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pynkfairyheart · 3 days

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pairings: peircer eren x black reader

warnings: smut 18+, kinda pervy eren

Good girl

“Hello?” Your soft voice rang over the chimes as you entered the tattoo parlor.

The shop was quiet, seemingly empty besides the softening chimes of the door and surprised cursing down the long hall.

“Shit- yeah. Just give me a minute. My apologies” The culprit of the cursing called.

In the meantime, you took a look around the lobby. The reviews didn't do the place justice. The largest wall contained a bright colorful mural, contrasting beautifully with the dark floors and connected black walls.

While admiring the piece of artwork, heavy thudding from the long hallway turned your attention to the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.

You never believed in love at first sight, up until now. You hadn't even known the man's name yet, but you craved him. The reviews warned you the entire staff was attractive but they clearly left out that this man was a god.

His long hair was pulled into a low bun, strands falling in his face, the color contrasting against his pale skin. He was tall, with a full sleeve on one of his muscular arms, and his green eyes had you drowning immediately. He couldn't be Onyankopon, they said he was a brother. Maybe Connie or, Levi-

“Hi, I'm Eren” He introduced himself after swallowing the large knot in his throat.

While in your own trance, you failed to notice how he froze the moment he saw you. The bright light you stood under showcased the sparkles of your pretty brown skin.

Your legs were on display as a result of the simmering heat outside, thick thighs causing them to roll up slightly. The fitted t-shirt you wore allowed the hardened buds of your nipples to peek through, despite the hot weather.

Eren never considered himself a pervert but the way his mind instantly thought about sucking on them till you begged him to fuck you had him thinking otherwise.

“Hi, I'm [☆]. Is this a bad time?” Oh, he could have come on the spot, your voice sounded even better without the numerous walls separating you and god your perfume had him wanting to devour you on the reception desk.

“No, no I just don't know how much I can do for you, the AC is out in all the rooms but mine and I don't even know how long that's gonna last so if you're looking for an hour long tat session you'll have to come back” He crossed his arms, muscles contracting against the white tee.

“Oh no, I'm just hoping to get a few piercings but I can definitely come back another time”

“No, I can do a couple of piercings. What were you thinking?” He grabbed the paperwork from under the counter, praying one of them would be your chest.

“Uh well, I want the other side of my nose, belly button, venus dimples, and my nipples but I understand if you can't do all of that or the last one I'll just come back”

“No, no I can do it,” He said too quickly, clearing his throat awkwardly before handing you the paperwork.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

“Good girl. You're doing such a good job for me, pretty. Just hold on for one second, lovey”

He was currently doing your last dimple piercing. The pain was unimaginable at first but as soon as the praises left his mouth all was forgotten besides the growing stickiness that rested between your thighs.

He praised you after every piercing a variation of “Good girl” “You're doing such a good job for me” “That's it, baby. You did so good” flowed from his pink lips. You could never decide which throbbing to focus on, the one from your new piercing or the throbbing of your clit.

With three new holes in your body and damp panties, it was now time for the piercing both of you were dreading yet excited for.

“Do I just take my shirt off here?”

“Wherever you're comfortable, baby. You can go in the bathroom or stay in here and I'll give you some privacy” He felt like a teenage boy again. His dick twitching at the thought of seeing you exposed.

“No, it's okay you can stay in here I don't mind”

“Oh. Okay,” He perked up. Giving you some privacy he turned his back, pretending to be busy when in reality he was trying to think of anything but you getting undressed behind him. Despite his concentration, all he could focus on was the sound of your necklaces and bracelets clanking at the movements you made.

He knew your nipples were still hard, especially since he took advantage of the working AC and he wondered what your moans would sound like if he flicked his tounge repeatedly over the bud, or if he pinched them in front of the mirror while you begged him to fuck you as you pressed your ass against his hard-

“I'm ready” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts.

If his self control was any less he'd have gotten on his knees to worship you. There you were. Looking everywhere but him, tits exposed. If it weren’t for the fact other men besides him would see, he'd tattoo this image of you on his bare forearm.

“Are you ready?” He suppressed a groan.

“Mhm”

“Okay stand up for me” He led you to the mirror where he prepped each bud. During the process, you felt as if you could crawl into yourself. The most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on had his hands on your breast. Despite the occasion being nonsexual, you were convinced your arousal would start running down your thigh at any second.

“Is this okay?” He stood behind you.

You gave a simple hum of approval, thoughts gone as he explained how the process would go. You convinced yourself you could handle it, that it would all be over soon.

That was until he rolled the bud in between his fingers, the whimper you'd been holding escaping you.

‘fuck’ ‘fuck’

“Shit, I'm so sorry I- I didn't mean to do that, please understand I had no malicious intentions I just” He stumbled over his words.

He was just explaining the step by step process of the piercing. He wasn't thinking, just craving. He wouldn't have realized his actions if it weren't for the sound you let out. The sound he knew he'd replay in his head the moment you left the shop, stroking his cock as he imagined it were you down on your knees in front of him.

“It's okay” You reassured him. Your big eyes staring up into his through the mirror.

“I didn't…I don't mind”

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Before you knew it you were bouncing on his cock. His moans muffled as his mouth engulfed your breast. Tongue slightly grazing your nipple with the flickers of his tongue before sucking harshly.

He was stretching you out so good, leaky red tip repeatedly hitting your cervix as his frenum piercing brushed against your walls. The added pleasure contributing to the pace of your bounces as you chased your high.

“E-eren please” You whined, attempting to push his head away from the assault on your breast. His hair was everywhere, the ponytail holder long gone the moment your hands entangled in his hair. Your buds were so sensitive, every suck and swipe of his tongue had you squeezing around him, every clench releasing your cream that pooled at the base of his cock.

“Fuck” He groaned, reluctantly giving your boobs a break. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, groping the brown skin before placing a hard slap on your cheek.

“Talk to me, pretty. You like this? Like bouncing on daddy's cock hmm?” His arms wrapped around you tightly as he fucked up into you.

“Oh my- fuck” You gave him control. Your head resting on his shoulder as you let out pornographic moans into his ear.

“Answer me, mama” Another slap landed on your ass.

Before you had time to register the mix of pain and pleasure on your flesh, the gentle pressure of his finger rubbing circles on your puckering hole had you seeing stars.

“Fuck y-yes. I love it so much, daddy. Please don't stop” You whined. Tears of pleasure wetting the crook of his neck.

By no means was Eren a fast finisher but boy was he trying his best to hold on, you're pussy was just squeezing him so tight, the added tension on his scalp as you tugged on it every time he hit the spongy spot along your walls had his nails digging crescents into your skin.

“I'm so close, daddy, please”

“Let go mama” He pressed hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.

In that moment you came, your pussy tightening around the large girth of his cock. Clear liquid squirting from you in streams as he continued his thrust. Your arousal splashing and dripping onto the chair.

With sweat dripping down his forehead, and stray hairs sticking to him, his thrust became sloppy and his breathing became heavier.

“S-shit” He whimpered, head thrown back as he came harder than ever. Repeatedly pushing his load back into your pussy.

“Lemme take you on a date. Please” He panted once you both came down, his hands roaming your body as he looked down at you, green irises peeking out behind his blown pupils.

“Okay, yea- oh” A broken moan escaped you as he moved your hips up and down his length once again.

“Eren” You whined

“Don't tell me you're wiped out after one round, pretty girl. I know you have more in you, mama. Be a good girl for daddy”

for my eren girlies. this is probably the fastest I've ever wrote bc i just needed peircer eren. oh also how do yall feel about pegging bc i feel peircer eren can be a bit subby sometimes ttm. mwah <3

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vivwritesfics · 2 days

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Rough You Up

She's a genius. She knows what makes a race winner win. It's being injured. Oh, Oscar is going to get it.

warnings: Crack violence, blood

"Oscar, my love, my wonderful boyfriend. Do you think you'd win if you broke your arm?" She asked as she leaned against his shoulder, close enough that she could stick her tongue out and lick him if she so wanted to.

Oscar Piastri loved his girlfriend, but she was a little bit... concerning. But he loved her. This was a part of the reason why.

He looked at her with his brow furrowed, corner of his mouth turning up just a little. "I don't think I'd be able to drive?" He said, voice going up at the end to make it a question.

A huff left her lips as she lifted her chin from his shoulder and sat back on the sofa, head hitting the arm of the sofa as she closed her eyes. She sighed. Loudly.

"Okay," Oscar said, bringing his hand down to settle on her knee. It was such a small thing that he did, but she loved it. Not that she was going to express it at that moment. "What's going through that head of yours? Why do you want to break my arm?"

And suddenly she was sitting up, voice filled with excitement as she spoke. "Okay, okay, so I worked it out, right? The Spaniard that we do not name had his appendix out before Australia and then he won Australia!" (Note: Oscar and Carlos have all of their beef on track. Oscar is far too chill to ever really have a problem with anybody. His girlfriend knows this, but she was just having fun).

Oscar let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. But she was having fun, and he was having fun watching her have fun. "What else have you got?"

"Lando's win," she said instantly. "He hurt his nose to the point where he had a literal bandage on race day and then he went and fucking won it! Osc, there's a pattern here! You get hurt, you win a race! Now let me break your arm!"

He pulled her in and kissed the top of her head. "You can't break my arm," he whispered, kissing her nose when she glared at him.

***

"Oscar, c'mere!" She shouted.

Oscar was careful as he walked into the kitchen. He'd tried to walk in a few minutes ago, but had seen her grabbing the frying pan from the drawer and hiding behind the door.

She didn't swing it towards him. She gave him the courtesy of revealing where she was first. "No," he said immediately, grabbing the frying pan from her hands. "No you can't break my nose."

A glare sat on her face for two seconds, before it became a pout. "But you might win Imola," she mumbled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He put the frying pan on the table and placed his hands on her hips. "You saying I can't win without getting put in the hospital first?" He asked and squeezed slightly.

"No, no, Oscar, I'm not saying that at all," she mumbled, head falling against his chest as she listened to his heartbeat. "All I'm sayin' is that you've got Max Verstappen up ahead in a Red Bull. Maybe if I break your nose..."

Oscar was only slightly terrified. But he kept a hold of her. Because if he was holding her, she wasn't able to attack him. Holding her might have been the only thing keeping him safe (No he didn't really believe that, but better safe than sorry).

"Please don't break my nose."

"Pussy."

***

It had been his fault, his fucking fault.

Oscar Piastri couldn't quite believe it as he sat on the closed lid of the toilet, his girlfriend in front of him as she held tissues to his gushing nose. It had been his fault. He'd been the one to injure himself.

"Oscar, I love you, but this is fucking hilarious."

"Shut up," he groaned as she threw away the tissue and grabbed another. "Besides, it's not gonna change the outcome of the race."

Suddenly she swapped to hold the tissue with her left hand as she pulled her phone from her pocket. "What're you doing?" Oscar asked as he tried to look down at her screen.

"Nothing!" She said quickly. "Definitely not changing my fantasy team." Oscar rolled his eyes and squeezed her hand. He loved this woman. "Besides. This means you're gonna win in Spain, which is kinda poetic after Carlos read one of your home races."

Of fucking course, Oscar one in Spain. He couldn't quite believe it as he finished in front of the nineteen other cars.

He was unbelievably happy. Of course he was, it was his first proper race win. It had only taken him a season and a bit to get his first proper, full length race win.

"I fucking told you!" She shouted in his ear as he practically pulled her over the barriers. "If I cut off your leg, do you think you'll get a championship?"

"I love you!" He shouted over the cheers from the McLaren team. "But you can't cut off my leg!"

"Watch your back, Piastri!"

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri x you #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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pinkflower2003 · 3 days

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hii i was wondering if you could perhaps do a story on max x y/n. Y/n is a professional chef and sometimes she likes to live stream on instagram -LIKE FLORENCE PUGHS COOKING WITH FLO— in the the back the fans hear max screaming cus he’s on the sim or just playing games with his online team :)

Racing Hearts and Risotto Dreams - Max Verstappen x Reader

Hi! Thank you so much for your submission!! So i've tried my best on this one - i'm honestly so bad at cooking so if this is wrong blame my food tech teacher - I hope this is okay!<3

Send in your submissions!

Masterlist

Y/N stood in the bright, spacious kitchen, the stainless-steel countertops gleaming under the studio lights. A row of neatly organized spices and ingredients lined the shelves behind her, and the air was filled with the delicious aroma of a simmering sauce. The camera was positioned perfectly to capture her every move, and her followers eagerly awaited the start of her Instagram Live cooking session.

With a warm smile, Y/N adjusted the angle of her phone, making sure the view was perfect. “Hi, everyone!” she greeted her audience, her voice full of enthusiasm. “Welcome back to Cooking with Y/N! Today, we’re making a classic Italian dish—risotto alla Milanese. It’s one of my favorites and I can’t wait to share it with you!”

As she began to explain the steps, her hands moved deftly, demonstrating the precise technique required to achieve the perfect creamy texture. The comments started pouring in, fans asking questions and complimenting her on her skills. Y/N loved this interaction; it was like having a big, supportive family cheering her on.

However, in the background, there was another layer of noise. The unmistakable sound of engines roaring and tires screeching filled the air, along with occasional bursts of laughter and shouts. Y/N glanced over her shoulder, her smile widening as she spotted Max Verstappen, her boyfriend and current Formula 1 World Champion, fully immersed in his racing simulator.

Max was in the middle of an intense online race with his fellow drivers, Lando Norris and Charles Leclerc. The three of them were a formidable trio, known not just for their skills on the actual track but also for their hilarious and competitive online gaming sessions. Today was no exception.

“Max, you’re so loud!” Y/N called out, laughing softly. She turned back to the camera. “Sorry, everyone, Max is having one of his usual battles with Lando and Charles. I hope you don’t mind the background noise!”

The comments section exploded with excitement at the mention of Max and the other F1 drivers. Fans loved getting these little glimpses into their lives, the mix of professional dedication and everyday fun.

