#something you think you can leave behind but can't
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The Perfect Day
Charles Leclerc x hairdresser!reader pt. 2 ｡･:*˚:✧｡
Masterlist can be found in navigation!
Read pt. 1 here
A/N: In honor of Charles Leclerc winning the freakin Monaco Grand Prix!!
Word count: 2,453
“Looks like you have no one on schedule.” The front desk lady says to Y/N.
Y/N looks up from her phone, constantly refreshing her calendar, checking to make sure what she’s hearing is correct. There has to be some mistake? Just yesterday she was completely booked for the day.
“I think everyone canceled for the grand prix, I mean who would want to miss it, Charles is starting on pole!” The lady raved. All of Monaco was rooting for Charles, there was something in the air, everyone knew that Charles was going to win the Grand Prix, he had to.
“So I guess I'm off for the day?” Y/N looks at the lady puzzled, regretting her rejection of Charles' invitation to the Grand Prix.
Y/N waves goodbye to the other employees packing their things, the girl goes back to her car, sitting in science before calling Charles’ mom. She picks up within the first couple of rings. Y/N asks for Charles, his mom calling to Charles on the other line, passing her phone to her son.
“Sorry for telling you on such short notice but my schedule is cleared if there's still an available spot to see you race today.” Y/N starts fiddling with her hands, although Charles can't see, she hopes he doesn't pick up on the pleas in her voice.
“For you? There is always room.” With that Y/N gets an address sent to her and digital tickets to let her in. “I'll meet you at the entrance so I can give you your pass.” Y/N nods rapidly, thanking Charles for his generosity. Telling her that it was no problem at all, Charles bids her farewell, promising to see her later at the Grand Prix. Y/N rushes home, knowing she doesn't have long until the event starts.
She rummages through her closest, trying to find an outfit she deems perfect for the occasion. Finally landing on an outfit that satisfies her she looks at the clock, noticing that it's about time she leaves. She locks the door to her apartment behind her, shaking her hands with anxiety, reminding herself that she's there to support Charles.
When she finally gets to the Grand Prix she notices a group of people huddled near the entrance. She follows security, parking her car, dusting herself off, rolling her shoulders back, and walking closer to the commotion.
As Y/N steps closer she finally sees what's at the center of the huddle, Charles. She waves her hand up in the air, hoping he catches her signal to him. Luckily he does. Quickly he makes his way over to her, pushing through the interviewers and paparazzi, with the green paddock pass in his hand.
“I'm so happy you came.” He says, pulling her in for a hug, kissing her cheek as he does so.
“I'm so happy you still let me come.” The pair laugh, pulling away from the embrace.
Charles wraps his arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her close to him as the two enter the paddock. Charles lets go of Y/N for a moment, stepping in front of her and placing the pass around her neck as they reconnect with one another officially entering the grounds.
Y/N can feel everyone staring at her, anxiety starts to bubble in her chest, wondering if she was being stared at in disgust or curiosity. “Don't worry about them.” Charles turns whispering in her ear.
“It's hard, they keep staring at me like I'm some kind of animal at the zoo.”
“Y/N they are most likely looking at how pretty you are, I mean I can't help but stare too.” He smirks, Y/N playfully removing her hand around him to give him a little smack on the arm, quickly moving it back around him.
The pair make their way to the Ferrari hospitality, Charles introduces Y/N to the various staff scattered around before making his way over to his brother Arthur. Y/N has met Arthur before, giving him ‘hellos’ here and there when he comes in to get his haircut by his mom.
“Y/N! What are you doing here?” The younger driver asked in excitement.
“She's my plus one.” Charles smiles at his brother, Y/N blushing, nodding in agreement.
Before the three could say any more to each other someone taps Chalres shoulder, his engineer signaling to him that it's time for him to leave. Charles frowns, nodding understanding he gives his brother a hug, the younger of the two hyping up his older brother.
Charles goes back to Y/N giving her a long embrace before kissing the side of her head. “You're going to win today, I just know it.” Y/N whispers to Charles moments before he leaves.
“I really hope you're right.” He gives her one last glance before following his engineer toward the car.
Y/N and Arthur mingle around the paddock, Arthur introducing Y/N to almost everyone that he knows. “Is that my nephew?” Arthur yells out, moving quickly towards a man that Y/N has never seen before.
“Y/N, this is my adopted nephew Oscar.” Oscar walks over to the both of them, shaking Y/N’s hand.
“Ahh, so you must be Charles’ new son. Congratulations on P2, I wish you luck on your race today.” Y/N gives him a warm smile, the driver smiling back.
“Thank you.” Moments later Oscar is also pulled away, saying goodbye to the two as he makes his way towards his Mclaren.
Arthur motions for Y/N to follow him, together they make their way over to their designated area, Arthur slipping some headphones onto Y/N’s head as the two settle in, anxiously watching the screen in front of them as Monaco settles in silence, manifesting Charles' win.
Needless to say the race was stressful, with the red flag barely into the first lap Y/N worried that someone would overtake Charles, wanting to scream to the other drivers not to pass Charles on such a special and important day.
Arthur and Y/N hold onto one another during every touch, maneuver, and tire change, wishing the best for Ferrari, but most importantly Charles. As the lap starts coming to an end Y/N and Arthur look at one another, is this it? Is Charles going to win his home race and finally break the Monaco curse?
As Charles pulls closer to the finish line everyone from Ferrari runs closer to the barriers, screaming for Charles as he crosses the line. Tears hit Y/N's eyes, the girl cheering as loud as she can. He has done it, Charles Leclerc wins the 2024 Monaco Grand prix.
Charles practically jumps out of his car, tears trickling out of his eyes as he cheers atop his Ferrari. Jumping down before running and leaping towards his team. As if the cries of joy couldn't be any louder they did. At that moment it seemed that all of Monaco was cheering for him.
Charles moves throughout the crowd hugging the people who helped him most to get this victory, finally making his way to Arthur and Y/N. Y/N steps to the side, letting the brothers have their moment first, hugging one another before the driver turns to Y/N.
The two melt in their embrace, Y/N crying tears of joy for Charles. “You did it!” She pulls back, her arms still tightly around Charles' big frame. “I knew you would.”
Charles continues to hold her. “Meet me after the race, I still have dinner with you tonight. '' Y/N nods rapidly. Charles finally stepped away to go with his rest of the team to the doc, getting ready to do their celebratory jump into the water.
Arthur and Y/N follow behind the large group, Y/N taking out her phone to snap a few pictures in celebration. One by one the big group starts to taper off, either going off to celebrate or do interviews, Arthur says goodbye to Y/N leaving the girl to wait for Charles.
After countless interviews the driver finally returns to Y/N, now fully dried he gives her a hug. “Thank you for waiting.”
“No worries! Congratulations on your race, seriously.” She smiles up at him. “You don't have to go to dinner with me, I know you would much rather be partying with everyone.”
“Nonsense, the parties will go on later in the night. Right now, I want to be with you.” He holds out his hand, Y/N gladly takes it, the pair walking towards Ferrari hospitality so Charles can change into less damp, non-Ferrari clothes.
Y/N waits outside for Charles to change, once ready the pair walk toward the parking lot. “The restaurant is fairly close if you want to walk?” He offers. Y/N looks over at her car, then back at Charles. “Sure!”
Together the pair walk out of the circuit, now entering the streets of Monte Carlo. They continue to talk with one another, getting interrupted every few meters by fans noticing Charles, everyone giving him high praise for his victory.
“Maybe we should have driven.” Charles jokes, the pair walking faster trying to get rid of the crowd following them, getting larger by the minute.
“Next time we will for sure.” Y/N nods in agreement.
“Next time? Already planning a second date before the first?” Charles smiles, the tips of his ears getting hot.
Y/N blushes in embarrassment. “Oh! I- ummm.” She stutters, getting caught off guard by Charles' question.
“I'd be more than happy to go on another date with you Y/N.” He smiles, the pair silently brushing their fingers together, slowly intertwining their hands as they continue down the busy Monte Carlo street.
Finally making it to the restaurant the staff immediately identify Charles, moving rapidly getting Charles and Y/N a room in the back. Patrons and staff of the restaurant give Charles loud cheers and high praise the further they walk into the restaurant.
Charles steps in front of Y/N pulling the girl's chair out for her to sit, thanking him she does so, Charles scooting her chair forward before taking his rightful seat across from her. The two open up their menus, engaging in slight conversation before both put their menus down, leaning forward, getting closer to one another.
“Thank you for coming to the race, and to dinner with me after.” Charles smiles, blushing ever so slightly.
“Thank you for the invite! Surprisingly, I'm glad that everyone canceled their appointments, if they hadn't I wouldn't have gotten to see you win.”
“I don't know how to feel, I'm just so excited and happy. I wish that my father would have been here to see it. We both dreamed of me winning my home race.” He looks down at the menu, quickly wiping his eyes.
“He is, he might not be physically here but he is always with you. I can say with 100% certainty that wherever he might be, he is jumping up and down cheering the hardest for you.” Charles looks up at Y/N, his eyes glossy.
“Thank you Y/N, truly.”
Before the pair can say any more, the waiter comes to the table. Both Charles and Y/N put in their orders continuing the conversation once he leaves. Charles asks Y/N about her life, wanting to get to know her more as the pair had only met days prior.
“I should really give you my number, especially since we are going on a second date. It would be weird if you kept calling my mom and asking for me.” Charles laughs, pulling his phone from his back pocket.
“Yeah…sorry about that.” Y/N looks away.
“Don't worry at all, it was my mistake for not asking for your number when we first met.” Charles hands his phone to Y/N the girl typing in her information before texting herself on his phone.
Their food soon arrives, the conversation not dying down one bit. The couple talked, not once did an awkward silence fall upon them. As the sun began to set the waiter came back with the bill. Y/N starts to reach for it, but Charles is too quick.
“Please let me, the date was my idea.”
“Charles, you literally won the Monaco Grand Prix, it's the least I could do.”
“You showing up, and coming with me tonight is everything I wanted. You can get the next one if you really want to.” He hands his card to the waiter, who soon comes back with Charles' card and the receipt.
Charles and Y/N both get up, interlocking hands once more before leaving the restaurant, Charles thanking the wait staff as they leave. “Let me walk you back to your car. I don't want you walking alone.”
The two walk in silence, taking in the warm summer air, gazing at the beautiful monte carlo sights. Charles notices Y/N’s face contorting in discomfort. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, my shoes are kinda hurting, but we’re almost there.” She shrugs.
Charles stops, Y/N following his lead the pair stand on the near empty Monte Carlo sidewalk. “Here let me.” Charles bends down, putting his knee up signaling Y/N to rest her foot on top. She does so, Charles taking off her shoes for her before getting back up off the floor, shoes in hand.
“Get on.” Charles turns around, squatting down for Y/N to get on his back. Once again she does so, quickly hopping onto his back as the pair continue to venture further into the night.
They finally get back to the parking lot, Y/N unlocks her car as Charles, ever the gentleman holds her door open for him. Y/N hops off of Charles back, staring ahead at her car, looking back at Charles who's looking back at her.
“Can I kiss you?” She asks, nervous for his response.
Charles lets go of the door handle. “I thought you'd never ask.” He takes the sides of her face in his hands, the two engaging in a passionate kiss. Y/N wraps her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. After a moment the pair pull back, still holding each other close.
“What a perfect way to finish the night.” Y/N smiles, pulling Charles in for another kiss.
“I couldn't have said it better myself.”
#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc#formula 1#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x female reader#Charles Leclerc x hairdresser!reader#monaco gp 2024#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine
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𔓕 ່ ⃝⃝🧡 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐅 𝐖𝐇𝐎 : 𓈒 𝇋♡︎𝇌
ೀ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Random situations of Chris being your boyfriend.
ೀ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. Mentions of sexual relations, insults, established relationship, appearances by Nick and Matt, video format, daily life.
ೀ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. I don't speak English. The truth is that I wrote this with loose ideas, maybe we will have a second part, I don't know. I leave you a link below in case you liked what you read 𝑚.𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡
WHEN THEY LEAVE THE SHOPPING HE WOULD CARRY YOUR BAG.
"You look great" Chris looks at Matt and blows him a kiss.
“Thank you sweetie” Chris makes a silly pose with your bag.
"You're so gay," Nick scoffs.
"Stop shaking my bag" You ask your boyfriend.
HE LOVES THAT YOU CARESS HIS HAIR. AND YOU HAVE USED THIS TO YOUR ADVANTAGE MANY TIMES.
"Chris!!" You approach him jumping happily.
"Before you speak: no, I don't have, I don't want to and I can't" he jokes and you make a cute pout.
"I really need it, I've been waiting for this moment all my life" Chris rolls his eyes for a few seconds and you show him the screen of your cell phone.
"That? A concert?" He looks at you and you nod repeatedly, then drop your body onto the couch next to him and snuggle around his arm. while he holds your cell phone by sliding his finger on the screen. "Zayn? Is he giving a concert? I thought he was on his damn farm tending to a potato," he joked.
"He's back and you know how much I want to see him."
"I know, but it's impossible, I have a full agenda. We can see it next year." Chris gives you a kind smile.
"Chris we don't know if he will be back next year! Please!" Chris still refused, you have nothing left but to use your fire tool, Your nails dig into your boyfriend's disheveled hair and you see him close his eyes enjoying the caress.
"We could talk to the boys and go all together, we'll enjoy it" you continue sweetening Chris with your caresses.
"Okay, let's talk to them" upon Chris's approval you stop petting him and run in search of the boys.
HE ALSO ENJOYS RECEIVING AND GIVING YOU MESSAGES ON YOUR FEET.
You may be lying on the couch enjoying a lazy afternoon watching movies on Netflix.
At some point he would leave his feet within reach of your hands and ended up giving him some gentle massages.
HE DOESN'T LIKE SILLY COUPLE NICKNAMES, BUT HE'LL CALL YOU "MA" OR SIMPLY BY YOUR NAME.
"Chris said many, many, many, but exaggeratedly many times" Nick adjusts his glasses "he said many" Chris interrupts him.
"I think it was understood"
"Well, he's said many times that he wouldn't call his future girlfriend stupid nicknames." Chris and Matt understood where Nick was going.
"Yes, yes, yes" Matt sits back in his seat to look at his brothers. "We've heard Chris say many times that he wouldn't use ridiculous nicknames with his girlfriend and he literally now."
"He calls her MA!" Nick shouts and fake laughs.
