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cherry-leclerc · 8 months

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fucked-up little thrill ☆ cl16

genre: pwp but also porn with plot (the best of both worlds!), humor, she truly is a maneater in disguiseee

word count: 8.3K

There’s a difference between warning and danger - you happen to be both. Though, Charles only sees the green light, go. Well, we can all imagine how this will already go.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+...oral (m and f receiving), fingering, handjob, penetrative sex, riding, slight cry, unprotected sex

inspired by this and this !

“She’ll mess with your head, man. You’re going to wish she had never looked your way.”

“I told my mom about her. Crap, I bought her an engagement ring after a few days of knowing her.”

“Four words: Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

“Do you know how fucked in the head you have to be in order to willingly go after her? Fucking pathetic. Sure, I did the same, but hear me out-”

Despite the warnings, he didn’t pay them any attention. He thought he was going crazy for sure when he saw two guys on their knees, begging: Run, just do it. And whatever you do, don’t look back.

Charles wasn’t even listening.

The nights were beginning to get warmer, yet there was still a slight breeze. Spring was rolling in. What an innocent season to meet the wildest card Charles has ever dealt.

“...then she laughed so hard that, Jesus Mary and Joseph, my heart went bananas! Y’know what I did next? I asked her, ‘You want a slice?’ I meant the tiramisu, guys! She thought I was talking about myself! T’was the most embarrassing thing. Made me look like a bloody narcissist.” Lando whined as he leaned onto the table to hide his face.

George snorts. “Ah don’t worry mate, I would gladly take a slice.” Lando groans, further rubbing his forehead onto the table. So much so, that it began to squeak.

“Alright, calm down before you shed your skin off. It wasn’t that bad.” Alex voices, as he pops a curly fry into his mouth.

“Easy for you to say! You basically have the person you’re going to get married to! You’re safe.” The Brit pouts. He then lifts his head up and wipes away a single tear. Everyone explodes into laughter.

“Muppet, c’mon we were kidding! Weren’t we just fooling around, Charles?” Carlos wiggles his eyebrows at the Monegasque. Charles rolled his eyes playfully.

“Yes, of course we were joking,” he starts. Lando looks up, seemingly feeling better as everyone began to agree. We were just playing around!

“Then again, how did you even fall for a girl like that?” Charles finishes his sentence.

“Argh. You don’t get itttt,” Lando wails in defeat. “When you meet a girl like that, you don’t question it. You just thank God for sending her your way and then BAM! She just walks out of your life.”

Hm - Charles thinks to himself as he takes a sip of Martini - naive, naive little Lando.

Charles met you that same night he was out for dinner with the boys. He was waiting for his car from the valet; shooting Joris a quick text.

"Sorry," he overhears a soft voice, but still didn’t pay much attention.

"Sorry? You’re sorry? We both know goddamn well that you’re sorry about nothing. Nada. Zeeerrrooo," a man's voice angrily shouts back, voice slurring.

Charles turns and sees a man running his hands through his blonde hair, walking back and forth in despair. Then, his eyes move to find you.

Standing tall in the tightest, shortest, black dress he's ever seen. So, the little black dress truly does exist. Glowy skin shining through from the lights decorating the outside of the restaurant. Your legs appear miles long, feet paired with your nicest set of heels, Joli Queen Glitter. Red fucking bottoms. Christian Louboutin at its finest. Rich jewelry sits on your wrists, fingers, and neck.

Even with all that in the way, all he notices is just how drop-dead gorgeous you are. Suddenly, his fingers get clammy. What the hell? His jaw was clenched. Literally, why? His pants were growing tight because oh God he was already har- Alright, now that’s just crazy, Charles. Get it together.

“Yes. Whether you believe me or not, I’m sorry. Maybe you just shouldn’t have set high expectations,” you spoke, looking down.

“Are you being fucking serious right now? You’re smiling? You think this is funny! Oh God, what the fuck is wrong with you, you crazyyyy bitch!” The man continues, sharply pointing his finger at you accusingly. He genuinely looks like he’s about to start crying for his mommy.

“Okay mate, I think that’s enough. Why don’t I call you a cab?” Charles speaks up from where he’s standing. You and the mysterious guy turn to look at him.

You shoot a smile as the man's eye starts twitching.

“Oh great! Great, great, great,” the man chants. “What an idiotic thing to believe that you hadn't gotten rid of me already! How could I not see it coming?” He drops to his knees and starts rocking back and forth. “On my dead hamster's birthday!” Levi, Charles later finds out, cries out to the sky. “Couldn’t this have happened any other day?” Charles cringes. “Call me that shitty ass cab, dude.”

So, you stand close by as Charles helps plop Levi inside with the help of the cab driver. They buckle him up and off they go.

Not before Levi pokes his out the window. “I swear I’m not being bitter when I tell you to fucking save yourself!”

Both of you are left there standing quietly. You pout your red lips as you pull out your phone to call a cab for yourself.

“Need a lift?”

Glancing around silently, you sneak a look at Charles. Handsome, you ponder, just a tiny bit. Outrageous lie. You quickly scold yourself for being so untruthful. This man was the most beautiful kind you’ve seen in your entire life.

“Take it that was your boyfriend back there?” He taps his fingers against the wheel.

“Mmm. Hardly. No, he isn’t - wasn’t - my boyfriend by any means. Some guys just instantly assume stuff over any girl that pays them any ounce of attention.” You lazily trace shapes onto your thigh. You tug your dress down a bit, licking your lips. “Thanks for helping me out back there. It was really sweet.”

He notices the way you never look up from your lap as you’re speaking. It’s kind of endearing, just how soft you can be. “Don’t mention it…it was…no problem.”

He walks you from his car to your house. It's small, pastel yellow with a mailbox that reads; No more love letters. Seriously. “Cute,” he comments. You blush.

“Oh, that. Sorry, I live with my two best friends and they wrote that as a joke,” you ramble as you click your heel shyly. “They said it would help out with my, and I quote, ‘secret admirers.’” You let out a tired laugh as you finally build up the courage to look at the man standing right in front of you.

“To be honest, that makes sense.” He tilts his head a bit, analyzing your eyes. “Beautiful girls should receive beautiful letters.”

Tongue tied, you stare back with a pleased smile.

“This is so unlike me, but would you like to go out some time?”

Easiest question ever asked.

A few nights later, he finally decides it would be a good day to take you out to dinner. Testing went well and the car was finally on the right track. He took this as a good omen.

“How long have you lived in Italy now?” you quiz, as you bring your Shirley Temple closer to your lips.

“Oh, um, for quite a while now. I mean it’s really only for work. I go home any chance I get.”

“Sweet. Where are you from?”

“Monaco.”

Your eyes grow wide with excitement. “Really! Monaco is so beautiful!” Your childlike squeal makes him smile brightly.

“Have you ever been?” You sadly shake your head, hair bouncing back and forth. Soft floral fills the air.

“Nope, but I wish to one day. I just know I’ll love it so much…” You trail off. “It’s just that growing up my favorite movie was Monte Carlo. Would beg my mom to play it any chance I could.” Maroon coats your cheekbones. He furrows his dark brows in confusion.

“Monte Carlo? You know, starring Selena Gomez?” His soft features pinch together. “...Leighton Meester? Katie Cassidy?” You desperatelyspit your words, trying to assist. He continues shaking his head. Never heard of it.

Your mood grows sulky as you pout. Leaning back, you finally take a sip of your drink. Oh, well now I really want something stronger than this.

“I would love to watch it some time though!” Charles tries as his voice cracks. He winces.

“Sure!” Though, you're not looking at him anymore. Your eyes are trained behind him. He’s about to turn around and ask if you’re fine, when you finally speak up. “I think I’ll go to the bar for another drink. Be right back!” He huffs.

You weren’t back for almost too long. Finally, deciding to go look for you, he stands and takes long strides all around the dark restaurant. When he finds you he sees you’re not alone.

A man in an all black suit seems to be your new company. You giggle as he appears to slide some type of business card to you. Just as you're about to grab it Charles strolls over to you both.

“Is your drink finally ready?” he asks as he wraps a protective arm around your waist. You flinch. You hadn’t even seen him walk over.

“Charles!” you shriek, as you crumble the piece of paper into the palm of your hard, hurriedly. You pray that he hadn’t noticed, but he had. Something inside of him told him not to ask. “I was actually on my way back. Did you need anything? A drink?” you ask, furrowing your brows attentively.

“No, thank you, amour,” Charles warmly replies, looking into your glossy eyes. You truly were the best thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“My apologies for getting in the way.” The man extends his hand out to Charles. “Aiden Quinn, pleasure to meet you.”

Charles may be upset that Aiden ruined his date, but he wasn’t keen on being rude, so begrudgingly, he shook his hand. “Charles Leclerc.” See, normally Charles isn’t the type to throw his name out like that expectantly, but he felt as if he had a point to make. He did, though. I was here first.

The man grins ear to ear, nodding. “Yes, that’s where I know you from. I knew you looked familiar. Formula 1 driver, right? Ferrari?” He points with a knowing smile.

“Scuderia’s number one driver, yes.” His grip around your waist stays secure. Meanwhile, your eyes are open to their fullest. Surprisingly, you had no idea.

“Certainly. I’m one of the team's ambassadors, actually,” Aiden challenges. Charles clenches his jaw. “When you have million dollar businesses all around the world, you try to find a place to help. Ferrari really needs it at the moment.” You’re equally as shocked with Aiden as you are with Charles.

“Well then, I’ll make sure to dedicate my next podium to you I suppose." You shift uncomfortably. This reminds him you’re there. With him. Ha! Take that, Quinn! “Anyhow, I would love to chit chat with fellow fans, but I must say we have to get going.” He holds your hand firmly as he leads you out.

“Goodbye, Aiden!” you beam as you depart ways.

“Formula 1 driver now, is it?” you curiously ask as you look over where he has one hand over the steering wheel and running the other calmly through his hair.

“Thought you knew.”

“I had no clue! Zip!” you shriek as fling your arms through the air. He laughs as he pulls into an abandoned parking lot.

“In the mood for something sweet?”

“Grazie mille,” the Monegasque says as he's handed cones of freshly made gelato. Smiling, he makes his way back to you. Hands you per requested raspberry, as he keeps his lemon one.

“Molto gentile.” You inspect and nod your head in approval. Just hearing your tongue curl in Italian has him swooning. You take a lick and release a soft moan. “So sweet. Best I’ve ever had,” you declare as you continue enjoying your treat innocently.

Charles gulps, trying to cool down. “I told you it was the best.” He shoots a wink over to Luca, the owner, for keeping the shop open for a few more minutes.

“You scared me a bit back there.”

“Pfft. With that Aiden guy…I’m sorry about that–”

“God no. Honestly, I completely forgot about that,” you mutter. “I meant with that whole, ‘In the mood for something sweet?’. Thought you were like the rest.”

The 25 year old keeps quiet for a minute. He gathers his thoughts before settling with, “I promise I’m not.”

“Keeping my fingers crossed you aren’t.” You look around with twinkling eyes. “You know, a date I once had asked me-”

You want a slice?

No.

“It shocked me how straight forward he was being. It wasn’t even our second date! I barely even knew the guy.” You frown at the memory. “Then he blamed it on the tiramisu.”

I meant the tiramisu, guys!

God no.

“Never saw him again,” you finish as you finally focus back on him. A pale Charles is all you find.

“Woah, are you okay?”

“Yes! I’m so good! You look lovely! Did I mention it already cause if I didn’t then call me the worst date ever!” He begins nervously laughing. His gelato dripping all over his arm.

“I think you did.” You smile as you hand him a few napkins. He returns the gesture, thanking you. “And don’t worry about it, leave that spot for Lando. Now he might take the crown.”

Charles let out a groan.

Charles went back and forth deciding whether he should reach out to you. He liked you. A lot. Nonetheless, he was hesitating because he just couldn’t do something like that to Lando. The Brit was as bummed out as one could get. So, it's settled. Bye bye baby.

“Of course. Tonight at 8,” your voice confirms on the other side of the line. Charles celebrates with a quick dance.

“See you then.”

He decides today that he wants to switch things up. Do something that would make him stand out from anyone that came before him.

“Monaco?” Leaning on the hood of Charles' car, you feel you have to be dreaming. He nods his head lively.

“I could show you around, y’know be your personal tour guide.”

“You should have warned me! I don’t have anything ready!” you yelp as you hold your hands over your heart, frantically. He would be more worried if it weren’t for you smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

“We still have time. Come on, I’ll help you pack.”

When you make it to Monaco you’re greeted by a young guy wearing glasses, driving a Ferrari Pista. Charles and him fit in a quick embrace before they turn their attention back to you.

“Ah yes, this is Joris. He’s one of my closest friends,” Charles states as you warmly reach for a handshake.

Reciprocating, Joris says, “Very nice to meet you.” You smile, returning the greeting. “Must say, you are just as beautiful as Cha had mentioned, if not more.” You blush as Charles clears his throat awkwardly.

“D'accord, mec. Pas besoin de le dire au monde entier,” Charles mutters. “Thank you for picking us up.” Joris nods, carrying your luggages. You share a quick goodbye before he finally makes his way to another car. “That’s also one of my very good friends, Marta.” You smile and wave as they drive off.

Monaco definitely met your expectations. Everything just captivated your attention so much that you wouldn’t be surprised if you started to drool.

“Holy shit. Your home is absolutely stunning!” you gasp. He wheels your bags in as he exhales.

“Merci. Make yourself at home.”

Thankfully, the flight was quick so you both have plenty of energy to go out for a late night snack. He takes you to his; Favorite place in the world! You’ll see.

A little stand sits in the corner of the street.

“Lou makes one of the best crepes. Trust me, I’ve been a loyal customer since my school days.”

A little old lady is attending to customers, but stops as soon as she spots Charles. “Charlie! Chérie, je ne savais pas que tu étais de retour!” She makes her way around to hug him.

“Des projets de dernière minute, mais j'ai juste envie de manger une de tes incroyables crêpes,” he replies, as they pull away.

“And who is this pretty girl?” she questions as she looks at you, standing there patiently.

“Oop, hello. I’m a friend of Charles.” Lou smiles teasingly.

“Charlie, tu es là pour me dire que tu vas te marier?” Lou suddenly looks over the moon.

“Non!” he quickly shouts, so suddenly, you and Lou both jump a bit. Tight lipped, he apologizes.

“Like she said, we’re just friends."

The next morning after breakfast he recommends you bring something you can swim with. Skipping your way to his room, which he is kindly sacrificing for you, you roam through your luggage until you find a baby blue bikini.

“You don’t get sea sick by any means, right?” He looks over at you with scrunched brows underneath a pair of glossy black Ray Bans. You shake your head.

“Great.”

You make your way to a tiny boat before he helps you settle in. You grab his hand softly as you step into it. A single touch of electricity seems to link your fingertips. It catches you both so off guard that he lets go of you so swiftly, you don’t even notice as you plunge into the water.

You let out a quick yelp before you go underwater and his hands fly to his head in embarrassment. You resurface with wet hair covering your face.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” he apologizes before extending his arm out for you to grab. Pushing your hair out of your face, you giggle.

“It’s okay, I got it.”

Once you independently get on the boat, he unties the rope off the deck and takes a seat himself to drive you both to the unknown destination.

“Pretty please, can I know now where we’re going?” you squeal with puppy eyes.

Lord help me, he thinks before replying. “We’re going to a little island I love. Îles de Lérins.” You look ahead, nodding patiently. “It’s beautiful, you’ll see.”

When you arrive it’s easy to understand that there doesn’t seem to be that many people. You basically have the place to yourselves.

He helps you off, not dropping you this time. There’s a small trail you both begin to take. It’s something peaceful, the moment you’re in. You almost wish to fit it into a snow globe.

“My parents would always bring my brothers and I here all the time during summer when we were younger,” Charles confesses.

“You have brothers?”

He turns to look at you, then continues ahead. “Yes. Two.” He kicks a rock out of his way, but something you didn’t know was just how clumsy this man child could be.

“Ouch!” you groan in pain as your hand flies up to your nose.