“Who’s winning?” a fan asked.

Y/N leaned towards the camera, pretending to whisper conspiratorially. “I think it’s a close call, but Max seems pretty determined today. Let’s hope he doesn’t crash into Lando again!”

As if on cue, Max’s voice boomed from the other room. “Lando, you can’t just cut across like that! What are you doing, mate?”

Y/N shook her head, chuckling. “See what I mean? It’s like this all the time. But let’s get back to our risotto. The key is to keep stirring and adding the broth gradually. You want it to be creamy but not too thick.”

She continued with her cooking demonstration, occasionally glancing over at Max’s direction. The sounds of their playful banter provided a lively backdrop to her session, making it all the more entertaining for her viewers. The combination of professional cooking tips and the casual, personal atmosphere made her streams unique.

“Y/N, ask Max who’s winning!” another comment popped up.

With an amused sigh, Y/N called out, “Max, the viewers want to know who’s winning right now!”

There was a moment of silence, then Max’s head peeked into the kitchen, his face lit up with a competitive grin. “Well, obviously me! Although Lando’s trying his best to sabotage me. Typical, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “Alright, back to my risotto. You boys play nice.”

Max gave her a wink before disappearing back to his racing rig. The interactions were spontaneous and natural, reflecting the comfortable dynamic they shared.

As Y/N added the final touches to the dish, stirring in a generous handful of grated Parmesan cheese, she talked her viewers through the final steps. “And there you have it, risotto alla Milanese! Perfect for a cosy dinner. I hope you all try this recipe at home.”

Just as she was about to sign off, a loud cheer erupted from the other room. “Yes! Winner!” Max’s triumphant shout echoed through the apartment, followed by groans from Lando and Charles.

“Looks like Max won,” Y/N said, shaking her head with a smile. “Again. Thank you all so much for joining me today. Don’t forget to tag me in your posts if you try the recipe. See you next time!”

She ended the live stream and began tidying up the kitchen, humming softly to herself. A few moments later, Max walked in, his hair slightly tousled from the headset, and a victorious gleam in his eyes.

“I won, did you hear schat?” he said, wrapping his arms around Y/N from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I did. Congrats, champ,” she replied, leaning into his embrace. “But I think my risotto might just be the real winner today.”

Max chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “It smells amazing. Can I have some?”

“Of course,” Y/N said, turning to face him. “I made plenty. And maybe you can join me on my next live stream as a guest chef?”

Max’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “As long as I don’t have to cook anything too complicated. I’m more of a taste-tester.”

“Deal,” Y/N laughed. “Now, let’s eat before it gets cold.”

They sat down at the kitchen island, enjoying the delicious meal and the comfortable, easy conversation. Despite their busy schedules and demanding careers, moments like these were precious. They were a perfect blend of passion and playfulness, support and competition.

They talked about Max’s latest race strategies, Y/N’s upcoming culinary projects, and plans for their next holiday together. The sounds of the virtual race still echoed faintly in the background, a reminder of the high-octane world they were both a part of. Yet, in this cozy kitchen, it was just the two of them, sharing a meal and making memories.

Later that evening, after the dishes were done and the kitchen was back in order, they settled on the couch, a comfortable silence enveloping them. Max scrolled through his phone, checking the highlights from their race, while Y/N flipped through a cookbook, jotting down ideas for her next live stream.

“Hey, Y/N,” Max said, breaking the silence. “You know, the fans really love it when you join my streams too. Maybe we should do a combined one sometime. Racing and cooking—what do you think?”

Y/N looked up, considering the idea. “That could be fun. You teach me some racing tips, and I’ll teach you some cooking tricks. Deal?”

“Deal,” Max agreed, leaning in for a kiss. “You’ve got yourself a co-host.”

#formula one imagine #f1 smut #f1 imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #red bull f1 #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine

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elizaleclerc · 1 day

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OMG PART TWO TO 'i dont know you at all' PLEASEEE <33

here to serve the ppl !

i don’t know you at all 🤍 (part two)

lando norris x reader

read part one here <3

summary: lando heals from bad habits as the racing season gets underway (warning for alcoholism)

song: drunk, running by lizzy mcalpine

author’s note: wanted this part to be a little angsty still but mostly sweet too <3 (prob won't do a part 3) also hit 50 followers so yay me!!

word count: 2k

The exhilarating racing season was once again in full swing, providing a much-needed break from Lando's reckless behavior and destructive habits. After his violent outburst where he drunkenly hurled a glass at your head, he had promised to change his ways. And true to his word, he stopped going to wild parties and completely gave up drinking. The apartment was once again filled with a sense of peace, and you found yourself back in the comforting routine of sleeping beside him each night. He seemed like the same old Lando that you had always loved, but you couldn't help but feel that deep down, he still struggled with his inner demons of addiction.

As the racing season continued, Lando was once again fully immersed in his career. Every weekend, he was out on the track, pushing himself and his car to the limit. You loved watching him race, feeling a sense of pride and admiration as he effortlessly weaved through the other cars. But at the same time, you couldn't help but worry about him.

You knew that once he got back into the cockpit of a race car, he had no choice but to be sober. You couldn't drink every night and still be healthy enough to be a Formula One driver. And while you were glad that racing forced him to stay away from alcohol, you also feared that once the season ended, he would fall back into his old habits.

But for now, you tried not to think about it and simply enjoyed seeing a glimpse of his normal self again. Surrounded by his friends in the paddock, Lando's infectious smile and carefree attitude returned as he joked around with his teammates and rivals. His world had become solely you and racing again, and it was a relief to see him find joy in those two things.

As Lando sat in his driver's room, getting dressed and mentally preparing for the upcoming Miami Grand Prix, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and pride. This was the second season that you were accompanying him in the McLaren paddock. And just like before, the team welcomed you with open arms, treating you like one of their own.

You sat on Lando's small plush bed as he finished getting dressed, admiring his neon helmet that sat on the table next to you. The bright colors and design always caught your eye, and it was a symbol of his identity as a racer.

“How are you feeling about today?” You asked him, breaking the comfortable silence in the room.

He turned around to face you, a small grin on his face. “Not too bad,” he replied. “The car felt good in practice and Quali, it's got the pace to win.” You nodded, knowing how important it was for Lando to have confidence in both himself and his car. He had been working tirelessly with his engineers to fine-tune every aspect of the car for this race.

“I'm sure you'll do great,” you reassured him with a smile.

Lando's face lit up with a wide, toothy grin upon hearing your words. “I hope so,” he replied, leaning in to give you a quick, tender kiss. Your hand instinctively cupped his cheek, pulling him in for another kiss, this one filled with more passion and desire. As you stood up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer to you as the kisses became more heated. In these moments, all the harsh memories of post-party arguments and unwanted touches faded away. All that mattered was being enveloped in Lando's embrace, lost in each other's lips.

As his lips pressed against your neck, your breath caught in your throat and your heart rate quickened. "I love you," you whispered into his ear, feeling his soft kisses and love bites in return.

His smile was evident even through the passionate exchange of kisses. "You know you mean everything to me," he said in a low, husky voice that sent shivers down your spine.

"I know, my love," you grinned, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. He had told you countless times that he raced not only to win but to make you proud, and every time it made your heart swell with pride. You could see the positive changes he was making for the better, and it only strengthened your love for him.

As he headed out of his drivers room towards the starting grid, you followed close behind. The atmosphere in the paddock was buzzing with energy and anticipation as everyone prepared for what would surely be an exciting race.

You watched from the McLaren garage as he expertly maneuvered through each turn and overtook other cars on the track. It was clear that he had full control over his car and was pushing it to its limits. With only a few laps left in the race, Lando radioed into his team requesting updates on his position. He was currently in second place, but with the leader's increasing tire degradation, Lando was quickly approaching the opportunity to overtake him.

You gazed on in the paddock watching the last couple of laps unfold. Tensions were rising, and on the second to last lap, Lando finally overtook his way into first place. You felt giddy with excitement, and before you knew it the checkered flag was waved.

This was the first win that Lando had earned while the two of you were in a relationship. You paced down to the podium celebration with the rest of the McLaren crew. Your heart was overjoyed as you bit your bottom lip in excitement.

With the roar of the engines still ringing in his ears, Lando emerged from his car, hastily pulling off his helmet and sprinting towards you and the rest of the team. He barely spared a glance for his colleagues before rushing towards you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. Through the metal fence that separated you, he pressed his face into your neck, inhaling deeply as if trying to imprint your scent into his memory forever. "I'm so proud of you," Your voice cracked with emotion as you held him close, fighting back tears. A mental image of Lando stumbling home from a wild party flashed through your mind, highlighting just how much things had changed in the past few months.

“I love you so so much,” His voice was cracking too, and as he pulled back you saw the faint glimpse of tears in his eyes. He grabbed your face and kissed you passionately. Embracing you one more time, he left to go up to the podium celebration.

As he ascended the podium, a triumphant smile lit up his face as he held up his gleaming trophy. He glanced down at you with adoration and blew a kiss in your direction. The sunlight bathed him in a golden glow, highlighting the lines of his chiseled body and the flush of exertion on his tanned skin. He cradled his first place trophy like a cherished treasure, his pride evident in the way he held it close to his chest. Your heart swelled with love and admiration as you watched him bask in the glory of his victory.

The weight of his past struggles and mental battles hung heavy in the air, unseen by the world around him. As he stood on that podium, basking in the love and admiration of those around him, you could only pray that he would hold onto this moment forever. He had endured so much pain and fought through it all with incredible resilience. This race win was a well-deserved triumph, a validation of his strength and determination a thousand times over.

As the excitement and chaos of the Grand Prix died down, you found yourself alone with him in his driver's room. The air was thick with tension, and you couldn't help but feel conflicted. On one hand, everyone expected him to go out and celebrate at the clubs in Miami as the race winner. But you knew he was struggling with a difficult decision - whether or not to join the party and risk breaking his sobriety.

"Do you want me to come with you?" You offered, torn between wanting to support him and wanting to retreat to your hotel room for an early night.

As he sat next to you, head low as he muttered “Maybe,” you couldn't help but feel torn. You wanted him to enjoy his victory and let loose, but at the same time, you understood his fear. Your hand intertwined with his, offering support and reassurance.

But as a tear fell from his eye, your heart ached. He sniffed, "I just don't want to put myself in a position where I could hurt anyone." You knew what was going through his mind - the night in his apartment, the pain he had caused you. It was a wake-up call for him, one that he hated but needed. His fear of hurting someone again consumed him, even though he had promised to change.

“It’s okay, I know how hard you’ve worked to change.” You knew your words could only do so much to make him feel better, but you came to a compromise. You would come with him to the club, making sure that he didn’t do anything drastic.

As the night wore on, you could see Lando slowly becoming more relaxed and comfortable in the club setting. He mingled with other drivers and even took a few shots of water when they were offered to him. You were proud of how well he was doing and made sure to let him know it. You leaned into him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

He smiled at you, “Thank you for being here with me tonight. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

The two of you danced and laughed together, enjoying the celebratory atmosphere of the club. At one point, Max came over to congratulate Lando on his win and the two of them shared a friendly hug. It was a nice moment that reminded you that even though they were fierce competitors on the track, they were all still friends off it.

As the stars twinkled in the night sky, Lando's infectious laughter filled the air as he walked arm in arm with you back to your hotel room. His warm embrace and the soft hum of a familiar song made you feel at ease and content. As you reached your room, he turned to face you with a genuine smile on his face.

"Tonight was magical," he whispered, pulling you into a tight hug before leaning down to press his lips against yours in a sweet and tender kiss. The moment felt like it could last forever as the warmth of his body and the gentle touch of his lips stirred butterflies in your stomach. "Thank you for coming with me.”

You smiled back at him, “Of course, I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” The two of you continued kissing until eventually collapsing onto the bed in each other’s arms. You snuggled up against each other as sleep started to take over your exhausted bodies. The Lando you had once loved had finally come back to you. You knew realistically he didn’t need you there at the club to make sure he didn’t relapse, but you were more than willing to support him. “I’m really proud of you, you know.” You told him as your head rested on his chest.

“Thank you, my love,” he replied, his words dripping with sincerity as he placed a gentle kiss atop your head. You were his everything, the reason for every waking breath and every beat of his heart. He would do anything to make you happy, to see that beautiful smile light up your face. As he held you in his arms, he couldn't help but envision the rest of his life with you by his side - growing old together, experiencing all of life's ups and downs together, and loving each other through it all.

#formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1

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hecateslore · 2 days

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hey! if okay, could you maybe write something about how you think papa!simon and the kids reacted when readers water broke with the newest baby? just a suggestion ofc :)

I kind of got carried away.

Everyone was shocked, including you, you were induced twice, so you never experienced water breaking, you had it "popped".

"Everyone calm down," Simon yelled over the three teenagers freaking out, "Nova, call your Grandmother, Boys, one of you get the carseat and get the diaper bag, put it in the car, Yeah?"

You stood there with your legs slightly parted, cringing at the gushing of fluid wetting your bottoms. The boys nodded running upstairs wasting no time, while Nova was in the kitchen on the phone answering her Grandma's questions.

"I need to change," You say, grimacing at the feeling of wet, warm pants, "Let's go do that." Simon grabs your hands leading you towards the stairs, making sure you're as careful as possible.

You're face twists in discomfort the second you feel a contraction, remembering the feeling of a cold rush of pain all too well.

"That was seven." Simon says from the corner of the room, turning his phone off, the timer already set. Nova runs through the door still on the phone with her Your Mom, "Gran wants to know if you're going to the hospital now," She looks at you, who looks at Simon, Who nods.

"Are you okay Mom?" Jude looked at you worried, "I'm fine baby." You smile weakly, going back to make weird noises to soothe your pain. Nova and Oliver in Simons SUV following behind you three. Simon was quiet, focused on getting you to the birthing center, occasionally looking over at you, who was still making weird grunting noises.