"It's not ridiculous and it's not like that, it's not stupid" Chris exluss.
"You don't know how funny it is when we wake up and the first thing I hear is saying 'good morning ma' it's so stupid."
"Hey!" Chris shouts.
"You haven't heard anything bad, I heard him talking to her like a baby, Chris sounds something like... Oh, I really need you to give me affection" the three of them burst into a big laugh.
MOSTLY HE IS THE ONE WHO CHOOSES ABOVE ALL, YOU JUST TRUST HIS CHOICE.
"What are you going to order?" Nick asks you as he sticks his head out the window.
"Huh, I don't know... Same as Chris."
"You don't even know what he's going to order." Matt stretches and looks at you in the rearview mirror.
"What are you going to order then Chris?" Nick looks at his brother.
"Pepsi, a double burger, medium fries, you know," he shrugs, before Nick repeats the order and speaks again. "The hamburger should not have onions"
"Since when have you not eaten onion?" Matt asks with a slight frown.
"She doesn't eat onions" he points to the seat behind him, in your direction and you smile.
PHYSICAL CONTACT IS THEIR LOVE LANGUAGE. ESPECIALLY THE HUGS.
Chris has said that he is not a demonstrative man, but you don't feel that is the case. Every time he can he is adding your hands and playing with your fingers or just giving you little caresses.
"I don't think that's true," says Madi.
"I'm telling you, yes, I read it in the news." Matt moved his fingers over the screen of his cell phone looking for the news he was talking about.
"Check the history," you suggest to Matt..
You had your hands on the table while you were talking animatedly with the boys, Chris was next to you playing with the chain that decorated his left wrist.
"Look there it says clearly" Matt brings his cell phone to his friend showing her the news.
You laughed cheerfully as Chris's hand took one of your hands to play with. You smile and give him a small friendly squeeze, he intertwined your hands, then patted, tried to hold one of your fingers, among other strange things he did.
On other occasions where perhaps he wanted to be more discreet, such as when he was at his parents' house or yours, he just slid his hand under the table and left it on your thighs.
"Your aunt has mentioned countless times that she makes pudding even tastier than mine, can you believe it?" Your mother was talking to you while she was preparing tea to drink.
"That's impossible, I had the pleasure of trying the pudding you made and it is exquisite, there can't be a better one." Chris compliments your mother and she turns to look at him and says "I know" making them both laugh.
Chris's hand sought your touch under the table, leaving his hand on your thigh and then pulling you closer to him to give small squeezes from time to time.
Although he had many signs of physical affection, the one that stood out the most were his beautiful hugs. Chris's hugs were magical, they recharge you with abundant good energy. They make you feel renewed.
"Good morning ma" you hear your boyfriend speaking at your side of the bed.
Your eyes slowly open and you can see him smiling. You push your way through the sheets to be greeted by his arms in a warm embrace.
"Hmh Chris..." You murmur. "I told you that if you are going to sleep without your shirt, cover yourself well with the sheets." the top of his chest was freezing, then you'd have a sick Chris from taking in cold air.
"I'm sorry ma"
Hugs in the morning are essential to have a good start to the day, but they weren't the only ones. While you are preparing something to eat, he hugs you from behind, When you're in the bathroom getting ready, he also gives you your dose of hugs. He's actually very good at giving hugs.
HE HAS NO PROBLEM TELLING YOU HOW HE FEELS ABOUT YOU, HE IS VERY COMMUNICATIVE. EVERYTHING THAT GOES THROUGH HIS HEAD HE LETS YOU KNOW.
"Which of the three do you think is the most sentimental?" Chris read the question for his brother Justin.
"Hmm, none of them are exactly sentimental, but at the same time they are all a little bit."
"I consider it to be me" Nick speaks.
"I'm going to answer that maybe Nick..." He thinks. "Also Chris" looks at his brother.
"Chris?" Matt asks confused.
"Yeah, he's always making a sentimental moment out of nowhere, speaking from his heart and stuff like that. Even lately when his girlfriend is around he's telling her how much he appreciates having her in his life... You know, I don't know if it's because now he has a partner and it makes him twice as sentimental."
"It's true," Nick agrees.
"I, I consider myself to be" Chris brings the microphone closer to his mouth. "I'm actually not ashamed to say how I feel about her in front of someone else, I feel like the fact that I am like that makes our relationship more stable. Because we are very communicative with each other" he explains and his brothers congratulate him on their beautiful relationship.
"Tell him something now," Matt challenges and Chris smiles in amusement.
"Listen, right now I miss you a lot. I really want to see you so I can hug you for a long time and tell me how your day was. Remember that I love you very much and you are the girl of my life" He finishes the message and his brothers applaud excitedly.
HE DOESN'T ADMIT IT BUT HE LIKES IT WHEN YOU STYLE HIS HAIR OR WHEN YOU DO SKINCARE TOGETHER.
"IT'S BURNING ME!!" He screams when I put a mask on his face.
"Chris is a cucumber mask" she adjusted the corners of the mask while he complained.
"Why is yours pink?" He sits down in front of you and you laugh.
"Because it's made of a different material, yours is green" you point out.
"I prefer orange." He takes the comb and runs it through your hair. "Why is your hair straight today?" Chris used a confused tone of voice.
"Apply a product to keep it straight" you explain and he continues running the comb through your long hair.
"It looks good, but I like your naturally curly hair" you smile and break the distance between the two of you by joining your lips.
You take the comb out of his hand and now you are the one combing his hair.
"Will you let me make you a crazy hairstyle?" Chris I agree and you start tying his hair with little rubber bands.
The door to the room opens and you both look in its direction, finding you mother watching.
"You guys look ridiculous" the three of them laugh.
CHRIS IS TOO HARD IN BED, IT'S NOT HIS VANILLA, ROMANTIC STYLE. ALTHOUGH SOMETIMES HE AGREES TO BE IT FOR YOU.
“It’s so boring” Chris pulls his head back to look at you.
His body was lying between your legs, while you were sitting. They were both enjoying a good movie, but then a sex scene comes out.
"They're fucking, what do you mean?" You're mocking.
"That's boring sex," says the screen. "It should be called super boring sex"
"Just because your style of sex is holding me by the hair while you're giving me hard from behind, doesn't mean that that type of sex is fun." He stretched his hair, forcing him to look at me again. He bites his lip.
"I just think our style is a little more interesting” he smiles and you lean in to kiss him.
"You have to admit that sometimes soft sex is nice."
"We never did" you click your tongue denying Chris's words. "We did it?"
"Did you forget?" you pretend to be offended.
"I know, on your birthday. But I just wanted to make you feel more... I don't know, I wanted to be something romantic I guess"
"You were, I didn't expect you to be. I like the surprise" you stroke his hair.
CHRIS IS THE KIND OF BOYFRIEND WHO WANTED TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP SOLELY TO WEAR A MATCHING HALLOWEEN COSTUME.
"Today we're going to go see our Halloween costumes" Nick speaks excitedly towards the camera in front of him. "We were talking seriously about this, you know, it's very important."
"I still don't know what I want to use." Matt looks at Nick and Nick looks at him seriously. "You're an Idiot"
They arrived at the place and were walking through the hallways full of different costumes. Matt was holding the camera as it focuses on Nick and Chris looking at some.
"It's packed," Chris comments and grabs a crazy hat to put on his head. "I'm kind of excited, I've always wanted to have a girlfriend to wear a complementary type of costume, I think it's actually the only logical reason why I wanted to have one" He takes off his hat and leaves it where he found it.
"Chris has literally said hundreds of times that he didn't want to have a girlfriend, but if he did want one it would be to wear a silly matching suit." Nick adds, still appearing next to Chris.
"It's true" Chris continues looking at the suits. "So today is the day to wear a fun outfit with y/n."
"I hope it's SpongeBob and Patrick" Matt speaks behind the camera and Chris looks at him excitedly.
"Definitely not, they are best friends," says Nick. "It would be weird to see SpongeBob stick his tongue in Patrick's Throat ."
CHRIS LOVES IT WHEN THEY SHOWER TOGETHER.
"No Chris"
"Please, it will be faster if we do it together" Chris begs you.
The situation was the following, you were taking a shower because this afternoon they were going to have a good time at the mini golf. Chris always complains that you take too long in the bathroom, so he says it's much better if you do it together.
Things that you know very well are not like that, they are in the shower even longer if he comes in with you.
"Chris, we really have to get there early," you explain as the hot water slides over your soapy body.
"I just like doing it with you." Chris sits on the toilet seat.
You sigh for a few seconds and agree to let him take a shower with you.
PACIFIERS AREN'T HIS STYLE, BUT LET'S JUST SAY HE SOMETIMES LEAVES SOME BEHIND.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask your boyfriend, who has been staring at you since you got out of the shower.
You walk past him combing your hair. Now you are in front of him waiting for him to answer you.
"It's nothing, I just have a pretty girl by my side" he smiles. "So, who did you say were going to that high school reunion?" You sigh heavily knowing that you had already had this conversation yesterday.
You had a small reunion with your former high school classmates, absolutely everyone would be there. You had mentioned this to your boyfriend and he was not very comfortable with you attending, especially because your ex would be there and he couldn't go since he had to record with his brothers.
They had a little argument about not going and it ended in a lot of heated sex.
"We already talked about this Chris, don't worry. "I'll just have dinner and come back, I won't stay for the party, I'll most likely be here at home when you get back from recording." You give him a quick kiss on the lips.
"It's okay, you look pretty" you model your outfits for him..
"Thank you" you approach the mirror and then you see it, those bruises decorating your neck. You turn around looking at the culprit. "What is this?"
"I didn't do it right, we should do it again" he jokes.
YOU ALWAYS BUY HIM SNACKS SO HE CAN EAT WHEN IT'S TIME TO FILM IN THE CAR.
"We have no topic of conversation in this video..." Matt starts the video talking.
"Yeah, we didn't do our homework this week," Nick continues.
Chris takes a chocolate bar out of his sweatshirt pocket, Matt and Nick look at him and they both extend their hands in Chris' direction.
"Absolutely not, I'm not going to share" he stretches his chocolate away from his brothers.
"Every food that enters this car becomes everyone's food," Nick tells him.
"Y/n bought this one for me" he breaks it up and gives it to his brothers.
"Since when does she buy you candy?" Nick asks, devouring his share of chocolate.
"Since Matt made the chocolate prank on me" Matt laughs at his brother. "Since then she buys me snacks so I can eat during the videos"
"She's so sweet" Nick says. "Y/n would love you even more if you gave me snacks too" he speaks into the camera to send the message to you, he winks and sticks out his tongue.
"Stop flirting with me girl." Chris punches Nick in the arm.
"Ou, ou, ou, Ouch. HEY! STOP! I'M GAY!" Nick shouts.
ೀ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. I hope you like it, thank you for reading, don't leave without first giving me a like and a nice comment. Don't forget to share with your friends! And remember if you want to be part of the taglist to receive a notification every time I publish a fic, ask me in the comments! That's all for now, goodbye! 🤍
ೀ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. @luverboychris @l34n @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @hotreaderliin @tillies33ssss @sturnioloxlver @jnkvivi @stvrniolowh0re @adirtylittleheart @ilovechrisssturniolo-deactivate @melonjollyranche @sssoniaswiftt @ecliphttlunar @jetaimevous @khxna @aliceloveschris
#﹙𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬. 𝐒﹚🦌 ，#sturniolo triplets#੭ 🤍 ! 𝓈#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fanfiction#chris sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fluff#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo soft#chris sturniolo x you#christopher sturniolo x reader#christopher owen sturniolo#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo imagine#matthew bernard sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo triplets smut#sturniolo fluff
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Was having some thoughts about Steve joining Hellfire. They are as follows.
I'm thinking maybe they start him off with smaller weekly oneshots. Unbeknownst to Steve they are also still meeting for their regular other campaign, he figures that out later. That Eddie's been writing one shots for him on top of his other bonkers story he's got going and Steve is like "oh 🥺".
BUTTT! during the one shots, all the kids have their moments of being RUDE to Steve. Mike is the worst (cuz I dislike him and his fucking attitude). But everytime one of them is rude to Steve, and it's like legit mean stuff, like them calling him stupid. Things like that. Steve usually kinda gets quiet. And then, whenever the kids do that, Eddie starts making notes in his notebook. Then whoever said the mean thing, their characters die.
Like, Mike gets the worst of it cuz he's just such an ass. But Eddie's got a SYSTEM in these notes okay!!! There are straight tallys, for actually hurtful mean things, there are wiggly tallys for things he can tell are meant to be teasing but that he can tell definitely still kinda hurt Steve a bit. And then there are stars. People get stars for helping Steve along the way.
Be that helping his characters, or just helping him with his math or helping him understand something about the game when Eddie is busy or "distracted". Cuz he legit always notices when people help Steve. Most of the time it's cuz he hears Steve's genuine thank yous. Lucas, and surprisingly Erica, have the most stars, aside from El. Max gets stars sometimes just for back talking Mike's rudes comments with shit like,
"mike what does it matter? we're all about to die anyway. That sphinx is gonna fucking eat us. Who cares. Leave him alone."
Because her and El have of course been invited too. But they've been playing just a LITTLE bit longer so they know a small amount more. El only has stars because she is legit always helpful. Steve has taken to sitting between El and Erica because they're the nicest to him. Lucas usually sits across from him.
Dustin has lots of wiggly tallys cuz he just can't control his mouth sometimes. But one day Mike gets brutally killed again and starts whining about it and Steve has noticed Eddie making little notes. Has no idea what they are. Cuz he doesn't look through other people's notebooks. Thats rude.
Everyone has noticed the notes. No one has asked. They all have theories. And when Eddie is like,
"I'm trying to teach you a lesson. Not my fault you aren't smart enough to figure out what it is." And his voice has such a BITCHY tone when he says it. Because Mike had JUST been hounding Steve for missing "obvious" clues and not being smart enough to figure it out and walking into a trap.
And steve had gone red from his ears all the way down his neck, he also felt bad cuz he'd gotten El's character hurt. And then Mike had been an ass. Steve was upset. So Eddie killed Mike. And then he's whining and Eddie's about to say something else when El speaks up, looks across the table with a scowl and says,
"just be nicer! It's not hard to be nice. Steve is our friend. Be nice to him." And she rolls her eyes at Mike, puts her hand on Steve's arm and is like,
"I will be fine. Will can heal me." And Will pipes up and is like,
"yeah. I can heal her no problem." But it's El's outburst that makes Steve kind of wonder more about the notes Eddie takes.