“Jesus! What’s wrong with me today? Are you okay? I’m so sorry!” He runs to you all panicky now.

You take it back. Break the goddamn snow globe.

You try tilting your head back to ease the blood pouring out your nose before he gently grips your face to gain your attention. You scrunch your eyes, sun suddenly blinding you. Quickly, he takes off his glasses and places them over your eyes. As you open them you notice he’s shirtless. He places his shirt on your nose to clean you up. You flinch a bit.

Instantly, you’re thankful for the sunglasses because wondering eyes were all you could give him. His lean muscles were just begging to be praised.

You shake your head before taking the Puma shirt from him. “Thanks,” you mutter as you focus on a nearby tree. “Starting to think you might hate me or something.”

“Of course not... I could never hate you!” His voice cracks in nervousness. You snicker.

After a bit more wiping, you are as good as new. You both decide to take a dip while the water feels good. You strip from your Levi shorts and t-shirt. Dipping a toe to test the temperature, you shoot him two thumbs up.

The ocean feels so fresh and silky against your skin. You can’t seem to remember the last time you’ve enjoyed someone’s company like this, even if they almost ruled you to the ends of Earth. Two fingers press against your neck. You spring one eye open and you see Charles biting down on his thumb. He relaxes.

“Sorry, I thought you crossed the line to the afterlife.”

You tread water to stretch your legs out. “I’m fine.”

He takes this time to note things he hadn’t paid attention to before. Like how your lashes pin against your skin since they’re wet. Or how a tiny bit of freckles are sprinkled on your nose. He curses himself for not having seen it any sooner. Pretty was an understatement. You were extraordinary.

A few hours later you guys are back at his house sharing a pizza. Pepperoni, you both loved a classic.

“There’s no bruise,” he points out almost proudly. You shoot a playful scowl. He walks over to the T.V. and clicks the remote. “Monte Carlo?”

He loved it, the way you said he would. He especially enjoyed watching how much you loved it.

“This movie was too ahead of its time,” you confirm as you dig your feet under the blanket you had curled into.

“Well at least Grace and Theo got their happily ever after,” he pronounces. You shoot an impressed look. “What? I was listening.” You crawl up next to him and pat his cheek. His dimples pop out from how hard he’s smiling.

He can’t help it the moment he reaches to cradle your face to press your lips together. He can’t help but let a moan slip out when you finally kiss him back.

Finally, he picks you up to adjust you on his lap, which you comfortably settle into. You feel him underneath you so clearly you can’t help but move your hips. He feels so good.

The heated moment continues as he wraps his hands around the curve of your ass. You pull away as your lips move down to his neck. He almost gasps the moment you lick down his throat. It doesn’t help that you’ve been keeping your hips in motion.

He almost passes out the moment your lips move to his ear and ask, no, beg; Let me taste you, please. How could he ever deny such offer?

Making your way down to your knees, he adjusts himself on the couch. He thinks to himself that if he were standing he would’ve made a fool out of himself because just the sight of you in front of him has him choking on his own breath. You just look so pretty.

You tug his shorts down, along with his boxers, and bite down on your lip as you grab his cock, softly. He has to stop himself from jerking into your hand. Precum sprouting from his tip. You can’t wait as you take kitten licks. Fuck, he whimpers. The sound of his voice makes you squeeze your thighs together.

Wrapping your lips around him, your hands reach to balance yourself against his thighs. You moan at the feeling of having him inside your mouth, drooling all over his lap.

This itself, is too much for Charles and thinks he’ll barely even be able to survive as his head turns against the couch' pillow with closed lids. You start bobbing your head and one hand flings down to jerk off what you can’t reach. He groans at the feeling.

You start off slow but suddenly start picking up your pace. He opens his eyes, dazed, to catch a glimpse of you on your knees and this sight is something he won’t be able to forget even if he tried. With glassy eyes, you look up at him. You make a show of releasing your lips from his cock as you lap your tongue along it. Before going back at it, you twirl your tongue a couple of times around his tip before giving it a quick suck, then deep throat him.

He grits his teeth as if to help deal with any of this but when you start toying with yourself he lets out the loudest whine he’s ever produced. You look up smiling, grazing your teeth lightly along him and he hisses at the feeling. Proudly, you fit him back into your mouth.

“God, your mouth feels so fucking good,” he manages to get out before you solely start jerking him off.

“What about my hands?” you seductively tease. The sounds coming from both your hands and his cock should be considered a sin itself. He groans as he looks back to make eye contact with you.

“Your hands too, baby.”

He knows he’s close the moment you twist your wrist perfectly. So so good. You know he’s close when he begins to twitch underneath your fingertips.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” he chants as you continue your dirty movements. He makes sure to look at you, focused, eyes drawn to his cock.

“Cum for me, Charles,” you coo as he finally bucks his hips into your hands and hot cum shoots all over your face. You wickedly smile as your lips reach his cock to continue swallowing the rest that is being released. He grabs you face to pull you off him and hauls you once again onto his lap. He’s about to kiss you before you pull away and point at the mess on your face.

You wipe two fingers along your face and bring them to your mouth to clean them off. A pop is released when you let go. He shudders.

This is the moment, Charles realizes, he’s so screwed.

When you make it back to Italy you realize that all you’ll have are a few fleeting moments together. With Charles going back to racing and you continuing your online classes, you’re both bound to be booked.

Though, Charles just isn’t ready to let you go. And a fucked up man will make fucked up choices when due.

So, he strings you along with him to the Miami GP. He realizes there’s a strong chance you might bump shoulders with Lando, but to be completely honest, he was past caring. He was completely smitten with you.

You wear your white summer dress as you are sprawled on his hotel bed. You’re a mess.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whimper as Charles fingers slip in and out of you. He’s feverishly kissing down the side of your thighs, bites left in between. You groan in slight pain as you tug on his soft hair. This man has brought out the moon and stars, for you.

“C’mon baby, look at me,” he whispers as he paints you with hickeys in between your legs. Somewhere no one else will ever be able to catch a glimpse of. You nod your head as you look down to find him gripping your dress over your thighs, eating you out like a starved man. You shut your eyes as you release a few soft pants, the heels of your feet press deeper against his Ferrari polo.

“Open you’re eyes.”

You shake your head. You wish you could look at him, you really wanted to, but it’s just too much take in. You wanted to make this last.

But Charles was greedy. He wanted to taste you. He stops everything all at once. You let out a cry. Fuck him.

You bring your arms around his neck, loosely, as he kisses your shoulder. “Why’d you stop?”

“You weren’t looking at me.”

With all your strength you open your glittered eyelids.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos as he picks you up and sits you at the edge of the bed. You look down at him confused as he gets on his knees in front of you.

“If you can’t look at me, then you’re going to have to look at yourself,” he directs as he begins to push your dress back up your waist. You lean against your elbows as you realize what other than Charles is in front of you.

A shiny glass mirror.

With a slightly open mouth you’re about to protest before Charles picks up right where he left off. He spits on your clit before rubbing it. You bite down on your bottom lip so hard, you draw blood.

“Don’t tell me I have to get you to moan now?” Charles stares at you with furrowed brows. You shake your head no before he kisses your knee. “Good.”

He makes sure you look straight at your reflection before he curls his fingers inside of you. You mewl at the touch. Your legs beg to bring him closer.

He lets out a light chuckle before repeating his motion. With sleepy eyes, you stare at the way your legs rest against his shoulders. You had painted your nails bloody mary a few nights before, in support of him and his team. Your face all fucked up singly by Charles’ long fingers and delicate touch, red lipstick all over your mouth from how heavy your make out with Charles had been.

To him, you looked like an angel.

You squeal as he presses his nose against your pussy. You grind against his face. He pulls away and you whine, looking at him desperately.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he reassures you as he moves up to kiss your cheek and then your pouty lips.

“Cha, please,” you beg hopelessly. He grins as he pushes your hair out of your face and runs his thumb across your lips trying to clean you up a bit.

You take a chance and wrap your lips around his finger, and you begin to suck. Expertly, you swirl your tongue. Eyes look back at him, almost challenging. He lets out a strained groan.

With all the willpower he has left, he removes his finger from your mouth. Nicely wet, he presses it back where you needed him the most.

“Thank you, baby, you shouldn’t have.” You cry out at the sudden size of his thumb now being inside of you. He switches out his thumb for his middle and ring finger. You throw your head back. All the back and forth almost has you blacking out a few times. Charles gives you a quick peck, fingers building speed, as he pulls your dress down a bit to release your plump tits.

Now he’s at a loss for words. Quickly, he regains his composure and starts sucking on your left nipple, legs squeezing around his waist as a reflex. One hand flies to the back of his head as one makes its way to cup his cheek adoringly.

He moans against you, sucking hard before moving his attention to your right nipple. The way you’re wailing against him has him painfully hard against his jeans.

“Yes, God yes right there, Charlie,” you let out as you grind against his hand. He detaches his lips from your chest as he smiles up at you.

“I’m right here, baby. Cum for me, yeah?” You let out the most pornographic moan as you finish around his hand. Tears make their way down your cheeks. Cleans his fingers, he shuts his eyes satisfied, before he towers over your body, pressing kisses all over.

You giggle. “That tickles." The 25 year old’s heart doubles in size at the sound of your fucked out voice.

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up before the race?”

The race results weren't the best Charles has had, that’s for sure. Head hung, he makes his way to his motorhome. There he finds you on the tiny little bed, curled up, watching the rest of the ongoing interviews. As soon as you notice him you jump up to your feet and walk to him.

It's almost as if you knew how down he was feeling when you wrap your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his chest. He instantly feels better as his arms swaddle over your shoulders, chin atop your pretty hair.

“You did good,” you mumble. You press a faint kiss on his suit before looking up.

“I fucked up. I got P7.”

You frown at him before holding his face between your soft palms. “P7 is good, what do you mean?” He just shakes his head. “You’ve never heard of seven being a lucky number?”

He scoffs, but not at you, never you. More at himself. “Lucky?”

You pull away and sit back on his bed. “Oh yeah, seven bring all the luck in the world!” you squeal, as you plop on the bed. He laughs lightly as he lies beside you.

“Guess I’ll just take your word for it.” He hums with his eyes closed.

You turn on your side as you try to memorize his face. Like the small mole that sits on the left side of his face that makes him even more handsome, if anyone asks for your opinion. You scold yourself for not having noticed it before. As if to fix things, you name it one of your favorite things about him.

“You should. Things will get better, you’ll see.”

For once, he really believes it.

You both are walking out of the Ferrari home when you're suddenly stopped by someone calling Charles’ name.

“Hey, Charles! Great race man!” A familiar voice rings through the air before you both have a chance to turn around. Both you and Charles, unknowingly of one another, want to make a run for it.

“Thanks, Lando,” Charles replies as he prays he might not notice you. But a girl as beautiful as you can’t go forgotten.

“Holy shit it’s you!” Lando wails as he instantly recognizes you from dinner a few months ago. You cringe. What the chances?

“Hi,” you squeak as you hide behind Charles a bit. You had no idea Lando was a Formula 1 driver too. You ought to do your research better next time.

“Mate! This is the chick I was telling you about over dinner last time!” Lando says, eyes almost popping out of his face from the shock he’s in.

“You don’t sayyyy.” Charles tries to hide it, though inside he’s freaking out as if he’s broken every FIA rule in the book.

“Hey, I want to say sorry for that night, I should have been more clear,” Lando begins to spill his apologies, as all you can do is silently stand there, accepting them all.

“Of course. Long forgotten,” you comfort the Brit. He’s actually a pretty sweet guy.

“Charles, I’ll wait for you outside, alright?” you utter as he nods. Once you walk out, he turns to Lando frantically.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that was the same girl you were upset about!” he tells him. Liar. “You must be mad at me and I get it-”

“Nope.”

Charles stares back, caught off guard by Lando’s response.

“You’re not?”

Lando rolls his eyes. “I’m not. I just hope you realize what she’s capable of.” He leans in closer to Charles’ ear and Charles leans in too, expectantly. “I’ve heard stories, man…”

Charles immediately pulls away. “Okay, we’re done here. Bye mate!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

But Charles knew you better. He saw the way you looked at him. The way you felt. You were different. Fuck your following reputation.

“Ready?”

When you got back from Miami, something had shifted. He couldn’t quite name the moment it had, but he was sure of it. He didn’t care though. He would put up with just about anything as long as that meant having you around.

“And then he told me to test the car again, said it was fixed. Fixed my ass!” Charles tells you over FaceTime. You were sitting in your bedroom, painting nonsense on a canvas. You wore some old overalls with loose space buns. Strands of hair would hit the paint from how messy it was.

“No way,” you say, not looking up. Charles smiles fondly.

“You look lovely by the way.” Though, you don’t seem to catch his affirmation for you. Your eyes are focused on something out of frame, in front of you. A quick smirk appears on your face but slips so fast that he almost begins to think he’s imagined it.

“Thank you, Charles,” you reply with a much bigger smile now. “Hey, how about I meet you at your house at 9? I’ll cook you a nice meal, promise.”

Like always, he knows he shouldn’t ask and also knows he can’t say no to you.

“I’ll be waiting.”

That night when you step into his house he notices things he wishes weren’t there. Like how your hair was a tad bit messy or how there were light bruises on your neck. He knows those didn’t come from him. He’d always been mindful to mark you in places no one else could admire, just him. Something bugs him knowing someone has seen them already.

“I’m so sorry I’m late." You rush in with bags from the nearby market, the one just around the corner from his flat.

“No worries. So, what will we be cooking, my little chef?”

That night you seem so infatuated by him, he truly thinks this all was his imagination. Maybe the wind blew your hair on your way here; he should have offered to pick you up. Maybe he forgot he had also marked your neck; he’ll make sure to be more careful next time.

He wraps his arms around your waist as you cut pieces of basil. Giggling, you turn around to peck his lips. Craving more from you, he lifts you up onto the kitchen island. He stands in between your legs as you stare up at him, ever a vixen.

As you lock lips, he picks you up, you yelp all giddy. He makes his way over to his bedroom, your lips lingering on his neck, he almost drops you from how good it feels.

“Careful, don’t need another wack in the face,” you mumble from his neck, light spirited. He rolls his eyes at your comment, but yeah, he should probably focus.

Finally reaching his room, he kicks the door open so hard, it flies and instantly makes a hole through the wall. You gasp as he groans.

“Fuck it, it’s fine,” he murmurs as he takes you to his bed where he drops you. You giggle as your hair covers your face, he makes his way to hover over you and brush it away.

“You know I would do anything for you?” he asks, tenderness lacing his voice.

You stare back at him with bright and eager eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

He smiles as he leans down to kiss you and you instantly melt into the mattress beneath you. He kisses you so fast, so hot, that it has you feeling lightheaded. I’ve been kissed before but never, ever, like this, you think as he slips his tongue as a quick trick. You moan with pleasure. He smiles into the kiss.

He picks his head up to get a good look at the angel the universe had ever so nicely sent his way. He caresses you gingerly. “Are you sure, chérie?”

You nod up and down eagerly, ready for more he’s willing to give. You are so desperate you would gladly take anything as long as it's from him. A flash of sadness strikes your face before it’s replaced with a warm smile.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he comforts you as he begins to take a step back. You quickly hold onto his veiny arm.

“I want to,” you confirm. You bring him back to you as you kiss him for the millionth time that night. Even that would never be enough.

His hands make their way to slip your dress off. Once you're left in your matching lingerie, you push him on his back and straddle him.

“Holy shit,” he nervously laughs as you started to unbutton his linen shirt. He pulls his arm out as you sloppily brush your lips down his smooth chest, fingers tracing his firm abs. Then, as you’re about to pull his pants down, he grabs your hands firmly. You glance at him, confusion written all over your face.

“Ladies first,” he teases. You roll your eyes, but still slip out a quick, okay, before settling under him once again. He kisses down your neck gently as you hum out, finding peace with his lips hovering your body. Every new kiss he places on your soft skin makes you feel thousands of butterflies. You’d never experienced something like this before, you’ve never felt so flawless.

