needs to leave for long periods of time and can't feel your touch through the screen of his phone. When he returns… be prepared for alot of hugging, kisses and many dates.

Also Kaiser is going to shower you in praises, and encouragement and makes sure you are feeling better.

“Engel where are we going tonight?” said your boyfriend while hugging you from behind

“Michi, we went out last night, calm down a little with those dates” you sighed while you put the washed plate back on the shelf.

“Engel you don't know if tomorrow is again one of those days where I have to leave the country for how many weeks again” said Kaiser in his clingy sweet voice.

“How about watching a movie instead of going out?”

・⁠。⁠・

★ Calls you nicknames all the time, maybe not so much in the public but in private….well, it's a literal shower of nicknames.

Some of the nicknames are: Engel(Angel), Liebling(Darling),Schnucki(Sweetie pie) and many, MANY more.

“Kaiser you seemed very distracted today”

“Shh, texting my Schnucki is much more important than dealing with those half-baked asses”

“???”

・⁠。⁠・

★If you are living with him, well…good luck waking up and the first thing you see is your boyfriend in all his naked glory looking in the mirror for you don't know how many minutes. Convincing him to cover himself is much more of a issue

“What,there is a problem with my ass or with my dick”

“OH MY GOD MICHAEL, JUST COVER YOURSELF FOR FUCK'S SAKE”

・⁠。⁠・

★If your relationship isn't already public, you and Kaiser have some sort of discussion about making it actually know to the media. Even if he is still an ass, Kaiser still has a caring side for people he loves. He knows that stans on different social media apps can be absolutely ruthless and in general, dating a famous person is very life sucking.

“(Name) are you really sure about that?”

“Michi, I'm sure about this”

・⁠。⁠・

★ Meeting his teammates was something. It wasn't really bad just they look at you strangely. I mean in the "How this asshole pulled someone like this" type of way. Some of them asked for tips to deal with him

“Can you give us tips how to deal with your boyfriend?” says one of them while holding a notebook

“Fine, to deal with him is to know how to pique his interest”

“Then how you do it”

“I don't know”

#blue lock #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x reader #bllk #blue lock x you #bllk headcanons #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you

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oxymorayuri · 25 days

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❞𝐍𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬❝

Part four

If you haven't read the first part yet, you can find it here or the overview. ♡♡♡

✦ Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader ✦ Warnings: language, suggestive ✦ Spoiler: talking about dressrosa and doflamingo

A/N: I don't know why but I've been listening non stop to 50 Cent - Ayo Technology ft. Justin Timberlake when I was writing lol.

wordcount: 2743

tagging: @lazyninjatheorist - @sassyyassi

! ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ !

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

Without knocking, you barge into Ace's room. You have completed the preparations and drawn up a rough plan. Now all you need to do is discuss the matter with Ace. To your surprise, he doesn't seem to be in his room, as there is no sign of Ace.

Strange. Marco said he was in his room… It seems he was mistaken.

Just before you were about to reach for the doorknob to go out, the bathroom door opened behind you. You turn around and see the dark haired man coming out of the steaming bathroom with a towel around his waist. He doesn't even notice you because he's rubbing his hair dry with another towel.

When you clear your throat, he freezes and rips the towel off his head, grinning broadly when he sees you.

"Hey y/n what's up?" He puts the towel around his neck and stands casually in front of you. You're a little distracted by the sight of him. A few drops of water roll down his muscles… You take a deep breath and close your eyes quickly.

This is nothing you haven't seen before, girl…

"Get dressed and come to my room, we have something to discuss." And without letting him answer, you walk out of his room.

If you had looked at him again, you would have gone insane. Even if it was only for a moment, the sight of him has carved itself into your brain. The way his wet black hair fell and clung to his face and neck. The towel that was just barely on his hips but so deep that you could clearly see his waistline. His slightly reddened face… he must have had a hot shower.

Mhmhm.. Having a soaking.. hot shower with Ace? You bet that would be fucking enjoyable…

You bite your lower lip and grin to yourself as you make your way back to your room. You don't even recognize yourself, since when do you only think about sex? But you can't stop having these thoughts about him either.

"Why are you grinning so stupidly to yourself? That's scary, stop it y/n…" Marco nudges you lightly with his shoulder, so you look up at him.

"Nothing…" you say with a convincing voice but Marco watches you warily. You walk quietly across the deck side by side, his gaze stern on your face and he snorts a little. You stop and put your hands lightly in the air, like; what's your problem, dumbass?

He turns to face you. His gaze is getting on your nerves… He always looks like that when he knows you've done something wrong or are hiding something. You cross your arms, if he wants to get on your nerves, let him talk.

"I saw you come out of Ace's room…" He raises his eyebrows and approaches you.

"You told me he was in his room. I asked you where he was or have you already forgotten, duh?" You roll your eyes. His interrogation is poor... He looks at you a little surprised.