He'd never ask, and never look. But he stays behind one day to help Eddie clean up, they have weekly games at the community center.
So Steve's staying after and helping with chairs and tables and getting books and dice and things stored away and Eddie's notebook is RIGHT THERE. Open to the page he's always scribbling on. And Steve just sort of... stops. And looks at it. And it's everyone's names with tallys and marks and stars. Erica has wiggly marks AND stars. But mostly stars. Because she helps him with his math almost every game.
Also she "accidentally" let mike get hit with an attack in the game cuz he was being rude. El's is all stars and scrawled under them in Eddie's chicken scratch is,
"She's a literal angel oh my god."
So Steve's eyes are just wandering over this page and his brow is all creased and he doesn't hear Eddie come back until he says,
"figured out what's missing yet?" In that teasing sweet little voice he uses on Steve that makes him feel a little dizzy sometimes, give him butterflies in his stomach, and his whole body jerks and he looks up and Eddie's leaning casually against the wall near the door. And Steve immediately apologizes and Eddie laughs, shakes his head, walks closer. And is like,
"It's okay Steve. But you didn't answer my question." He licks his lips, steps closer. Steve looks back to the notebook for a second and then back to Eddie.
"My names not on there?" He asks, worrying his finger into the table top next to the notebook. And Eddie is nodding.
"Yup." And Steve's like,
"The tallys are about... me?" And he's frowning. But Eddie steps a bit closer, standing next to the table now. And he smiles, all shy and soft and is like,
"yeah Steve. They're about you. Got kinda tired of all the kids talking shit about you. And to you. So I came up with a system. Anyone says anything about you being stupid, I kill them." He grins, wide like the Cheshire cat and Steve feels kinda pinned down by it. Feels kinda hot all over.
"You didn't- have to do that. It's fine. It doesn't bother me. I mean I know I'm not smart." And he just shakes his head and looks at the ground and Eddie kinda slams his hand down on the table, startling him. He looks up and Eddie looks mad. Not at him. Just, mad.
"You're not though. Is the thing. I mean... you're incredibly good at strategy. I know you don't know enough about dnd yet to know this, but you've been a crucial part in winning like, the last three games." Eddie steps closer, his fingertips brushing the back of Steve's hand.
"You're not stupid. You're just smart in different ways." Eddie shrugs. Gives Steve a little lopsided smile.
"You think I'm smart?" He asks, biting his lip to stop the giddy smile that's threatening to spread. Eddie doesn't stop his smile, just lets it go, lets it dimple his cheeks and make Steve's knees weak. And he's like,
"yeah man. Just cuz some jumped up little tweens can't see it doesn't mean I can't. You're kinda hard to miss." He does bite his lip then, fingers playing with his hair, Steve knows he's trying not to hide behind it.
"I just uh-" Eddie clears his throat,
"I'm really petty. And protective. And it's ridiculous cuz you're not even mine but- I just- felt like I had to protect you. Or stick up for you. Or something? I dunno. Feels stupid now that I'm saying it out- oof!" Eddie huffs when Steve slams into him. Arms wrapped around his neck. He may or may not be crying into Eddie's hellfire shirt. But he gives Eddie a squeeze and then pulls back, looks at him, smiles and says,
"I am though." With a little shrug. And Eddie's like,
"you... are?" Confused. And Steve laughs, light and sweet and says,
"Yours. I am yours. If you'll have me. Or want me. Or- mmfph!" Steve's words end in a high pitched hum as Eddie's lips hit his. Just a firm press. His hand on Steve's cheek. He pulls back fast, pink in the cheeks.
"Sorry I just- if you let me have you, Steve. I may never let you go." He chuckles, giddy. Steve snorts, his head falling to Eddie's shoulder for a second before he looks at Eddie, cups his cheek genlty.
"Who says I want you to?" His brows jump, challenging. Eddie goes redder, down to his neck.
"Wanna try that kiss again?" Steve asks.
"God was is bad? I've never- I'm not... good. At that stuff." Eddie cringes. Steve cups both his cheeks until Eddie's wide eyes are staring at him, his cheeks a little squished.
"It wasn't bad. It was kind of perfectly you. But we can get you good at that stuff. You're a fast learner right?" Steve smirks, Eddie's eyes go impossibly wider as he nods aggressively, cheeks squishing even more.
"Yes, sir." Eddie mumbles between his squished lips. Steve nods, once and then moves forward, slowly, determined to show Eddie just how thankful he is for him. How thankful he is that Eddie sees him.
Petty.
And protective.
And Steve's.
#ive never played dnd sorry if stuff sucks#steddie#my writing#mine#my fic#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie fic#steve x eddie#steddie ficlet#fates endless inkwell#fei
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Little Dove
Quinn Hughes X Pregnant! Reader
a;n it took me forever to finish this chapter, but I think I'm finally back in my groove. I can't wait for you guys to read I've been so excited to put out more fics.
Warnings: pregnancy, arguing, toxic family, suggestive wording lol, anxiety
masterlist link / previous chapters
summary: Y/N's world is turned upside down when she suspects she might be pregnant. Consumed by fear and uncertainty, she takes a pregnancy test but can't bring herself to face the result. She throws the test away and seeks solace in a hot shower, trying to escape the relentless thoughts plaguing her mind.
word count - 4629
...
Y/N stood before the imposing black door, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to gather the courage to face what lay beyond the wooden door. The sleek, polished surface seemed to mock her, its very presence a reminder of the power her parents held over her life.
The stone wall surrounding the entrance loomed above her, casting long shadows that seemed to reach out and grab at her, pulling her towards the inevitable confrontation.
She inhaled deeply, the cool evening air filling her lungs and doing little to calm the storm of emotions that raged within her. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to turn around, to run back to the safety of the car and drive away, leaving behind the suffocating expectations and demands of her family.
With a trembling hand, Y/N reached out and grasped the golden handle, the cold metal biting into her palm. The sensation was almost a relief, a sharp contrast to the burning anxiety that coursed through her veins. She squeezed the handle tightly, as if the physical act could somehow give her the strength she so desperately needed.
"Come on," Quinn urged softly, his voice a gentle whisper in her ear. She felt the warmth of his hand on her back, a comforting presence that seemed to anchor her in the midst of her thoughts. His touch sent shivers down her spine, a reminder of the love and support that he offered her unconditionally.
At her silence, Quinn pressed harder, his fingers kneading the tense muscles of her back. "It won't go as bad as you think it will. I'll be with you the whole time, honey."
Y/N closed her eyes, trying to draw strength from his words. But the unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach refused to be silenced. "I know, Quinn," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her own heart.
"It's just... I have a really bad feeling right now. They've never wanted to meet any of my boyfriends, let alone invite them for family dinner. Something about it feels so wrong."
Quinn's hands continued to move along her back, his touch a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. "How about this," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "How ‘bout we play perfect couple with your parents, and then after all of our pain and suffering, we head back home, and I give you one of the Quinn special massages.”
As he spoke, Quinn's hands inched higher, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of her spine before coming to rest on the smooth skin of her shoulders. Y/N couldn't help but let out a soft moan as he massaged a particularly tense spot, the sensation causing her head to fall back against his shoulder. “You can relax and let me take care of things."
"Sound good?" Quinn asked, his voice low and full of promise.
Y/N allowed herself a small smile, the first genuine one she'd felt all evening. "That sounds amazing," she breathed, her body already beginning to relax under his expert touch.
Quinn pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away. "Let's go before they get suspicious, hmm?"
With a final squeeze of her hand, Quinn stepped forward and rang the doorbell, the sound echoing through the stillness of the night. Y/N took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and preparing herself for the awkward silence and judgmental stares. She knew that with Quinn by her side, she could face anything her parents threw at her.
As Quinn gently pushed Y/N forward, taking the lead and opening the door, they were greeted by an eerie silence that seemed to permeate the house. The absence of voices, the usual bustle of family life, was unnerving, and Y/N felt a chill run down her spine. The only sound that pierced the stillness was the high-pitched, excited barking of the family dog, Cinnamon.
From the shadows, a blur of fur came charging towards them, a ball of energy and enthusiasm that seemed to light up the dimly lit entrance. Y/N couldn't help but let out a squeal of delight as she knelt down, her arms outstretched to catch the wriggling bundle of joy.
"Hi, Cinnamon baby," she cooed, her voice filled with affection as the small dog eagerly licked at her face, its tail wagging furiously. For a moment, all of Y/N's worries and fears melted away, replaced by the pure, unconditional love that radiated from the tiny creature in her arms.
Quinn watched the scene with a smile, his heart warming at the sight of Y/N's happiness. Her laughter, so rare in the face of her family's expectations, was like music to his ears. He chuckled softly as Cinnamon hopped off Y/N's lap and made a beeline for his own legs, her tiny paws clawing at the fabric of his neatly pressed suit pants.
"Hello there," Quinn said, his voice soft and gentle as he leaned down to pat the dog's head. Cinnamon's fur was soft beneath his fingers, and he marveled at the way such a small creature could bring so much joy and comfort to those around it.
But the moment of levity was short-lived, as a voice suddenly spoke from the opposite side of the room, shattering the brief respite from the tension that hung heavy in the air.
"Sorry for the interruption, Miss Y/N," the voice said, its tone formal and detached. "Your parents are ready for you. Please follow me."
Y/N felt her stomach drop at the words, the bitterness and unease settling back into her stomach. She glanced at Quinn, her eyes wide and filled with a silent plea for strength. He gave her a reassuring nod, his hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze.
Together, they followed the worker, their footsteps echoing on the polished marble floor. There was something ominous in the air, a sense of foreboding that seemed to grow with every step they took. But she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the warmth of Quinn's hand in hers, the strength that flowed between them.
…
Y/N stepped through the sliding door, her heart racing with anticipation and nervousness, she was immediately greeted by the sight of her mother rising from her seat at the table.
Dedra's movements were graceful and measured, her posture perfect and her expression carefully composed. Y/N could feel her father's piercing gaze on her and Quinn, his eyes narrowing as he silently assessed the young man by her side.
Despite the palpable tension in the room, Quinn maintained a charming smile, his demeanor confident and unflappable. He strode towards Derek's seat at the head of the table, his hand outstretched in a gesture of greeting. "Mr. L/N, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said, his voice smooth and polished. "I've heard so much about you."
Derek regarded Quinn for a moment, his expression unreadable, before accepting the handshake with a firm grip. "Quinn," he acknowledged, his tone cool and measured. "Welcome to our home."
Y/N quickly guided Quinn to the seat beside her, her fingers lacing with his under the table in a silent show of support. She could feel the weight of her parents' scrutiny, the unspoken questions and judgments hanging heavy in the air.
Dedra, ever the perfect hostess, smiled warmly at the assembled group, her face a mask of polite interest. "Let's begin, shall we?" she said, clapping her hands together. At her signal, a team of immaculately dressed servers emerged from the kitchen, bearing trays laden with an array of sumptuous dishes.
As the servers efficiently set the table, Dedra settled back into her seat, her dress clinging to her figure like a second skin. The chandelier above cast a dazzling light across the room, its crystals refracting and casting shimmering patterns on the walls.
Y/N couldn't help but marvel at her mother's impeccable appearance, the way she seemed to effortlessly command attention and admiration.
But the illusion of perfection was shattered a moment later, as Dedra fixed Y/N with a critical gaze, her lips curving into a small, condescending smile. "Well, you've gotten fat," she remarked, her voice dripping with false concern as she raised a delicate flute of champagne to her lips.
"You know, the past few weeks, your cheeks have seemed to get chubbier. Are you skipping out on that yoga class I recommended?"
Y/N felt the blood drain from her face, her stomach twisting with a mixture of shock and humiliation. She glanced at Quinn, her eyes wide and pleading, silently begging for his support. Quinn's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he fought to maintain his composure.
Clearing her throat, Y/N forced a smile onto her face, her voice trembling slightly as she replied, "I've been focusing on my career, Mom. The yoga class hasn't been a top priority."
Dedra tutted softly, shaking her head in disapproval. "Darling, you know how important it is to maintain your appearance. You don't want to let yourself go, do you? What will people think?"
Y/N bit her lip, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She could feel Quinn's hand tighten around hers, a silent promise of support and protection. But even his comforting presence couldn't erase the sting of her mother's words, the way they cut straight to the heart of her deepest insecurities.
…
As the servers cleared away the first course, Derek turned his attention to Quinn, his eyes narrowing slightly as he appraised the young man. "So, Quinn," he began, his voice deceptively casual, "I hear you're a hockey player. For the Vancouver Canucks, is that right?"
Quinn nodded, his expression confident and self-assured. "Yes, sir. I've been with the team for a few years now. It's been an incredible experience, both on and off the ice."
Derek leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. "And what exactly do you do for the team? Are you a starter, or do you mostly warm the bench?"
Y/N bristled at her father's tone, the barely concealed disdain dripping from his words. But Quinn seemed unfazed, his smile never wavering as he replied, "I'm a forward, sir. I play on the first line and contribute regularly to the team's success."
Dedra chimed in, her voice saccharine sweet. "That must keep you very busy, Quinn. Do you have any time for hobbies or interests outside of hockey?"
Quinn chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Of course. I believe in maintaining a balanced lifestyle. When I'm not on the ice or training, I enjoy volunteering at local youth centers, mentoring kids who come from tough backgrounds. I also have a passion for photography and love exploring the city with my camera."
Y/N felt a swell of pride at Quinn's words, the way he spoke with such conviction and sincerity. She knew how much his volunteer work meant to him, how he used his platform as a professional athlete to make a real difference in the lives of others.
But her father seemed unimpressed, his mouth twisting into a sardonic smile. "Photography and volunteering? How... quaint. And I suppose these activities are what brought you and Y/N together?"
Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her palms growing clammy as she anticipated Quinn's response. They had agreed to keep the details of their relationship private, to avoid giving her parents any ammunition to use against them.
Quinn, however, remained unruffled. "Actually, sir, Y/N and I met through a mutual friend. We connected over our shared love of art and culture, and things progressed naturally from there. We've been seeing each other for almost a year now, and I can honestly say that she's one of the most incredible women I've ever met."
Y/N's cheeks flushed at Quinn's words, a warm glow spreading through her chest. But her happiness was short-lived, as her father's expression darkened, his eyes flashing with barely contained anger.