By the time you get settled in, You're laying down on the bed with the worst attitude ever, in pain, hot, and you just want her out."Nova take that outside." You snap, watching her crunch on a bag of chips, "Sorry." She squeaks, dashing to the door.

Minutes started feeling like hours, hours feeling like days, you were about to reach down and pull her out yourself. That's until you reached down and felt, her head? You snatched your hand back,

"Simon, come look." You order him, Simon stuck his head under the blanket coming back up quickly then bolting out of the door.

After pushing forever, and a headache from straining so long, you heard the ear piercing cry come from your newborn. She came out looking exactly like her sister, huge, dark hair, thick eyebrows like her father, your nose.

And she slept like an angel, Your other three huddled around you, excited to hold their sister for the first time, Nova bawling because she finally has another girl in the house. Simon sat on the edge of the bed, watching you pull the swaddle off her to show her siblings her outfit.

He eventually breaks up the cute moment making them go wash their hands before taking the baby from your arms, kissing her cheeks, wrapping the swaddle around her again.

"My baby." He mumbled to her, making you chuckle and shake your head. "Give me." You reach out, he places her in your arms. You admire her for a moment, then looking at your other big babies, all in line to wash their hands.

#lunden’s response ❀—#papa!simon #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley headcanons #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you

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kyliegae · 2 days

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Wouldn't mind requests she says.. hm then how about a soft smut for arlecchino ? I do love the way you wrote her and I'm a sucker for her being so in love with her s/o lol. Perhaps she saw you play with the children or help them with something and was overcome with the affection

Other than that I did mean to ask, are you excited for Wuthering Waves ? Some of these characters are kinda... 😳😳😳 Yinlin especially frfr

Oh and do you accept emoji anons ? Might be a bit easier lol, if you do could I have 🔥 ?

Have a lovely day :)

OMGGG HIII MY FIRST EMOJI ANON? HIIII 🔥 ANONN!!!:OO anyway, regarding WuWa, i have seen stuff about it but not really much updated about it since i've been busy but i do know that it's coming out tomorrow? iirc. but yea fear not for i WILL be playing it, BUT YEAAA yinlin omg and baizhi?? ughajshd who knows i might write about them too.. anyw enjoy anon!!!

-warning/s : NSFW, cunnilingus (r! receiving), tooth rotting fluff, super soft arlecchino, not proofread.

(men and minor dni utc!)

imo.. arlecchino is a person who genuinely loves and cares but prefers not to show emotion especially due to her profession and background (childhood too). she does not like being vulnerable at all and has trust issues with everyone, even the kids as they r still capable of betrayal, but she trusts you 100% with her vulnerability and what she sees as her "weaknesses" which is why she is more showy of her love and care towards you, hence why she is a lovesick fool for her s/o in my eyes hwjasdh sorry for yapping anyw here's ur fic that was supposed to be just a thirst.. haha.. this was also rushed and not proof-read so sorry for d mistakes.. HAHAHA (will elaborate about this behavior of hers in future fics..)

"f-father, may i have a moment?"

small hands tug on the harbinger's coat, and her deadpan eyes meet with those that belonged to a nervous toddler-- one of her children, to be specific. "what is it, my child?" she asked, tone devoid of any feeling, making it hard to guess what she was thinking, much to the child's anxiety of getting scolded by her.

"a-a.. a bouquet for you, father!"

frail little hands open up in front of her, a messy bundle of assorted wild flowers tied together with a sloppy ribbon had been presented to the knave. with a hum, the harbinger accepts the bouquet from the toddler's hands, gives her a pat on the head and the little darling scurries off.

her eyes follow the direction of where the child was headed to, the harbinger's curiosity was piqued and she wanted to know what had motivated the child to bring her flowers out of nowhere without any special occasion.

-- but as soon as she sees as to who the child runs to, she immediately has a clear answer to her question. of course, it was you, it was you who encouraged the child to give her flowers. with silent steps, she approached the slightly ajar of the bedroom's door, leaning on the wall next to it to hear your conversations with the child.

"ah, little love, have you given your father the bouquet you made?"

"y-yes mother! she even gave me a headpat.."

"hmm, now you see, my love? father is not scary at all, father can be strict with you, but it is only out of concern.. sharing is caring, little love, i am sure she'll appreciate a few flowers from time to time. now settle down, it is time for bed."

arlecchino stared at the "bouquet" in her hands, suddenly, it had more meaning to her than just a bunch of wild flowers. it was evidence of the child learning to give, and of course you were the one who taught them that. it was evidence of the child learning that they could be safe around her despite her outward appearance, and of course you were the one who assured them that. she was scary to most children, yes, for she had nurtured and raised them under the guise of a strict and unfeeling father just so she could raise them with proper discipline. although recently, even the younger kids, they have started to treat her more.. genuinely. ah, it must have been your doing. you must have been convincing them behind the scenes. she should hate you, for coaxing the kids in indulging with personal emotions that could cause them to have flaws as they grow up, but she doesn't. instead, she is thankful, because you've treated the kids with such gentleness and unconditional love-- she is thankful that you've treated her the same.

"oh! my beloved, have.. you been standing there all this time?"

a surprised gasp brings her back to her senses, the sound of the door closing behind her lover's back echoed through the hallway of the orphanage. "no, darling. i was simply checking up on you and the children, are they asleep?" arlecchino asks, choosing not to reveal to her wife that she had found out about your recent teachings. "yes, all tucked and away to dreamland." you smiled at her, walking up to her and pulling her in for a hug. the knave was not one for affection, that was made clear, but after a busy day- she cannot help but miss you too. "let's go to bed, my love. i wish to cradle you by my side tonight." you whisper to her ear, and arlecchino silently nods, her hand on your lower back.

as soon as you return to your bedroom with arlecchino, dressed in bed time clothes, the harbiner seemed to have other plans however as she immediately starts to pepper you with slow, soft and sensual kisses.

"my love, ah- you're.. strangely affectionate today, not that i don't like it, is there something on your mind?" you ask with that same gentle tone of yours, the same tone that reduces her to a lovesick fool whenever it's just you two, that lets her put down the wall she's built to let you in and show you what's inside her mind.

"nothing, my beloved.." she whispers, looking at you with adoration. it makes your heart skip a beat to see her like this. she leans in to kiss your forehead, a silent thank you for taking care of the kids.

".. i just simply wish to express my feelings. isn't that what you teach within this household?"

she adds, which confuses you a little. you were unsure about what she exactly meant, but you let her regardless. "okay, my beloved. express your feelings then." you mumbled with a silly smile, finding arlecchino's actions a bit adorable- quite similar to the children, even. arlecchino nods, a look of determination paints her face for a moment, then she leans in to kiss your cheek.

a silent thank you for loving her and seeing through her harsh demeanor. you can't help but feel flustered, feeling like a teenage girl and her first love.

she then moves on to kiss your neck in a ticklish manner, making you giggle, and it was music to her ears.

a silent thank you for introducing genuine warmth to the house of hearth. thanks to you, the orphanage burned with compassion and not with competitiveness. "beloved, aha- s-stop it!" you squirm with a chuckle, and arlecchino's face may not show it, but her heart is leaping at the sight of your gorgeous smile.

a kiss to your chest, making you gasp as her lips landed on your nipples. her tongue swirling gently around it, making you feel a subtle warmth from the intimacy of the moment.

a silent thank you for being a source of healing to her. before you, the word "mother" had brought chills up her spine, and she resented the word fiercely but after you? you had shown her what a real mother was like, and it's one of the many qualities you hold that she absolutely adores about you.

"mhm.. my beloved, is it gratitude that you wish to express?"

you asked, followed by a quiet moan as she releases your chest from her mouth with a pop. she was in awe of you, that you were able to read her mind without having to tell you. ".. yes, my beloved. how did you know?" she curiously asked, and you couldn't help but let out another chuckle. oh, this side of arlecchino was endearing, to see her openly express her thoughts. "you like to show your gratitude towards me in the form of kisses, arlecchino." you answered, bringing your hand to her head to pull her closer, then leaning in to kiss her forehead as well. "- but this is certainly the most intimate way you've shown it." you added, and she definitely felt a bit flustered. either way, arlecchino does not say a word, and chooses to continue expressing her emotions through actions.

her kisses go lower, and lower, and the sensitivity that you feel from increases.

silence rings throughout the room, except for your moans off the walls. her gratitude and devotion to you was as clear as day. her hands gently held you down by the hips as she pulled down your panties with her teeth. it was fucking hot, to see her hold you completely still with her strength alone-- and the eye contact that she kept as she stripped your pussy bare.

"my beloved, do i have permission?"

"of course, my love."

arlecchino knows that asking consent, despite it being already established beforehand, was a major turn on for you. she started by light kitten licks to your clit, making you gasp with each time her tongue made contact with the sensitive bud. the quick and light flicks were a tease, and made you tremble in anticipation.

"the mother of my children, what a pretty pussy you have.."

she mumbles in pure adoration, her breath lightly grazing against your exposed slit. you couldn't help but let out a shaky gasp of her name, "a-arlecchino.. please, do something.." you begged. "patience, my beloved." she answers, but dives right in between your legs to give your slit one, long, lick. it drove you crazy, but it felt so good. she slid her hands under your knees, bringing you closer to her, before holding onto your thighs to keep you spread apart.

"mm, you taste so splendid on my tongue, beloved.."

she moans, before finally indulging both you and her with the pleasure of her tongue roaming, exploring and pleasing your pussy. you started to squirm with the increasing intensity of her licks, and soon she was eating you out like a starved madman. thank god for strong hands, as you could barely keep yourself still, if it weren't for her holding you down you would have kept lifting yourself off the bed.

"a-arlecchino- arle-!"

you cried out her name, as her tounge darted inside you. you were close. so close. arlecchino however, was currently drunk on your moans and the taste of your slick, too busy savoring the raw taste of you, her lover. she hadn't noticed the way your cries were getting louder, or how tighter your grip on her head was becoming-- so she was surprised when you suddenly closed your thighs around her head, a bit of your fluids landing on her lips and tongue, accompanied with a loud cry of her name. she spread your legs apart once more and kept it open through the whole duration of your orgasm, wanting to see how your pussy throbbed and dripped, wanting to admire how pretty you were when you came undone because of her actions.

after you've settled down, she immediately joins you for a cuddle, she was not finished for the night- no, but she'd grant you a short moment of respite. she lays her head on your chest, closing her eyes as she listens to your heartbeat. "my love, i am still surprised how you've managed to notice my way of showing gratitude when i haven't realized it myself.", she mentions. you smiled at that, and looked at her. "to be known is to be loved. i love you, peruere."

she opens her mouth to speak, wanting to further inquire what you meant by that, but closes her mouth as she realizes what you meant once you call her peruere, the name that she hid away as it represents her past, her most fragile self, that only you've come to know instead of arlecchino, the name that spreads far and wide, which strikes fear and conquers respect from the hearts of many.

she nods in agreement, wrapping her arm around you tighter. her heart swelling from the feeling of loving and being loved, of knowing and being known. to be recognized. to be appreciated.

"i agree, my beloved. i am thankful that you've come to know me as who i really am, and stayed to love me despite what i've come to be. i love you too."

#arlecchino x reader smut #arlecchino x female reader #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino genshin impact #arlecchino smut #lilac writes💜#🔥 anon #lilac asks💜

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wosomaanum · 2 days

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Just In Time | Frida Maanum

Summary: You and Frida decide to go to a party where not everything goes to plan

Warnings: creepy people, homophobia, alcohol, party things yk

You and Frida are getting ready in your shared apartment, the scent of her favorite vanilla body spray mingling with the faint sound of indie music playing in the background. Frida stands in front of the mirror, adjusting her earrings, while you fuss with the shirt. She catches your eye in the reflection, offering a reassuring smile.

"Ready to go?" she asks, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Yeah, let's do this," you reply, taking her hand as you head out the door.

The walk to the party is filled with light conversation and laughter, Frida's presence always a source of comfort and joy. When you arrive, the house is already buzzing with energy, music pumping through the walls, and groups of people scattered around, talking and dancing.

“Wow, it’s crowded in here.” You state, a hint of uncertainty present in your voice.

“It is. Just stay close yeah?” Frida replies, her thick Norwegian accent peaking through.

“Don’t worry, nothings going to happen.” You reply, you weren’t sure if you were trying to reassure Frida or yourself.

“Darling, I know you can handle yourself. I’d much rather be safe than sorry. Just let me know roughly where you’re gonna go and remember: you have a phone for a reason.” She stays, matter of factly.

“Right. I’m just gonna go to the toilet then alright? Love you.” You kiss Frida on the cheek offering her a smile to what she exchanges cutely.

On your way to the bathroom, you decide to take a look in the kitchen to scout out the drinks. You were by no means a drinker but you knew Frida was the designated driver. Which meant two things:

1. You could get tipsy

2. You could only get tipsy. Not flat out drunk. Or Frida would be on your back.

The kitchen is packed, but you manage to find a spot near the counter. As you pour yourself a drink (okay, just a quick one), a guy you don’t recognise sidles up next to you. He's taller than you, with an overly confident smirk plastered on his face.

"Hey there," he says, leaning in a bit too close for comfort. "I haven't seen you around here before. Can I get you another drink?"

"No, thanks. I'm good," you reply, trying to keep your tone polite but firm. You were already feeling tipsy by now as you had spontaneously chugged down two solo cups worth. You knew Frida would be scolding you later - but that didn’t matter right now.

He doesn't take the hint, instead stepping even closer. "Come on, just one drink. What's the harm?"

You glance around, hoping to spot Frida, but she's still across the room, chatting with some friends. "I said no, thanks," you repeat, more forcefully this time.

The guy's smirk fades slightly, but he doesn't back off. "Don't be like that. I'm just trying to be friendly."

You try to step away, but he blocks your path, his presence becoming more oppressive. "Seriously, I don't want a drink," you say, louder this time, hoping someone nearby will notice.