"Come on y/n, you know what I'm referring to…" - "Nah, no clue what you're talking about." Bored, you look down at your fingernails.

"You like him, admit it." he points his finger at you. The question annoys you. Why does he even care?

"So what?" you put one arm on your hip. Is he being a big brother now? Watch out, soon comes the love talk…

"AHA, I knew it!" he raises his other hand and points both fingers at you, making you laugh.

"Listen, Ace is a really good guy, but if he's mean to you, don't hesitate to tell me. I'll help you sort it out…" you snort a little and shake your head, putting your hand on your arm. There it was the love talk...

"You know, Ace wasn't the problem…" you look around slightly anxious, to see if anyone could hear and continue quietly. "…It was me."

"You?" He leans back a little surprised.

"Yes, me…" you look around in panic because he was getting a bit too loud.

"Listen, now is not a good time. I'll explain later, but right now I have to get back. I just wanted to pick up Ace to discuss the plans for Dressrosa but he just got out of the shower…" You falter a little as you remember the sight of him… Marco misunderstands your facial expression and reacts with disgust.

"Ughh save me the details…" You give him a mean look

"It wasn't like that at all! I just briefly told him to get dressed and come to my room… That's it!!!" You're still not that convincing in Marco's eyes.

"Still, you were grinning quite obviously to yourself…"

You groan in annoyance.

"Fine! I was grinning because Ace was standing in front of me in a TOWEL… and I just had to think about that. Happy?!" - "Ah no stop!" He puts his hands over his eyes as if to protect himself from the pictures.

"It's your own fault!" Stubbornly, you stride past him and flee to your room.

You close the door behind you and take a deep breath. You actually have other things to do right now than deal with something like this.

On your desk, you spread out a map of Dressrosa and pin a few locations of interest. You have kept a neat notebook of your travels. You wrote down everything your ears could pick up, even if it had nothing specifically to do with your mission, but based on your experience, it might come in handy again.

You don't know much about Dressrosa itself, only that Doflamingo is the king. But what you do know about Doflamingo is, that he is said to be the man behind the name 'Joker' and runs the black market in various ways. You had heard people talking about it, apparently customers, and their words matched Doflamingo perfectly.

Whitebeard became aware of him through one of your reports from Alabasta. As mentioned, your ears are everywhere… If it turns out that he is the broker, you should know about it. It could be a chance to eliminate an important role in the world. Before, there was only the name, a character who supplies your enemies with resources. Now you have a suspect, so you have to turn Dressrosa upside down.

But it's a difficult game. First you have to find out where it all goes down as well as discover all players involved.

You look intently at your little notes. That's going to be a bit difficult. Where should you start? You don't have a single contact in the area.

You try to remember what people said about the King of Dressrosa… He is said to be quite extravagant and a man of pleasure. He's also one of the seven Shichibukai and works with the World Government… The world government doesn't like you guys but you also have your ways to maintain your control and this time your mission is to gain control of the black market, to destroy it.

You are responsible for gathering enough information to get the upper hand and then Whitebeard sends out his divisions.

The sickening face of Doflamingo appears before your eyes. He seems to be doing a good job as king and Dressrosa is a popular destination for spring and summer…

After meeting him only a few times, you are certain that he is in fact a horrible tyrant. He is an unpredictable and dangerous man. You'll have to be careful since you don't have any insiders…

A knock on the door brings you out of your thoughts.

"Come in." you call to Ace and turn to the wall where your pinboard is. There you've put up all the 'family members' with their most important details and you consider who could be a serious threat.

He steps in front of your desk and examines your detailed and neat plan. Small notes are attached to the map, where the important places are pinned.

"I see we have a lot to discuss." You turn around with your hand on your chin.

"We'll be busy for a while… I'm very sure he's the broker." You present him a report of the shipping traffic, from Dressrosa. Ships from many different kingdoms dock and stay for only a few days at most. Passenger ships dock and there are always far less passengers arriving than the ship could accommodate. Ace runs through the digits and you can see in his face how he compares the numbers.

"I agree with you about the ships of the other kingdoms, the length of stay is suspiciously short… but long enough to make a deal… but the passenger ships?" He looks up from the document at you.

"Slave trade." you say confidently, pointing to a line in the report.

"According to the ship's blueprint, it can carry 25 passengers, but strangely enough, only 20 tickets are sold per day…" - "You're pretty good at this shit…" Ace grins at you with his signature smile.

"I know that's only two things, but I suspect Doflamingo is running his trades on Dressrosa and Father wants us to confirm that and gather enough information to take him down." - "That would get some big enemies off our backs, looking at the list of countries…" You put your hands on the table and smile at him with satisfaction. Ace has a keen eye… There are some annoying enemies, of the Whitebeard pirates, on the list…

"Considering the fact that these countries frequently dock in Dressrosa, they seem to do a regular trade. If Doflamingo is taken down, that will be the end of them too."