"A few months?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low. "And you didn't think to inform us of this development, Y/N? Your mother and I have a right to know about the people you associate with, especially when they're..." he trailed off, his lip curling in distaste as he glanced at Quinn.
Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She opened her mouth to respond, to defend herself and Quinn, but the words stuck in her throat, trapped behind the lump of fear and anxiety.
Quinn, sensing her distress, reached under the table and took her hand in his, his fingers intertwining with hers in a silent show of support. "With all due respect, sir," he said, his voice calm and measured.
"Y/N is an adult, capable of making her own decisions. Our relationship is built on mutual trust, respect, and love. I understand your concerns as her parents, but I assure you that my intentions towards your daughter are nothing but honorable."
Derek scoffed, his eyes narrowing to icy slits. "Honorable intentions? From a professional athlete? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."
The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken accusations and barely contained hostility. Y/N's hands clenched into fists beneath the table, her nails digging into her palms as she struggled to contain the rage that boiled within her.
She had endured her father's snide comments and thinly veiled insults all evening, biting her tongue and forcing herself to maintain a facade of civility. But as Derek's words dripped with venom, his contempt for Quinn and their relationship laid bare, something inside her snapped.
"Enough!" she shouted, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. "I will not sit here and listen to you disrespect the man I love, the man who has shown me more kindness and support than you ever have!"
Derek's eyes widened in shock, his face reddening with anger. "How dare you speak to me like that, young lady? I am your father, and you will show me the respect I deserve!"
Y/N laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and grating in the tense silence of the room. "Respect? You want to talk about respect? Where was your respect when you belittled my dreams, when you dismissed my accomplishments as nothing more than frivolous whims? Where was your respect when you tried to control every aspect of my life, molding me into your perfect little puppet?"
Dedra gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in a gesture of feigned shock. "Y/N, please, let's not do this here. We have a guest."
Y/N's gaze snapped to her mother, her eyes blazing with a fury that bordered on hatred. "Oh, spare me the theatrics, Mother. You're just as bad as he is, always pushing me to fit into your narrow little world, to be the perfect daughter you can parade around like a goddamn show pony."
Quinn reached for Y/N's hand, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Y/N, baby, it's okay. We don't have to do this."
But Y/N shook her head, her jaw set with determination. "No, Quinn, it's not okay. I'm done letting them dictate my life, done letting them treat me like some kind of possession they can control."
Derek slammed his hand down on the table, the dishes rattling with the force of his anger. "That's enough, Y/N! I will not tolerate this kind of disrespect in my own home. If you insist on continuing this relationship with this... this hockey player, then you can consider yourself cut off. No more trust fund, no more fancy apartment, no more cushy job at the family company. You'll have to live off your precious Quinn's salary and see how far that gets you."
Y/N stared at her father in disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest. She had always known that her parents' love was conditional, that their support came with strings attached. But to hear it laid out so plainly, to know that they would cast her aside so easily, was a blow that left her reeling.
Slowly, she rose from her chair, her legs trembling beneath her. "Fine," she said, her voice low and steely. "Cut me off. Disown me. Do whatever the fuck you want. But know this: I will never, ever forgive you for this. You may be my parents by blood, but you are not my family. Quinn is my family, and I choose him, now and always."
With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, her head held high and her heart shattered into a million pieces. Quinn followed close behind, his hand resting on the small of her back.
they stepped out into the cool night air, Y/N let out a shuddering breath, her entire body shaking with the force of her emotions. Quinn pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she sobbed against his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt.
"I've got you, baby," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. "I've always got you. No matter what happens, we'll face it together. You and me against the world, remember?"
…
Y/N stood motionless in the bathroom, the white tile floor cold and unyielding beneath her bare feet. The room was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where she could escape the chaotic thoughts that swirled through her mind like a relentless whirlwind.
The pale blue walls, once a source of calm and tranquility, now felt oppressive, as if they were closing in on her, trapping her in a prison of her own making.
The air was thick with the scent of lavender and vanilla, the candles she had lit earlier in a futile attempt to soothe her frayed nerves. But even the familiar, comforting aroma couldn't ease the tension that coiled within her, the knots of anxiety that twisted her stomach and made her heart race with a sickening pace.
Her gaze was drawn to the vanity, its white marble surface cluttered with the detritus of her daily life. Makeup brushes and half-empty bottles of lotion jostled for space with hair ties and stray earrings, a chaotic jumble that mirrored the turmoil within her own mind.
And there, amidst the disorder, sat the small, unassuming box that held the key to her fate, the answer to the question that had haunted her for weeks.
With hands that trembled like leaves in a storm, Y/N reached for the box, her fingers clumsy and uncoordinated as she tore at the plastic wrap. The pregnancy test felt heavy in her palm, a tiny stick of plastic that held the power to change her life forever. She stared at it for a long moment, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to summon the courage to take the next step.
y/n had bought the pregnancy test on a whim, a nagging suspicion in the back of her mind that refused to be silenced. She had always taken pride in her appearance, in the way she maintained her figure through rigorous exercise and a carefully controlled diet. But lately, no matter how much she pushed herself at the gym or how little she ate, the numbers on the scale continued to climb.
She thought back to the dinner with her parents, to the cruel words her mother had hurled at her like poisoned darts. Fat. Lazy. Worthless. The insults had cut deep, leaving invisible scars that ached with every breath. And now, with each passing day, those scars seemed to grow, festering like open wounds that refused to heal.
And then there were the other symptoms, the ones she had tried so hard to ignore. The sudden bouts of tearfulness that overtook her at the most inconvenient moments, leaving her sobbing in the grocery store aisle or curled up on the couch in the middle of the day. The strange cravings that hit her out of nowhere, leaving her ravenous for foods she had never even liked before.
With a deep breath, Y/N tore open the box, her hands shaking as she removed the small, plastic stick from its packaging. She read the instructions carefully, her heart pounding in her chest as she followed the steps, her mind racing with a thousand different scenarios, each more terrifying than the last.
Y/N's mind raced with a thousand different scenarios, each more terrifying than the last. What if she was pregnant? What would Quinn say? Would he be happy, or would he see it as a burden, a trap that would tie him down and ruin his promising career? And what about her own dreams, the hopes and aspirations she had clung to like a lifeline in the face of her family's suffocating expectations?
She felt a sudden wave of nausea wash over her, and she gripped the edge of the vanity for support, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grasp.
The room seemed to spin around her, the walls and floor blurring together in a dizzying kaleidoscope of color and light. She closed her eyes, taking deep, shuddering breaths as she tried to regain her composure.
After what felt like an eternity, Y/N opened her eyes, her gaze falling once more on the pregnancy test that lay on the counter, its display window facing downward. She knew that she couldn't put it off any longer, that she had to face the truth, no matter how painful it might be. With a trembling hand, she reached for the test, her heart pounding in her ears like a drum.
But at the last moment, she faltered, her courage failing her. Instead of looking at the result, she tossed the test into the trash can, burying it beneath a pile of crumpled tissues and discarded cotton balls. She couldn't bear to see the truth, couldn't face the reality of what it might mean for her future.
The sound of the shower called to her then, the steam billowing out from behind the glass doors like a siren's song. Y/N stripped off her clothes mechanically, her mind numb with fear and confusion. As she stepped under the spray, the hot water hit her skin like a thousand tiny needles, the pain a welcome distraction from the chaos that raged within her.
She let the water wash over her, her eyes closed as she tried to lose herself in the sensation. The heat seeped into her bones, melting away the tension that had coiled within her like a snake ready to strike. She breathed in the damp, misty air, the scent of her lavender shampoo mingling with the steam in a heady, intoxicating aroma.
Behind her, the pregnancy test lay abandoned in the trash can, its display window hidden from view. Y/N had thrown it away without even looking at the result, too afraid of what it might reveal. She knew that she would have to face the truth eventually, that she couldn't hide from reality forever.
in this moment, alone in the bathroom with nothing but the sound of the water and the pounding of her own heart, Y/N allowed herself to be still, to exist in a world where the future was still unwritten, and anything was possible.
She clung to that fleeting sense of peace like a drowning woman clinging to a life raft, knowing that it was all she had left to keep her afloat in the stormy seas of her own mind.
…
Quinn turned the key in the lock, the soft click echoing through the stillness of the house. He pushed the door open, the familiar scent of home washing over him like a comforting balm. The living room was dark, the only light coming from the soft glow of the streetlamps outside the windows.
He set his bag down by the door, the heavy thud of it hitting the floor breaking the silence. His shoes came off next, the laces loosened and the soles kicked off with a careless ease. He padded across the carpet in his socks, his footsteps muffled by the thick, plush fibers.
The house was quiet, almost eerily so. Quinn listened for any sign of Y/N, any hint of her presence, but he was met with only the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of a car passing by on the street outside. He wasn't surprised by the silence, given the late hour of his arrival. Y/N was likely already in bed, lost in the sweet oblivion of sleep.
Quinn made his way down the hallway, his steps heavy with exhaustion. The bathroom door was ajar, the soft glow of the nightlight spilling out into the darkness. He pushed the door open, the hinges creaking softly as he stepped inside.
The first thing he noticed was the damp carpet beneath his feet, the fibers squishing slightly with each step. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at Y/N's characteristic forgetfulness. She always seemed to leave a trail of water behind her after her showers, a small quirk that he found strangely endearing.
Quinn reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. The cool air of the bathroom hit his bare skin, sending a slight shiver down his spine. He tossed the shirt into the hamper, the fabric landing with a soft thud amidst the pile of dirty clothes.
He turned on the shower, the water sputtering to life and filling the room with a soft, steady hiss. As he waited for the water to heat up, Quinn's gaze drifted around the small space, taking in the familiar surroundings.
The white tile gleamed in the soft light, the grout lines perfectly straight and clean. The mirror above the sink was slightly fogged, the edges blurred with condensation.
And then, out of the corner of his eye, Quinn caught a glint of something shiny, a flash of light that seemed out of place in the muted tones of the bathroom. He furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued by the strange reflection.
He scanned the room, his eyes searching for the source of the light. And then he saw it, a small, foil-wrapped object nestled in the bottom of the trash can. His heart skipped a beat, a sudden sense of unease washing over him like a cold wave.
Quinn crept closer to the trash can, his steps slow and cautious. He peered down into the empty bin, his eyes widening as he recognized the shape of the object within. It was a pregnancy test, the plastic stick lying stark and white against the dark plastic of the can.
With trembling fingers, Quinn reached into the trash, grasping the test by its hilt. He lifted it out of the can, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned it over, the display window facing upward.
The moment of truth, the answer to the question that had been weighing on his mind ever since he had noticed Y/N's strange behavior over the past few weeks. The late-night tears, the unexplained mood swings, the way she seemed to retreat into herself, lost in a world of her own thoughts and fears.
Quinn stared at the test, his eyes tracing the lines that appeared in the small window. And then, with a sudden, sickening clarity, he saw it. Two lines, bold and unmistakable against the white background.
Positive. Y/N was pregnant.
Quinn felt the world tilt beneath his feet, his mind reeling with the implications of what he had just discovered. He leaned against the sink, his knuckles white as he gripped the cool porcelain. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, his lungs burning with the effort of drawing in air.
…
Tag List <3
@ru-kru, @bunbunbl0gs, @hischierswhore, @alwaysclassyeagle, @shawnshoney, @fearfam69691, @fulla02, @njdkatie, @dancerbailey3. @jamieeboulos, @ceces-obsessions
#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes masterlist#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes smut#vancouver canucks#hughes brothers#qh43#jack hughes#canucks hockey#quinn hughes fluff#quinn hughes x oc#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes x sister!reader#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes blurb#nhl smut#nhl imagine#stanley cup playoffs#hockey#nhl players#nhl hockey#luke hughes#nhl
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♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part five
max verstappen x reader (fluff)
“. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”
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Max felt like he was going to throw up when he read your newest messag
y/n — call! i can't believe what just happened
He's just dropped you off at your hotel 5 minutes ago, at this point you should be in your room packing for your flight. The ducth was anxious for a several amount of reasons. He didn't think he could call you so soon without you recognizing his voice.
And two, the thought of logging in as Amilian again was making him feel like he's seriously sick. He can't go back to hiding behind a name and a fake profile. He wanted to be normal the way you were with him.
amilian — i can't speak, but i can listen if you still want to talk
Max was glad he was back in his apartment, phone disgarded on the floor with the unsent message as he threw up the creps you had made in the morning. He felt like shit. One, he was lying to you. Two, he felt like Amilian was an imposter in his life that was slowly eating him.
And three, he threw up the food that you put effort in and was so happy to eat. He stared at the half digested food, feeling like he was going to cry. He dreamed about eating your cooking for two years and a half and when he finally does he throws it up in addition to wasting food.
Max sat on the floor of the bathroom, wiping his mouth and flushing the toilet as he sent the message, the 'you're getting a phone call' icon appearing sooner than he'd like.
"I made a friend." You say relieved as soo as the man picked up. Max nodded to himself even though you couldn't see. "You were right about clubbing. I shouldn't have went alone." Something bad would've happened but it didn't thankfully." Max sighed in relief even though he knew the whole gist because he was there.
amilian — are you okay?
"Yeah, I'm okay." you breath out. "Someone stepped in." Max nodded again and wiped his eyes. "He uh, he's a good guy. He let me stay at his for the night and gave me a bed. I was passed out so he got his sister to put me in something comfortable. I'm . . . I really appreciate him."
amilian — im glad you're safe
amilian — where are you now?
"I'm in my hotel room." You sighed, putting the phone on speaker as you looked around your room. "My flight's in three hours so I have to leave in a few."
And now Max felt even worse. He didn't want you to leave and be so far again from him. Now that he's gotten a taste he want's the whole serving. He needs you in a way that pains him. His apartment that's empty for more than three quarters of a year felt even emptier once your lively energy showed him what could be.
he stayed silent, pressing the phone to his ear as he listened to you, wiping the occasional tear as one of his cats came to lay on his lap. At least he wasn't fully alone in this world.
Max has to put Amilian away. This is not right. He's lost touch of the real world.