His eyes narrow slightly, and he leans in even closer, his breath hot on your ear. "Why are you being such a prude? I'm just being nice."

Panic starts to bubble up inside you, your heart racing as you try to push him away. "Leave me alone," you demand, your voice trembling.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Relax, I'm not going to bite. Just trying to have a conversation. What's your name?"

You take a step back, trying to put some distance between you. "It's none of your business," you snap, hoping to sound more confident than you feel.

He rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed. "No need to be so rude. I'm just asking a simple question."

"Look, I'm here with someone," you say, trying a different tactic. "I'm not interested."

"Oh, come on," he says, his tone turning condescending. "Whoever it is, they can't be that great if they left you alone. Just one drink, and if you still want me to leave, I will."

You shake your head, backing up further. "I already told you, I'm not interested. Please, just leave me alone. And don’t insult my girlfriend.”

His expression darkens, and he steps forward again, ignoring your plea. "You know, you're making this a lot harder than it needs to be."

"I don't care," you snap, louder this time, hoping the raised volume will attract someone's attention. "I said no. Now back off."

He laughs, a harsh, mocking sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "Feisty, I like that. Come on, just one drink. It's not going to kill you."

Desperation starts to creep in as you look around the room, searching for a familiar face. "I'm not interested," you repeat, your voice shaking with anger and fear. "Why can't you just take no for an answer?"

"Because I'm not used to hearing it," he replies smugly. "You're not going to find anyone better than me here, so why not just give it a shot?"

You glance around again, feeling trapped. "Look, you're making me really uncomfortable. Please, just go away."

"Uncomfortable?" he scoffs. "I'm just talking to you. You don't have to be so dramatic."

"I'm not interested because I'm here with my girlfriend," you say, hoping that will make him back off.

His expression changes, a sneer spreading across his face. "Oh, so you're one of those. That explains a lot."

"Did I not already tell you that? And, What do you mean by that?" you ask, feeling a surge of anger mix with your fear.

"Just that it makes sense why you're so uptight," he says, leaning in closer again. "Trying to play the victim, huh? You think you're too good for a guy like me because you like girls?"

"That's none of your business," you say firmly, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just leave me alone."

"Come on, don't be like that," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "Maybe you just haven't been with the right guy yet."

"Back off," you say, louder now, hoping someone will notice and intervene.

"What's going on here?" Frida's voice cuts through the tension, her tone calm but authoritative. She walks up, her eyes immediately assessing the situation. Sliding her arm around your waist, she fixes the guy with a steady gaze. "Is there a problem?"

The guy looks between the two of you, clearly irritated. "We were just talking," he says, attempting to brush off the situation.

Frida tightens her hold on you, her eyes not leaving his. "It didn't look like she wanted to talk," she says calmly but firmly. "She told you to leave her alone."

"Mind your own business," he snaps, his bravado faltering slightly under Frida's intense gaze.

Frida maintains her calm demeanor, her voice unwavering. "She is my business. If she asked you to leave her alone, you should respect that."

He hesitates, clearly not used to being challenged. "Look, I'm not trying to start anything. Just having a conversation," he says, his tone trying to sound reasonable but failing.

Frida's expression softens slightly as she addresses him again. "Look, she clearly doesn't want to continue this conversation. Let's all just move on and enjoy the party, okay?"

"Whatever," he mutters, but he doesn't move.

Frida remains calm, her grip on you firm but gentle. "Did you not hear her? She's not interested. Leave us alone."

The guy's face flushes with anger and embarrassment. "I just don't get you people," he says, his voice rising. "Always playing the victim card. Maybe if you weren't such prudes, you'd see how stupid this all is."

"Excuse me?" Frida's voice remains calm, but there's an edge to it now. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," he snaps, his bravado returning. "You lesbians always think everyone's out to get you. Maybe if you tried being normal for once, you wouldn't have these problems."

Frida takes a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his. "We're not the problem here. You are. We're here to have a good time, just like everyone else. If you can't handle that, maybe you should leave."

"Oh, I'm the problem now?" he scoffs. "You two are just asking for trouble, flaunting your lifestyle in everyone's faces."

"Enough," Frida says, her voice firm but controlled. "This conversation is over. Leave us alone."

He glares at both of you, clearly frustrated. "Fine, whatever. You're not worth the trouble." He turns and stalks off into the crowd, disappearing from view.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding and turn to Frida, who is watching you with concern.

"You okay?" she asks, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Yeah, thanks. He just wouldn't take a hint," you reply, leaning into her touch.

"I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to deal with that and I’m sorry I didn’t get to you quicker. Let's get out of here," Frida suggests softly. "This place is too crowded anyway and you need to get home before it’s dark."

You nod, grateful for her suggestion. She keeps an arm around you as you both navigate through the throng of people and out into the cooler night air. The drive home is quieter, but Frida's presence beside you is as comforting as ever.

When you reach your apartment, she unlocks the door and lets you in first, her protective instincts still in high gear. Inside, you kick off your shoes and collapse onto the couch, feeling the tension of the evening finally start to fade.

Frida sits next to you, her hand resting on your knee. "You sure you're okay?" she asks again, her eyes searching yours.

"I'm fine now," you assure her, taking her hand in yours. "Thanks for stepping in. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't."

"Anytime," she says with a soft smile. "You know I've got your back."

You lean against her, feeling safe and loved. The party might not have been what you expected, but having Frida by your side makes everything better.

“I can’t believe he said all that. I know I was tipsy but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out his intentions, in fact I think the ‘prude’ may have done it.”

“It’s best not to think about it hey. He was a total dickhead but I’m just glad your safe that’s the most important thing. Let’s just calm down now and we can talk more in the morning if need be. I’m here for you, you know that.”

The rest of the evening is spent in the comfort of your apartment, wrapped up in each other. Frida makes sure you're okay, periodically checking in with gentle touches and reassuring words. She walks you through your feelings, letting you vent about the guy and how he made you feel, always listening intently.

As the night grows later, she suggests you both watch a movie to distract from the earlier ordeal. You agree, and soon you're cuddled up on the couch, the soft glow of the TV casting a warm light over the room. Frida holds you close, her arms wrapped around you.

————-

You wake up the next morning encased by Frida’s strong arms. You both stir awake.

“You know, now that you are feeling better, I think we better discuss you downing two vodkas eh?”

#arsenal women #arsenal #football #lesbian #love #frida maanum x reader #frida maanum #arsenal women x reader #woso x reader #woso #norway

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idleoblivion · 2 days

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"How do I Look?" Ace Trappola x GN Reader

Synopsis: He doesn’t get why you’re so excited for this stupid dance, but he stops complaining once he sees you dressed up.

Word Count: ~1k

A/N: Fun fact I absolutely hated Ace when I started the game and now I'm ride or die for that stupid ginger I love him

Warnings: Ace is majorly in denial, you both tease each other

“Are you almost done?” He shouts into the air.

He’s seriously had enough of this. He’s sitting on the creaky old couch in the common room of Ramshackle, where he's been for 20 minutes waiting for you.

“You’re the one who wanted to wait for me so bad!” You yell back at him from upstairs.

“Whatever, just don’t complain about how late we are when you’re finished!”

What you said was true, technically. He had decided to wait for you to get ready while the rest of your friends went ahead of you. But that was just because he wanted to spend as little time as possible at that stupid dance, that was all. He messed with the collar of his dress shirt, not liking how stuffy his outfit made him feel.

What was the point of this? He knew he’d end up just standing off to the side, he wasn’t interested in dancing. If it was some casual after school thing maybe he would, but he hated having to dress fancy and look nice all for a dance that was too formal to let loose at. He had half a mind to convince Deuce to ditch it with him, but you were adamant about going. And then your enthusiasm rubbed off on Deuce, so his choices were to suck it up or spend the whole night alone. Which still wouldn’t have been awful, but he kept remembering that glum look on your face when he had started saying he didn’t want to go.

But it’s not like he cared about making you sad, it was just easier to give in than deal with you pouting about it. Yeah, that was it.

He pulls out his phone and checks the time again. It’s been 25 minutes now and he groans. He wasn’t in a rush to get there, but were you moving slow on purpose? It was just as boring hanging out on your couch by himself as it would’ve been at the dance. He’s about to yell at you again when he finally hears your bedroom door open, and your footsteps as you head towards the stairs.

“Finally, took you long enough.” He turns his head to look at you, and the follow up remark he had ready gets caught in his throat.

You look…nice. He tries to shut that thought down, but as he looks you up and down it only reinforces itself. You look really, really good.

You always do. It drives him crazy, annoys him even. He’s one of your best friends, so you let yourself be more casual around him. He’s seen you wake up after a sleepover with your hair an absolute disaster. He’s seen you sweaty and tired after convincing you and Deuce to play basketball with him. He’s seen you with bags under your eyes from studying for so long with him. No matter what you’re doing, you always look good.

But that’s just because you’re attractive! He can own up to that, he thinks, it’s pretty objective. He can say you’re attractive without it meaning anything. Surely almost everyone at this school thinks that, he can’t be the only one.

…Why did that thought upset him more? He didn’t like you, but it would make sense if other guys did. You’re more than good-looking, you were charming too. You’re funny and kind and smart and thoughtful, you really would be the perfect-

FRIEND. You’re the perfect friend, a great friend. An awesome friend who has his back, isn’t afraid to hold him accountable, can stand up to his teasing, gets along with his other friends, and always makes time for him. You’re a really, really good friend, and that’s it.

You stand at the bottom of the staircase, oblivious to the way you’ve made his mind start racing. You jokingly strike a pose and smile at him.

��How do I look?” you ask. As if you really need to. As if you weren’t giving him a crisis.

“...You’ve looked worse.”

You roll your eyes and walk over to smack his arm lightly. “Thanks, jerk. Let’s get going now, the other guys are probably wondering where we are.” “And whose fault is that?”

“Shut up!”

You continue to argue lightheartedly as you walk out of your dorm, and all the way up to the main school building. He’s got another sarcastic remark locked and loaded when you put your arm around his and he freezes. You notice him tense up and laugh.

“Come on, take me in like a gentleman. Since you wanted to walk in alone with me so badly.” “Did not!” His face is red and muscles feel stiff, but he makes no move to stop you. You laugh at him again but before he can retort you’re dragging him in through the doorway.

“Maybe I’ll make you dance with me, too. Since you were so eager to get here.”

He wasn’t at all, but he doesn’t say that. He’s a little preoccupied with the weight of your arm around his still, and how every time he sees you out of the corner of his eye his heart skips a beat.

But of course, it doesn’t mean anything. Definitely not. Not at all.

“I’m serious. You’re dancing with me, since if you don’t you’ll just be a killjoy standing in the corner. Come on.” You declare with a teasing smile. You pull him by the arm into the middle of the room with you.

…You're going to be the death of him, he’s sure of it.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x gn reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst fluff #ace trappola #ace trapolla x reader #twst ace #ace trapolla x yuu

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leclerc-s · 10 hours

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karma - part seven

series masterlist // previous // next

ollie bearman IS SHE PREGNANT? ARE YOU PREGNANT??

liam lawson who's pregnant?

yuki tsunoda WHO'S HAVING A BABY??

max verstappen me. charles is the father.

natalia leclerc i can't believe this is how i had to find out my husband is cheating on me.

sebastian vettel what the hell is wrong with you two?

max verstappen well that depends how much time do you have?

natalia leclerc ooh too much.

daniel ricciardo we don't have enough time to go over everything.

ollie bearman WHO'S HAVING A BABY??

arthur leclerc AM I GOING TO BE AN UNCLE?? TELL ME I'M GOING TO BE AN UNCLE?

kimi räikkönen🤰🏻??

natalia leclerc

arthur leclerc i may have just told maman she was going to be a grandma...

natalia leclerc ARTHUR LECLERC WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!!

arthur leclerc CHARLES YOUR WIFE IS PLOTTING MY MURDER!!

charles leclerc MAMAN IS CALLING ME ARTHUR!! YOU DESERVE TO DIE!!!

ollie bearman I'M GONNA BE A BROTHER!!

liam lawson to a dog oliver. ollie bearman IT'S A BABY LIAM!! MY BABY BROTHER!! AND DON'T CALL ME OLIVER, LAWSON!!

yuki tsunoda awww when can i meet the baby??

daniel ricciardo aww what a cute baby.

sebastian vettel all this drama for a dog??

charles leclerc not just a dog seb!! his name a leo and he's our baby!! according to twitter he's now your grandchild.

kimi räikkönen ha! grandpa!

max verstappen aww, thank you for naming your dog after me.

natalia leclerc HE'S NOT NAMED AFTER YOU VERSTAPPEN!!

charles leclerc leo leclerc just sounds better than anything else.

max verstappen oh be quiet we all know you named him after me. i'm going to tell everyone you named him after me.

daniel ricciardo he's already started telling people.

natalia_leclerc posted new stories

since apparently i'm pregnant, enjoy my ultrasound picture. i've got my mother-in-law calling me because arthur told her i'm pregnant. pretty little boy. this is a picture of our baby after birth.

liked by natalia_leclerc, sukiwaterhouse, sebastianvettel and others

charles_leclerc welcome home baby leo 🤍 🤍 🤍

tagged: natalia_leclerc

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user1 HIS NAME IS LEO? THAT'S SO FUCKING CUTE!!

natalia_leclerc that's our baby boy.

charles_leclerc i want a girl next. a real one. maxverstappen1 please remember that i share a drivers room wall and a hotel wall room with you two. natalia_leclerc ooh more reason to make you miserable. don’t enjoy it too much verstappen

user2 i demand content with roscoe and leo.

sukiwaterhouse you just had to tie her down someway didn't you?

charles_leclerc WE'VE BEEN DATING FOR FIVE YEARS! WE'RE MARRIED! I DIDN'T TIE HER DOWN!!

rileykeough i demand to meet baby leo as soon as possible.