Clumsy fingers roam your back as he unclips your bra then strips you from your panties. Seeing you completely bare has his dumbstruck. This is something he could easily get used to.

His hands make their way to squeeze your tits, your head digs deeper into the mattress as you release a soft whimpers. Charles grows harder by the second, already getting rid of the rest of his clothes as quickly as he can.

He tugs you closer to him by your legs. A laugh rolls past your lips. Resting both arms by either side of your head, he pushes into you. Synchronously, you both let out a moan. You dig your nails into his shoulder as he grips onto the sheets.

You feel so tight around him that it takes all of him not to lose control. You throw your arm over your face, face scrunched.

Putting his feelings aside, Charles leans down and plants a kiss on your arm. “C’mon baby, not again. Look at me.”

“I can’t…,” you cry out weakly, “...too big.”

“You just have to adjust,” he reassures you as he begins to move in and out of you. Your arms fly up to his neck and you grab on tight, as if he’s keeping you ashore. You moan loudly.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers as he thrusts deep inside of you. Your velvety walls feel like home to him and he never wants to leave.

You squirm when his cock hits your sweet spot. You yell into the nothingness and your grip on his hair tightens so much, he groans at the sensation. His hips pick up speed, and suddenly, he’s kissing you again. You whine into his lips, needy for more. Harder.

As if he could read your mind, that's exactly what he does. Your lips form a silent O as you stare at him with eyebrows drawn together. He just feel so fucking good.

“Fuck baby,” he groans, voice deep. You shiver at the sound. “God, you feel so good, you’re doing so good,” he praises you as he now looks into your eyes. You wail in response, too fucked up to form any kind of sentence.

“I love you so much,” he announces so suddenly, you almost push him away. He keeps moving rapidly as he makes out with you eagerly.

As you kiss him back you realize something scary; you love Charles Leclerc. You think you’ve loved him for a while now, but having never been in love, you didn’t seem to notice the feeling. But you do now.

“I love you, too,” you murmur against his lips. When he pulls away you notice you’ve never seen him smile so big. You like being the reason behind it.

He immediately pounds into you harder, not holding back anymore and you’re both a mess. You moan so loud, you’re almost embarrassed but Charles seems to love it.

“If you love me,” he pants, “then tell me his name.”

He continues normally, but you swear you feel your heart stop. There’s no way.

“What are you talking about?” you manage to spit out, but the way he’s handling your body has you seeing stars.

“Please,” a desperate look flashes across his face, “just tell me his name.” His watch covered hand makes its way to your clit and he pushes his finger against it. God, his fingers are so-

“There’s no one.” Liar. “There’s just you.”

With that, you flip him over so now you’re on top of him. Hastily, you start to ride him, making sure to move your hips just the way he likes it. His head falls back against the bed frame as his fingers dig into your hips. You bite your swollen lips in slight pain, but also, just by looking at his current state.

Cheeks slightly pink with sweaty hair covering his face. Long disheveled hair that you pressed him not to trim quite yet. What a sight for sore eyes.

“Please,” he chokes out, “just tell me his name and I swear I’ll never bring it up again.” He opens his eyes to look up at you. His voice hitches when he sees you hopping on his dick, tits bouncing up and down. You throw your head back and circle your hips much harder.

“Fuck.” Charles gasps as he reaches up to attach his lips to your chest. He licks before softly biting down against your bud. You exhale sharply. He then lays back and holds onto your hips harder before helping you move on top of him. Wrapped around him, the motion between both of you picks up so fast you start shaking your head no.

“Yes, amour, say it. Please just tell me before I lose my fucking mind,” he grunts as he stares down at your juices as they make the filthiest sound against his own.

“I swear Charles, I promise, that I have never loved anyone the way I do you,” you confess as you sink your nails against his chest, red marks instantly mapping themselves down.

“Beautiful fucking liar.” Charles smirks as he moves his fingers against your clit rapidly. With that, your walls clench around him as you cum so hard around him he can’t help but follow. You moan loudly as you fall against his chest as he groans lowly.

Trying to even your breathing, you grab onto his hand. Instantly, he brings it up against his lips. Just the touch of his makes you want to ride him until you can’t no more.

You meant what you said that night. Though you both should have known better. Being naive can’t always last forever.

“Then she left a note saying it’s best we just remain friends,” Charles reveals a few nights later over dinner. Everyone shares glances of empathy to the distraught Monegasque. Even Lando.

“It’s alright man, you’ll be over her before you know it,” Lando states as he shares a knowing smile. Charles bites down on his tongue knowing all this pent of anger wasn’t towards Lando. Not even for you.

He would like to say that he learned his lesson and that he should have listened to everyone, all the warning signs that glowed above his head. But he knows damn well he would do it all over again if given the chance. He would say, do anything, to change your mind. To make you stay, but people like you never settled.

Moping, Charles changes the topic as he begins asking how everyone’s break was. He didn’t really care, but he tried to pretend.

Out of breath, Oscar rushes over to the table. “Sorry I’m late,” he says as he sits down in between Lando and Charles.

“No worries, mate, Charles was just filling us in on his expired love life,” Daniel fills in, nonchalantly. Charles immediately shoots a dry frown. Daniel shares an apologetic shrug.

“Oh. That sucks man,” the young Australian replies as he gulps down some water. “Speaking of love lives, you guys won’t believe it! I just met the prettiest girl of my entire life just now outside of the restaurant!”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine

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arieslost · 1 month

Note

hi love! hope you’re having a great day. could you write something where the reader is oscar sisters best friend? thanks for reading my message!

anon YES! i loved writing this.

best friend’s brother | op81

your best friend never told you that her older brother was off limits, but she never said he wasn’t, either.

that still didn’t stop you from catching feelings for him, and you’d rather die than go up to her and say, “hey, i’m in love with oscar, is it okay if we date?” mostly because now you know oscar wants you too, and to be honest, it’s kind of fun keeping it a secret.

you saw him about as much as his family did— most of the time he was away for work, but the next race was his home one, and he arrived a week early. you, of course, being his sister’s best friend, practically lived at the piastri house half the time, and ended up being there for his homecoming. the side hug he’d given you was expected, but the wink he sent your way when he started climbing the stairs to his room was not.

you replayed that moment over and over in your head for the rest of the day, until eventually you found yourself struggling to sleep and decided to go down to the kitchen for some water.

silently slipping out of the guest room, you were careful to tread lightly down the stairwell, avoiding all the creaky spots with practiced ease. you didn’t want to wake anyone up, most of all the object of all the thoughts that were keeping you awake.

though, all your effort was for naught when you saw that the overhead sink light was on in the kitchen, and none other than oscar himself was quietly getting ice out of the freezer. his hair looked unbelievably soft and slightly messy, like he was running his hands through it. he was wearing an older looking pair of gray joggers, and worst of all, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. you’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, but one look was all it took to notice that he had most definitely filled out since you last saw him.

your mind was screaming at you to abort mission, abort mission, because you couldn’t be alone with him when he’s half naked like this, but when you shifted to make your retreat, you stepped on the wrong floorboard. it groaned obnoxiously loudly, and your eyes met oscar’s.

“can’t sleep?”

you shook your head. “uh-uh. figured i’d get a drink and see if that helps.”

“ah, we had the same idea then.” he smiled softly. “sit down, i’ll get it for you.”

“thanks, oz.” the childhood nickname slipped easily from your lips as you crossed the kitchen and lifted yourself up onto the counter nearest to him. “having a good season so far?”

“yeah, pretty good. good progression with the car, almost got a podium last race.”

“i know,” you said, looking down at your lap when he raised his eyebrows at you. “i watched.”

he hummed, handing you a glass and holding his own up. “cheers.”

you clinked your glass against his and took a sip before putting it to the side. “no teasing remarks?”

“nah, i think it’s cute.” he grinned, taking another drink and setting his own glass down. “my number one fangirl.”

“and there it is,” you rolled your eyes, though his quiet laughter was infectious and you couldn’t help joining in. “i’m your sister’s best friend, obviously i’m gonna watch.”

“and it has nothing to do with me?” he asked with a faux pout, flattening a palm right next to you on the counter so he could lean a bit closer.

“do you want it to?” you rested your hand inches away from his and closed the gap between the two of you a little.

“i think it already does.” his other hand slid between your thighs and forced them apart so he could move into the new space and effectively cage you to where you sat on the counter. “y’know, i almost kissed you in front of everyone earlier.”

“why didn’t you?” you whispered, eyes fluttering when his nose brushed yours.

“wanted it to happen when we were alone.” you could practically feel his lips against your own when he spoke, but you also really wanted him to make the first move.

running on the pure adrenaline stemming from your close proximity to the man you want more than anything in the world, you ran your palms over the back of his hands, up his forearms, past his biceps, and settled them on his bare shoulders. “oz…”

“yeah,” he replied, like he knew everything you were trying to say, before he finally closed the distance between you.

immediately, you knew you were addicted to kissing him. the way his mouth moved against yours, the way he wrapped your legs around his hips and held your knees to keep them there, the way he sighed when your fingers slid into his hair. you no longer wanted anything more than you wanted to keep kissing him even after all the breath left your lungs.

he took his time kissing you, keeping everything slow, soft, and gentle. there was no tongue, no teeth, no desperation. if either of you felt anything, it was relief.

finally.

it’s the first thing you said when you broke apart, causing him to smile before pulling you right back in. he kissed you again, and again, until your lips were swollen and you heard someone move around upstairs, breaking you out of your lovestruck trance.

“i’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered as you slid off the counter, reaching down and tangling your fingers with his and giving your hand a squeeze.

a squeeze that promises subtle glances across the table at breakfast, fleeting touches in the stairwell, and many more late night kisses.

word count: 957

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: i got very creative with the title (not). i can’t believe i’ve never thought to write this before!!! omg this was so delicious.

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

#aries answers #anon <3 #request #blurb #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #op81 x reader #op81 x you #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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mikkomacko · 15 days

Text

Dad!Nico x Reader

A/n: For all my Devs fans that need some soft thoughts tonight 🫶

————————————————————

Thinking about Jersey Leeds Nico coming home from the game tonight all head hung low and droopy eyes.

Jersey is already asleep, the two of you having left the arena early tonight in order to keep her sleep schedule going smoothly.

Nico finds you in the bedroom, dragging his feet until he’s in the doorway and you look up from where you’re doing laundry on the bed to his sad pleading eyes watching you.

“Oh come here my darling,” you coo, immediately holding out your arms for him. Nico curls into you, lets you hold him as he just sags under the weight of the season. You coax him into the bathroom, peeling him out of his suit and shoes with tender fingers before running him a bath.

Nico pouts as he lays in the warm water, feeling pathetic with you sitting on the tile floor beside the tub. Stroking through his over grown hair, you don’t push him to speak and instead allow him to wallow and sink into that empty feeling in his tummy.

A moment passes, the baby monitor on the counter crackles and Nico glances over at it with wet eyes.

“She’s fine,” you assure him, but he knows that. Jersey’s developing the habit of babbling in her sleep and it always disturbs the monitor.

“I’m sad,” Nico finally mumbles. “Wanted a cup for the team, for her, for you . . . M’just pouting in a bathtub now.”

You don’t say anything, just let him speak. By the way his gaze has unfocused you know he’s just venting his thoughts, the things he couldn’t say to media today.

“Last year was the best year of my life. We were good, I was playing and feeling good. Jersey, god don’t get me started on Jersey. She deserves so much better-“

Frowning, you cup his jaw and make him look at you. “Jersey loves her daddy,” you insist “she’s so proud of you and loves watching you play. There’s always set backs Nico, always mistakes and failures, but you have not failed at being an amazing father to our daughter.”

Blinking softly, Nico sniffles and nods, pressing into your palm. “I want to see her,” he tells you “but I don’t want to wake her.”

Shrugging, you get up and motion for him to get out of the tub. You wrap him up in a towel, draining the water while he dries off and slips on some boxers and shorts.

Then, on careful tiptoes you sneak into the nursery where Jersey’s little snores are filling the air. The ballerina nightlight casts silhouettes of dancers and bows on the roof and walls, bathes the room in a peaceful glow.

Nico sneaks up beside her crib, grips the side of it in his hands and peers down at her. You press into his side, an arm around him to rub up and down his bare back.

Jersey is sleeping peacefully, thick eyelashes brushing her cherub cheeks and her lips quiver as she coos little noises to herself.

“That’s your fault,” you whisper fondly “all those bedtime nonsense stories when she was in my belly and now she can’t sleep without talking.”

That empty part in him shrinks, fills up with the love swelling in his heart. Everyday she gets bigger and bigger, and with that his adoration and devotion to being her father grows with it.

A year later and she’s his proudest accomplishment. And he thinks that no amount of Stanley Cups, goals, medals or playoffs appearances can ever top that.

Nico Hischier didn’t win on the ice this season, but he won at everything else.

#jersey Leeds #girl dad Nico #nico hischier #new jersey devils #nhl #nj devils #fluff #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier blurb

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avengersassemble-fics · 3 months

Text

Linger

chapter 01 "such a fool for you" masterlist 2.4k words

The grandeur of Lady Danbury's ballroom shimmered with the radiance of candlelight and the elegant attire of London's high society. It was the much-anticipated event that marked the commencement of the social season, something the whole ton looked forward to.

It was where the Queen picked her diamond, where the tone was set for the new season, where ladies vied for the most eligible bachelor’s attention. It was places and events like these where you got glimpses of him.

You were no stranger to the Bridgerton family, you practically grew up side by side with Daphne. She was your dearest friend. But that meant also growing up close to her older brothers, one of which you had pined for for years. Since you came to even know what the word or feeling meant.

Benedict Bridgerton had been the man you dreamt of, longed for. He had an air about him that captivated anyone who paid attention to him. Dark hair, deep eyes, a generous smile, and a soft touch (when he did graze your skin during dances or careful passes). You were a fool for him.

Several summers back, when you were just 15, your parents had made haste for Paris. A true hub of sophistication that matched London, you were able to hone your language skills and etiquette, as well as see some fine art along the way. When you returned just before your debut last season, so you could go through the challenges alongside your friend Daphne as new debutantes.. You noticed a change in Benedict.

He was more watchful, more keen to seek you out, more than willing to have his name on your dance card. He had also made it known when he didn’t particularly like a potential suitor.

Last season, he had all but ran off any gentleman who had wanted to even formulate the idea of courting you. This season? You vowed you wouldn’t let him stand in the way, unless he had some kind of explanation for his behavior.

Tonight, you had sought out Daphne as soon as she arrived, eager for some companionship that did not warrant endless get to know you questions from a gentleman.

“Has your Grace sent you off to fend for yourself this evening?” You asked her from behind, which made Daphne immediately turn on her heel to face you.

“I’m afraid he has,” she played along. “Though with my most trusted friend by my side, I believe, together, we can handle this evening.”

Arm in arm, Daphne and you made your way through the crowded room, towards her family. Always nestled together, deep in their own conversations within one another, it was sometimes like the rest of the ton didn’t matter.

For Benedict, that was true, until he could make out your form coming closer with his sister.. And looking as enchanting as ever.

“Remarkable,” he muttered to his brothers, Anthony and Colin. “Utterly remarkable.”

They followed his gaze over to where you were on the far edge of the group, reacquainting with their mother. Anthony hummed a sort of acknowledgement and Colin rolled his eyes.

“I swear, if I had a shilling for every time you mumbled under your breath for her, I'd be a rich man,” Colin said, earning a glare from Benedict.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he tried to play off. Anthony laughed lightly, clapping his hand down on his younger brother's shoulder.

“Are you just going to run off more possible suitors for her this season?” Anthony asked in a hushed tone. Benedict shook his head.

“I did no such thing,” Benedict protested. It was Colin’s turn to sigh.

“Good God, get a hold of yourself,” Colin said lowly. “You could just tell her your intentions.”

Benedict stewed over his brothers words for the majority of the evening. He weighed the cons, but the pros vastly outnumbered anything that could prevent him from you. But he needed some time to get his head straight, his spirits up, before he approached you before the end of the night.