#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾#🐈 ﹒wired in? ﹐♫#max verstappen f1#max verstappen#max#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x you#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1#formula racing#mv1#mv33#max verstappen fanfic#mv1 x reader#mv33 x reader#mv1 fic#mv33 fic#max x reader#max x you#f1 fic#formula one x reader#formula one
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HIIII! I LOVE THE FIC YOU WROTE, THE AND NOW? SINCE UHM YOU'VE DONE CASUAL AND RED WINE SUPERNOVA, DO YOU THINK YOU CAN DO ONE WITH GOOD LUCK, BABE? OF COURSE WITH A HAPPY ENDING BUT WITH LOTS OF ANGST? OH AND IF YOU CAN'T OR TOTALLY DON'T WANT TO, IT'S ALSO FINE!
truth be told
pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader
summary: melissa loves you, in what way, she doesn’t want to know. based on good luck, babe! by chappell roan | 7.8k
includes: they/them used for reader (legit once), r is mean direct during the fights (within reason? up to interpretation), angst, HURT/comfort, happy ending
warnings: internalized homophobia and comphet, unhealthy relationship dynamic, swearing, verbal fighting, light kissing/making out
note: i do think melissa is bisexual, but the song is about a lesbian dealing with comphet, so for the sake of the fic, melissa is meant to be read as a lesbian. let’s go lesbians, let’s go! buncha lesbians coming thru! also u can’t tell me mel isn’t a taurus. be so fr. i know lisa’s a leo but look me in the eyes and say that a primary trait of ‘stubborn’ isn’t melissa. u can’t. ruled by venus? like come on.
I, Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti
You’re quite comfortable in this spot on the floor, curled against the couch with your head resting against Melissa’s thigh, rounded nails grazing over the stretch of your neck and exposed shoulder. Eyes numbly glued to the corner of the coffee table, the chattering of the Schemmenti family around you feels far away, not even Vinny and Annette’s arguing over God-knows-what can reach you. It’s peaceful here, even with the yelling and seemingly genetic snort-laugh they all possess. It feels like home in every way.
Something that sounds far away, underwater, that resembles your name passes your ear, but does not breach the wall of comfort around you. The light rocking of your head and grazing nails turning to gentle scratching pulls you back to shore, head shifting to look up at Melissa, eyes scanning her face. All you manage is a questioning hum as you regain your social bearings.
Melissa’s hand slides up your neck to softly hold your chin, “was asking if you’re alright. You’re awful quiet down there by yourself.”
“‘M good, Mel. Just existing, I guess,” you answer, leaning into her more.
Her thumb brushes over your cheek, just barely passing the corner of your lips, foregoing an actual response. The twitch of a smile against her skin has her heart racing, her own light smile fading. Melissa’s mind pushes the casualness to the forefront of her mind, how you are so at ease in this undoubtedly chaotic environment. A sip of her wine replaces the instinct to rip her hand away from you, cross her legs and leave you suddenly without a place to rest.
Take you, Joseph Vincent Peterson
“Why does this credentialing shit have to be so intense? I mean, seriously, didn’t I just fucking do six years of schooling and another two, two, of assisting,” Melissa loudly complains as she goes through all her notes over the counter, “that should be proof enough, but no.”
You grab her tensing hand from across the table, ceasing your organizing of notes by topic, “honey, see how confident you are though? Means you’ll kill it, won’t even be a sweat.”
“You don’t know that,” she says dejectedly, peering back down to her elementary mathematics notes.
“I do,” you say, standing from your seat to round the table and stand behind her. Slowly, you wrap your arms around her, reaching for her balled hands, and leaning to rest your chin on her shoulder, “I know these things. You got this in the bag, pretty.”
Taking a deep breath with closed eyes, Melissa relaxes against you as a lingering kiss is pressed to her cheek. Turning slightly to face you, she presses her own lips to the corner of yours in silent thanks. You suck in a tight breath, she rarely ever allows herself to be so affectionate, even a kiss on the cheek is a rare occurrence. Sure, Melissa is a hugger, with only a select few, but this is so different. Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you are grateful her eyes are back on the notebook and she can’t see the dumbfounded look on your face.
You give her another half hour to obsess over words on a page before convincing her to call it a night, not even you can bear another moment looking at any of this. Admitting defeat, she lets you guide her to the couch, melting into the plastic lining. Melissa watches as you take your place against the arm of the couch, legs crossed in front of you while you flip through channels.
It takes less than ten minutes for the redhead to slowly start scooting closer, creaking plastic making her movements unstealthy. Taking the hint, you uncross your legs to make room for her and open your arms in quiet invitation. Unlike her previous shifting, Melissa nearly pounces into your arms, taking residence against your chest. One hand goes to her hair, scratching her scalp, the other rests on her arm, massaging the muscle.
It’s hard to tell when, or even if, Melissa is asleep on you. Her lack of talking or the slightest movement leads you to believe she’s dead to the world. Only a small whisper of caution passes your mind as your lips press to her crown, lingering there longer than you should. Snuggling into you, the redhead suppresses the smile of utter peace that begs to cross her wine-stained lips.
To have and to hold
Movie nights are always some of your favorite times with Melissa, struggling on a puzzle that you swore you could do. When you were sober. Now, the border still remains incomplete as your attentions divert to the TV when dramatic music begins playing. Admittedly, you aren’t really watching the movie to begin with, but Melissa seems to be so engrossed she hasn’t realized she’s still fidgeting with the same piece.
Aiming for her hand, you flick a puzzle piece into her lap to get her attention. Peeking up over the frames of her glasses, Melissa looks at you quizzically. Gesturing to the puzzle, you look back to her in silent question. She answers in a shrug, moving in tandem with you as you sit up to sit on the couch. A little grin grows as she realizes that she’d get to take her typical spot, but she has something else in mind.
Rushing ahead, she takes your usual spot against the arm of the couch, legs open to make space for your body and arms stretched out in invitation. Without question, you take your place, tucking your face into her neck as her arms wrap around you. Melissa is so warm, so warm that you feel like a cat on a sunspot, settling into her as her breathing calms your heartbeat.
Something switches in your mind, a sense of bravery fills you, and you press your lips to Melissa’s neck gently, lingering against soft skin. You try to pull away, but a hand on the back of your head keeps you in place, and you’re quick to oblige. Lazy, wet kisses glide across blushing skin, never harsh, not one mark left, just simple adoration.
Frayed whimpers leave her as you find a particularly sensitive spot, just below a freckle on the underside of her soft jaw. You can’t help but smile against her at the sound, instantly becoming your mission in life to hear it again and again. Trailing downwards, you stop at her clavicle, allowing your teeth to graze the bone, relishing in her breath hitching. She is chrysanthemum and mirth personified.
Wanting hands pull you up to her lips, and you stay hovering, barely a space between you. Noses brush, nails dig into your neck, hearts rapid. You feel you should tell her before you go any further.
“I love you,” it’s merely a whisper into the miniscule space, but it makes her hands pull you down to her lips. All teeth, all tongue, all need, but she doesn’t match your words.
For better, or for worse
Arm-in-arm, you and Melissa brave the harsh wind of the Philly night weather. She hadn’t believed you, and now she’s proven wrong, of course she passed her credentialing exam with nearly perfect scores. You’ve always told her how you have enough faith in her for the two of you.
Whiskey sours brought you together, at this very bar, having seen each other drinking one after finals junior year, and whiskey sours were how you celebrate every occasion. Ever since then, she has stolen the maraschino cherries from your glass with a grin, always pretending she didn’t.
Three drinks in, Melissa sweet talks you on to the dancefloor. With little room from the sea of people, she stays pressed against you, hands gripping at your sides. As the music slows, she slides her hands up to your neck, looking into you with something you can’t place, but you don’t complain. She’s a heavenly being, especially under the color-shifting lights and strobes. Green irises flick from your lips to your eyes, and there’s something in them that makes you desperately need to kiss her. Fluttering lashes quicken as she catches herself, stepping back before you can think of acting.
Just as much as she seems to not notice the pattern, you pretend not to.
“I’m gonna get a beer,” she shouts over the music, refusing to make eye contact. You manage a nod, watching her disappear into the crowd of drunk dancers. Carefully, you weave through the crowd to the bathrooms, needing a moment to breathe air without sweat mixed in.
After an embarrassing amount of recovery time, and a hit off a pipe offered by a kind stranger, you make your way back out to the bar, scanning for familiar red hair. Spotting her, no longer near the bar, but off to the side with a man. Melissa’s wearing her go on, get me a free drink smile, teeth just barely digging into her bottom lip, and he seems to be perfectly happy to do so. And you let him, cozying up to the bar to order a double to nurse.
Against your better judgment, you periodically check on Melissa and this mystery man. At first, her hands are to herself, and impressively, so are his. A few sips later, and her weight rests on the hand on his leg, leaning into his space with hooded eyes. Bile rises in your throat. You want to leave, but you came together, leaving her isn’t an option, not that it ever has been. When you check again, the man’s hand is cradling her face, and Melissa’s eyes flick to yours briefly.
She wishes she didn’t see the way your lips pursed, forcibly hiding a frown. In an effort to displace this feeling she can’t describe bubbling in her chest, she lets Joe kiss her, rough and wanting. Melissa kisses him back, lets his hands roam, nods when he mumbles to ask to take her home. With an arm around her waist, she walks with him as he walks her out.
Passing by you, she asks him to wait and sidles up next to you, “I’m- uh- I’m going home with Joe. You good to get home?”
“Yeah, love walking” you reply shortly, “just text me the address, so I know the secondary location.”
Melissa gives you an unimpressed look, “not funny. If I need a ride out of there, can I count on you?”
Looking her directly in the eye, you respond, “you can always count on me.”
Joe drives her home the next morning, with a hand on her thigh that makes her skin crawl, but she lets him. When he asks if he can see her again, she tells him she’ll let him know, and he seems to take it in stride. Stepping inside, taking her shoes off, making coffee, she’s fine. But the moment Melissa sits on the couch, a dark, twisted feeling crawls up her back and into her chest at the thought of seeing you later. The inevitable conversation you’ll have makes her feel sick, almost feeling as if she has to hide it despite you knowing.
For richer, or for poorer
It almost feels too good to be real. Here in Melissa’s room, fan blowing, radio playing some classic rock station, on top of her comforter, pressed against her. Her lips dominate yours, tongue stroking yours for another taste of the cherry cola you’d been drinking when you got here, currently going flat on her nightstand. Greedy hands hold your shirt, refusing to let you move, needing you right where she has you.
Some days, she reveled in your attention so much that she would let herself turn her head when you went to kiss the corner of her lips. It always leads here, with her lips on yours, though she particularly loves it when it travels to her room. Your hands on her hips, fingers just barely dipping under her shirt, only the softest of touches. Always so gentle with her, your touch was never anything more than featherlike, especially so in moments like this.
Needing air, Melissa cups one side of your jaw and travels down your chin, to your jaw, to your neck, open mouth kisses littering your skin on the other. Shaky pants pass your lips, spurring her on further, mumbling baby as her teeth nip at the unmarked expanse of your neck. The hand in her hair only scratches her scalp, as it had before, but the slower ministrations match your deep breaths at every pass of her tongue. A thought passes her mind, one that freezes her from head to toe. Melissa needs you like this forever.
Feeling the lack of lips on you, your eyes peek down to Melissa’s paling face. Warmth leaves you as she pulls away, rolling from her side to lay on her back, face fear stricken. Taking the hint, you don’t touch her, just propping yourself up on your elbow against her pillow, “you okay, baby?”
You watch her take a few deep breaths, keeping your eyes on her saints, “I’m fine.”
“I can-” You take a breath yourself, “I can go, if that’s what you need.” Her short tone was making you squirrely, and her eyes forcibly ignoring you wasn’t helping the case.
“You don’t have to go. I said I’m fine,” she realizes her own tone, “I just… I just need a minute.”
“Okay,” you say slowly, rolling off the bed, “I’ll go put something on for dinner… you can take over when you’re done with your minute.” Melissa only looks at the door once you leave, face crumpling as she tries to push tears back.
She doesn’t need you, doesn’t want you, she doesn’t. She doesn’t, she doesn’t, she can’t. Not when you hold her hand to not lose her in crowds, not when you fix her hair before getting out of the car, not even when she caves the moment your lips brush hers. It’s hard to deny the way her heart clenches when you forgo her name, always baby or pretty. It’s easier to say she loves you when she reminds herself you’re her friend.
In sickness and in health
Joseph ‘but call me Joe’ is a major pain in your ass. After three months of having his number, of not mentioning him, she texted him to invite him to the bar with you and your friends. Not once did she mention him coming, yet here he stands in a navy auto-body shop t-shirt. Their previous, singular night together clearly gives him this gnarly confidence, arm around Melissa’s waist and a hand just above her ass.
Your fingers burn from your biting, wishing you could throw the glass in your hand at him. He dares touch her in front of you, and she dares to let him. Each forceful placement of your glass back on the table makes green eyes flick to you, but they dart away before you can look back. Melissa wishes that the permanent frown on your face didn’t make her so upset.
Instead all she feels is acid in her throat, guilt and self-disgust making her squirm under Joe’s touch. Joe. She entirely forgot his presence until his hand slid into her back pocket. Peeking up, she notices that his eyes are not on her or the people talking, but on you, a hard look in his eyes. Acid bubbles, angered that he dares to look at you with such contempt.
Melissa nudges him with her hip to get his attention, cocking her head towards you in silent question. Joe leans into her, “your friend looks at me like I’m breaking a rule touching you.”
“Doesn’t mean you need to give the ugly eye. They’re just looking out for me,” she mutters, taking a sip of the amaretto sour he ordered her. It’s God awful, but she deserves as much in her mind.
Joe just gruffs a laugh, “looking out for you or jealous?” He takes her silence as not understanding, “when you’re not getting goo-goo eyes, I’m getting death rays.”
She won’t dignify an answer, hoping he’ll just take it as processing. Melissa knows, oh, she knows how you care for her, how you do more than just that. How you love her. It makes her feel ill, when it’s so clearly swirling in your eyes. The fact that others know, both her family and not, how they push her towards you, it’s terrifying.
Her mother adores you, always asking if you’re coming to dinner, begging for your presence at every dinner after the second one you attended. Kristin Marie jokes with you, not just insults, even asks your advice on things. Annette calls you Melissa’s other half, and when she gets a stony jade glare, it’s only because you two go everywhere together.
As if she knows it’s on her, she meets your gaze from across the table. Her mouth opens to speak to you, but a hand tugs her chin to the left, and Joe presses a rough kiss to her petallike lips. It’s a dare, a dare to cross him, a dare to even look at Melissa, a dare to take what he claims as his.