natalia_leclerc of course love of my life. charles_leclerc i am doomed to third wheel my entire marriage. joris__trouche welcome to my world. i've been stuck here for a long time.

user3 aww they're parents now!

user4 parents are parents guys!!

user5 aww what a cute puppy!!

landonorris sir, that is our child now. he is the grid's child.

charles_leclerc back off, that's my child. not yours. alex_albon you could never become albonpets so suck on that leclerc

olliebearman i demand to meet my sibling!!

user6 when the heck did they adopt ollie? user7 probably somewhere between bahrain and abu dhabi last year.

liked by charles_leclerc, rileykeough, olliebearman and others

natalia_leclerc baby leo with a gift from baby ollie 🤎

tagged: charles_leclerc, olliebearman

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olliebearman my baby brother!!

charles_leclerc my sons!!

arthur_leclerc SHE'S STILL TRYING TO KILL ME!!

natalia_leclerc YOU TOLD MAMAN I WAS PREGNANT!! YOU GOT HER EXCITED AND I HAD TO BE THE ONE TO TELL HER WE GOT A PUPPY!! athur_leclerc PLEASE STOP!!

user8 aww that's the cutest baby boy ever!

user9 bless ollie for getting baby leo a stuffy

rileykeough i demand you bring him over the next time we see each other

natalia_leclerc yes, of course my love.

user10 cutest family ever.

user11 the puppy belly!! it's cute!!

user12 oh the puppy belly is so fucking cute!!

alex_albon i will steal that puppy if you bring him to the paddock

natalia_leclerc well now i'm now i'm no longer letting him tag along. georgerussell63 BOO!! BRING THE BABY!!

maxverstappen1 you named him after me!!

charles_leclerc STOP SAYING THAT!! maxverstappen1 you did!! admit it!! user13 the couple's quarrels stay on the track guys! user14 i don't know how kimi puts up with them

sebastian vettel for the love of god. the next time someone asks you about sainz. do not answer the question.

charles leclerc the people have a right to know how i felt!

sebastian vettel by saying, 'once mattia left it was only a matter of time before he left' is not a good look charles.

natalia leclerc but did he lie?

sebastian vettel you zip it, you're next.

max verstappen all she said was, 'i'm glad that fraud is gone.'

natalia leclerc and in my defense, i was talking about mattia.

sebastian vettel kimi, please deal with your drivers.

kimi räikkönen did they lie?

daniel ricciardo i personally think this is great.

yuki tsunoda i know oscar has let out a sigh of relief.

arthur leclerc what is his problem with oscar? someone on twitter said it was because oscar posed a threat to carlando. i think they're right.

liam lawson i saw that it was because he wants his job at mclaren back.

natalia ruiz he hates oscar because he hates me. that is my son!

sebastian vettel you're all children.

ollie bearman okay grandpa. kimi räikkönen 😂😂

taglist: @vroomvroommuppett @charlesgirl16 @someoneintheworld @iconicbookstore @evans-dejong @minmira95 @d3kstar @lollie0024 @magical-spit @rockyhayzkid @weekendlusting @ironspdy @namgification @moonyzsworld @emilyval1 @lorenakaspersen @spilled-coffee-cup @butterfly-lover @blushmimi @lovely-blackinnon @six-call @bingewatche @vroomvroom95 @lesliiieeeee @fletchingarcher @casperlikej @minmira95 @nichmeddar @chezmardybum @nikfigueiredo @buckybarnessweetheart @scuderiadevils @bellalilo @landonorizzz @sargeantdumbass @seesaw-it @evie-119 @doodlehunz @dark-night-sky-99 @si1ver06

not taggable: @janeholt3 @Fall-bambi @leanneg97 @asparklysoul @gemnetjournal @mgmoore @itscrzy @alymeddar @raavadakedavra @solidalibi @bi-bitch-bi @a-beaverhausen

click here to be added to the karma taglist

¡leclerc-s speaks! can you tell at what point i decided i didn't want to write for every race and decided to summarize it? and of course i had to include little leo somehow!!

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #karma series #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #f1 x female oc #charles leclerc x female oc

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mrsparrasblog · 19 hours

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Bridgerton x COD crossover

I had so much fun writing this, and TW there will be historical inacurence.

"So what makes you stand out, Miss Lacington?" he asked while he spun the red-haired woman around. She was indeed beautiful, but her dress made her look like a runaway circus animal. However, proper dress code was something he could teach a lady. He knew he couldn’t be too picky; he was a stained viscount, tarnished by the war he had seen and attended. Yet, he didn't regret a second of his life. Being a captain was more important to him than being Viscount Price, but now that his mama was sick, he knew he needed to find a proper lady to grant her the last wish of seeing him married. Perhaps she hoped for a marriage of love, but he already knew that wasn’t for him. Love is for fools. He would marry a woman who could provide him with an heir and fulfill the duty of being Viscountess Price without getting involved in any of Lady Whistledown's scandals.

"I'm skilled at stitching and the pianoforte," she replied. Another one of them, he sighed before walking away, seeking someone more exciting. He saw Miss Winston; at least she had better looks, looks worthy of a viscountess.

"So, Miss Winston, what do you think of children?"

"They’re cute to look at," the young woman smiled, and her eager mama smiled even more.

"Children are not cute to watch; they are to care for, Miss."

"But that’s what maids are for?"

That was enough for him. If it weren’t for his mother, he would have stormed out immediately, but he allowed himself the luxury of hiding on the sidelines. "How is it possible that one cannot find a fitting lady in a room full of them?" he cursed under his breath, not realizing he was being watched until he heard a soft chuckle. When he turned around, he was in denial that you were even real. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Not the ladies in Paris, Milan, or Edinburgh could compare to such a beautiful woman like you, dressed in the finest blue fabric, with curves that were to die for, so unlikely for a woman in England. You held your mouth shut, trying to hide your laughter at his outburst. Another man might have been offended, but he was intrigued. You were bold and beautiful—a dangerous combination. "What is so amusing, Miss?"

Instead of blushing or getting anxious, you just replied with a proper apology.

“No need to apologize, miss…?”

"Miss L/N, daughter of the Earl of Sussex," you replied confidently.

John’s eyebrow perked up at the mention of your father's title, but otherwise, he said nothing in reply, keeping his expression neutral. He was certainly not used to ladies with such confidence who held titles. “Miss L/N,” he repeated as if committing it to memory. “And what do you think of the suitors of the ton so far? Did you come to try your luck on the London marriage mart?”

"I made my debut last year, and indeed I seek a husband."

"Surely, you will be successful at such a task with your beauty; you are certainly not lacking in that area,” he complimented you genuinely. He knew he should leave already; you were unfitting for him. He tried hard not to seek someone like you, who had the chance of finding a devoted husband, someone who wasn’t scarred by war, too close to his cigars, and went to every brothel in London. Only Prince MacTavish was a bigger rake than him. You’d be better off with one of the Bridgerton brothers.

"Excuse me, my lord, may I speak freely?"

John’s eyebrow raised again, this time with mild concern. It was quite rare to be asked for permission to speak by someone in the ton. But he granted your request, intrigued by what you had to say. “Of course, you may speak freely, Miss L/N.”

“If a suitor only seeks me out for my looks, he isn’t a proper candidate for a husband,” this was singlehandedly the smartest thing he had ever heard from a lady of the ton.

John's expression shifted from one of concern to mild, amused confusion at your response, surprised that you said something he actually had to agree with. You were not wrong, after all. Any man would be a fool not to be drawn to your looks, but only a proper match would see past your beauty. He gave a short nod of agreement. “An astute observation, Miss L/N. Yes, only a proper suitor would see past the first impression and see you for everything you have to offer.” It was time to go, he thought, but he wasn’t able to move. He enjoyed an intelligent conversation. Of course, he had them at the club with Garrick, Riley, and MacTavish, but this was different.

"And you, Mister Price, why do the London debutantes not appeal to you?" He was good-looking, a bit too old perhaps, but not older than 32, which was still younger than some of the men who tried to court you. He could clearly have anyone here, maybe even the diamond of the season. Why was he complaining and even listening to your nonsense?

“I suppose...I am looking for a rather specific type in the woman I plan to have as my viscountess. She must be intelligent, capable of holding a proper conversation, and also willing to provide me with heirs. I have little interest in the simpering debutantes who cannot do much more than curtsy, smile prettily, and fawn over me.”

A small chuckle escaped your lips as you heard the crotchety man. "Don’t forget, my lord, they can also wave fans."

"Ah, how could I forget? How important would the ton be without fans," he commented with a sarcastic tone, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "However will I remember all of the intricate signals they flutter in my direction? Will this catch my attention?"

"That's a question you need to ask yourself, Mister Price."

"Perhaps it is a question I have been pondering for some time," he remarked with a shrug before tilting his head and observing you for a second. "And what of you, Miss L/N? What type of suitor are you looking for in a husband? Surely you have a list prepared as well.” He could curse himself for asking, but maybe you would say an unfitting description, and he could move away in the direction of the eager mothers and their dense debutantes.

"I seek a suitor who isn’t shallow, who is kind and isn’t a rake, who can provide for me and our future kids, and if I may dream, someone I would fall in love with,” you answered truthfully, as you always did, a bit too openly for your mother's liking. But she couldn’t really complain about that when you had suitors waiting in line to court you. You promised your mother that you would marry after this season. If you didn’t find love, it would be a political marriage.

Your list mirrored his own almost perfectly, and yet the mention of falling in love with your match was something out of reach for him. "An admirable list, indeed. If only more young ladies in the ton were this grounded," he said with a hint of melancholy before giving you another compliment. "Miss L/N, you surprise me each time you open your mouth."

"Most suitors are negatively surprised when I open my mouth."

"Oh really now? I find that rather unfortunate. A woman of your intellect should be celebrated, not shunned. How many ladies can hold their own during a conversation or even converse on a topic that isn’t a dress? I have had more than my fair share of mindless conversations with the debutantes and their mothers. It is quite…dull."

"Well, maybe you need to improve your search, Mr. Price, when all the ladies on your dance card are this simple-minded." You couldn’t be more direct. Didn't he notice how you hoped he would ask you for a dance? You would gladly throw your dance card away for the prospect of courtship with him.

"But pray tell me, what would your recommendations be for me to improve my search, since you seem to be more clever than the entire room," he said mockingly towards you. He didn’t get the hint. Maybe he was the simple-minded man you thought.

"I wouldn’t call myself clever, Mr. Price. Please, just call me observant. You need to look for a woman who isn’t eager to talk to you with her mama, who isn't aware of your title." You didn’t care that he was a viscount; your father was an earl. That title alone made you able to marry most men in the ton, maybe not Prince MacTavish, despite his efforts for several seasons to find a woman to love.

"I commend your observational and quite sound advice, miss. I suppose I will have to go with a different approach than the one I have used previously," he commented, somewhat amused. "I'm sure my mother would be quite happy to have me take it in a different direction. How you have managed to surprise me twice in the same conversation baffles me."

"Maybe your conversations are mostly blunt."

Oh, you had a way too big mouth for a lady of the ton, but it was refreshing. He already looked for different debutantes who seemed less sophisticated than the previous ones. When he noticed Lord Riley approaching you to ask you for a dance, of course, you agreed like a proper lady would. He couldn't help but feel just a teensy bit jealous of the man he shared many war stories with. He wasn't often jealous, but there was something about how quickly you accepted the offer and seemed willing to flutter your eyelashes and smile at him. "Lord Riley is quite the lucky man," he muttered to himself.

"Found any interesting lassie?" That accent he recognized out of a million people. He bowed in front of the younger prince whom he had taught how to use the archer and ride a horse.

"No, indeed...there are no ladies this season that have caught my eye," he added before he glanced back across the room to where you were dancing with Lord Riley, a hint of a frown on his face.

"I saw your conversation with Miss L/N."

"I did have a rather stimulating conversation with her, indeed." He then tilted his head slightly. "You were watching us, your highness? How unlike you to be paying attention to something like that," he added with a hint of humor in his voice, having to admit the prince caught him somewhat off guard.

"She would make a stunning viscountess."

John knew better than to argue with the prince on the matter, especially at such a public event, so he instead chose to reply with a short nod of agreement to indicate he would entertain the suggestion, even if it was something he had no genuine interest in doing. As he did so, he could not bring himself to look back across the room where you were, having caught sight of the way you batted your lashes at Lord Riley and laughed at something he said.

As the ball finally came to an end, John's relief was immediate. He could finally depart from the room full of debutantes and eager mamas. He couldn't have been more keen to leave, but he did find himself pausing for a moment upon exiting the room—glancing back in hopes of catching another glimpse of the elusive Miss L/N. He couldn't help but find his gaze lingering on you for a moment as you stood chatting with the other girls, your gaze shifting between the ones speaking as you tried to look as though you were interested in their conversation. He found himself watching you for a moment before his head shook slightly, breaking the momentary trance. "Get a hold of yourself, Price," he muttered under his breath, his fingers fiddling with the cufflinks of his suit before he finally departed the room.

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daydreaming-nerd · 3 days

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Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 13

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: This is more of a filler chapter before shit gets fucking wild in the next one. I'm telling you I'm so pumped for the next chapter ahhhhh! It's not super exciting but I hope you all enjoy it! If you're new here from The Prophecy... Hi!🥰🖤

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Mentions of under the mountain and what Eris did

Word Count: 5,338

Rhys POV:

I had finally allowed myself to hope.

The circumstances of which I had granted myself that hope was…well… unpleasant. I would never wish Feyre to be under duress for any reason, but it did bring her into my court for good. When Mor came back with her I had never felt so relieved. I wanted to say that I couldn’t believe that Tamlin would lock her up like that, but I would be lying to myself.

It wasn’t the first time she had been to Velaris. Once I saw the state she was in at the wedding, too thin, too pale, I started calling in the bargain. I saw her improving dramatically since I started doing so, pink lining her cheeks, muscles building on her arms. She had yet to meet anyone but Mor. Y/n had been dying to meet my mate, but I didn’t want to overwhelm Feyre. She was still learning what it meant to be fae, still getting used to her new life, and still learning to trust me.