“Sorry to intrude,” he said as he interrupted whatever conversation you were in with his sister. If Benedict had to watch you dance with another man one more time this evening he might need a lobotomy. “Daphne, may I steal her for a moment?”

“If she wishes to be stolen away,” Daphne said and you nodded your head. Daphne gave an all too knowing smile, not at all oblivious to what was transpiring between her brother and you, before leaving your sides.

“Ben,” you spoke to him quietly, and he immediately felt his skin aflame. “You wish to steal me away?”

“Just for a moment of your time,” he managed to get out. “You have been rather occupied with dances and conversations this evening.”

“Well if one hopes to marry, you must divulge a little,” you replied and your slight smile made his stomach twist. “Though if you wanted my attention earlier, you could’ve stolen me away sooner.”

Benedict smiled, though it teetered on the line of a grin. He was so enamored of your wit, and to be on the receiving end of it, unlike the other men in this room, was dear to him. Was this a flicker of admission on your part?

“Do you wish me to steal you away?” He asked softly. He could see your eyes flicker over his face, trying to read him, read what his intentions were. But you knew.

“If only you knew what all I wished of you,” you admitted, a bit breathless. If anyone was watching or listening, you knew the whispers that would be spoken. How improper it might be, even if you two were beating around the bush.

Before Benedict could respond, you two were interrupted by another gentleman who wanted your attention. Much to his dismay, you returned his attention and even accepted a dance. He had to watch you be whisked away for a dance and Benedict seethed.

Retreating back to his brother's side, Anthony grinned after taking a sip of his brandy. “Go well?”

“Say another word and I may end you,” Benedict grumbled and Anthony laughed.

You did your best to steer clear of the tall and handsome Bridgerton for the remainder of the evening. You were close to accomplishing that when you had slipped away from the prying eyes of the ton and into the night.

The air was warm, slightly cooler than earlier in the day. The moon was hidden behind clouds but it did not hinder its illumination. Lady Danbury’s gardens spanned as far as you could make out as you rested against the railing of the stoop.

You just needed a moment to catch yourself. To try and calm your mind-

“Do you often sneak away from the countless gentlemen vying for your attention?”

So much for slipping away unnoticed, but did it surprise you that Benedict followed?.. partly. You turned to face him as he stepped closer to your side, hands tucked behind him.

Little did you know it was to conceal the tremble in them.

“Only when I need a moment,” you admitted.

Benedict sounded a soft understanding as he came closer. His gaze seemed darker, even without the consideration of the night. He was searching your face for something, though you didn’t know what.

“What did you mean?” He asked softly. “When you said I didn’t know all you wished of me?”

You tensed up slightly, cursing yourself for your brazen but true words earlier in the evening. You could feel your hand tighten against the railings.

“Ben.. maybe this isn’t-“

“Please,” he said, his hands finally becoming visible as he reached out to touch your arm with one, the other on his chest. “Forgive the urgency in my words, for my heart and soul can no longer bear the weight of this unspoken truth. There's an ache within me, a relentless torment, fearing that time may slip through my fingers.. That you may slip through my fingers.”

“I cannot go on not telling you how ingrained you are in my mind. How even the mention of your name by my family makes me weak in the knees, how you have bled into my canvases, into my essence.

“I am tethered to you, my dearest (Y/N). The thought of you accepting a courtship from another man casts a shadow over me I don’t want to see to fruition. Perhaps that is selfish of me.. but if that means having even a chance to have you then I will be selfish.”

You weren’t sure if you had taken a single breath as he spoke, as he laid himself bare to you of his intentions. Everything made more sense now. How Benedict had looked at you for the last year, how he had cut in when men approached, how he practically chased away your potential suitors. If you were a fool for him, he was equally a fool for you.

“What do you ask of me?” you asked, your tone quieter than you intended, but the notions of everything occurring was making your mind and confidence dizzy.

Benedict hesitated, his gaze unwavering but completely captivated by the way your eyes seemed to shine. Was there any way he could be more captivated?

“What do I ask of you?” he echoed, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. “I.. Ask for a chance to court you, to explore the possibility that there is something more between us then familiar friends. I do not wish to rush or pressure you but my feelings for you run deep.”

Benedict sucked in a breath before continuing. “Will you allow me the privilege of courting you?”

You could see the sincerity and pure intention behind his eyes. It was what you had wanted to hear from him since before you debuted last season, something you had only been able to think about in your daydreams. Was he your future?

“Yes,” you breathed and could immediately see the tension he had in his shoulders deflate. “Your honesty is refreshing and.. In fact, it has left me a bit dazed. I believed you to be an artist not also a wordsmith.”

Benedict chuckled, the sound was warm and made you smile along with him. The hand he had on your arm skimmed upwards to cup your cheek. His gaze felt heavy on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“If you have appreciated my honesty up until this point then maybe I can push my luck further,” he said to you. The playful glint in his eyes shifted to a more mischievous expression. “I must confess, I have been tempted for quite some time to do something I probably shouldn’t.”

His thumb traced over your skin to your lips, gently gliding over your lower lip which fell open slightly to catch a breath.

“I have thought about kissing these lips many times,” Benedict admitted, his voice suddenly sounded low and intimate, and it shook you to your core. “I’ve imagined the taste of sweetness that must linger on them. It’s like the mere thought is an irresistible temptation, and I find myself longing to explore a flavor I don’t even know, yet drives me wild with desire.”

“Do you ever wonder how you must taste to a man who cannot seem to get enough of the mere thought of your lips?” He asked you.

God.. He would be your undoing, any ounce of restraint you had was quickly evaporating. You had yet to respond, but Benedict watched as your cheeks flushed, your chest seemed to rise and fall more prominently.

“You seem to like being praised,” Benedict remarked. He knew what he was doing, you were sure of it. The way his eyes darted over you all but solidified it. “Are words all I needed to get you in my grasp this whole time?”

“You’ve never been this brazen before, Mr. Bridgerton,” you finally managed to get out. The way his thumb hesitated under your lip made you wonder if he liked hearing that, or maybe hearing it from your lips. You hadn’t ever wondered if any man had thought about the taste of your lips like he had shared with you, but now knowing he had thought of it immensely would linger with you for who knows how long.

“Careful,” Benedict warned you. Was it possibly for his tone to shift even lower than it already was? It sounded like it. “I have not given into my desires but that can quickly change.”

“And cause a scandal?” You asked him and all he did was chuckle.

“You know I don’t mind the whispers,” Benedict reminded you. “But.. I promise to preserve your reputation. So long as you don’t call me that again.”

“I believe we may be at an impasse,” you whispered. “Because I quite like calling you that, if it elicits even a similar response you have given me this evening.”

Benedict realized that there was definitely a flourishing connection here, because he knew you would never be so open with him if you hadn’t already had some sort of affection for him. He decided he wouldn’t waste this chance, to have or claim you.

“We should get you back inside,” Benedict said after clearing his throat of nerves. “Before anyone notices we are gone. You, more so than me.”

“You may be right,” you agreed. Benedict reluctantly removed his hand from your chin, and watched as you moved around him back towards the door. You stole a final glance from him before disappearing around the corner to return to the winding down festivities.

Benedict took a moment to collect himself, for this was the change to everything. He knew this would be a tumultuous journey, one he had craved and wanted but never believed would come true. After a few minutes, he took the same path back inside to remeet with his family. He couldn’t wait to return home and tell his brothers he had actually done it - he had asked to court you and you accepted.

You were aflame with a new purpose. Everything was shaping up just as you desired, with the man you had dreamt of for years. You knew that this courtship would prove to bring you both closer and eventually.. You would be wed. You would have him.

…Right?

#benedict bridgerton #Benedict bridgerton x reader #Benedict bridgerton x you #Benedict Bridgerton fic #bridgerton fic

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coryosmin · 3 months

Text

stressed out - best friend coryo x reader

You and Coryo had always been close friends. Having grown up together in the Capitol and used to depending on each other for emotional support. Though it was almost always you supporting him emotionally. Which is why it was weird for him when you had actually blown up at him.

It was exam season in the Academy. With exams came stress though Coriolanus had nothing to stress about. He never missed a class, always took decent notes, made sure to do well on all of his homework. I mean, the future President of Panem must do well in order to run the country someday. You on the other hand, though you were as perfect as Coriolanus, you struggled with a few of your classes. Mostly just in your math classes but regardless, you were stressed out.

You spent most of your days studying, ignoring any attempts at people trying to interact with you. You needed to do well in order to get a high grade. And math was your absolute worst subject. So when Coriolanus, who felt neglected, walked into the empty classroom that you were studying in, you felt annoyed. He knew you needed to focus. He knew you needed to study and receive a very good grade. You had told him numerous of times.

“Coriolanus, how many times have I told you that I don’t have time to hang out?” You said, annoyed as you look up from your work. You looked exhausted, anyone could see that. But Coriolanus knew that it ran deeper than just normal exhaustion.

“Just wanted to see if you needed any help.” He said simply.

You rolled your eyes, clearly irritated. “I don’t need any help,” You said harshly. “I just need to focus on studying so I can pass the exam tomorrow without everyone bombarding me!”

Your family had high expectations of you which added to your stress. Your mother wanting you to have very high grades so that you can become something of yourself. It was a lot of pressure, constantly being told you’re not doing good enough in her standards. You couldn’t help raising your voice.

Coriolanus frowned when you raised your voice at him. “I understand you’re stressed but there’s no need to take it out on me, Y/N.” He exclaimed, furrowing his eyebrows.

You shook your head. “I’ve been focusing so much on trying to study and it’s not good enough. My grades aren’t good enough,” You exclaimed, your eyes watering. “My mother is still saying I’m worthless because I’m not doing good and I-” Your voice cracked as you began to cry, unable to help it when you let out a sob.

Coriolanus’s eyes widened as he saw you crying. Of course he’s seen you cry numerous times before but he’s never really quite sure of what to do. Usually, you calm yourself down before he has to do anything but this wasn’t the case as you continued your sobs. He was frozen for a moment, trying to think of what the best course of action would be. He could just leave the room to allow you time to collect yourself. But wouldn’t that make him a bad friend? Anytime Coriolanus had a similar moment, you always comforted him by holding him, running a hand through his curls, whispering sweet things into his ear. Should he do the same?

He stepped forward, walking over to you and taking a seat right beside you as you hid your face with your hands as you cried. He stiffly put an arm around you, bringing you closer to him. You leaned into him, immediately resting your head on his shoulder as you continued your sobs. You felt embarrassed crying in front of Coryo even if he’s your best friend. Coriolanus took a deep breath before he relaxed, wrapping his other arm around you, his hand resting on your head.

“It’s okay,” He murmured, holding you tightly against him. “You work so hard.” His voice was soft and comforting as he spoke to you, moving his fingers in your hair. “Your mother will likely never be happy with what you do, even if you get the highest grades or end up with the world’s best profession. And that’s okay.” Coriolanus continued to speak, rocking you slightly like you would with him when he was down. “I think you’re doing great. And if you’re really struggling, it never hurts to ask for help, okay? I can help you.”

You didn’t reply as you tried to just focus on his words. You sniffled, trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m here for you, okay?” Coriolanus murmured, pressing a kiss into your hair. And so, maybe everything will be okay.

#the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #fanfic #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #thg #tbosas #thg tbosas #coriolanus snow x you #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #academy corio

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bedsyandco · 4 months

Text

ABOUT DAMN TIME - VIOLET & LUKE

❥ — ꒰ pairing ꒱ violet + luke hughes

❥ — ꒰ synopsis ꒱in which Violet and Luke tell those closest to them they're together!!

❥ — ꒰ content ꒱ fluff. maybe some swear words

❥ — ꒰ note ꒱ can't believe we haven't talked about this sooner!! thanks to the nonnie who suggested it!! I loved writing luke and violet from other people's perspectives

⌕ | jack (last few days of regular season)

Would find out first since he's the one who flew her to Jersey!! He comes back to the apartment a few hours later and finds them cuddled up on the couch together. He desperately studies both of their expressions trying to guess how their reunion went but nothing is really out of the ordinary. Luke has that content little smile on his face he always has when he's in Violet's presence and Violet has that little glint in her eye when she looks at him like he's hung the moon.

"hey," Luke says as he takes a seat on the couch they're not occupying and Jack just stares at them, waiting for them to say something, anything, but both of them simply turn their attention back to the TV.

"Are you hungry babe?" Luke asks, kissing Violet on the cheek before her reaches for his phone, probably to order something.

"A little," Violet replies and Jack releases an annoyed breath.

"Are you two together now?" Jack asks abruptly and both of them look at him.

"I just kissed her and called her babe. That's not enough to tell you we're together now?" Luke asks and Jack just stares at him dumbfounded for a moment because Jack can't even remember how many times Luke has called Violet babe and kissed her over the past seven years.

"Yes, we're together now," Violet says, linking her fingers with Luke's as they exchange big grins.

"Thank fuck. Only took you about seven years," Jack says and Luke throws him with a pillow, but Jack just looks at them with a fond smile on his face.

⌕ | quinn // ellen + jim (2023 new jersey playoffs)

Violet and Luke were sitting closely together at a table in the New Jersey box, along with Ellen, Jim, and Quinn, all of them waiting for them game to start.

"Think they're gonna play you soon?" Quinn asks Luke and he shrugs, running his hand through Violet's hair.

"I don't know. It's the playoffs. Don't know if they want a rookie out there," Luke mumbles

"They'd be stupid not to use you, they haven't been playing very great anyway. A change would be good," Violet says smiling optimistically up at him and he can't help but lower his head and connect their lips in a soft kiss. All eyes shoot to Ellen when a gasp leaves her mouth.

"Oh my God. You kissed! Jim they kissed. You kissed," she directs that last sentence almost accusingly at Luke and Violet.

"What? I'm not allowed to kiss my girlfriend?" Luke asks cheekily and Ellen gasps again as Quinn chuckles.

"Damn," Quinn says grinning widely, knocking his shoulder into Violet's.

"You guys are finally together?" Ellen asks, grabbing Violet's hands that lie on the table and squeezing them tightly, smiling lovingly at her and Violet nods.

"It's about damn time," Jim says sending Violet a wink and they all laugh.

⌕ | dylan, mark, ethan (summer '23)

"you know, since Luke moved out, we have the extra room in the house..." Mark says wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and Violet laughs at him, shaking her head.

"Stop flirting with my girlfriend Estapa," Luke yells from the kitchen and Dylan jumps up so quickly he knocks over the chair he was sitting on.

"He said girlfriend. Are you his girlfriend?!" Dylan yells and Violet laughs nodding at him.

"How long?" Ethan asks frowning as Luke comes back into the living room with drinks.

"Only a few weeks now..." Luke answers and Dylan pouts a little, picking up his chair.

"And you guys didn't tell me? I've been suffering through your mutual obliviousness for years," Dylan says and Violet has to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing at how genuinely upset he looks.

"We wanted to wait to tell you in person Dukes," Luke says softly and his friend contemplates a few minutes before grinning, jumping and attacking Luke in a big hug.

"You're dating her!" Dylan says, a little bit of disbelief in his tone.

"I know," Luke replies, in the same tone, thinking back to how many times he's gushed about his feelings for Violet to his best friend.

"Congrats guys," Ethan says tapping Luke on the back and giving her a quick hug.

"Well it's about time, I was about to steal your girl," Mark says and Violet laughs. It's a bit of a running joke they have to call Mark "Mr. Steal your girl" for how often he accidentally flirts with a teammates girlfriend.

As Violet takes a seat on her boyfriend's lap she can't help but agree. It's about damn time.

#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ violet + luke ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

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ghouljams · 8 months

Note

as a fetch superfan, is she want konig needs?

like is there fetch angst or is she just a sex doll for konig

Fetch is what König needs! There's not exactly angst with them, but König sort of realizes she's not just a weapon/sex toy after a while. What König needs is a rock in the storm, and a light at the end of the tunnel. Despite her nature, Fetch is incredibly stable, she's a very good fit for him.