"I like the sound of this… What are we going to do first?" You turn to the overview of the members of the Donquixote family.

"We should gather information about all the opponents in the area and find out who we really should avoid." Ace stands next to you to read through the notes relating to the members.

"There were places marked on your map, what are they?" You both turn back to the table and your shoulders touch. Your eyes are focused on the map and you point your finger at two dots on the outer edge of the map

"These are the two public harbors and we will dock at one of them after we arrive with a passenger ship." - "You want to go on a passenger ship?" he looks down at you in surprise. "Yes, of course. Being conspicuous is usually the least obvious, isn't it?" you grin playfully at him.

"Being undercover doesn't just mean operating in the background, it means infiltrating. We board the ship on another island as normal passengers and travel to Dressrosa for our honeymoon… remember?"

You smile at him. Ace certainly didn't think you'd be fine with Whitebeard's suggestion, but it's a pretty safe move per se. After all, you don't have any allies there to make it easier for you to get into the country. The fact that you're posing as a newly married couple is something new for you, but it's actually a pretty good cover.

"We have to dress up and act like a natural couple, of course, and for the sake of the mission, I'm prepared to act accordingly." You've already slipped into every role and fooled people. As a woman, you have your very own tricks. Men are so easy to influence when the right woman is sitting in front of him. You're used to getting close to men and playing your role. As soon as they eat out of your hand, you shoot their back.

Since you're a good actress, your feelings for Ace won't stop you from doing a great job.

"Oho, you're ready to act accordingly?" He leans down slightly but you don't move a bit.

"So does that mean we might be kissing?" Despite your smile, you furrow your eyebrows a little. He's naughty.

"Depends on the situation, of course." You remain professional, but even your cool manner doesn't discourage Ace. He's obviously staring at your lips. When you start to speak, he quickly looks you in the eye.

"Since I'm a fan of a good show, I've also chosen a good place for us to hide." You look at the map.

"The spot next to the Coloseum is a hotel. This hotel is famous for being romantic. It's known to be constantly booked out for newlyweds or couples…" - "The famous Hotel Mirabell???!" he looks at you, a little shocked, as he reads the name on the note under the pin.

"Are you somehow filthy rich?" He grabs the note to check whether he might have misread it, but it's true. The luxury Hotel Mirabell is the most popular hotel of all. You toss your hair back arrogantly.

"You know Ace, I've stolen from quite a few people in the casinos of Alabasta over the last few years…" He interrupts you because he bursts out laughing.

"I have to say that's pretty impressive. You're one hell of a pickpocket if you can afford a hotel room like that!" You blush and try to hide behind your hand, but Ace stops you. Without putting up a fight, you let him do his thing and show your flustered side.

"The Mirabell Hotel has a casino, I bet we could meet some important guests there since it's popular with the royalty… besides that, you should teach me a few tricks on robbing people…" - "Some other time, but not on Dressrosa. That's too risky. If we get caught, we can pack our bags straight away because our identity will be exposed." Your mind is back on your mission. As tempting as it sounds to hit the casinos with Ace, you should keep your hands off the gambling and rather observe.

"Too bad, but you're in command."

You discuss a few more details for a while… On which island you will take the passenger ship to Dressrosa, how you will dress up and what you should do for the first few days. After it's been quiet for a while, you realize how late it is.

Ace lies on your sofa with your notes and studies their details and your eyes meet from time to time. Ace doesn't mind when you catch him looking at you and gives one of those little smirks. Although he irritates you so much, you refuse to get flustered.

You close your notebook with a dull sound and get up from your desk. You think you've planned everything you need to do and, as it's quite late, want to snuggle up in your warm bed.

"Hey Ace, it's getting late, we should stop now and go to bed," you say as you grab your sleeping clothes from your closet.

"Oh is it that late already?" he looks out of the window in surprise. It's already pitch black.

"I think we've done enough and should present the plan tomorrow to Dad and start the mission." You change behind a room divider and come out in your sleeping clothes. Ace's eyes follow you as you walk past him in just a shirt that barely covers your ass. You wait for him at your bedroom door and Ace says his goodbyes, wishing you nice dreams.

"Sweet dreams to you too, Ace." He looks you up and down, your shirt is short enough to tickle his imagination.

"Thanks, I'm surely going to have them."

His brazen response makes your face flush and you slam the door before your face turns completely red.

But Ace, who is still standing in front of your door, has indeed seen the blush on your face. He can tell from your reaction that you like him. You're the one who's fooling herself.

He smiles to himself. The red on your cheeks suits you, he thinks it's a shame that you want to hide it so badly...

A/N: bruh. It's 4 in the morning… why am I not tired??? I hope you enjoyed it. See you next time ♡

➽ Next chapter

#one piece #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #one shot ace #ace one piece #portgas ace x you #ace x you #short fic #one piece fanfiction #one piece fic

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