“So you are both High Fae and Illyrian?” Feyre asks, messing with the leftover food on her plate.

“Yes, my mother was Illyrian and my father was High Fae. That is why I can summon Illyrian wings when I want to.” I answered her question truthfully. I knew that no matter what I wanted to be honest with her, let her see every dark part of me and choose to love me anyways, I owed her that.

“Were they mates?” she inquires further.

“Yes they were,” I replied, secretly hanging on every word she said. I tried my best to act aloof, but when she was here? In my home? It was hard to keep my cool.

“How do you know someone is your mate?” she queries and my heart drops.

I know that she is talking about Tamlin in her own subtle way, wondering if the High Lord of Spring is her mate.

“You don’t always know right away, take Kallias and Viviane, they didn’t know they were mates until they were married,” I explained to her, I watched her face lighten, no doubt thinking that there was still a chance for her and Tamlin.

“I’ve never met a set of mates before,” she said with a hint of longing, like if she could just set eyes on a pair it might ease her mind.

“Would you like to?” My words slipped out before I could think of the implications of them.

Her eyes flitted up in amusement and I swore I melted at her lighthearted gaze, “I would.” she said.

“My younger sister, y/n. She’s mates with my general, Cassian. We can go and see them if you would like.” I say thinking about how excited y/n will be to finally meet the cursebreaker.

“I would like that very much,” Feyre smiled.

I stood and walked with Feyre to the edge of the property outside the townhouse. It wasn’t the first time I had flown with her, but I could still tell she was apprehensive of the height. I took the fastest route to The House of Wind and made sure to fly like I was holding my mothers china. Feyre was far from breakable, she was strong enough to withstand just about anything. But that didn’t mean I was going to be someone who challenged that strength, not like Tamlin did. When we arrived at the huge mansion I could feel the female's eyes glancing over the exterior in awe.

“This is another one of my homes, but I tend to stay in the townhouse. My little sister and Cassian live here with Azriel.” I say opening the door for her.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, her eyes taking in every single detail.

I try to pry into y/n and Cassian’s mental shields but I’m met with nothing. They were here though, their scents lingered in the library we passed on the way to Cassian’s room. I knock on the door and I’m met with silence.

“Cassian? Y/n?” I call out hoping for some sort of answer but hear nothing once more.

As Feyre looks at me expectantly I weigh my options, which would make my sister angrier? Waking her up to meet Feyre or not waking her up to meet Feyre? I let out a shallow breath and chose the latter, opening the door to reveal a giant heap of limbs.

“Oh I didn’t know they were asleep,” Feyre said, moving away.

“Don’t worry about it, y/n will have my head if I don’t introduce you two,” I laugh walking into the dark room, Feyre trailing behind me.

When I approach the bed I can’t even see my little sister, her body covered entirely by Cassian’s wing. The only indication that she’s even there is her small hand peeking out from under it and a tendril of hair on the pillow.

“I thought you said that Illyrians were protective of their wings?” Feyre whispered, clearly questioning why Cass’ wing was draped over y/n.

“They are,” I whisper back. “But she’s his mate. He would rather have his wings shredded than have anything happen to her.” I say fondly. I had to admit, while I was still getting used to Cassian and my little sister being together, it was nice to not have to worry about her safety as much. Anyone who dared to harm her would have to face Cassian. Gods spare that poor fool.

“Even in his sleep?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“Especially in his sleep,” I laugh, moving to shake my sister's hand, trying to wake her.

The second I grasp that small hand to shake it awake Cassian’s eyes fly open and the next thing I know there’s a dagger aimed at my throat and a murderous gaze thrown my way.

“Easy Cass it’s just me,” I chuckle as I hear Feyre gasping and taking a step back.

“Cauldron Rhys you scared the shit out of me,” Cassian sighed lowering the dagger, beside him my sister stirred.

“Cass what’s going on?” she asked, her voice laced with sleep.

“Nothing princess, it's just Rhys,” he answered, smoothing her hair out of her face. It was strange to see my war general so docile and domestic.

“And Feyre Archeron,” I corrected as Feyre took a step further. “Why don’t you two wake up and meet us outside.” I laugh leading Feyre towards the door.

Behind me I can hear Cass gently explaining to a very tired y/n what’s going on.

y/n’s POV:

“Do you think she saw me?” I ask frantically putting on my dress.

My older brother had just ambushed me with his mate and the first time she saw me might’ve been with a bed head. I was angry with him for waking me, but I would’ve been more pissed if he hadn’t done so, not when I wanted to meet the cursebreaker so badly.

“I’m sure she did,” Cassian chuckled, strapping his daggers to his side, no doubt going to train when this is over.

“Ugh,” I sigh, running a brush through my hair. “I probably looked awful.” I sigh, setting down the brush.

I see Cassian walking up to me through the mirror. He wraps his arms around my waist and places a kiss on my shoulder, sending reassurance and affection down the bond.

“I don’t think you’ve ever looked awful a day in your life, princess.” he smiled into my shoulder.

“You have to say that you’re my mate,” I laughed, turning in his arms.

“And your husband don’t forget that title too,” he says, tilting my chin up to meet his warm gaze.

“How could I ever forget that, husband.” I smile, pecking his lips.

Without another word Cassian and I walk hand in hand down the hallway to where Rhys and Feyre are sitting in the living room. I take a moment to survey their body language. While my brother leans on his knees, seemingly drinking in every breath and movement Feyre has to offer, the cursebreaker sits stiffly on the couch. I make eye contact with my brother and he stands immediately.

“Feyre darling I would like to introduce you to Cassian, the general of my armies and y/n, my little sister,” Rhys says proudly gesturing to the two of us.

Feyre turns to see us and I swear my heart stops. The last time I saw the female she was prone on the floor underneath the mountain. Every High Lord had sacrificed a bit of power to save her. Becoming high fae seemed to suit her.

“Hello Feyre, it's an honor to meet you,” I smile.

“The honor is all mine,” she says timidly, giving a slight bow. “I’ve heard stories of your beauty before. Tamiln and Lucien used to talk about you a lot, I never believed them but now I see they were right.”

“Oh really?” Cassian inquired brisling at her words and I considered elbowing him in the ribs.

“You flatter me too much, Feyre.” I say and look to change the subject. “How are you liking Velaris so far?”

“I like it very much, it’s beautiful here.” she says looking around the townhouse. “Rhysand says that you and Cassain are mates?”

“We are, we just had our mating ceremony and our wedding last month,” I say happily. Cauldron, had it already been a month?

“Congratulations to the both of you,” she smiled stiffly.

“I was just about to take a walk through the city, there’s a pastry shop down there that makes croissants stuffed with this delicious chocolate and hazelnut filling. Would you like to join?” I ask, my brother gave me a weary eye, but I shrugged him off. What Feyre needed was a friend, a female friend that is, and I was more than happy to jump at the opportunity.

“I would like that,” she smiles, the blue in her eyes lighting up ever so slightly. “May I walk with your sister oh so powerful high lord?” Feyre turned to Rhys, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Rhys barked out a laugh, one I hadn’t heard in quite some time, “Feyre darling I told you that you are not my prisoner, you may take the air with my sister if it pleases you.” he says gesturing to me.

“Well then shall we?” the cursebreaker asked me.

I couldn’t help but let out a small giggle as I looped my arm in hers, I had a feeling she and I were going to be fast friends.

“You’re right this is incredible,” Feyre’s words were nearly inaudible as flakes of pastry fell from her mouth.

“I know right? I’ve been going there once a week for years. Well sort of…when I was growing up I wasn’t allowed to leave the house. My parents were weird and feared my beauty would be too tempting for males. So they locked me up tight and threw away the key. Rhys used to bring me these pastries all the time, he was my only real window to the outside world.” I divulge, almost regretting telling her so much until I remember how she came to be here in Velaris.

“So you haven’t really seen the other courts then have you?” she asks, wiping some chocolate from the corner of her mouth.

“I actually have,” I smile finishing the last bite of my treat. “When Rhys learned to fly the first thing he did was come and get me and take me to a candy shop. From that day forward he snuck me out whenever he got the chance, that’s how I know Tamlin and Lucien. It never sat right with my brother, what my parents did to me,” I continue, hoping to show a side of Rhys that I knew he would never offer up himself.

Feyre continued walking beside me, for a moment there was silence, as if she was considering my story, comparing it with hers. If she had something to say about Rhys she didn’t divulge, instead turning the conversation to other matters.

“Can I ask about you and your mate?” she queries. “I’m not sure if it’s a personal subject or not, I’m not well versed in the customs of fae.”

“Ask anything you like, I assure you I have no problem talking about my mate,” I laugh thinking of Cassian’s smiling face now.

Feyre gives a subtle laugh, “How did you know he was your mate?” she says, turning her head to read my expression as we further walked down the Sidra, seemingly clinging on my every word just like Rhys had clinged to hers.

“Well Cassian knew first, I didn’t know until much later,” I start recalling the moment the bond snapped, the joy followed by pure terror. “I was set to marry Eris Vanserra, an arrangement made by our fathers a long time ago. When Rhys and I returned from under the mountain we both grew apart as we were both processing what had happened in our own way. He found the arrangement in my fathers things and thought that we could use the Autumn Court’s armies if Hybern should come to call, and after he saved me under the mountain I didn’t want to say no.”

“He saved you, yet you were still down there?” Feyre asked, and I paused for a moment. Rhys had not told her the conditions of his servitude.

“You don’t know?” I ask to make sure. If Rhys didn’t explain to his mate why he took the actions he did, it would be a great disservice to both him and his character, one I would rectify.

“Know what?” she asked clearly not seeing the big deal as she finished off her own croissant.

“The only reason Rhys was Amarantha’s whore was because of me,” I start, feeling the shame seep in. “When we first arrived under the mountain he was able to keep me hidden, but then Hybern paid a visit and he wanted to take me for his wife. Rhys begged Amarantha not to let him take me, she agreed on the condition that he would come to her bed willingly.”

“I-I had no idea,” the cursebreaker stuttered as her eyes zoned out on something far away.

“It’s not something he and I talk about much, but it’s for that reason I chose to marry Eris, to try and repay his sacrifice. However, Eris was cruel, he hurt me and assaulted me, I was nothing more than a pet to him. Cassian was the one to take me back and forth to the Autumn Court during our courtship and I fell in love with him. One night we couldn’t stay away any longer and I found myself in his bed. I knew I couldn’t end the courtship with Eris without bargaining for armies so I kept our relationship a secret.”

“That must’ve been torture,” Feyre gasped her eyes finally finding me.

“It was,” I nodded. “I didn’t know we were mates, and I ended up finding out the day of the wedding, but it was too late. I married Eris to save Velaris and Cassian was banished from Autumn. That night Eris found out I was impure, he dumped me over the Autumn court border and left me to die. If it wasn’t for the bond Cassian never would have found me.” I finished telling the story.

“I- I’m sorry that you had to go through those things. That you came to be with Cassian under such hard circumstances.” she says, as if she doesn’t trust her own words. “But things are better now right? You’re safe?”

I let out a light hearted laugh, trying to keep the conversation from veering anywhere dark, “I’ve never been safer. Eris is out of the picture now that my brother and Cassian have chased him out of town. Now it’s just Cassian and I in our newly mated bliss.” I smile.

“I can see how anyone would run from Rhys,” Feyre rolls her eyes dramatically.

A warm chuckle rumbles through my chest, one so infectious it finds Feyre’s lips too, “I know my brother can be a bit of an ass sometimes. But give him a chance, he might be the king of sarcasm, but underneath all that he truly cares.” I tell her, bumping into her shoulder playfully.

“I suppose I can try, at least I know I have you now,” she smiles looking across the way at a nearby vendor.

My heart smiles at her words.

At least I have you.

My mission was complete. I was able to get her to trust me, to feel like she had a friend in me. Maybe, just maybe, her knowing that there was someone else on her side would bring her closer to Rhys, maybe I could finally find a way to repay the sacrifice my brother gave for me.

I swing the wooden sword down at Cassian’s, the hard impact of them meeting causing a grunt to leave my lips. The hot sun beat down on us as we spared as best we could. He could easily beat me if he wanted to, I was still a beginner after all, but he never made me feel like I was inferior. We had been out here for over an hour, the evidence of it being seen on my sweaty fighting leathers. My second set, to be exact. Once my first set got dirty and sweaty Cassian bought me another so I didn’t have to wash them so often.

I had no clue where he got them, but somehow these were even more beautiful than the last set. My mate even got me a Illyrian steel corset that would keep me from being lacerated, as well as metal bracers to protect my wrists. At first they took some getting used to, the weight of them a new feeling, but now they were like a second skin.

“Sword high princess,” Cassian instructed me as I felt the weight of the wooden sword start to bring my arm down.

“It's heavy!” I protest swinging at him again, this time with both hands on the hilt to hit him harder, even though he told me not to do that.

His sword clashes with mine and in one swoop he uses his wooden blade to raise my own. My hands were high above my head as he stood inches from me.

“I know it’s heavy just wait until you wield a real sword,” he says, placing a kiss on my nose, taunting me. “And don’t use both hands, in real combat you’ll have a shield as well, you’ll need to be able to use that sword with one hand.”

I let out a low growl before stepping on his foot, earning a groan from him as he didn’t see it coming. My sword sits heavy in my hands as I swing it, knocking his legs out from under him and using my shoulder as extra force to put him on the ground. He lies on his back below me, wooden sword tumbling from his hand. I see him reach for it and lightly press the toe of my boot into his wrist and lower myself on top of him, placing the pretend blade to his throat.

Cassian’s hazel eyes look up at me in pure awe and amusement and something I had only ever seen from him, pride.

“Is it bad that this is turning me on right now?” he barked out a laugh causing me to break my menacing stare.