Unlike in the Cowboy AU in this one König sort of knows he's never getting out, Fetch is proof that he's too far gone, but that doesn't stop him from wanting some normalcy. I think König is looking for escape when he's not in the field, and instead of his old methods of drugs, alcohol, women, now he has Fetch. Who is waaaaay healthier and also more than happy to play house with him, which some buried part of him desperately wants.

Anyway, here's the "Oh my god I think I'm in love with her" moment.

You pet your fingers through König's hair, scratch at his scalp idly, he's gotten cuddly recently. You think it's because you've been on leave so long. It's weird to think there's a season for hiring mercenaries, but you guess there's highs and lows in every business. König's arms tighten around your waist, his face pressed against your stomach, half in your lap, half stretched out over the bed. He's gotten more comfortable with you seeing his face. Which is fantastic for you, because it means you don't have to feel bad about sneaking peaks of it.

It's been sort of nice to be on leave. You rented a little furnished apartment, month to month of course, and spent most of your time watching shitty television and going grocery shopping. You'd never been grocery shopping before. It was fun, it's fun just existing with König. It's weird, you sort of thought you'd be spending more time having sex, but things have been surprisingly tame. You're starting to get a little worried he can only get going if he's killed someone recently.

König has never been so comfortable, never been so relaxed. He'd been worried, leave is always interminable, always leaves him restless and wandering; looking for something, anything to take some of the edge off. He isn't made to exist outside the battlefield anymore. Too many soft edges filed to sharp points. He can take the edge off, but it always comes back, never stays quiet for long. It's never as good as the first time.

How was it that you only got better? Your excitement was almost infectious, thrilled to do something as simple as going to the shop. His hand clasped tightly in yours as you dragged him down the aisles. He wasn't used to seeing you out in broad daylight, but it was nice, it felt natural. It felt soft.

That was weeks ago, you should've worn off by now. So why does he find himself clinging to you, hoping you don't? Why do you spend more time talking, more time just holding each other, than fucking? Little bags of white powder abandoned on the coffee table, liquor bottles barely touched, he doesn't know where the edge stopped. When he stopped being scared of what would happen if he crashed. He already did, and you were there to catch him.

"Say my name," König asks you, voice muffled against the shirt you're wearing. That's another thing he's discovered recently. You know him. Know him in a way so thoroughly redacted by even the most highly classified documents that it could only come from being bound to his very being.

You rattle it off like it's nothing, first middle last. It might be nothing to you, but it's not nothing to König. He hasn't heard his name in years, his operator's name is the only one anyone living should know. His mother is long gone, family all but forgotten, but you hum his name and stroke his hair and he is overwhelmed with feeling. It chokes in his chest, big and nameless. Although that's not entirely true, he knows its name the same way you know his.

"You have so many thoughts running through you," You whisper. You've started speaking German when you're alone together, you must know he likes it. The familiar tones and grammar lull him in a way König thought must be lost to him. "What are you thinking about?" He knows you only ask for his comfort, that if you really wanted you could peal back the layers of him and hear them yourself. When did he come to trust you so wholly?

"You," He says plainly. You hum, a wordless ask to keep talking if he wants. Your fingers scratch at the base of his scalp, every comfort in the world laid out to him. "I love you," The words feel like peanut butter in his mouth, thick, sticky. They don't want to move past his teeth. He feels your fingers still.

If it were anyone else maybe he would've been scared to say it. Worried you wouldn't feel the same. But you've loved him since day one, devoted, obsessed, König has never worried about your feelings for him. Not when they're so clear.

"I love you too," You resume your petting. König smiles against you, buries himself further into your comfort. He's never heard you say it aloud before.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

#cod x reader #x reader #demon!darlings au #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #König x oc #oc: fetch #tw drugs #they're just mentioned but still wanna put that on there #cod x oc

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slippinmickeys · 4 months

Note

Five paragraph prompt:

As they’re unwinding after a case, Mulder becomes preoccupied with watching how a man across a diner / restaurant / bar is eyeing Scully. Earlier seasons (or before FTF, anyway) so that there’s a more buttoned-up MSR vibe, maybe.

It’s odd, he thinks, how he’s never really noticed the sway of her hips.

Okay, he’s noticed, but he hasn’t looked. Not like the guy at their 10 o’clock is looking. Watching as Scully sashays back to their table, her clompy heels scuffing along the floor with a gritty, salacious rasp.

It’s summer in the District. Her foundation has long since been sweated off, revealing a beauty mark above her lip, maybe freckles, and in the heat of the field, she’d shucked off her suit coat and was now wearing only a sleeveless silk blouse, one so sheer that Mulder (and the guy at the bar, no doubt) could make out the shape of her bra, the soft globes of her breasts pillowing out slightly above the cups.

Scully against the backdrop of over-varnished, sticky tables. Scully moving through the chessboard cones of bad light. Mulder can’t look away either.

The guy turns his body in a complete 180 so that he can follow her progress, and something ignites inside Mulder’s chest. But he can’t move. He can’t so much as intimate any kind of possessive impression or Scully would pin him with a glare so intense his ball hair would try to climb back into his scrotum. It’s not like that with them.

“Evenin’ y’all,” says a voice as Scully slides back into their booth, and they both look up to see Bar Guy himself, hovering at the edge of their of their table. That was quick, Mulder thinks. “I have a bet with my buddy over there that y’all aren’t together.”

The man’s hair is very shiny and his teeth are very straight. Mulder bets he’s the kind of guy who puts his seat back the second the flight attendant sits down for takeoff. In any event, he sounds like Foghorn Leghorn, which Mulder assumes is performative. Do people from Virginia even have southern accents? Not in his experience, though Alexandria’s not exactly deep in the state.

“Kind of a circuitous way of asking if I’m her boyfriend,” Mulder says, though Scully is wearing a small, beatific smile. Mulder smiles at the guy, too. But it’s more of a that’s nice, off you fuck kind of smile.

“Are you?” Foghorn asks hopefully.

Mulder looks to his partner, seeing where she’d like to go with the question. He’d posed as her beau before; sometimes it was just easier to fend off suitors that way, especially if she was tired.

“No,” Scully says, kindly. “But I’m not in the market.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Foghorn smiles before walking away, inclining his head politely at Scully. Even Mulder is a little charmed by the guy’s bravado.

“You have to admire the lack of subtlety,” Mulder says, his eyes following the man as he collects both his sport coat and his buddy, disembarking to search for a more target-rich port.

“Do you?” Scully asks dubiously. She’s looking at the table, occupying herself by running her finger along the rim of her wine glass. The tone her wet finger brings forth is as rich as a ripe plum.

“In and out in under ninety seconds,” Mulder points out. “Better than standing there stammering for five minutes like the last six guys.”

“You make it sound like this happens all the time.”

“It does.”

Scully makes a dismissive gesture.

Mulder thinks just then that every single man they meet either wants to kiss her or kill her, but he’s not dumb enough to say it. Instead he downs the last of his beer.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks.

“Not yet,” she says, gesturing about six inches beyond his left shoulder. “There’s a queue of GS-12’s waiting to ask for my hand.”

Mulder can’t help but turn to genuinely look, which earns him Scully’s charming squawk of laughter, the one she rarely trots out. When he turns back to her, she’s already sliding out of the booth and grabbing her coat.

She looks up at him as he stands up beside her and pokes him in the chest.

“Not every man in this bar wants to jump me,” she says, a teeny, tiny bit drunk.

“Nah, you’re right,” Mulder answers, his own cheeks warm with drink. “Only one or two of them do.”

He realizes, only as the words cross his tongue, that the call is coming from inside the house.

#thank you friend!

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zombiewhor3 · 1 year

Text

WE HAVE SHIT TO DO

rick grimes x fem reader

WARNINGS: smut, penetrative sex, male/fem orgasms, weapon usage, mentions/usage of liquor, Negan, mentions of character deaths, mentions of upset/un-comfy reader, mentions of murder, season 7 era tbh,

a/n: just watched the episode of where Carl died and where Rick read his letter and i am a sobbing mess, i cried so hard throughout the entire episode an honestly in the comics it says he has a happy ending so lets pretend that Carl never died and had a happy ending and that he just ran away because it's breaking my heart!

: sorry for the long wait, i've been trying to catch up stuff on my wattpad and i have a few drafts that i have saved so i'll be trying to post those throughout the week!

the runs had been hard, and food rations had started to become smaller and smaller by the day, and with children and people of Alexandria they needed to find something.

But it was hard with Negan breathing down their backs, constantly making random appearances to claim 'his deliveries' that they were supposed to somehow fulfill for him and the Saviours.

she had one of her hands intertwined with his while his cock was hitting her g-spot making her mouth form a sudden 'O' shape while their lips connected in a frustrating lust for one another.

she let out a soft cry into his mouth feeling as she was so close from her big O that she was bucking her hips up for one of his thumbs to rub circles on her clit to send her over the edge for him.

without a hesitation he used his thumb to spin on her clit hearing as she let out a loud set of delicate moans from her mouth, and it made him pull his lips away from hers just so he could hear how beautiful she sounded aloud while he fucked her.

"s-so close!" she whimpered feeling as her walls clenched to try and bring his throbbing cock even deeper into her tight soaked walls, one of their hands were holding onto the others so they could keep their bond of love even closer during the moment.

"shh shh, come on let it go"

he cooed to her feeling as she let out a loud whimper while her juices spurt out onto his cock that was irresponsibly not covered by a condom, however it felt to good for him to stop and by the time he knew it he was shooting his load inside her

"fuck" he practically gasped feeling the warmth of their juices creating a slight warmth over his cock, she let out a whine as he hadn't pulled out of her yet because he wanted to take in the moment

a loud knock at the door seemed to disturb her as she jumped sending a slight accidental pleasure to his cock that was still buried full length in her cunt.

"you done fucking in there Rick? because we have shit to do!" Negan called out while tapping his bat against the door so harshly Rick thought that he was going to somehow break through it.

he pulled out of her watching as she covered over her mouth to hide a loud gasp that she knew was surely to spill from her mouth, "one minute Negan please" Rick asked only hearing the knocking start to get louder and louder surely he was trying to scare him.

Rick had wiped himself and slipped on his lower half of clothes before Negan flew open the door smiling once he saw y/n covering herself with the tangled bed sheets around her.

Rick ran a hand through his hair while he pulled out a fresh white t-shirt from his dresser slipping it on while he holstered his knife and looked at the man standing in front of him.

"Rosita come here for me please"

Negan called out watching as the women slipped down the long and quite narrow hall leading to the bedroom, she stood behind him as she kept her gaze down on the floor.

"you and Rick are going to go on a scavenge trip and i don't care how long you're out there for, either you find something cool or useful for me or option one you don't come back at all and in that case i'll bash someones head in or option two i smash all of these sorry fucks heads in" Negan smiled rubbing his hand over Lucille.

"now get the hell out" he ordered watching as Rick skimmed past him as he followed Rosita back down the long hall and once Negan heard the front door shut with a slam a smile appeared on his face.

this time it was wider and cockier almost like he thought the girl trying to cover her nude body from him was a joke, his smile was implicating that he thought this was all so damn funny.

"can i please get some privacy Negan?" she asked calmly as her nails started to practically burn holes into the fabric from the strength of her grip that she had on it.

Negan rested the bat against the inner wall of the bedroom next to the snow white painted door frame, he used a hand to rub over the stubble on his face, he sighed and flipped his back around.

his hands rested clasped in front of him as he fiddled his thumbs and whistled impatiently, she slipped into the bathroom to wipe her self clean before she slipped back into the bedroom to put on a fresh set of clothes.

"you can stop whistling now" she bit at him while she adjusted the collar of her flannel that covered the blank tank underneath, she flipped over the cuffs on the sleeves and folded her arms.

"wow god you two really go at it" Negan remarked at her watching as her posture awkwardly changed in front of him, because her shoulders seemed to scrunch up at the uncomfortable remark.

"is that stuff never seems to go right around here? is you two's fucking getting in the way of my deliveries that you and your people should be making?" a hand rested on her lower neck as he made his way up to her chin watching and feeling as she swallowed harshly.

"you seem un-comfy baby" he spoke rubbing the side of her cheek, "i think you should leave" she spoke calmly but also with a slight fire in her voice wishing that he would just see himself out.

Judith let out a loud cry just a few doors down making Negan smile once more as he picked up Lucille and made his way along the hall making sure to scrape the floors up with him.

"don't please" y/n spoke pushing past him so that she could stand in the door frame the loud sound of her crying ringing through her ears like loud feedback echoing off of a microphone.

"oh please i'm not gonna hurt her what am i a monster?" he bit back bitterly skimming past her, he placed his bat down next to the recliner in her room while he lifted her up from her crib.

he sat back in the recliner while rocking her gently with his knee while he stroked the back of her head, y/n didn't understand how a man so cruel and so monsterous could have a heart like this.

how he could act so sweet after threatening to bash everyone's brains in if Rick hadn't followed his orders as directed.

y/n was surely biting her fingernails raw looking at the two, she seemed to have a liking to him, but it wasn't like she knew how much of a monster he was, after all she was only past a year old she truly didn't know anything about the real world yet.

it was making her sick seeing him hold her, seeing as he was able to get her to stop crying, she looked down the hall to see Carl standing there cocking his head while he looked at the quite visible nervousness y/n was emitting into the air around them.

she shook her head at Carl to go back with Enid who had her head peaking out into the kitchen to watch what Carl was doing from the hall even though she couldn't get a good enough view.

y/n gestured for him to return back to the room he had just appeared from but instead he walked his way down the hall his hand slipping out the silver knife from his holster.

y/n tried to put her hand out to push into his chest but once she saw the fire in his eyes she let him go, she let him slip into the bedroom to see the man that killed her friends holding his little sister.

it was causing an ache in him, it was making him so god damn furious that he was clenching the blade by his side,

"would you look at that it's the serial killer in the making isn't this a nice surprise for me" Negan teased looking down at the knife clenched with a fist down by the boys side.

y/n grabbed his wrist to take the knife from him and shockingly he let her, he let it slip out from his hand without even an ounce of a fight,

she slipped it back into his holster while turning his body away and sending him back down the hallway to where Enid was now waiting for her boyfriend with an explanation.

"he's a feisty one for sure, quite bold if you ask me"

Negan spoke to y/n while sitting up from the chair and resting the now sleepy Judith back in her crib, she pulled a blanket over her and handed the stuffed rabbit that rested next to her in her crib before he grabbed his bat and showed himself out of her room.

y/n shut the door behind her once she checked the baby camera to make sure that it was still on and hadn't run out of battery power again, she followed Negan into the living room thankful that the two kids had left the house to venture somewhere else.

"you have any bourbon or whiskey? i could really use a drink"

Negan asked plopping down on the couch and resting his feet a top of the coffee table un-apologetically while his eyes flicked over to look at the obviously unamused y/n.

"not much i think in the last of our rations we have maybe half a bottle i'm not sure last time i checked your men took it all"

y/n spoke sharply while opening the cupboards until she found the bottle of whiskey, she grabbed a clean empty glass and poured him some before she set the glass and the bottle on the table.

he moved his feet out of her way before he took his first embrace of the liquor in his glass, "perfect" he sighed happily as he downed his first glass of the brown liquid, "what is this exactly?" Negan asked watching as she had taken a seat on the opposite end of the couch away from him before she answered his question.

"Deanna's old husband had a old liquor cabinet so i'm guessing something vintage or some shit we found it in Spencer's room but i suppose whiskey is simply whiskey"

y/n reflected back at him while crossing her legs, she stared out the window where the curtains had been pulled back to let in just the right amount of sunshine necessary to light up the room so it wouldn't be as gloomy and dark for them.

"not when it's cheap but times are tough so anything will do these days but i have to admit this don't taste cheap sweet heart"

Negan admitted as he poured himself another round, after he downed it he licked his lips clean and looked at her.

"you've had your drink can you leave me be now" y/n spoke bitterly towards him as she got up from the couch,

"not until your boy toy and that chick gets back with my shit, is that what you call him boy toy or fuck toy?" he blabbed back before giving up on the glass and instead just pressing the glass bottle of liquor against his lips taking a swig of the burning liquid down his throat feeling the aftermath of the sting start to kick in from the liquor.