Forty horrible minutes pass, and on her way back from the restroom, Melissa scans the room. Everyone was right where she left them, chatting through mouthfuls of chips, except for you. Your spot had been filled in by the others, empty glass still sitting on the coaster. Over his shoulder, Joe gives her a grin, sated, waving his hand to get her closer.
Her hands scramble through her purse the second she’s seated, digging for her phone in hopes of a text from you. A single notification sits on her screen.
To anyone else, to Joe rudely peering over her shoulder to read the message, it would seem normal. However, Melissa knows better. There’s no heart at the end, no little ‘love you,’ probably written after you’d already started your journey. Just simply got tired, walking home.
In irritation, definitely not to shovel away guilt, she lets Joe kiss her again at the end of the night, after she downed another amaretto. Even lets him take her home, though he tried taking it back to hers, but to have him in a bed you have lied in? Unthinkable.
Joe’s kisses are as rough as his hands on her, just short of hurting when he grabs at her breasts. His voice is gruff as he offers to drive her home, despite her not feeling anything close to pleasure, close to some sort of good. It’s divine punishment, it seems.
To love and cherish
Melissa misses you. You are right next to her on the couch, yet she misses you. She’s grown too used to the comfort of laying against your chest, having your arms wrapped around her as you watch whatever movie she decides on. It’s ridiculous, truly. She’s with Joe, she shouldn’t be seeking comfort from anyone else, but her ear longs to be above your beating heart.
You’re still pressed against the arm of the couch, though you stay balled up and keep unblinking attention on the screen. The thought passes her mind to simply scoot up next to you, but it’s unwise with the mood you’re in. Since she called you and said Joe officially asked her to be his girlfriend, you’ve entirely pulled back. Not so much as a kiss on her cheek in six months. Melissa feels like she’s in the thick of withdrawal.
Green eyes feel like crosshairs as you feel them scope your body, attempting to read your displeasure without asking. Truthfully, you want to be here with her, but the clock on your time goes down with each second that gets closer to Joe arriving for their date night. In effort to not cause a fight, you’ve kept away, always leaving before he gets there so as to not be forced to talk. Joseph gets a lot of joy in reminding you he’s there to see his girlfriend.
“What?” You speak into the open air, not bothering to peek at a staring Melissa.
“You’re quiet,” the redhead offers cautiously. She’s seen your bad side, but she’s never been on it. Silence from you is a sort of weapon.
You sigh, “I don’t have anything to say.” More like you don’t have anything good to say.
“You’ve got plenty, or else you wouldn’t be quiet. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Her hand comes to stroke your hair, an attempt to smother the fire, but you duck away from her touch, finally looking at her.
“Just drop it, Melissa. You don’t wanna hear it,” you look back at the TV. It’s the most honest you want to be with her.
The calm demeanor drops, “and how do you know that?”
“Because I know you.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Tell! Me!”
“You! You are what’s wrong!” You shout as you turn to face her, brows furrowed and nostrils flaring. “You kiss me! You touch me! You tell me you care about me! You hate every woman that gets within ten yards of me, who dares show interest in me. For what?” Melissa is in shocked silence, not answering. “Because you can’t stand that they want me, that I could want them too? Because I could maybe, just maybe, have feelings for someone that isn’t you?”
“That’s not-”
A bitter laugh leaves you, “have you ever stopped to think about what you’re doing to me when you kiss me, let me kiss you, and then just start sleeping with some guy? How do you tell me you care about me more than anything and then kiss him in front of me? I have never hidden how much I love you Melissa, not once, and you rub it in my face?”
Standing from the couch, you try to create distance as you pace with your hands on your hips. You can’t even look at her, knowing the hurt look on her face will break you. You’ll say it’s all fine when it isn’t. This dam cannot be patched. She tries to hide it, but you hear her sniffle as she stands to be level with you.
Her arms cross to create a proactive barrier, “you are the one that just assumes it’s all about you. Joe is a good guy, he cares about me, loves me. He tells me, he tells his friends.”
“And do you care about him? Love him too?”
Melissa’s eyes widen, “I… I could.”
“You could?” It’s almost a laugh. “You sound real confident in that ability. Let me know how that goes.”
The red she sees matches her hair, “and what have you done? Sit and wallow.”
“Oh, sorry, were the many times I said ‘I love you, Melissa’ not clear enough? Or were you just purposefully pretending to hear ‘you’re my bestest platonic pal’?”
“How was I supposed to know what that meant?!”
Your stills, a sudden calm coming over you as you realize the lost cause, “be so fucking rea- you know what? I’m done.” Stepping around her, you go to the door to put on your shoes, feeling like there’s glass coating the soles.
“You’re-”
“Going home,” you say standing, “I can’t do this anymore. At this point, I’m just torturing myself.” There’s no pause before opening the door.
“Please, don’t leave,” Melissa’s voice cracks.
You can’t face her, “I love you. But I can’t say I feel the same about the idea of you only loving me when others aren’t around.”
“I love you, I do. Just, please don’t go.” The door slams in Melissa’s face.
Eyes stay on the driveway as you leave, immediately pulling into your spot, Joe.
Until we death to us part
A surprise dinner for their one year anniversary might just be the most romantic thing Joe has done for Melissa the entirety of their relationship. He called her to tell her to dress to the nines, well maybe the sevens, which made her laugh, quick to hang up to start curling her hair. As she sections her hair, she wonders what kind of restaurant, which cuisine, silently praying that it’s not Italian.
Leaning against his truck, Joe lays on the horn to alert her of his presence, climbing into the cabin as Melissa steps outside. When she gets in herself, Melissa does a once over of his clothing for the evening, hoping to not find an oil stain that seems to be on every single shirt the man owned. None. Not even a mark of too-much-bleach to get rid of an old stain. Collar pressed, not a wrinkle in sight. Joseph bought a new shirt, just for tonight.
“You look handsome,” she says, leaning against the middle console to press her lip to his cheek.
Wiping her gloss from his face, through a cocky grin he says, “thought I should clean up.”
Metallica plays on the radio, no other conversation is even attempted before he pulls into the parking lot of Yamitsuki. Joe’s already a quarter of the way to the door by the time Melissa gets out of the truck, carefully dropping to the pavement in her heels. At least it’s not Italian, at least it’s not Italian.
In hopes to get and keep his attention, her arm wraps around his when he reaches him at the host stand. When the host seats them, Joe yanks his arm from Melissa’s to get in the booth across from her. The redhead sits silently, letting the man order her drink and the appetizer he wants. When he reorders his beer, wanting an American brew, she mentally steps back. Nodding and humming seems to get her through most of these conversations.
A loud laugh from the hibachi station captures both hers and Joe’s attention, though he seems more interested in the puffs of fire coming from the grill. The woman laughing grips the counter as she tries to catch her breath, her date, facing away from Melissa, is shaking with laughter as they rub the woman’s arm. Silver catches the light, and green eyes are drawn to the rings on the date’s hand. A wide silver band, only one constellation engraved into the metal. She doesn’t have to look closer. She knows it’s Taurus, she knows it’s hers.
Tempura, onigiri, even her beloved donburi, they all taste like straw as her mind rotates her constellation brushing against someone new. Melissa doesn’t even have in her to frown when Joe slams his glass on the table to get the attention of the server as they rush past with trays. Peeking away from the adult tantrum over a Budweiser, her eyes go back to the grill.
God, she wishes she hadn’t. Talking kindly to the cook, she gets a view of your profile. Warm lighting makes you glow, the easy smile on your lips makes her heart clench. You’re here, with this woman, and you’re happy. You’re without her and you’re happy. Her grip in the table cloth tightens, pulling everything her way.
“What’s wrong?” Joe asks with a mouthful of noodles. Her eyes snap to him, brows furrowed in confusion, “your face, you look upset. Is it the food?”
She finds it in herself to smile a little, “I’m fine. Just spaced out for a second.”
He doesn’t believe her, so in true Joe-fashion, he talks about everything and nothing to move her attention away from whatever’s bothering her. It would be annoying if it wasn’t a tad endearing.
A silent prayer goes to all deities above when she walks into the empty restroom, Melissa also locks the door to ensure the privacy stays. The ringed fingers gripping her lungs let go, and for the first time since she walked in the restaurant, she can finally take a deep breath. Leaning on her hands against the counter, Melissa looks at herself in the mirror. Time to put your big girl pants on, Schemmenti.
Turning on the sink, Melissa runs her hands under the cold water to cool down, the splotchy red on her chest finally dissipating. Shaking the water from her hands, she nods to herself. Turning on her heel, she forces her shoulders back, spine straight, totally fine. Stepping back into the hall, she immediately collides with another person.
“Shit, I am so sorry,” a familiar voice says as hands hold onto Melissa’s elbows to stop her sway. Long lashes flutter around wide eyes as she only stares, watching your eyes fly from where your hand rests on her arm to her face. Your eyes quickly widen as your hands pull away, though they harden swiftly, concern becoming stone. “Sorry,” is all you mumble before turning away from her, giving up on your journey to the restrooms.
What possesses her, she doesn’t know, but she follows you. Grabbing your arm, she tugs you in the restroom she had just left, locking the door behind her, she leans against it as you just stare at her. The unblinking glare you give is something she hadn’t ever been on the receiving end of, but it feels as awful as she assumed.
“Nothing?”
Your jaw drops a little, and you let out a sharp, breathy laugh, “nothing? Nothing what? Was I supposed to faint?”
“Was maybe thinking you wouldn’t just walk past me when I haven’t seen you in six months.”
“And why’s that?” At her lack of answer, your head tilts, “did you want me to stay behind glass to break in case of sudden realization?”
“Sudden realization?” It could be better to play dumb.
Biting your cheek, you look at the ceiling before you speak, “yes. Sudden realization. Maybe realize that kissing me, wanting me to kiss you, it’s pretty gay. Very gay, actually, in my professional opinion.”
“I’m not gay,” Melissa mumbles, twiddling with her fingers. Maybe playing dumb wasn’t the move.
You nod slowly, “right.”
“I’m not. I love Joe, we’re here for our anniversary. I’m not gay.”
Closing your eyes, you exhale deeply, “glad that’s settled. Can you stop holding me hostage?”
Melissa can feel the weight of your words. You’re not just a hostage of this room. You’ve been perpetually held hostage by your feelings for her, imprisoned for years and years, with never getting the love you bore in return. She tries to step closer to you, but you move at the same time, pivoting around her and unlocking the door. Your name leaving her lips in a cracked voice makes you halt, but the simmering fire in your chest refuses to let you soften.
“Let me go, Melissa. Should be easy, since, you know, you don’t love me, not really.”
“B-” The door shuts in her face again.
This is my solemn vow.
—☽—
Melissa wakes with a jolt, beads of sweat gliding down her spine. Heaving breaths constrict her chest and she drops her head into her hands in an attempt to focus and calm herself. The tight feeling in her chest dissipates as a final deep breath leaves her lungs, face cooling and heart slowing. Lifting her head from her hands, she peers to the right to make sure she hadn’t woken Joe.
Perhaps she would have, had he been there.
Joe was only ever home maybe two nights a week, always ‘working late’ and coming home well rested the next morning. Nina was getting most of his time these days, all his attention, love, and acknowledgement. It was getting hard to keep track of the times he’d almost called her Ni instead of Mel, after it hit double digits, she didn’t care anymore. It was clear now, more than ever, that she was his wife in nothing but name.
Only in her dreams does she get a level of peace, the smell of patchouli and spearmint comforting her in the haze of sleep. Oversized knit sweaters and denim brush her skin in this personal Eden, but the morning sun brings her to gasoline and another woman’s perfume.
A part of her, deep in the back of her mind, screams, and it has only gotten louder over the last ten years. The voice screams, bordering on blood-curdling, telling her how much she hates him, how much she doesn’t love him, how much she regrets him. Every morning she wakes with him gone, the more she listens to that little voice. Every time she smells Chanel on the Eagles jacket she bought for their five year anniversary, the voice gets a little louder.
The voice warps and becomes familiar as Melissa stares blankly at the empty space beside her. You could? Let me know how that goes. If you were able to see her now, you’d be giving her that raised brow, biting your inner lip to keep from saying something she probably didn’t want to hear. In this moment, she would do anything to hear what you’d say, even if she may cry, even if she doesn’t know where you are.
With her mind running a mile a minute, she was unable to will herself back into sleep, giving up to make coffee instead. As if the universe wanted to mock her, the door quietly opens and closes, careful footsteps walking through the living room before the pause in the doorway to the kitchen. Joe and Melissa just stare at each other blankly, silence permeating their existence in these four walls. Without another word, she just pours him a cup of coffee, spooning in a little sugar before sliding it towards him.
Joseph, to his credit, reads that something is wrong, terribly wrong. There’s no anger on Melissa’s face, not even a twinge of sadness. The few times she was awake when he got home, she wouldn’t even look at him, just frown, but now, nothing. Sipping his coffee, he accepts the fate that comes at him like a fastball.
Before he even fully sits down across from her, she speaks without breaking eye contact, “I want a divorce.”
Joe did not argue, he’d seen this long coming. He saw it when they told her parents they were engaged, how Annette had to purse her lips, Kristin Marie taking her sister aside to talk privately. He loved Melissa, for a time, but he knew she loved the non-existent obligation to him, and he drifted. Regrets of his behavior disappeared the less Melissa seemed to care. Their positions were identical; he is only her husband in name.
By the end of March, he was fully moved out and placing his key in the palm of her hand. Pausing his steps, he turns back to Melissa, pressing a short kiss to her cheek, “I hope you find what you need.”
July is Melissa’s favorite month. No school starting or ending, no prep days just yet, not even a single manilla folder on the coffee table. Just Melissa, Cabernet, and the sunlight. She felt content under the sun, warming her skin and making the freckles across her chest and shoulders bloom. When Barbara invited her to the beach, she almost said no, until the mention of a private beach hut and bottomless margaritas.
By the second marg, the cackles coming from the hut could be heard from the waterfront, not that the two women cared. The third, and beginning of the fourth, the conversation went from silly to serious, both women speaking in not-so-hushed voices.
“He just didn’t care. I said I wanted a divorce, and all I got was okay. Was expecting some sort of fight,” Melissa says as she plays with the pink umbrella in her drink.
Barbara’s head drops to the side, “to be fair, dear, you weren’t really in it anymore either. You can’t seriously think he couldn’t pick up on that.”
“Wasn’t expecting a screaming match or anything, just a talk. I tried making it work, he’s the one who was out and about with Nina.”