I snort at his words, letting up the pressure I had on his arms in the process, “Cass you ruin everything!” I laughed, tossing my sword to the side and shifting my foot off his wrist so that I sat fully on his stomach.

“You call it ruining the moment, I say I’m making it better,” he smirks as his hands find my hips.

The Lord of Bloodshed leans up to place a passionate kiss on my lips. My hands find either of his cheeks needing him closer to me than he already is. As his tongue swipes my bottom lip and enters my mouth I let out a small moan that has him shifting beneath me.

“Really guys on the training mat? Is nowhere sacred anymore?” Azriel’s causes us both to nearly jump out of our skin.

“Cauldron Az,” Cassian curses, putting a hand over his heart like it might’ve stopped. “Enough with the spymaster shit you scared the piss out of me.”

A smirk tugged at Azriel’s lips, “You deserved it,” he remarked, going to wrap his hands.

I shift my weight off Cassian and stand offering him my hand. He takes it, even though he’s twice my size and if he truly used my help I would end up on the ground again.

“You’re getting better princess,” Azriel praised me. “I’d say it’s time you wield a steel sword instead of a wooden one.”

“Maybe,” Cass warns, dusting himself off. “The last thing I need is you slicing yourself open.” he said to me.

“What afraid I’ll mar my pretty skin?” I tease rocking back and forth on my toes, remembering how Cassian all but worshiped me last night, claiming that the stories of my rose petal soft skin were true.

“No I’m afraid that you’ll accidentally bleed out on me,” he replies, flicking my nose.

Azriel chuckles beside us, “You’re far too protective of your mate brother, she can handle a real sword if she can handle your ass.” he taunts.

“You forget that if anything were to happen to her Rhys would have my head,” Cassian rolls his eyes, placing our swords back on the rack behind him.

“I suppose you’re right, but she has to start sometime.” Az shrugs, finishing the wrappings on his hands. “Alright princess who you got today?” he asked me.

I let out a laugh as our new tradition reared its head again. For weeks now after Cass trained me Azriel would come down and they would spar. I would always gamble on who would win the first match, sometimes I would win, sometimes I would lose, it was all in great fun. But lately the boys had been taking it much more seriously and I couldn’t help but laugh at them and call them “Illyrian babies”.

“Hmmm,” I said, pretending to think. “Considering I just handed Cassian his ass I think you’ve got this one Azriel.”

“Pfft in his dreams,” Cassian scoffs, ripping off his shirt. Azriel copies the motion and I can’t help but feel my cheeks heat at the sweaty males in front of me.

“Then let’s raise the stakes then,” Azriel boasts. “I win, y/n trains with steel tomorrow”

“You’re on,” Cassian taunts as he squares up. “Baby, I hope you aren’t prone to splinters because you’re going to be getting them for a while.”

Azriel took two steps back towards me, “Wanna give me some good luck?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

I laughed and gave the shadow singer a playful kiss on the cheek.

“Now we’re talking,” Azriel laughed, flipping his swords in his hands.

“Oh you’re a dead male where you stand,” Cassian smirked.

In an instant they were a storm of steel. If it had been a real fight I’m sure wisps of cobalt and crimson power would be among that twister of metal. But their rule was no siphons when training. In a weird way it was beautiful the way they fought. During the training sessions with Cass I had come to learn that fighting was much like dancing, it was about anticipating your enemies next movement. Knowing where to step when, how to move your feet.

They were both evenly matched in every way. Even though I spent every day pretending to think about who might win I never truly knew. It was always a guess, or a gut feeling. So far I had bet mostly on Cassian, for obvious reasons, but whenever I put my money on Azriel he seemed to show up.

As I watched them deflecting eachothers blows and grunting with the sheer force of striking and blocking, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would ever be as good as them. If I would ever be able to truly fight and win against the warriors.

My thoughts were interrupted when I saw Azriel’s back hit the ground, his wing being pinned underneath him. Cassian stood above him, chest heaving and pointing his sword at the shadowsingers neck.

“Do you yield?” Cassian asked out of breath.

Azriel simply held up his hand to ask his brother for a lift up, silently admitting defeat. Cass took it and hauled the spymaster up in one heave.

I clapped my hands slowly as Cass walked over to me knowing that this is when I typically took my leave to wash up for dinner.

“It was a good match,” I smiled at my mate trying to hide my disappointment about not being able to train with real swords yet.

Cass slid his fingers under my chin and tilted it up so he could place a goodbye kiss on my lips, “You’ll train with steel tomorrow,” he smiled before returning to his own training.

I gave an enthusiastic whoop before retreating to The House of Wind to clean up and prepare for dinner with Feyre and Rhys.

Months Later…

It had finally happened. Feyre had found out that Rhys was her mate and she wasn’t taking it well at all.

Rhys was distraught when he found me in the library reading. He told me what had happened, from the ambush, to the Suriel telling Feyre about the bond. I honestly spent most of the time being surprised that the cursebreaker had been able to find the Suriel in the first place. My brother told me that his mate sat in the old cabin in the Illyrian mountains and I knew instantly that I needed to see her.

I had watched the two of them come alive for each other these past few months. Saw Feyre become stronger and more sure of herself. Watched my brother turn back into the male he was when we were just kids. I had befriended the Archeron girl all the while, offering her comfort when I could, as we shared many of the same experiences, being locked up, being in an abusive relationship, being under the mountain…

I ran to Cassian asking him to fly me to the cabin and he did so without a second thought. He saw the panic in my eyes, the need to be there with her, to offer her some sort of comfort. Because as if fate had intertwined us we now shared another experience… being the last to know about our mating bonds.

As Cassian landed in the snow outside the cabin I wished I had brought more furs. The wind ripped around me, chilling me to the bone. I shook off the memories of being thrown into the Winter Court and marched my way up to the cabin door giving it a knock.

Feyre opened the cabin door dressed in breeches and a thick sweater, her hands and face covered in paint.

“I can leave if you would like some privacy, I just wanted to check on you,” I say earnestly trying to keep my teeth from chattering.

Feyre’s blue eyes look to me and then back to Cassian who stands a few yards away. “Come on in, I could use a friend.” she said quietly and my heart warmed at the word ‘friend’.

I nod to Cassian who takes off into the sky before stepping into the cabin. The warmth of the raging fire immediately heats my cheeks and I discard my furs onto a nearby chair. It had been years since I had been back here. We used to spend solstice here, just the four of us. Of course that was before mother and father died, and I hadn’t been back since.

I look around and gasped. All over the walls Feyre had painted our eyes, my family's eyes. Each so distinct I could name each one. Amren and Mors, Azriel’s, Rhys’ distinct violet, and at the end, Cassian and I’s painted together.

“These are beautiful,” I say in awe, looking over each set again.

“I just needed something to get my mind off things,” she sighed, collecting the paints in a box.

There was a moment of silence as I tried to let her decide where she wanted the conversation to go. She closed the box with a sigh and then turned to me.

“Did you know?” she inquired, her eyes flickered with hope and I realized she prayed that I was just as in the dark as she was, that she wasn’t alone in this.

My heart dropped and her eyes faltered as she heard the answer in my hesitation. “I wanted so badly to tell you, but I knew it wasn’t my place to say anything, it was between you and Rhys.” I say sitting on the floor by the fire.

“I understand why you didn’t say anything but I wish someone had told me,” she says solemnly before joining me on the rug.

“Believe me I wanted someone to tell me too,” I chuckle as I lean forward more soaking up the heat of the flames.

Her eyes shoot to me as she seems to remember how I was in the same situation not too long ago, “When you found out Cassian was your mate, that he had kept the bond a secret from you, were you upset with him?” she asked.

I cocked my head trying to remember what I felt that day in the Autumn Court, “Honestly it happened so fast that I can’t remember what I was feeling exactly, but I know I wasn’t angry,” I chuckled. “I had loved Cass long before I ever said it. He kept the bond from me because he thought he was taking a weight off my shoulders. He didn’t want me to feel like I had to choose between my mate and my court. I wish I would’ve known, it would’ve saved me a world of trouble because I would’ve chosen him no questions asked. But I understand he had his reasons for keeping it from me.”

Feyre gave a shallow nod, signaling that she had heard me. “But why didn’t Rhys tell me?” she asked, her words desperate and I wasn’t sure if it was a question I could answer.

“I don’t know for sure.” I said honestly. “But I do know this, Rhys has spent his whole life believing he is a monster because of the front he has to put on for others. I think sometimes he forgets why he puts on that front, to protect his people and his family.”

I take a deep breath wondering if I should continue but I can’t stop the overflow of words coming from me, “I think he didn’t want you to feel shackled to a monster. All you’ve ever known is the darker parts of him, he wanted to give you a chance to let you know the good parts, then let you decide for yourself,” I place my hand on her arm and her eyes snap to mine. “All I can say is that Rhys wouldn’t keep it from you if he didn’t have a good reason. You don’t have to hear him out today, tomorrow or even next week. But I think you should at some point, if only to give yourself the peace of mind of knowing the full story.”

Feyre nods again, grabbing my hand and squeezing it tight, “I’m really glad you’re here,” she confessed, her eyes going glassy.

“Anything for you Archeron,” I smile, feeling my eyes glass over too.

I'm so fucking excited for the next chapter I'm buzzin' guys...

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creativewritersposts · 11 hours

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not true - Luke Hughes

summary; Luke Hughes x f!reader. You're daydreaming and writing fanfiction about your favorite player until he reads one.

warning(s); maybe grammar errors, angst, fluff

author's note; it's a mix from my old blurbs/imagines in a new one. Part 2 ?

--------------------------------------------------------------

Does anyone know the moment, having a crush on an unknown, famous person? Like saving pictures on your phone and using as wallpaper and thinking about how is it to know this person?

You have this moment. It's no secret you're daydreaming much but you're crushing on Luke Hughes for a weeks now. His curls, his smile, his whole attitude looks perfect. You're in your own world thinking how your life would look like- three perfect Luke baby's, a big house and a cute dog. Yeah, you're daydreaming too much.

"I wrote a new Luke fic, wanna read it?", you speak to your internet friend.

It's not like you don't have friends in real life- but talking with them about cute hockey players you don't feel comfortable with. It's your little secret.

"Sure", she replies and excitement swings in her voice. You send this short story with a proud grin, it took you hours to finish it.

"You have to post this! I love it!", screams Jess through the phone speaker.

"I'll do", copy it in your blog and posting it. You're reading nice comments, when a new notification comes on your screen.

'I'm definitely not the worst cook'. That's it, no profile picture, no caption who this person is. It could be fake. Luke Hughes would never read fanfiction about himself.

You're typing fast, 'who are you?'

An reply comes fast.

'Luke Hughes'

You laugh hysterical, someone wants to fail you. Without an answer you go to bed. It's too much information for you and it's late.

A phone call is waking you up, it's vibrating nonstop next to your bed, tired you grab after your phone, "hello?". Your raspy voice is not powerful.

"WHY IS LUKE HUGHES FOLLOWING YOU", Jess talks without friendly manners.

"No he's not, maybe fake", you rub your eyes. It's too early.

"No it's Luke himself! I'm not blind", she talks nonstop like a waterfall.

You check your Instagram - hundreds of new followers and she's right- Luke Hughes started following you.

"I have no clue", you get in shock. You're still dreaming, there's no other explanation for this.

"You better find out why", Jess laughs happy for you. "I'm not living in New Jersey so I don't think there are chances".

You dressed up, went to work and forgot the time like always - until something rings on the phone again.

The phone rings the last hours more than in your entire life.

"I'm not a bad cook", notification from Luke Hughes himself.

The curly man with incredible hockey skills and two hockey brothers and a legend as mom. This Luke Hughes who's your wallpaper like everywhere you use.

You dance with the phone in your hands before you reply. Breath in, breath out; let's go.

"Ok". Not that bad. Unimpressed.

"I can prove you. I'll cook dinner for you".

Dude, there is some space between you two. You don't think he has a private jet.

"I don't live in New Jersey", you smirk whilst sending him. You're a fangirl but not a puck bunny.

"I have a car", with an winking emoji. How can he dare to be such a tease?

Before you could react he calls per chat, his face comes on the screen, his cap on his head, tired looking face. "Hey", he smirks chill and pets his curls.

"Hello", you wave awkwardly. You're in work clothes so you don't look stylish. "Can you give me your adress?", he asks with a voice crack. "I'm not for one night, Hughes", you warn him. You're disappointed, you always thought he's a gentleman.

"Oh no not this way!", his face gets closer to the screen, "you know I love all my fans but I'm really interested to meet you. Not as what you think", he shyly says. He bites on his lip, waiting for your answer. Honestly you don't know how to react. "I'm not a supermodel. And I like to eat, not just salad", you tell him. "Why are you guys always thinking we just like supermodels?", he's frightened. "Because you follow 45 blonde models on Instagram", the answer comes out your mouth like a pistol.

"Instagram is not real life. Do you like meat?", he's still interested in this conversation.

"Yeah", "ok my navigation says I'm there in 3 hours so better be prepared for the best meal you ever ate!", "wait you know my address?", you get worried. "Your friend Jess told me", he laughs shy.

"Oh my God I'm gonna kill her for that",you mumble to yourself. "Do you want to meet me? Your friend told me you're interested, too", he bites in his nails. "yes!!", you scream louder than you should.

"See you later!", he laughs friendly and closes the video chat.

Your poor heart.

#luke hughes #lh43 #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes blurb #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl blurb

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mingyushadow · 2 days

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I CAN'T BE YOUR LOVE ᵏᵃʳⁱⁿᵃ ˢᵐᵃᵘ

004 - taking risks.

the warm glow of mingi's parents' restaurant did little to calm yn's nerves as she sat at the corner table, her fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the wooden surface. she had agreed to this meeting, but now, as the minutes ticked by, doubt gnawed at her. what was she thinking? joining a band, meeting hongjoong, the boyfriend of the girl she was head over reels, it all felt overwhelming.

her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar sight of chaewon, who was busy serving another table. catching yn's eye, chaewon walked over and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "you okay?"

yn forced a smile, "yeah, just a bit nervous."