"i call him Rick that's all" she answered his question sounding uninterested in the games he was trying to play with her

she was tired of looking at his face and that smug ass smile laced on it, tired of looking at the leather jacket he wore that once had her friends blood splattered on it and she was sure as hell tired of looking at the damn bat that now sat between his legs.

because it was the same bat he used to bash in her friends heads the same bat that she had taunted her and the rest of her group with, the same bat that had smeared blood on her face because she refused to look at it that night when he ordered her.

she gulped looking down at it, Negan chuckled as he could catch her glance at the piece of wood, "is Lucille bothering you because i can promise you she isn't quite thirsty right now but if they come back with nothing she's gonna be damn thirsty for more of your friends"

"please just leave me alone Negan, please that's all i ask of you, you can have that entire bottle of whiskey if it'll get you to stop running your mouth to me hell i'll find you all the damn bottles that you want if it'll keep you away from me"

she spoke trying to hide the fire she could feel her body emitting, she could feel the anger every time she looked at him and it was starting to grow so much she wasn't sure she would be able to hold back from simply killing him but she knew that would be a foolish idea.

that killing him would reek a havoc on the people of Alexandria.

she slipped into her and Rick's bedroom sinking into the bed as she could hear the sound of his men outside, and well she could see partially some of them through the shadow of their figures through the light cream colored curtains covering the window.

she picked up the comic book that rested on the night stand next to the bed, her and Carl had a thing for comic books often swapping whenever they finished one, she ran her fingers over the cover before she set it back down onto the wooden night stand with a sigh.

she prayed that Rick would be back soon, and she prayed that if he did come back he'd bring something Negan wanted or else she knew that surely there was gonna be a blood bath in Alexandria.

it had been a week since Rick came home, and that meant she had spent a week living with a cruel man, it was hard keeping Carl out of the house away from his sister but she knew it would prevent him from pulling anything stupid when his father was away.

they had come back with two large bottles of rum, a pallet that had been slightly filled with cans of sweet corn and an old jack knife that Negan had let Rick keep himself as a so labeled "trophy" for being such a good scavenger for him.

Once Negan was satisfied with the resources Rick had brought to him he gathered his men and left, but not without making sure to take a look at the women who was soaking into her bed from the ability of not being able to look him in the face anymore.

Rick could tell that she had lost her mind spending the past seven days with him, that she was truly going crazy with the taunting and the comments and well the fact she felt so guilty for just simply trying to protect Carl from doing something stupid.

Rick pulled her into him so he could rub her hands and plant kisses onto the back of her neck and her shoulder blades feeling her shudder and slightly tremble at the needed contact.

"is he gone? i can't stand to look at him anymore"

she admitted feeling as he intertwined one of his hands with hers rubbing the top of her hand with his thumb,

"he's gone for now at least i'll make sure to take you out for scavenging next week to see if we can bring anything back for us"

Rick peppered kisses on her back trying to settle her as he knew that the true real life fact was that Negan could come back any day or any time he pleased and he could tell that it was starting to severely upset her, he knew that she hated him for what he did and in all truth Rick couldn't stop thinking about killing the man himself.

He knew that no matter what he did or no matter if he killed or defeated Negan nothing would ever be the same he had already tried that and it cost him two of his men, two of his innocent men.

"i want to kill him Rick i have to kill him i need to" she spoke with a sudden change of tone starting to lace and bite back at her.

she squeezed his hand, "but i can't put anyone else in danger, because i can't lose anyone else and i already know he has Carl on his list and i won't do that to you"

he shushed her softly again to calm her down from the amped-up ramble that she had been starting to spew out again

"and we won't lose him if we follow the plan we have, just a few more days and we can follow out the plan and see how it goes for us but i just know we have to try and fight our way out of this"

Rick was almost all jittered up from the thought of taking Negan down, the thought of taking him down so no one else they loved or cared about could ever be hurt again from him.

"then we'll find a way to kill him together without getting us killed and we'll find a way to take down his men with him"

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basiccortez · 1 year

Text

The Man in the Red Suit

pairing: Rip Wheeler x female!Dutton warnings: minor Yellowstone spoilers ahead (Lee's death, season five things), mentions of grief and death, Rip being a grinch Rip Wheeler Masterlist | Yellowstone Masterlist Yellowstone Taglist Form

Note: Merry Christmas to all! :)

“Why do I have to dress up?” Rip asked for probably the thousandth time since you pulled out the red santa suit, beard and hat.

��Because it’s Evelyn’s first Christmas and I want her to take a picture with Santa Clause,” You said, curling your hair in the mirror. It was Christmas Eve and your sister had invited the whole family to the house for dinner, drinks and gifts. It was yours and Rip's first Christmas as parents and you wanted it to be perfect. Evelyn was only seven months old so she wouldn’t be able to know if anything went wrong or not, but you would know.

“And your dad or Kayce can’t but on the ridiculous-”

“No! It has to be you!” You sighed, putting down the hot iron, “Evelyn won’t sit on my dads or Kayce’s lap. You saw how she acted when we took her to see Santa at the coffee shop.”

“Well he was a bit-” Rip shut up when you gave him a glare through the reflection of the mirror. He knew better than to argue with a Dutton woman, it was one sure way to get a fist to the face. Rip opened his mouth to say something just as Evelyn let out a cry, “We’ll discuss later.”

You smiled to yourself as you finished getting ready for the Christmas party. When you walked downstairs your heart warmed in your chest seeing Rip holding Evelyn and looking at the ornaments on the tree. She had his big brown eyes and dark curls, you were amazed how much hair she had at such a young age. She was really her father’s twin, there was no mistaking who she belonged to.

It was also amazing to see how quickly Rip took on the role of being a father. He had his reservations about it, he was young when his mother died and his father was a monster. It kept him up at night thinking about the type of parent he would be. Would he be mean like his old man? Would his child grow up to hate him? To be afraid of him? For those nine months you were carrying Evelyn, Rip read every single parenting book he could get his hands on. He asked Kayce and John for advice. None of it really made sense to him, but then he saw his babygirl for the first time, and it did. Rip was an amazing dad.

“Momma is staring at us again,” Rip whispered to Evelyn and kissed her cheek. She giggled at the feeling of his beard on her soft little cheek, “You ready? It’s cold out, and I don’t want her to sweat in the car seat and then go outside. That’s how kids get sick.”

“I am ready,” You nodded, “I just gotta get the baby bag, the gift for Dad and Beth, and the cookies for Tate.”

“All of that is in the car and it’s running,” Rip said.

“What would I do without you?” You asked with a smile on your face. You leaned up on your tiptoes and kissed his lips, “Can you put her in the car seat? I’ll grab the Santa suit.”

Rip rolled his eyes as you skipped back down the hall towards the bedroom, “Your mom is crazy,” He whispered to Evelyn and the little girl turned to face her father, showing him a gummy smile. Rip smiled at his daughter, kissing her cheek again and then going to put her in her car seat.

The Dutton house was decorated from floor to ceiling for Christmas, which was probably Beth’s doing. She may lie to your face and say she hates kids, but she would do anything to make her niece and nephew smile. Christmas also made her happy, despite what she says, it was the one time of year where all the Dutton siblings seemed to put their bullshit aside for a couple hours. Rip parked as close to the door as he could get, he didn’t want to carry Evelyn that far in the cold weather.

“You can put the Santa suit on after dinner,” You said as you walked up the path towards the front door, “While we’re cleaning up and setting up gifts, it will be perfect.” You opened the front door, and walked into the warm smelling house.

“Yeah,” Rip said as he walked in behind you.

“Aunt Y/N, you’re here!” Tate yelled running up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Hey bud,” You kissed the top of his head, “Have you grown again?”

“Probably,” Kayce said, and greeted you with a quick kiss on your head, “Wakes up five inches taller than the night before. Where’s the little one?”

“Rip’s got her,” You said and nodded your head over to the living room where Rip was taking Evelyn out of her car seat, Monica waiting for her chance at baby snuggles, “How is she?”

“Better,” Kayce sighed, “I think having Evelyn on Wednesdays helps. She might have gone a tad overboard with the gifts for her, but it’s her first Christmas.”

“If you think Monica has spoiled her, wait until you see what Beth has put under the tree,” Your dad said, also giving you a kiss on the head in greeting, “Gator is ready to serve dinner.”

“Sounds good, daddy,” You said and then walked over to your husband, who was watching Monica hold his daughter. Monica was slowly looking better since the loss of her son John. It was actually her that asked if she could babysit Evelyn for you while you were spending time going back to work for your dad’s new role as governor. It was nice to see her smile again.

“Dad wants us at the table,” You said to them.

“Thanks Y/N,” Monica said, and handed you your daughter, “She looks like she’s feeling better.”

“She is. Thank you very much for those tips,” You smiled at the woman before she walked off to go find her own family.

Gator probably spent the whole day working on the Christmas dinner for the Duttons. The table was stocked full of ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, all the fixings. John sat at the head of the table like he usually did, you and Beth on either side of him. Rip sat next to you, and Tate on the other side of him. Kayce sat on the other end, with Monica on his left. There usually was one more person at the table, but Jamie had turned down Beth’s (not so nice) invite. John had dug around in the basement for the high chair that they’ve had since you were a baby to put Evelyn in. She sat between you and John.

“So, Tate,” Beth said, taking a sip of her wine and looking up at you with a glint in her eye. She knew of your plan to get Rip into the Santa costume and hopefully telling Tate outloud will help seal the deal, “I hear Santa is coming by.”

“He’s not real,” Tate answered and Rip looked at you with a shit eating grin, “I’m not five anymore.”

“See, he’s not five, and Evelyn is too-”

“You are putting on the damn Santa outfit,” You harshly whispered to him, “If I have to stuff you in it myself, you’re putting it on.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Rip challenged and you glared at him. Kayce watched as the small stare down between you and Rip was broken up by Evelyn throwing a piece of bread on the floor. He could see that the whole Santa thing was somewhat bothering you, he knew you well enough to know how much Christmas means to you. You only got to spend one Christmas with your mother before her death, and you cherished the family moments like this.

“Act surprised when he gets here,” Kayce whispered to his son, “For Evelyn.”

“Why?” Tate asked, “She’s just a baby.”

“Because it means alot to Aunt Y/N,” Kayce said and then cleared his throat, “She only had one Christmas with our mom, and it meant a lot to her. The only pictures she really has are of her, Santa and our mom.”

Tate looked down at his food, and then up at his dad. In his short life, he had gone through a lot, and had witnessed loss at first hand. He looked over at his aunt who excused herself from the table to take care of his younger cousin. He thought to himself that there would’ve been two babies at Christmas, but instead, there’s just one.

Tate nodded, “Okay. I will, I promise.” Kayce smiled at his son and patted his shoulder.

When everyone's bellies were full, the family retired to the living room, where they started opening gifts from the large pile underneath the Christmas tree. You sat on the floor with Evelyn on your lap, helping her tear into the packages that Tate was handing her. She was having more fun sticking the wrapping paper in her mouth than trying to open the gifts. Both Beth and Monica had their phones out making sure to take pictures to capture the moments. The men all sat back with drinks in their hands, talking about cattle and giving the occasional “oh that’s cool” when it was needed.

“Tate, why don’t you help Evelyn open the gifts from us,” Monica and moved down on the floor next to the kids.

“I noticed you don’t have the Santa costume on,” You whispered to Rip.

“There’s no need to put the ridiculous suit on,” Rip said, sipping his whisky, “She’s not going to remember it.” You clenched your jaw as you looked at the ground, “She’s a baby. It can wait until-”

“It can’t wait!” You yelled and the eyes of your family members looked at you. You sucked in a breath to compose yourself and stood up from the floor, “I’m sorry. It’s just. . . its tradition.”

“Y/N,” Rip called out to you, trying to grab your hand as you walked away from the living room. He sighed and ran a hand over his beard.

“She believed in Santa until she was about fourteen,” John said, “Might’ve been partially my fault. I paid Paul Adler to dress up as Santa and come to the house. I guess it was my way of holding on to the things my Evelyn used to do.” John looked at the last family portrait that was sitting on the mantel above the fireplace. It was taken on Christmas eve of 1996. You were in your mothers arm with Lee looking over her shoulder at you. You were the closest with Lee growing up, and his death affected you much harder than anyone else.

“I never realized how much it meant,” Rip answered, “I just thought it was something silly that she wanted to do for the kids.”

“Everything that girl does has meaning to it. She just doesn’t do things ‘just because’. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

Rip nodded and then stood up from the couch, going down the hall after you. Monica smiled at her father-in-law. They hadn’t ever had a close relationship, John saw Monica as the woman who was going to take his son away from him, but they had bonded over the horrible shared grief between them. John looked at Monica, and the woman handed her his granddaughter.

“C’mere, Evie,” John said, lifting the baby from Monica’s arms, “How about you open this?” He grabbed the small box from the side table and helped the little one open it. It was her very first pair of cowboy boots, “Every girl needs a pair of boots.” He kissed her forehead and helped her put them on her feet.

You were laying on your childhood bed, staring up at the ceiling where there were once glow in the dark stars that Lee helped you put up. Your father was livid and worried that they would pull the paint off the ceiling, but Lee assured him that it wouldn’t. The next person in this house who loved the Christmas traditions besides you was Lee. He would stay up late with you to wrap presents as you would write in fancy handwriting ‘To who, from Santa.” When you were younger, he would be the one to eat the cookies, and leave “snowy” (which was actually flour) footprints by the fireplace as if good Ol’ Saint Nick had actually come down the chimney to leave gifts. One time, he even brought a horse up from the barn to leave “reindeer” prints in the fresh snow (however, you knew a horse track when you saw one).

You thought that overtime, the grief of losing your mother and brother would slowly start to subside, but it seemed as if this Christmas, it had come back in full blast. Maybe it was because you were a mother now, and you knew how fragile life could be and change with a snap of a finger.

“Baby?” You heard Rip’s voice before you saw him. You just sighed, and listened as his heavy boots walked over to you, “I’m sorry about the Santa stuff.”

“My dad tell you I believed in Santa until I was thirteen.”

“He said fourteen.”

“He’s a fucking liar. Jamie told me on my thirteenth birthday that I can’t believe Santa was real anymore,” You said and sat up from your bed, “I should be apologizing to you.”

“For what?” Rip asked, and sat next to you on the bed.

“I know the holidays aren’t your thing,” You said and grabbed his hand. Your nervous habit was playing with his hands, “And I shouldn’t have pushed you so much into doing it.”

Rip smiled sadly at you, and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it, “The holidays are my thing because they are your thing. They make you happy, and anything that makes you happy makes me happy. Besides, Evelyn seems to love it.”

You giggled and shook your head, moving closer to your husband. He wrapped his strong arms around you, “You’re right, Evelyn won’t remember this. She’s spending more time shoving wrapping paper in her mouth than knowing what's going on.”

“But we will remember,” Rip said and kissed your cheek, “We will remember Evelyn’s first Christmas and that’s what matters.”

“Thank you,” You said, looking up at him.

“For what, baby? I nearly ruined this shit.”

“For giving me the best Christmas present ever,” You smiled up at him. He caressed your face and then placed a kiss on your lips. You hummed into the kiss, and ran your fingers through his brown curls. He moved you in his lap, so you were straddling him, and he laid back against the bed. His hands roamed your body, going down to your hips. Your tongues moved against one another, you being able to taste the whiskey on his tongue.

A knock on the door startled you both as you lifted your head up to see Beth standing in the doorway, “Oh don’t stop on my account,” She had a smirk on her face and you rolled your eyes, “But there’s someone here to see you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and climbed off of Rip and your bed. You walked down towards the living room and stopped in your tracks seeing,

“Santa?”

“Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!” Santa said, standing in the middle of your living room. You looked at your sister and Rip.

“I made a call,” Beth smiled, and you threw your arms around her, hugging her tightly, “Oh-”

“Thank you, Bethy,” You said and then went towards your child who was back in Monica’s arms. Rip looked a bit confused as he watched you place Evelyn in Santa’s arms. He looked around the living room spotting Kayce, John, and Gator all standing around.