“Melissa Ann,” Barbara starts, “you have been mentally checked out of that marriage before you even walked down the aisle. I’ve known you seven years, and I’m sorry, but it’s been clear you didn’t love him anymore. If you ever did.”
The redhead stares at Barbara with a heavy look, “what do you mean by that?”
“I’d like to think I know you well. And knowing you means I see you, see you as you are. That man, any man, is not what you long for.” Putting her drink on the table, Barbara reaches over to grab Melissa’s hand, squeezing it lovingly, “you look more in love in those university photos that you do in your wedding ones.”
Melissa fiddles with her fingers, “I’ll never have that back, I’m too late. It’s too late.”
“It’s not. Not too late to give yourself the space to see yourself, to find who makes you happy,” she reassures her friend. The tears threatening to spill from Melissa’s eyes make her tug her in for a hug, “you will be okay. And you won’t be alone.”
—☽—
Elaine stands from the table slowly, avoiding Melissa’s eyes as she mumbles a bye and leaves the bar. Six months down the drain, all because Melissa wasn’t ready to move in, just barely having given the woman the code to the door so she could let herself in. She’d called Melissa scared and a child, but what hurt the most, a coward. The redhead didn’t even dignify her with a real response, just saying if you’re done, then go. I won’t stop you.
Sipping the last of her drink, Melissa pays the tab for her vodka soda and the cosmopolitan Elaine had, telling the bartender to keep the change as she leaves to walk home. Walking the three miles home wasn’t going to be fun, but she could maybe clear her head, definitely get tired enough to fall asleep on the couch.
Ten minutes into her journey, a voice from nearby was calling out, catching Melissa’s attention immediately.
“Bosco! C’mon, inside time!” The laugh that follows stops Melissa in her tracks, another call of Bosco has her walking quickly to find the source. Under a streetlight, she pauses.
Across the street, in a little fenced yard, was a Brittany spaniel doing laps around the yard, darting and dashing away from the owner. Giggles filled the yard as the dog and owner seemingly played tag, the collar jingling in tandem with the laughter. Green eyes trail away from Bosco. You.
You look the same you had the last she saw you, apart from your hair being longer, smile lines a little deeper. Melissa can’t help it, eyes going to your hands, scanning for rings she doesn’t find. No wedding band, but especially, no constellation. Had you gotten married and divorced like her? Were you just the kind to not wear your ring? She doesn’t think so. Are you happy? You look happy, she hopes you’re happy. How long have you been here? Only two miles from her? Last she knew, you left Philly to no-one-would-tell-her-where.
She watches you stop running, hands on your knees as you speak breathily, “alright, for real. Inside time, Bosco baby!” Tears spring to her eyes as your grin grows, watching your dog gallop towards you and almost knock you over. “Oh, you’re excited to watch Living Single, huh? Let’s go.” Melissa watches Bosco trot next to you as you disappear behind the door, from her.
A watery smile crosses her lips, you were still watching the show you watched together nearly every night. Melissa still remembers the nights where you would play with her hair, twirling it around your fingers as she sunk into your chest, pressing soft kisses to her head as you giggled at something Khadijah said to Max. Those nights were her only sense of comfort, and for years, the mere memory would make her heart quake.
Pressing on, she keeps on her way home. Instead of falling asleep when she finally gets to her couch, Melissa turns on Living Single and curls against the arm of the couch, nudging her nose into plastic-wrapped fabric. She can almost smell the incense and mint gum.
For the next couple of weeks, Melisa takes it upon herself to go on more walks. Walks to the deli, to the bar, to the coffee shop, even to the park. Occasionally, there are days where she takes the longer path, one that passes the fenced yard of a brick building. To her dismay, she has yet to see you. Part of her panics, thinking that you may have seen her and were avoiding being seen. The rational part reminds her that you have a life. Luck just seems to be running low.
On a chilly Thursday, however, she stares at her feet to keep the wind from making tears and smudging her eyeliner. The clacking of steps on the pavement and jingling of a collar brings her eyes up, a familiar spaniel practically tugging against the blue leash. Bosco looks at Melissa’s still form, and starts pulling harder, trying desperately to meet a new friend.
“BoBo,” you almost whine, looking up from the grocery list on your phone, “hell you doing bud-”
Stopping in your tracks, your arm jerks as your dog pulls, but you stay in place. Wide eyes meet, and all either of you can do is stare. With a huff, Bosco pulls again, forcing you closer to Melissa. Nudging her hand, he begs to be pet, forcing her hand on top of his head.
You swallow the lump in your throat, speaking quietly, “you can pet him.”
Wordlessly, without taking her eyes off of you, her nails scratch gently at the dog’s head. Your own eyes flick around her face, only quickly dipping to where her hand pets Bosco. No ring. Shaking your head, you look back up.
“Melissa,” you say with a little nod. The corner of her lips turns up at hearing her name from you. “How are you?”
“I’m good, I’m good…” She clears her throat, “how are you?”
“Yeah, good. You still teaching?”
A little smile stretches across her face, “second grade, over at Abbott in West. Eleven years, almost, now.”
“That’s nice, Abbott’s nice. Micah’s daughter’s starting there next year,” you say, fidgeting with the leash in your hands.
A surprised laugh leaves her, “Micah’s got a kid? Jesus…”
“I know,” you chuckle, “the man who still ties his shoes with bunny ears.”
Bosco takes the second of silence to hop up on Melissa, front paws going to her chest as he tries to sniff and lick her face. The motion shocks Melissa, who only manages a little oof! You’re quick to move, stepping close to hold under his arms and gently pull him back towards you, still hopping and trying to get to Melissa.
“Dude, what the hell?” You say, looking down at your dog, before quickly going back to Melissa, “I’m sorry about him. New people are apparently chew toys to him.”
“It’s okay,” she replies with a smile, she’s more than okay right now. Entirely stunned by the newfound closeness, the time passing around only really hits her as a car honks at a bicycle in the street, insecurity crawling in. Clearing her throat, she adds, “I- uh- it was nice seeing you.”
The little smile falls from your lips, “oh… Okay, yeah. Nice seeing you, Mel. Sure I’ll see you around.” With a little frown, you gently tug Bosco’s leash, him immediately walking with you.
Melissa turns quickly and starts to follow you, almost running to catch up. “Wait, wait. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean go, I just- it is nice to see you,” she speaks through little pants. “Would you wanna get coffee or a drink sometime? Catch up? Only if you want to,” she rushes the last part, trying not to seem as desperate as she is.
And there it is. The little grin she loved so much, had missed so much. You try to suppress it, but it’s entirely impossible. “Whiskey sours?”
—☽—
Whiskey sours. Coffee. Meeting at Wawa for lunch. Diner pancakes for supper. It was small, and then it was damn near every day for weeks on end. Time had taken the anger she had last seen in you, replaced with sheer nerves, and now comfort once again. Melissa slowly gives in and shares little things, trying to gain your trust. The lack of any Joe-mention was telling enough, as if no ring wasn’t practically shouting. To be subtle or to not be subtle, that is the question. But this is Melissa Ann Caterna Schemmenti.
“Random question.”
“Potential random answer,” you reply through a bite of your burrito.
Melissa mulls over her words, “is six months together not stupid soon to move in with someone? My ex called me a child for saying no fucking way.”
“Personally, yeah. Knowing you, even bigger yeah. Clearly didn’t know you well enough to be moving in with you.”
Melissa nods as she wipes her lips with a napkin, “no, she clearly did not.”
The pause of your chewing only lasts a brief moment before you look up, “her loss.” There’s no hiding the blush that covers Melissa’s face.
Through lunch, and the subsequent walk to finish the never ending conversation, neither of you really want to leave the other. Every topic carries to another, nearly twelve years apart coming undone the closer you sit. You fumble through inviting her over, with the mention of thinking you have the ingredients for sours, as if you hadn’t bought everything the night before.
Late into the night, with the TV low and Bosco curled in his bed, you rest against the arm of the couch. Melissa keeps her legs tucked to her chest, chin resting on her knees as her eyes struggle to focus on the screen. Sitting here with you, it’s so hard to not want to be held by you, it feels almost second nature. The churning in her mind makes her entirely unaware of the attention on her.
Shifting, you rest your back against the arm, putting one foot down on the floor. A socked foot pokes Melissa, making her jump slightly. Prehnite eyes flick towards you, quickly scanning over your position. She bites her inner cheek, eyes meeting yours in silent question. The answer she receives is a weak attempt to reach for her, too lazy to say anything.
Lightning quick, Melissa lays on top of you, taking her place in the warmth of your neck. Your arms wrap around her snuggly, holding her as if she would disappear. She feels your nose nudge her hair, a little movement against her forehead feels like a smile, one that matches her own. Gently, with a butterfly's touch, Melissa pressing a short kiss to the column of your throat before resting again.
She loves you. She does, she does, she can.
i’ve got a doctorate in projecting
if you’re looking for a longer form of a similar concept then please, if u haven’t, read the entwined series by @lot-of-nothing it is INCREDIBLE i’m speechless
feedback appreciated as always <3
#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti#lisa ann walter#abbott elementary#lgbtq fanfiction#lesbian#lgbtq
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Overheating
Boothill fic because I'm OBSESSED!
Have you noticed he has some sort of large plug socket on the small of his back? Mmmmmmmmmmm I have ideas~
(Do tell me in the comments what person you prefer to read in, first person, second person, third person. I really don't know. I just roleplay a lot so this is the type I'm most used to.)
Tags: Boothill has nerve-like sensors on his body, he can indeed overheat, teasing, banter, mention of alcohol, rough Boothill, failed smut (he stops so he doesn't hurt reader)
Pairing: Boothill x gender neutral reader (not trailblazer+no mention of lower private parts), 3rd person
Context for reader: The reader is a bounty hunter who occasionally teams up with Boothill.
They waited outside the workshop for Boothill to be repaired. That reckless man might be good at dodging bullets, even dancing in the crossfire, but a well timed grenade tore him apart. Luckily, his pretty face is unharmed. After several hours he came out. They were on their phone, checking the transaction that just came in as a reward for their work.
"Fifty, just as agreed upon. Wanna get a drink, big guy?"
Fifty million credits was very little to bounty hunters. It should have been an easy job, like a little thrill-seeking. But this dumbass of a man has no sense of safety. They got away with just a few scrapes unlike him.
"You invitin' me on a date, eh?"
"Hah, you wish."
"Aw, you wound me~ at least let me buy you a drink."
They rolled their eyes and started walking, expecting him to follow, and that he did. Not only that but he gracefully passed them like a skilled dancer, walking ahead. Their eyes traced over his literally sculpted body. The man not only chose to make himself have NO ass, but also metal fucking abs... and a jacket that covered nothing. But... there was some sort of exposed hole on the small of his back. A plug socket? It was too large to logically be for anything they can recognize. Out of impulse they put a hand on his back, which he didn't mind, smirking. That smirk was soon to drop. Their hand slid down the middle of his back until their fingers slowly traced the rim of socket. He stopped walking, his back arched and he covered his mouth. He stumbled forwards before spinning around and grabbing their wrist harshly.
"What the fudge do you think you're doin'?"
Well, that was an unexpected reaction. If that part was so sensitive, why was it exposed?
"Curiosity killed the cat. I didn't expect you to be such a whore, exposing a sensitive part for everyone to see."
"Well nobody thinks to fudging touch it. I'm gettin' real tired of yer teasin'. Always got yer eyes on my body, always sneakin' in small touches, leanin' in close, stealing my hat--which I'd kill people over-- it's fudgin' annoyin'!"
"I plead guilty~."
At the mention of his hat they reach up with the unbound hand but he leans away, still holding their wrist. Now the grip gets tighter. Cold, metal fingers like a deadly vice, locked joints so there isn't a way to escape it. He might leave bruises at this point. He turns them around and grabs both wrists to pin them behind their back, pushing them against the nearest wall. The display attracts attention from strangers. Nobody stops to form a crowd, but eyes are certainly on the two of them. They laugh.
"Either tell me to stop or do something about it, cowboy."
"Fudge."
He presses them against the wall with his body. But his body isn't cold... They can hear the fan inside his torso spinning loudly, the metal heated. He's flustered. His voice is gravely in their ear.
"Can't tell if I wanna shut ya up or make you scream."
"Well make a choice, big guy. Leave, take me to the bar, or take me to private place."
Boothill huffs then hesitantly lets go of them and starts walking. It's unclear which he chose but he did stop to see if they're following so the choice isn't 'leave'. They follow, eyes trailing over his body again, never getting enough. It's his carefully constructed body, it's the way he moves through the crowds, those heels that are actually a part of his legs--of course they are--and the...
He lead them to a hotel. A quite nice hotel. They smile wide with a raised brow. Now this will be interesting. They wonder just what he's got packing seeing as he's literally 90% metal. He pays for a room for one night, and slightly strangely, the next day as well. He opens the door for them and places a hand on the small of their back as they both walk in. As soon as he turns to close the door they hug him from behind, feeling up and down his torso. He huffs, his cooled body now heating up again. They swear they see a bit of steam come from his mouth. He places a hand on the wall in front of him as their hands explore his body and eventually land once again on that plug socket. Gently circling the rim, his body grows hotter, his breathing gets heavier. He's letting them do it but they can tell he's barely holding back. They put a soft kiss between his shoulders as two fingers slip into the hole to see how deep it goes. It goes about to the second knuckle and the moment their fingers brush the end he bends forwards to hit his head on the wall.
"That feel good?"
He doesn't respond with words, instead with haste he turns around and grabs their hair and pulls them into a bruising kiss. His other hand grips their hip, pulling their bodies against each other. Knowing very well how sharp his teeth are he gently bites their lip. Then he moves onto their neck, leaving kisses, sucking on the skin, and sometimes biting just enough to leave tiny marks of a shark bite. The hickeys aren't enough to mark them, anyone can leave hickeys, but the bites are his mark without a doubt. He wants everyone to know who they belong to. Their hand sneaks to his back again, abusing that sensitivity. He really, truly, growls in their ear and recklessly bites their neck hard. Their entire body reacts to the pain. He apologetically licks the blood off, savoring the taste of iron in it. He's uncharacteristically silent. Luckily he had enough of clarity to bite more towards the shoulder.
They tug on his belt which is an extremely dangerous game.
"You want it off? Do it yourself, baby."