"it's gonna be ok." chaewon reassured her, giving her shoulder a supportive squeeze. "also, wooyoung is playing the secret agent at the table right behind you," she whispered before heading back to the kitchen.

as yn took a deep breath trying to ignore her annoying friend and hoping he wouldn't interrupt her meeting, the door of the restaurant swung open, and in walked hongjoong, san, yunjin, and jongho. her heart pounded as they made their way toward her table. but it was the person trailing behind them that made her freeze–yu jimin. yn's heart skipped a beat. she knew jimin was highly involved with the band, but she hadn't expected her to be at this meeting.

hongjoong reached her table first, extending a hand with a warm smile. "yn? i'm hongjoong. thank you for meeting us."

yn stood, shaking his hand. "nice to meet you, too. please, have a seat."

as they settled in, yn felt a wave of conflicting emotions. having jimin so close, smiling at her, was both thrilling and terrifying. she could hardly focus on what hongjoong was saying.

"first off," hongjoong began, "we've all seen your posts, jimin showed to us, and we think you're incredibly talented. we know this is sudden, but we're really in need of a vocalist, and we think you'd be perfect."

yn glanced at jimin with surprise, who gave her an encouraging smile. her heart pounded even harder.

jimin followed her and saw her posts? the songs that were about her?

the singer couldn't help but feel a mix of happiness and embarrassment.

"thank you. i'm flattered, really. but joining a band, especially being a student... it's a lot to consider."

also, i'm in love with your girlfriend, so it wouldn't be good for any of us to be on the same team.

yunjin leaned forward, her eyes earnest. "we understand. it's just... there's this festival that we got invited to, and it's a big opportunity for us. and we think it could be a great opportunity for you, too."

jongho added, "we can help with anything you need to get ready. we have practice sessions almost every day. it would be a lot of work, but we believe in you."

believe in me? wow, they really were desperate...

yn looked around the table, her gaze lingering on jimin. she felt a surge of emotions, fear, excitement, and confusion, all mixed with the overwhelming presence of her unspoken feelings.

"i'll be honest..." yn said slowly. "i'm scared. this is a big step, and i'm not sure i'm ready for it."

jimin reached out, placing a hand on yn's arm, making her whole body feel warm, especially her neck and ears. "sometimes, the best things in life come from taking risks."

hongjoong sensed yn's hesitation and decided to play his final card. "how about this, we do a trial run. come to a few practice sessions, see how it feels. no pressure to commit right away. just... give it a try?"

at the table behind, wooyoung silently cheered, and from the kitchen, mingi watched with bated breath. yn bit her lip, considering the offer. she looked at jimin, whose eyes were filled with genuine encouragement, and then back at the band members.

"okay." yn said finally. "i'll give it a try."

the band erupted into relieved smiles and grateful words. hongjoong reached out to shake her hand again. "thank you, yn. you won't regret this."

just then, wooyoung emerged from his hiding spot behind the table, grinning from ear to ear and raising a glass he'd grabbed from a nearby table. "to jimin!" he announced loudly. everyone turned to look at him in surprise.

yn felt mortified, not only at wooyoung's sudden appearance but also by his words that left everyone on the table exchanging confused glances.

"uh, what?" san asked, bewildered.

wooyoung, realizing his slip-up, quickly covered. "to jimin that showed yn's video to you! cheers!" the group seemed to easily buy wooyoung's covered-up and clinked glasses with the boy, a flustered yn joining them.

chaewon, who had been watching from the kitchen doorway shook her head with a disgusted look on her face.

☆ masterlist | previous | next ☆

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ [ᴏᴘᴇɴ]﹕@d6d7je @yunalvrrr @yjiminswallet @yeetaberry127 @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @leenwjns @masuowo @yukianism @minfolio

#aespa imagines #aespa x reader #karina smau #karina x reader #kpop smau #yu jimin smau #yu jimin x reader #aespa smau #karina imagines

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silovsmenot · 15 hours

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Foreign Language | Artūrs Šilovs

SUMMARY: A first meeting with a certain Latvian goalie, a surprise that leaves him thinking of you ... And an unexpected reunion thanks to injury. WARNINGS: So much fluff, poor Latvian language - if you're a Latvian native, please excuse me, I'm still learning. PAIRING: Artūrs Šilov & reader (f!reader implied). NOTES: This was the very first idea that I had, and it's been a brainrot ever since. This could very easily be a multi-part, because the brainrot is real. Okay so little Latvian lesson: 'sveiki' is an informal form of hello and 'piedodiet' is sorry. WORD COUNT: 2147

New job, new city — you were beyond excited to get started with your new life in Vancouver. It was a dream come true, a sports photographer for the Vancouver Sun. You’d be covering everything from soccer to basketball, and your personal favourite, ice hockey. It couldn’t have been better.

It had only been a few weeks and you were still pretty starstruck by the whole situation. The smile had rarely left your lips for everything felt so right. As you drove to the Abbotsford Centre, your music turned to loud as you sang along to your favourite song — life was good. And today promised to be another good day. You were helping to cover a story of the Vancouver prospects in Abbotsford and how they were developing within the AHL affiliate, while your partner would be interviewing players at the rink side and in changing rooms, you’d be snapping the shots of the training session.

It promised to be a lot easier than your usual days, training sessions were a lot more relaxed than game photography. Even with their game against playoff rivals looming, you knew it would be a calmer atmosphere than the alternative.

With the heavy camera bag upon your shoulders, digits scraped back your hair as you walked, tied back as you always did while working. Nodding across to your partner who stood waiting at the large rink doors, he held out a coffee to you, which you gratefully accepted with a quiet ‘thank you’. You two were close, like siblings — natural partners and you always delivered high tier work together.

“The boss wants some focus on the goalies, see what you can do, y/n.” He muttered as you walked, both sipping quietly at the hot liquid. From where you were, you could already hear the shouts of training, the crash of the puck against glass and the slapping of sticks upon the ice. It was a sound you knew and loved.

And as your partner pushed open the door, the bright lights of the rink lit everything up. You both moved quickly with a light tapping of both coffee cups in luck, your partner immediately gravitating to the head coach who lingered beside the boards, while you would weave onto the bench and begin your setup. Lens mounted onto the camera body, fixing your settings to this particular arena until you were happy with your picture. It was simply second nature now.

You stood beside the boards, camera switching from player to player with smooth motions as the camera clicked. Turning to each goalie, your camera would linger with the rhythmic clicking — you didn’t need to know all of the story, but a focus on the goalies was always a popular one. Players being called up to the NHL happened so regularly, it was hardly a story, but goalies? Now that got people ticking.

As the session progressed, you watched your partner question each player who came to the bench for water before they’d even had a chance to breathe. You would simply smile at each person, almost sympathetically, and do your job with the clicking of the camera.

Even as the young goalie skated over, angling toward the bench where you stood with a hand outstretched for a bottle, your lips presented a small smile as you waited for your partner to pounce. But as he was too wrapped up with Tolopilo, this goalie was left in silence … for a moment at least. You knew a little about him, of course. A young guy from Latvia, drafted a few years ago now, with a bit of a rocky start to the season. His eyes met yours as the blue and green mask was raised from his face, lips curled into a smile at the first glance.

You spoke without a second thought. It had been some years now since you ended things with your ex, but you’d spent a few years learning Latvian for them — it had been years since you had any reason to use it.

“Sveiki…”

Artūrs blinked. The smile on his lips disappeared as confusion was etched in its place. He’d been in Canada for a while now, with only the occasional passing player conversation to give him that little piece of home. He’d never expected this woman to come out with that.

“Sveiki.” The goalie quietly replied, leaning his weight forward upon the boards beside you. “You’re Latvian?”

You shook your head, a quiet laugh slipping through your lips as the camera lowered, your body turning to almost mirror his as you leaned upon the boards.

“I’m not Latvian, but my ex was. I learned some from when we were together.”

As you spoke, he watched you closely as the smile returned to his face. A smile that you couldn’t help but find contagious. He nodded slowly, thinking silently to himself before his blocker hand began to shake. The glove removed, his hand wiping upon his jersey before it was offered across to you with a grin.

“I’m Artūrs,” He spoke with a little more confidence, capturing your gaze beneath his dark eyes. They were easy to get lost in as you looked at him. “But this lot mostly call me Arty.”

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, Arty.” You hummed as your hand came to meet his, a slight look of amusing disgust at the sweaty hand of the goaltender. Needless to say it was enough to make the young goalie laugh.

Releasing his hand with a playful swat, you too would wipe your hand upon your jumper as he laughed. You couldn’t blame him, and you too found it funny, but a sweaty hand was not what you wanted.

“Piedodiet.” He spoke through the laughter, head cocking as he watched you. Your eyes narrowed playful in response to his apology.

“I’m not sure that I believe that you’re sorry.” You found yourself teasing in response, the camera growing heavy in your hands as it sat idle. If your partner looked over, it would look as though you were helping him with his job — but far from it. You were enjoying yourself, more than you realised at the time.

He gave no response, just the rising and falling of his brows. A cheeky grin at his lips as the hand returned the blocker, the bottle returned to it’s place on the boards.

“Will I see you around here more?” Arty called out as he took a few strides away from where you stood. He hoped, silently, that you’d say yes. That you’d be back to photograph and chat more. For whatever reason, he wasn’t quite sure yet, he wanted to see more of you.

It was your turn to stay silent, shrugging with shoulders and hands. You had no idea if your job would bring you back to the Abbotsford Centre, but you hoped that it would.

And as the training session came to end, your partner returned to you with a notepad full of notes and a voice recorder full to burst, you gave a lingering glance back to the goalie as he took his first steps from the ice, and met your eyes with a smile.

Months passed and you had often thought of the grinning Latvian goalie of the Abbotsford Canucks. Your job hadn’t taken you back to the little suburb of Vancouver, though you’d occasionally catch the games on TV. A little curiosity peaking as you’d remember the conversation with him — sometimes, you’d catch yourself smiling as you thought about it. You’d watch his games when you could and read the news in which he featured.

You couldn’t say that you missed him, you barely knew him, but you wanted to know him … You wanted to be able to miss him.

March rolled around, the end of the regular season was in sight and you’d taken the lead in photography coverage of the Vancouver Canucks for a while now — you’d become a regular at the Rogers Arena, and knew most of the faces of players, staff and partners. You’d even become friends with a number of the wives and girlfriends. You were a familiar face to all.

And you were one of the first on the scene, with your partner in tow, at the announcement of the press conference. Demko’s injury was the worst kept secret in the city, and you’d all been waiting for them to announce it. To know which lucky goalie was getting the call up from Abbotsford.

Journalists and photographers piled into the large room with whispers and nods of acknowledgement. Everyone waiting for Tocchet to make the announcement, and your heart skipped a little beat when he did … for the grinning goalie, Artūrs Šilovs would be taking up the role of back-up in Demko’s absence.

You wasted no time in getting down to the rink following the announcement, you knew that all the reporters would be clamouring for a word with the captain and the rookie goalie. As the flood of journalists began through the arena, the players were already leaving the ice with only the two goalies remaining with Clarkie. Many left to find the captain and coaches, while a few photographers, yourself included, would snap what shots they could of the two goaltenders.

Your stomach did a spin to see him again, the grin seemingly stuck with glue upon your lips — it had been months, surely he wouldn’t not remember you, you thought. But as his eyes glanced across to the wall of photographers, his gaze did linger upon you. Beneath his mask, he did grin. He’d spent months hoping to see you in Abbotsford, at his training or his game. It was a bitter disappointment when another photographer had been sent down in your place.

And as the nod was given for both goalies to leave the ice, little else mattered to him than making a beeline to you.

“Sveiki.” Arty immediately said as the helmet was raised, drifting on his skates just in front of you. Your smile spread instantly, quietly returning the hello with a hum. “I need to change, but please don’t run off.”

With a curious look etched upon your features, you silently nodded. It was the end of your working day anyway, you needed to sort through the photos of the day, but you could do that while you waited.

So sat upon a chair in the stands, laptop open and photos running through, you edited and submitted your best to your partner who would return to the office to write his piece. Gaze would snap up at the first sound of movement up the steps, it was strange to see him out of his goalie gear and in normal, casual clothing. A pair of jeans, a jumper, and glasses? There was something unexpected about that, but they suited him well. You liked the glasses' look.

“You didn’t come down to Abbotsford again.” He quietly said, the disappointment clear in his voice and on his face. And you felt the sting — but you also felt the twist in your stomach of excitement … he’d wanted to see you again, he’d thought about you.

“They moved me solely to these guys. I’m barely away from this rink now, Arty.” You sighed, hand closing the laptop which rested in your lap. You’d hold it there, fiddling with the corner as you thought. “I watched some of your games from home. I should’ve come down for one or two … to watch.”

“Do you want to go for a coffee, y/n?” Artūrs interjected, impatiently and abruptly. It was almost like he had to get it out before he could stop himself, and he was noticeably nervous as he waited for an answer.

You took a moment, watching him fiddle with the hem of his jumper as he waited — yet his smile never wavered. It was stuck, just as yours was.

“I’d like that.” You finally spoke, returning the laptop to your bag without breaking eye contact. The weight in his chest lifted immediately, a heavy exhale parting his lips as he nodded. You rose with a struggle, the camera bag always seeming to be heavier in that first moment, and Arty was quick to assist. His hand offered out, collecting the strap from your hand as it was slung onto his back with ease.

You walked from the arena together, both grinning wide with occasional glances at the other. A comfortable silence between you, it was simply a nice feeling to walk at each other’s side.

“Es priecājos jūs atkal redzēt.” He finally spoke, breaking the silence with words you didn’t quite know. Your Latvian limited to basic phrases that you learned to speak to your ex’s family during the holidays.

“What does that mean?” You whispered, leaning a little closer.

“I’m glad to see you again.”

And your heart skipped a little beat.

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