“Who did-” Rip asked Beth but then he heard Santa speak again, “Lloyd?”

Beth shrugged, “He owed me a favor.”

Rip shook his head, and then walked towards his family. Beth let out a breath in relief as she watched her family gather around to talk to “Santa”. Evelyn surprisingly didn’t cry when she was set on Santa’s lap, probably because she was too distracted by all the movement around her.

“Get together you three,” Monica said, grabbing your phone from you, “I’ll take a picture.”

“Rip, sit on the other side of Santa’s lap,” You said and he gave you a deadpanned look, “It’s for the memories, sweetheart.”

“Only for you, honey,” Rip gave you a fake smile as he carefully sat on Lloyd’s other knee.

“Don’t break me bossman,” Lloyd said and Rip also gave him a glare, “It’s for the kid, don’t be a grinch! Smile!”

“Call me a grinch again and I’ll have you scrapping shit-”

“Okay, smile!” Monica said, “1. . . 2. . . 3!”

You, Rip and “Santa” smiled at the camera as Evelyn was still looking up amazed at Santa. You took her from Santa’s lap and looked at the pictures Monica took.

“They’re perfect!” You cheered, “Thank you so much, Santa.”

“No problem! Ho, ho, ho!” Santa said and Beth led him out the front door.

Rip put his arm around your shoulders, “You know what they say about Mistletoe.”

You looked up above your head to see the green twig hanging above you. You smiled and grabbed Rip’s face, bringing him down to you for a kiss, “Merry Christmas, Mr. Wheeler.”

“Merry Christmas to you, Mrs. Wheeler.

#Yellowstone #Yellowstone fan fic #yellowstone fan fiction #Yellowstone imagine #rip wheeler #rip wheeler fan fic #rip wheeler fan fiction #rip wheeler imagine #rip wheeler x reader #rip wheeler x you #rip wheeler x y/n

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zegrasdrysdale · 4 months

Text

[ i’ll be home for christmas ] m. mctavish

day ten of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Mason McTavish x fem!reader

summary : Mason brings new girlfriend (Y/N) to dinner at his parents’ house for Christmas

warning(s) : none

author’s note : first time writing for mason so i hope it isn’t terrible

༺═──────────────═༻

The idea of going to Canada with Mason was exciting.

Now it’s just terrifying now that it’s reality.

They’ve only been dating for a handful of months but he has been wanting to introduce (Y/N) to his parents since they made everything official. It was a four month talking phase slash situationship then in September when he came back to Anaheim for the season, things were made official.

That’s how she ended up in a town near Ottawa on Christmas Day.

She currently sits in front of Mason’s childhood home. It’s the house the McTavish family moved into when they moved to Canada from Switzerland when Mason was eight. Her eyes are on the house as Mason turns the car off.

“What if they don’t like me?” she questions as she turns to look at her boyfriend. “Do they even know about me?”

Mason looks over at her when she asks the second question. “Yeah, they know about you,” he replies. “My brother knows too. He’s the one that let it slip to our parents that I was bringing you home for Christmas. I can tell you that they’re excited to meet you.”

She isn’t convinced.

(Y/N) knows she isn’t like the other girls that Mason has brought home. She knows she isn’t even like the girls he has dated in the past. She isn’t even a blonde haired, blue eyed Instagram model. She doesn’t have some cool job and she lives in a shoebox apartment that had a very small closet for a bedroom.

His parents aren’t going to think she’s right for him. Hell, they might even think she’s trying to use him for money.

She didn’t go through a four month situationship just for money.

“I just don’t think they’ll like me, Mase,” she repeats. She decides to voice her concerns. “I barely have enough money to survive. I’m not as beautiful as the other girls you’ve probably brought to dinner to meet them. I doubt they’ll think I’m right for you. They’ll hate me.”

Mason shakes his head and leans on the center console. Their eyes meet and Mason’s are soft, sincere. “I know you know that I don’t care about how much you make as a bartender,” he tells her. “You know I don’t care what your job is. You’re more gorgeous than any other girl I’ve brought home. Once they see how happy you make me and how in love with you I am, they’ll think you’re perfect for me.”

A pout forms on her lips and Mason traces her bottom lip when he reaches across the console. “I still don’t believe that,” she admits.

“If you feel uncomfortable at all, then let me know,” he says. “We’ll leave and go back to my apartment, okay?”

She nods. “Okay.”

He smiles and kisses her pout. “Ready to meet my parents and brother?” he asks.

“No, but let’s go,” she replies. “Hopefully they drink wine because that’s the only gift I brought for them.”

Mason laughs, “I promise they like wine. They’ve always liked wine. It’s okay.”

Again, she isn’t convinced.

Ready or not, (Y/N) grabs the gift bag that contains the bottle of red wine that she bought for Mason’s parents and gets out of the car. She walks around the car and grabs her boyfriend’s hand with her free hand.

Together, they walk up to the front door. The cold wind hits her in the face and whips through her brown hair. It’s so cold and there’s snow on the ground. Two things that an Anaheim born girl is not used to. She’s very much out of her comfort zone right now.

Mason knocks a few times on the door before he opens it. He walks inside and pulls his girlfriend in behind him.

“Hello?” he calls out. “We’re here.”

Mason’s older brother comes running into the foyer from the living room as they take their coats off. “Oh my God,” he gasps. “She’s real. I didn’t think she was real.”

A couple comes into the foyer right after his brother says something. Definitely Mason’s parents. The four of them all look so similar. “Mason,” his mother says. “It’s about time we got to meet her. She’s beautiful.”

“Hi,” (Y/N) says. “I, um, have a gift for you. Mason told me you guys really like wine so here’s a bottle. I’m not sure what kind of wine but it’s I’m a red wine drinker so I got you guys my favorite.”

Mrs. McTavish smiles and takes the bag from her. “That is so sweet of you,” she says when the bag is in her hand. “Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

(Y/N) takes a step back and stands against Mason’s side. “It felt weird to not bring something,” she admits. “Hope you like it.”

“Come in,” Mr. McTavish says. “Get comfortable. I’ll pour us glasses of wine while dinner finishes up in the oven.”

Mason’s parents walk into the kitchen. His brother follows them while Mason guides (Y/N) into the living room.

They take a seat on the couch and Mason scoots closer to his girlfriend. He drapes an arm around her shoulders. She looks up at him and settles against his side. “Feel any better yet?” he asks.

“A little,” she sighs. “Ask me when we leave.”

Mason’s family walk into the living room. (Y/N) is handed a glass of wine, and so is Mason. She forgets that he only needs to be 18 to drink in Canada so his parents are okay with their 20-year-old son drinking a glass of wine in the house.

His brother sits with them on the couch while his parents sit adjacent to them on the loveseat. “So, how did you meet Mason?” Mrs. McTavish asks.

“His friends introduced us earlier this year at the end of the season,” she tells them. “We became friends then a few months ago when he came back to Anaheim for this season, he asked me to be his girlfriend and the rest is history.”

“So you’re from Anaheim then?” Mason’s dad questions.

She sips her wine and nods in response until she swallows the sip. “Born and raised,” she tells them. “I’ve lived there all 21 years I’ve been alive. Went to school at UCLA too. I’ve lived in California my whole life.”

His parents get into how Mason was born in Switzerland and how they moved back to Canada when he was eight. She pretends to listen because she heard all of this from Mason himself when they started talking in May. Mason even chimes in a couple of times.

Dinner is ready soon after, followed by dessert. (Y/N) tells them about her life and what she does for work at the moment. She tells them about her future plans to go into education one day and teach at a middle school or high school.

They seem very impressed.

“Glad to see you found a girl who knows what she wants, Mason,” his mother says to him. “Goals are a great thing to have. I hope you can go into education, (Y/N).”

She smiles and looks up at Mason.

Maybe she’s convinced now that his parents like her.

Her nerves got the best of her, and a past of dating multiple guys whose parents didn’t like her. She’s glad that Mason’s parents actually like her though. She sees Mason in her life until she dies.

She isn’t like the other girls Mason’s brought home, but that doesn’t mean that his parents wouldn’t like her. They absolutely do.

“Thank you both for coming,” Mr. McTavish says while (Y/N) and Mason gather their things to head back to his apartment a few miles away. “(Y/N), you’re welcome here any time.”

“Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. McTavish,” she replies.

His mother pulls her into a hug. “That’s Dale and Christine to you,” she tells (Y/N) with a laugh. “Maybe we‘ll come see you and Mason down in Anaheim one day.”

“We’d really like that,” Mason says. “Maybe we’ll come by in the morning before we head back to California.”

“Of course,” Dale says. “See you both soon.”

They head back to Mason’s car and (Y/N) is giddy with happiness. Mason notices because he asks, “Good visit?”

She looks at him and wraps her arms around his shoulders. She might be slightly tipsy from the wine she has consumed over the last few hours. “Best visit,” she replies. “I love your family.”

“They love you too,” he tells her. “My mom was so happy to talk to you. My dad was so interested in how you became a hockey fan. They adore you, (Y/N). Just like I said they would.”

“Can we come home for Christmas every year?” she asks as she gets into the car. “I mean, your home. Canada.”

Mason smiles and says, “We can come home for Christmas every year.”

Home. Canada might be her second home at this point. She better get used to the snow and cold wind.

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strawbn1ng · 4 months

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Cool with you - Reinah♡

Minah x Rei (OC)

tw: short fic, lesbians in love, cuddles, fluff, and kinda suggestive maybe (? half naked bodies but nothing more !

clarifications: This can be taken as a Minah x reader, only that reader is called Rei and has black hair (no other characteristics specified). Feminine pronouns even if the oc is non-binary. Not proofreading bc I'm tired, sorry. the banner photos do not represent the reader, it's just for the aesthetic. have fun!

480 words (yeah very short)

recommended to listen while reading: something about you by eyedress n dent may

Small feminine laughter filled the living room as the night began to appear, light rays of sunlight passing through the windows and illuminating the couple's faces. After an exhausting day as always, plus the heat of the season that caused pain and fatigue, all Rei wanted to do was cuddle with Minah all night, feeling her soft lips while letting their bodies collide and hug each other without caring about the heat.

That same day a couple of hours earlier, the couple had met at a cafe to chat over something, specifically Minah talking about her day while Rei played with her fingers and responded with small "mhm"s as a sign of attention while her head rested on the girl's shoulder. After they left the cafeteria, the two girls went to the park for a while, admiring the sunset while Rei took dozens of photos (especially of a certain redhead) that she would save very carefully to later observe and remember the moment.

When they got home they took off the clothes they had on, leaving them half naked with Rei on top of Minah. The black-haired woman began to leave soft kisses along her jaw, moving away the strands of both of their hair that were getting in the way of their faces. While Rei left sweet kisses on Minah's face, she had her hands caressing her partner's waist, a silly and loving smile that could barely be seen due to the light decorating her face.

They both laughed awkwardly, caressing each other's bodies lovingly. Rei rested her head on Minah's chest, listening to her somewhat agitated heartbeat as she caressed her waist.

"I wish we could be like this forever."

Rei made a soft noise of affirmation, now drawing strokes on the other girl's chest.

"We have the weekend…"

The black-haired woman tried to stay positive while whispering that, even though she missed her girlfriend like hell when they were separated for a whole day or more. Minah giggled as she stroked Rei's dark hair, placing a kiss on her forehead before speaking.

"Mhm, we have the whole weekend. Just for us."

They both laughed softly as they settled into each other's arms until Rei felt a hand running along her lower back, knowing her intentions.

"Minah."

"Hm? What's wrong, babe?"

"Hands."

"Uh? What's wrong with my hands?"

Rei could imagine the stupid smile Minah had, to which she rolled her eyes and gave Minah's arm a small blow, accompanied by a tired laugh.

"You're so dumb…"

"Oh, what was that, baby?"

The redhead grabbed the girl's chin to make her look at her, causing both gazes to collide with a slight smile. Minah pulled Rei into a lazy kiss as she hugged her waist with her legs. The sun had finished going down, leaving a very faint light in the room that the girls didn't care about.

A/N: Omg I'm so excited. This is like the first fanfic that I post I think, so yeah. Hope u like it, sorry if there's any mistake. Recommendations/ideas are welcomed, and corrections too! ^^

Dividers from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more ^^

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year

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christmas on the road // george russell

summary: all george wants for christmas is to get home to his wife and his son. unbeknownst to him, his wife has a little surprise in the from of two pink lines that's about to make his christmas that much sweeter.

pairing: george russell x wife! reader

warnings: pregnancy. other than that, just fluffy dad! george. his son's name is hudson charles russell :)

king's lynn, norfolk. december 24th, 11:55 PM.

the soft lights of the christmas tree were the only lights on in the room as y/n russell sat curled up on the large couch, watching the clock tick as she ran her fingers through her son's fine hair.

hudson russell had insisted on waiting up for his father, but traffic out of brackley had been terrible, and though george had left four hours earlier, he still wasn't back yet. it was a hell of a commute to make, but george was lucky enough that most of his work could be done remotely when required. hudson had fallen asleep two hours ago, his little head resting in his mother's lap.

he was looking more and more like george every single day.

she still remembered the day that she found out she was pregnant. she had been so scared to tell george. they were so young, and he was still has something to prove. his second season at williams, his first with a new teammate. the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and she hadn't wanted to add to that.

it had been a tough race. george had ignored everybody when he got back to the garage, including his girlfriend. she'd tried so hard to stop herself from crying as she watched his driver's room door click shut.

fuck the pregnancy hormones.

"georgie?" she'd asked softly, gently knocking on the door. "can i come in, love? i need to talk to you, and i want to know that you're okay."

the door creaked open slowly. george was sitting on the massage table with his head in his hands. "i can't do this any more, y/n. i can't hang around at the back of the pack, driving in circles all on my own. i'd rather admit defeat."

it hurt her to see him like this. she took a seat next to him, looking at the windowless white room that he'd somehow managed to make feel like his own for the weekend. "george, you can't give up just yet. it's been a rough few years, i know. but we need you."

"we?" there was confusion in his voice as he turned to look at her. "honey, what do you mean 'we'?"

"george, i'm pregnant."

time seemed to stop as george just stared at her. "you're what? but how? we were so safe."

"sometimes, things just happen, george. i don't know. but i do know that this baby wouldn't want their father to give up right now."

george turned around, taking her hands in his. she was starting to cry, and he hated that he knew he was about to make things worse, even though he didn't want to. "baby, i love you so much, and i need you to know that, because i need some time to myself to process this, and i don't want to say anything i might regret. but i need you to know, you and this baby, to know that you're so loved."

nine months later, hudson charles russell was born, and george had come straight from the racetrack to the hospital, leaving nyck de vries to run the qualifying session, sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair, race suit around his waist as he held his son to his bare chest, trying his best not to cry.

they'd gotten married a year later. george had walked down the aisle holding hudson's hand, and charles had hudson on his shoulders for the entire ceremony.

and now, a small box covered in sparkling wrapping paper was waiting under the christmas tree. something that would change her life again, in the best way.

the door opened behind her, and she found herself waiting for george's traditional 'honey, i'm home' shout before she remembered that her husband probably assumed that both she and hudson were asleep.

"in the living room, hon!" she tried to shout it as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake the sleeping toddler in her lap.

george russell couldn't stop the smile on his face when he saw his wife on the couch, wrapped in her fluffy bathrobe, hair thrown up in a messy bun. and he smiled even wider when he saw his little boy curled up at his mother's side.

"hi, honey." george smiled, leaning in to kiss y/n. "why is hudson still up?"

"he just wanted to see his dad." she smiled, brushing a small strand of dirty blonde hair out of hudson's face. "do you want to tuck him in?"

y/n moved to stand up, hudson in her arms, when george stopped her. "i've got him, darling." george was quiet and careful, doing his best not to wake the small child in his arms. hudson stirred, wrapping his small, pudgy fingers around george's thumb.

it was still little moments like that that made the mercedes driver's heart swell. it was a feeling even better than his win in brazil the year prior. (lando had teased him relentlessly for mentioning hudson and y/n in his podium speech.)

y/n followed her husband upstairs, her heart filled with love as she watched george kiss his son on the top of the head. before she went up the first step, she ran back to the christmas tree.

the clock read 12:06.

it was officially christmas morning.

the grabbed the small box, slipping it into the pocket of her bathrobe before she turned back towards the staircase, tiptoeing over to hudson's room.

the little boy was lying in the middle of his racecar bed, a custom-built replica of his father's old williams f1 car. the soft blue sheets were pulled up over the two-year old's small body. george was laying next to hudson, comfortingly resting his hand on the toddler's back.

y/n watched from the doorway, wondering how she had gotten so lucky to have found george william russell. and how the two of them were about to get even luckier.

at the sight of his wife standing in the doorway, george sat up, pressing a quick kiss to his son's temple before he slowly got up from the bed, crossing the room and closing the door behind him.

"merry christmas, love." he smiled, pulling his wife in for a deep kiss on the lips.

"since it's already christmas morning, i have something for you." y/n beamed, passing her husband the box. "go on, open it, you muppet."

george laughed, still standing in front of hudson's bedroom door as he pulled at the wrapping paper. it was an old box from swarovski, and the driver gave it a confused glance before y/n whispered to open it.

he carefully opened the end of the box, his face scrunched up in even more confusion before the white plastic stick fell out of the open end, into his palm. he turned it over, his eyes opening widely as he saw the two pink lines.

"you're pregnant? we're having another one?" his shock gavev way to excitement, his grin splitting his features as he beamed at his wife. "i'm going to be a father again!"

"that's a much better reaction than last time." y/n laughed, wrapping her arms around the love of her life before she kissed him. "we're having another baby, darling."

"i love you so much." george whispered, on the verge of tears as he kissed the top of his wife's head. "merry christmas, y/n."

"i love you more, george william russell. merry christmas."

________

Tags: @magnummagnussen @daydreamingleclerc @flannel-cures @libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @diorleclerc

#george russell x reader #george russel imagine #george russell #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #mercedes amg petronas #mercedes f1 #the christmas collection 2022 #mini fic

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ameagrice · 4 months

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Reflecting Light

Once the annual Reaping has passed, and summer rolls out, Winter is the next toughest part of the year—another season of survival. Fortunately, best friend Treech knows exactly how to brighten up the stormy days.

Treech X Lamina | The Hunger Games

IT’S RAINING, just as it was the day she met him. The clouds are so thick you could just reach up and eat them—they do nothing to quell the rumbling in Lamina’s stomach; unfortunately, tesserae doesn’t do much to quell an appetite.

School’s out for the day—mostly everyone has left, besides the few troublemakers that still roam the halls, trying to escape detention. Perhaps, to them, Lamina looks the same. Or at least she hopes she does; it might keep them off her back. She watches as they jostle around by the door, trying to shove one another out into the heavy rain, thunder rumbling every few seconds. They laugh and shout as boys typically do, the way her cousins do when she sees them.

The sound of new footsteps growing closer prompts Lamina into action, turning her head. Newly-cut hair tickles her neck, but it’s forgotten quickly when Treech’s sharp, cheeky grin comes into sight.

“Thank goodness,” Lamina pushed herself off of the wall. “I was starting to think you were going to ditch me.”

“Ditch you?” He gasped, as though it were a crime worth the punishment of a hanging. “How dare you think so lowly of me.” He swung a heavy arm around her neck, pulling her along to the door where the boys are still shouting. As it always does, her heart speeds up ever so slightly at the chance of an altercation, but it doesn’t matter now that Treech is here—he’s popular within the small school.

She grimaces as the first few drops hit her face, and then all at once as Treech throws them out into the weather, at its mercy. Its cold texture shocks her at first, but Treech just laughs, as if there could be nothing better in the world than to be exposed to the elements, feeling life itself. Perhaps, though she’d only realised it now, he always had been that way.

“Oh—no, let’s go back inside—” she tries, resisting against his hold. “We’ll wait the rain out.”

He’s stronger than he looks, she’s always said so. Tall, firm around the shoulders when he swings her over his shoulder. In this last year of school, it’s like he’s shot up at a thousand miles a second. Lamina yells in surprise, protesting.

“Don’t be a baby,” he calls. “What’s a bit of rain?”

“What will your mother say?” She rolls her eyes playfully, “when you return home with ruined clothes?”

“Not much!” He bounces down the steps of the building, Lamina jostling at his shoulder. She can’t help the laugh that escapes. Treech’s hand on her ankle, just over her boot, holds tighter on the last, steepest step, the other hand he has raised to her hip holding her there.

This isn’t helping the accusations she thinks to herself, flexing her hand against Treech’s neck. My mother will never let this go.

Another part of her brain whispers, do you want her to?

No. She isn’t sure she does.

She’s shaken to life when he suddenly leans forward, hands releasing her. Lamina’s boots crunch the gravel and stones. They’re on the Main Street now, through the town. And she’s drenched from head to toe. A glance up at Treech shows her that he is, too. What were this morning dirt-brown curls, shiny and soft, are now flat against his head like a wet dog, his jacket dripping water. He still beams at her, and snatches her hand.

“Come on, then!” He calls, yanking her into a run with him. “I got something for you!”

She pants with exertion, trying to keep up with him. He doesn’t let go of her hand, warming it up. “Like what?” She manages. They fly past people on their work breaks, sitting outside their stores. They fly past the peacekeepers patrolling, who simply follow herself and Treech with calculating eyes. They shoot past the barbed-wire fences separating the soggy, dirty woodlands from the town, and the people working out there, axes coming down every few seconds, the people slick with rain and sweat.

She tries not to think of the future. Of what will be for her and Treech in only five months. A torturous summer, a lifetime of work. Another Reaping. If they can make it this final Reaping without being called up, they’ll be safe for the rest of their lives. Just let them turn eighteen, after the Reaping. They’ve been lucky since the Reapings started, just before they turned seven years of age. Luck has been on their side, mostly. Ten years, no calling their names.

Lamina hopes with all her heart, so hard, that it physically aches.

Treech finds a spot just behind a building due for demolition in a couple of weeks. There are no peacekeepers this far out of town, there’s nobody this far out of town, especially not in this weather. You’d have to be insane, she thinks.

“What is it?” Lamina’s brows raise, staring Treech down. His own eyebrows jump, a sly little grin coming to his face; it fits him well. Tanned hands dig around in the pockets of his pants, until finally he pulls out a small, white package.

“What is this?” She snickers, in a way she only does around Treech and her family. “Some sort of deal?”

“Only just,” he shrugs his shoulders, gesturing for her hands. She holds them out without question—trust came easily between them. He tipped the package until two little things fell into her palm.

Her eyes wide, Lamina can’t believe it. “No. Way. But—how did you get these?” The two small, wrapped candies are a delicacy she only had the luxury of tasting once, in a memory before the war, before the first games.

He winked. “Well now, I can’t go ‘round just telling anybody the tricks of the trade, can I?”

She rolled her eyes, a smile betraying her, and moved to pull her hand away. Treech’s larger one shot out, clasping hers closed around the candy.

“What, changed your mind?”

“Don’t I get a reward for my hard work?” He asks, not shy in the slightest.

She scoffs loudly, shoving him away softly. “My presence is enough, don’t you think?”

They sit, knees knocking in the rain, eating stolen candies.

Anything for one another.

Summer comes around much too quickly. School ends, the weather ramps up and sooner rather than later, the days are scorching.

Lamina knows, this is where things begin to head downhill.

Working in the woods is torture, in the heat. Peacekeepers guard the place, and have it surrounded. No breaks are to be taken unless they say so. Her skin is burned and sore before she knows it, and she hasn’t talked to her friends even once in the last two months. The shifts are exhausting, and prompt no want to so much as visit anybody quickly. It’s tedious, tiring work, but she becomes quick with an axe before she knows it, as if it was second nature. There’s always the fear of striking herself, something she tries to not think of before bed at night. But it never comes.

The Reaping is approaching. Only a matter of weeks away. And she prays to whatever is up there, whoever it is that her grandmother prays to, also, that she will be kept safe and granted this final wish.

Two months after the start of working long days, Lamina finally catches a glimpse of Treech. He’s just a few yards away, swinging that axe into the base of a tree with another guy on the opposite side of it. Under the unforgiving sun, his tan skin shines with sweat. He’s built up more muscle than he had at school, but the little amount of food everyone receives even after working isn’t enough to build up the way anyone should in District 7.

A peacekeeper notices she’s stopped working, and yells, jabbing her in the neck with the end of his gun. The altercation causes people to look and stare, until she raises her axe on sore arms and brings it down once more, splitting wood over and over again. People go back to work, but she slows ever so slightly, looking to her left.

Treech, dark-eyed, sleeves rolled up, watching.

He looks away before she can smile.

Reaping day comes around.

And the world comes crashing down.

Her name, the mayor calls.

Treech’s name, last.

He doesn’t look her in the eyes.

She can’t stop the crying.

She can’t believe their luck.

Or rather, lack thereof.

It happens quickly.

A long trip to the Capitol, embarrassed on live television. A capture in a zoo enclosure. A mentor in red shows up for one of the tributes, a Lucy Gray Baird. Where is Lamina’s tribute, she wonders? What about Treech’s? Don’t they care?

It’s the first night in the zoo that he talks to her.

“I’m sorry.”

The whisper comes when everyone else is asleep, the zoo empty of visitors, the night cooler than it gets in the district.

Lamina turns her head, aching on concrete. At her side, Treech is watching her. She’d been watching the starry sky, wondering if it would be the last time she saw them ever. Who knew; maybe she could win this thing.

Her eyes burn with tears again, throat closing up. And she nods.

“It’s okay.”

He reaches for her hand, and she lets him take it.

“I’ve got your back, alright? You can trust me.”

They meet with their mentors the next day. Treech has a girl who is soft-spoken and almost kind. Lamina gets a harsh boy, who smugly states, “You will win, Lamina.”

But not for her sake.

She can’t stop crying in there, either, under the judging gaze of her mentor, who runs through a list of everything she can do to win this game, including a detailed plan of which tributes to take out first—Dill, an ill girl who coughs through the night; Wovey, she’s young, an easy target. And then the ones to look out for—Treech, he says, but she knows he won’t touch her; Coral, who has been eyeing her up already, looking for her weak points.

They’re led back to the zoo straight after the meeting. Visitors come and go—Lamina almost wished they’d stay, and make the day last longer, to avoid the games tomorrow morning.

On the edge of sleep, she can’t quite grasp what is is that’s happening when peacekeepers burst into the zoo and demand they get in the truck. Panic strikes her so firmly in the face that Treech has to pull her along into the vehicle, by the hand, like they’re back in school.

They’re shown the arena they are due to fight to the death in from tomorrow morning. It’s huge, and she tries the best she can to take in all the places she could hide—there aren’t many. It’s one big, open space. She feels more hopeless and desperate than ever.

“Hey—lumberjack,” the girl—Coral, Lamina remembers her as—calls over to Treech. “Come here.”

Treech nods his head over to her. “Lamina—”

“No. Just you,” Coral says firmly. She eyes Lamina up and down. “Just you.”

And now she wants to scream. Wants to tear down the arena inch by inch with nothing but her hands, even if they bleed. Wants to shoot the peacekeepers away, wants to pull Treech back to her and demand he doesn’t let her go.

But, wishes aren’t granted when you’re from the districts. She should have been used to it by now.

People are watching them when Treech abandons her, walking over the Coral.

That’s when the bombing starts.

‘Rebels’ she hears a peacekeeper cry. The arena begins to fall to pieces and she can’t believe her eyes. Dust, fire and sparks fly up from everywhere, making it hard to breathe. The dirt in her eyes stings and burns, and she stumbles for a second, rocks and pieces of rubble hitting her skin, hurting her. She can’t see anyone, but she hears him.

“Lamina?”

It’s a loud, terrified shout of her name, and it hurts her a little bit more.

Treech shouts again, less sure this time. In a way, she’s glad he’s worried. On the other hand, she’s just as scared for him. At least he isn’t dead.

Someone picks her up from the floor with such vigor that it makes her dizzy, still unable to see. People are shouting and crying all around. All she does is hope the person pulling her along is someone good.

It’s a peacekeeper. He shoves her back into the wagon, falling into Dill, one of the other girls. One by one, the tributes are rounded up again, and taken back to the zoo. Treech is the last to be put on the wagon, heaving for breath. He blinks wide-eyed at Lamina, wiping his hands across his face, trying to get as much dirt off as he can.

She’s hurt. Physically, it’s easy to deal with the pain. More than once she’s fallen in the woods and had more splinters than she can count stuck in her hands. But emotionally, she’s scared. Treech has willingly offered himself up to another group—an alliance, she wants to call it, without a second thought. They’re supposed to be partners—if not district partners, at least friends.

That night, Treech sleeps away from her, on the other side of the pen.

And in the morning, when the games begin, he doesn’t talk to her. She cries the whole way to the arena, trying to hold it all inside, but she’s loud. Reaper, one of the boys, keeps glancing over at her, and she’s terrified. He’s sizing her up for the kill, she knows he is. He’s bigger than her, a lot stronger, and he hasn’t shown one bit of weakness this whole time. Coral grins cruelly when she meets Lamina’s eye, and again in the arena, when the countdown begins.

The bell rings, signally the start of the end. It’s a bloodbath already, but a sudden determination has struck her. She will not die here. There’s a small axe relatively close, at the bottom of the pile of rubble the others are climbing up, striking one another for the best weapon. She’s trying to ignore the district 2 boy, hanging from a rafter. Is he still alive? She’s not sure. Maybe he escaped last night in the bombing—she didn’t see him back at the zoo.

She’s got her weapon, and she gets out of there, climbing a broken beam all the way to the top. There’s a good vantage point up here, where she can watch the other tributes, the whole arena, and see who’s coming.

It’s a long, slow game.

Up from her height, she watches people die, just glad it’s not her. It’s awful to see, of course, but she thinks the more that go already, the more chance she has of getting home. They’ve all noticed her, sitting and watching, but nobody has approached, not yet. She keeps note of Treech guiding his little group away from her where he can, and wishes she could laugh. He’s abandoned her, left her to fend for herself, but tries in his own way to help.

Whatever was the point?

A day passes, and then the night, and before she knows it, she’s tired, thirsty and starving. Nobody has sent anything yet. Nothing at all to anybody.

But plenty have died.

Eventually, when she thinks she might be safe, Coral comes for her. Mizzen, a small, skinny boy, comes from one side, climbing up, and Coral the other, approaching her like a trapped animal. Treech and another boy watch from below.

She tries her best.

She hopes her family know that. She really, really fought to the end.

When Coral strikes her the first time, she’s stolen of breath. Lamina drops her axe, her heart plummeting in shock. This can’t be happening, surely? This isn’t the end, right? Treech wouldn’t leave her up for the kill, would he?

Oh, but he would. Lamina gasps, trying not to scream. Her betrayed eyes drop down to Treech as her hand shakes violently, trying to push down on her bleeding stomach, punctured from Coral’s weapon. Treech has turned pale, his eyes so wide, looking at her and away, at her and away.

Coral strikes her again, in the chest this time, and Lamina shouts, her whole body weak and shaking. Coral pushes her off the edge of where she thought she found safety, and she plummets toward the ground, dizzy and tired.

It doesn’t take long.

Her last thought belongs to Treech.

for @lofhdfn who requested the Treech and Lamina fic :)

‘It doesn’t take long’ hurt me icl. It took a while to get this out, I rewrote it a couple of times but I think I’m fairly happy with it, now. This is more of an interpretation story, I didn’t want to make anything too set in stone in case it didn’t go well or didn’t work with things I planned while writing it. I did take a bit out, but I tried to include as much angst as I could while still showing how they cared for one another.

#the hunger games #Treech and Lamina #treech tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas #lucy gray x coriolanus #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x lucy gray #lamina #katniss everdeen

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