URGH, this man is so damn annoying yet so damn hot. They start with the belt, then pants, then underwear, one after the other. But before they can look down Boothill spins them around as if they weigh nothing to him, once again they're pressed chest first into the wall. They protest by pushing back into him. Which is an extremely smart move because then they feel it. It feels like... a silicone dildo. How the fuck can there be nerve-like sensors inside silicone? Then again... how can they be in metal as well? Buuuut then again a lot of planets around the cosmos have different levels of technological advancements. Now was indeed not the time to dwell on the logic of it. Especially as his hand went from their hip to underneath their shirt and up their torso. Cold fingers pinched the left nipple as his teeth grazed their neck. After he was satisfied with their reactions, their sounds, his hand moved lower, his body pressing them into the wall out of excitement, his body almost scalding hot. Just as his hand was to reach there he stops and backs away abruptly. They whine and turn around only to see his head is hanging low, hat obscuring most of his face. Some of the plates on his body have shifted to be ajar for the literal steam to come out, fan whirring loudly.
"Well fudge... Had to stop so I don't burn ya. I promise, when I cool down, I'll take care of ya. I swear it."
Author's notes: I am not fucking sorry for ending it like this. Suffer. :)
#smut#star rail#honkai star rail#boothill#boothill hsr#honkai star rail boothill#boothill x reader#boothill x you#teasing#banter#boothill overheats#fanfiction#star rail fanfic#nonbinary reader#gender neutral reader
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You should write some hcs or something about living alone with Abby, sorta cannon but not if you get what I mean? On a farm or in a home :3
Living With Abby Hcs
Cw: smut under the warning fluff otherwise 🩷 :p(ignore spelling errors if any (request open)
‿︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵ ‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ‿ ‿︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧
🩷 Mornings with Abby are always special. She loves waking up early to make you breakfast, bringing you coffee in bed, and sharing quiet moments together before the day starts. She enjoys the simplicity of starting the day with you by her side. However, she always forgets to wash the dishes after breakfast and will in fact leave them in the sink all day💀 she’s super sorry about it but forgets every time 😭
🩷 Abby loves surprising you with impromptu date nights. Whether it’s a homemade candlelit dinner or a spontaneous drive to a scenic spot (with a super cute picnic ahhhhh) she’d definitely wanna keep you entertained and happy :( and can you imagine her coming back from patrol and instantly wanting to take you to some nice patch of grass she found not far out because she’s missed you and wants to have as many nice moments as possible
🩷 Abby coming back from a patrol with trinkets and gifts because she missed you and couldn’t stop thinking about you. She’d come back with jewelry, glasses, charms, stuffed animal, music, etc just to see you smile
🩷 Living together means celebrating holidays ^_^ Whether it’s decorating the house, cooking special meals, or exchanging heartfelt gifts, she’s so ready to go all out. Imagine decorating a ginger bread house with her and she makes a little you and her out of ginger bread😭 she’d be so excited to show you too(shit would be funny af if ur shorter than her lmfao- a lil ginger bread dude next to a really fucking tall one 💀)
🩷Abby fixing anything and everything that’s broken in the house or not up to par with what she thinks you deserve. The oven isn’t working properly? dw she’ll figure it out- oh the door handle broke again she’s right on it- she’d fuck it up and make it worse and then proceed to actually read a manual(she totally knows what she’s doing😐) THEN fix it but she loves you so it’s fine
Warning nsfw
‿︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵ ‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ‿ ‿︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧
🧁 GAH sleepy morning sex with her would be sooo sweet❤️ she’d mumble out little “come on baby”s and hushes while she pushes her fingers into you slowly, listening to you beg for more half asleep. Her hands would be ALLLLL over your thighs afterwards squishing them softly, kissing up and down your neck before falling back asleep :(
🧁Abby has a bad (good-)habit of turning ordinary moments into something much more heated than they need to be😭. While you're cooking together, she can't resist coming up behind you, pressing her body against yours. Her hands slide under your shirt, caressing your stomach and breasts, her lips finding your ear as she whispers little moans into your ears. Before you know it, she has you bent over the kitchen counter, pounding into like shes scared she’ll never get to fuck you again. Girl is DESPERATE to make you happy(cum)
🧁After a particularly stressful patrol, when Abby needs to release all that pent-up tension she’ll take you against the nearest wall, counter, door, shit she’d settle for the floor- her hands gripping your hips tightly as she moves against you. Begging for you to scream her name louder because there’s not a single person for miles and even if there hypothetically were she’d want them to know how good and how deep she’s fucking you anyway.
🧁speaking of stressful patrols and my prior post(god her with a oral fixation) being in the bath with her to calm down after a long day and she sucks on your tits and plays with them with a thigh between your legs. When she gets bored of that she’ll drain the bath water and eat you out, sucking softly while forcing you open despite the overstim and multiple orgasms.
🧁cleaning you up after because you’re painfully exhausted (in a good way) she makes it her priority to have you comfy and close to her before you pass tf out because she still has you fucked up and unable to walk hours later 😭
‿︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵ ‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ‿ ‿︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧
OH THIS IS SO CUTE(the first part not the part where my ovulation is speaking for me-)
(I really appreciate requests- writing is helping with my anxiety rn- short and sweet as always ;D)
#‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ Evelynsinbox୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x#abby anderson x reader#abby x reader#abby anderson#abby anderson x rea#ellie williams
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« I'M THE ONE YOU ALWAYS NEED. »
CONCEPT; MORTEFI X F!READER . YOU WENT TO HIM TO ASK HIM TO INVENT SOMETHING.
TOPICS/WARNINGS; USING TOYS . QUICK ORAL (F!RECEIVING) . ATP IDK . NGL THIS FEELS LIKE A DRABBLE . P IN V . PROBABLY OOC
IM PLAYING WUTHERING WAVES AND IM IN LOVE W SO MANY OF THEM N R PLANNING SOME FICS 💞 also should i start writing on ao3 hehe
WORD COUNT; 1.5K
"hey..." you voiced awkwardly as you tapped your knuckles at his open office door, catching his attention. "yes, do you need anything?" he asks, turning towards you and putting down his tablet. you walk into the office nervously, "you said i could ask you if i needed anything made, right?" you questioned, averting your gaze and looking around the room. "yes... i did say that." he looks at you, crossing his arms as he observed your anxious expression. you gulped quietly, swallowing your pride as you really can't seem to find anyone that sells these things... "have you ever made a..."
his eyes widen slightly at your inquiry, a replica of male genitalia? he clears his throat, holding up his fist to his mouth as he took a few moments to think before speaking up, "well no but... i couldn't say that anyone ever asked either." he turns back around to his desk and sends the current hologram he's working on into his drafts before starting a new project, "so... can you?" you asked for reassurance, tilting your head to get a view of the hologram.
he turns to you, leaning on his desk as he looks down at you with rested eyes, you could feel that you've definitely piqued his interest with your 'invention idea.' "have you ever considered just finding someone to be able to..." his voice lowers, "-use the real thing?" he leans down just a bit, but enough for you to get what he's insinuating. "well sure, in a way." you answered, your voice tensing up.
"oh really?" he retreats back, bringing up his hand to push his glasses back, "which person have you thought of?" he interrogated, seemingly trying to pry a certain answer out of you. you look away, staying silent for a few moments he breaks the silence with a small sigh, "well, it's understandable if you wish to not answer. but, i'll try to make that for you. expect it by the end of the day."
he sure works quick. a relieved exhale, even though embarassment still ran through your body, huffs out of your lips as he turns back to his desk. "t-thank you." you stammer nervously as you swiftly made your way out without exchanging any last words with the red haired researcher.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
as you were just getting ready to leave the laboratory, you hear a certain voice call out from behind you. you turn to see a familiar figure with gold-rimmed glasses—mortefi, and he was holding a paper bag.
you feel heat rise to your face as you remember what you just asked of him. "here's what you requested." he walks over to you, holding up the bag as his tablet rested within his other hand. "oh... you really made one." your hands trembled slightly as you took the bag, feeling shame wash over you. "oh, and sorry if it might not be to your best liking, i used... my own as a slight reference." he said as he closed his eyes for a few moments before looking back up at you.
shock runs through you for a few moments before you smiled awkwardly at him, "oh- okay. thanks a lot though!" you tried to force an enthusiastic answer, failing miserable as your voice cracked a bit. "well then, i guess it's time to head home and have fun, no?" he said rather coldly, and with a straight face as he eyed you. well that felt rather insulting. you laughed sheepishly as you clenched onto the paper bag.
you thought about it for a while, if it's like his... why not just use the actual reference?
"sir... have you ever bothered doing these things with someone?" you asked, making the tension even more unbearable and uncomfortable. his eyes narrowed as he looked at you, certain conclusions and thoughts already being formed in his head. "yes, in a way." he answered, seemingly mocking your words from earlier. "then..." you took a small breath, "would you mind using this with me?" your voice shakes as your grip on the bag tightens.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
well fuck.
he now knelt in between your thighs, with your legs over his shoulders, taking in your most sensitive parts as you sat over his desk. "i suppose we need to make your body ready first, right?" he voiced hoarsely, how is he doing this with a stern and cold expression? you swallow a breath as you looked at his calm gaze, "y-yes." you stuttered in a failed attempt to seem composed.
he took off his glasses, and placing it on his cold table before placing a warm, wet kiss onto your core, making your body shiver. you looked down at him as he strategically worked his mouth around you. he held onto your thighs, keeping you stable as his tongue gently worked around your folds, preparing your body and riling up it's appetite. your legs lock his head within your thighs, pulling him closer to your pussy. "mm..." he groaned out, making him frown a bit though he didn't really... dislike it.
"sorry..." you mumbled quietly, loosening your grip as he pulls back, and getting back up "it's very much okay and reasonable." he assures as he reaches for the bag and takes out it's contents. you shift your gaze to what's now in his hands, he used his own as reference?! it was lengthy, and he brought it down to your already wet cunt. "are you ready?" he asked, positioning the dildo against your drooling pussy, "yes." you whined quietly, looking down at the silicone toy.
"alright, i'm gonna do it slowly, okay?" he assured, his voice was low as he slowly pushed it in, starting with the tip. he kept his attention down towards your hole, observing the way it clenched desperately around the fake cock. he clenched his jaw as he slowly pushed it further, earning him a small moan from you as he felt his pants tighten. well shit.
he notices the now growing bulge in his pants as he pushes the entire thing into you gently, "is it okay?" he asks, looking back up at your now pleasure-washed face. it turned him even more. "absolutely..." you responded breathily as you looked down to see his aching cock hiding under the fabric of his pants. "i'll move it now." he thrusted the toy in and out slowly, hearing the wet noises as your pussy resisted against the movement.
he groans, feeling extremely jealous of the silicone figure within his hands. you moaned at the sensation electrifying you, shooting shots of pleasure into your veins as his hands sped up. your body shook as he started to get rougher, now slamming it into you as a knot formed quickly within your core.
"i-i'm getting close..." you mewled out as your legs instinctively closed themselves, and your back arching as his hand kept themselves on your hip to keep you stable. you cry out as you feel the pleasure wash over you, that knot breaking apart as you feel warm liquid spill out of your pussy, making your legs weak. "ah..." he muttered as he slowly pulled it out, feeling the fabric encasing his own heat now tighten even more as it hurts.
you look down at it, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you look up at him, "better if it's the real thing, no?" you said with a dazed laugh as you wrap your legs around his waist. "is this permission?" he asks with eager eyes as he put the dildo aside and his hands slowly undid his pants. "mhm..." you hummed, and even though you just finished, you felt excited for the real thing.
he laughed quietly as he let his pants fall a bit, revealing his twitching dick. it was desperate for your gaping hole, the way it squeezed on the dildo made him all frustrated for some reason. he wanted to feel it for himself. "i'm sorry, dear, i can't wait." he apologizes before pushing himself slowly but firmly into you. he groans at the feeling, your walls tightened against him and sending his body into euphoria as he feels his control over his body slowly dissipate.
you let out a staggered breath, though the smile returns to your lips as you find it in you to make some teasing remarks. "feels good, doesn't it?" you whisper as your hand moves up to cradle his face. "yes..." he says huskily as he couldn't find the strength to move. "what's wrong? why can't you move?" you voiced rather condescendingly as you start to circle your hips against him.
he frowns as his body twitches at your motion, with his grip on your waist deepening. you feel his fingers dig into your soft skin, making you feel a bit confident of your skills. mortefi hisses through his teeth as he slowly started to move, his length leaving your insides empty for a few moments before burying himself back inside you.
a small cry escapes your lips as you feel his cock fill your empty hole, and your body reacts as if it was running on desire. you reach for his back, your arms travel down his waist, stopping just at the hill of his hips. you push him further into you as sounds of pleasure quickly filled the room, echoing through the empty walls. you're both so lucky that everybody's gone.
you claw at his clothes, feeling as if you were ripping the white fabric apart, you whine out his name as you feel that familiar feeling boil up within your body. and you were sure he could feel it too. "are you close?" you asked breathily as his pace started to speed up, rougher, and harder. "so... tight." he frowns as he ravishes in the pleasure, letting it devour him as he continues to ram himself into you.
"i'm so close-" he scowls, his other hand roaming the skin of your stomach as he takes in the view under him. your vision slowly fades to white as you feel your mind go blank, losing your control over your body as you feel that sensation shatter, sending shards of pleasure all across your body. your body uncontrollably trembles under his touch as he pulls out swiftly with a groan and pressing his dick against your cunt, grinding into his climax.
you feel a sticky, warm liquid spill across your stomach and the soft plush of your pussy.
okay it's all up to u now guys 🤑
you have reached the end of this post
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#wuthering waves#mortefi#mortefi x reader#wuthering waves x reader#fanfic#x reader#smut#[💮] SIA.#[📝] sia.#f!reader#female reader#ooc#out of character.
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Unhuman (NSFW)
paul atreides x female!oc
summary: in the dark, a woman shows up in paul's room unannounced and gives him something he'll come to crave.
warnings: 18+, p in v sex, creampie, unnatural amount of cum, slight dubcon ? (paul is put under a spell to make him horny and in a trance-like state so idk), mention of knives, pure smut.
words: 1,852
a/n: i don't know where this character came from lol i just started writing. this makes no actual sense in the dune universe btw i just wanted to write about paul. also this took me over 10 days to write cus i kept procrastinating and i still don't really like it but oh well.
Paul awakens to a feeling that he is not alone in the bedroom he lays. A sense of unease creeps up the back of his neck, hairs standing, as he scans the room for the movement of shadow.
He sees it: a static movement in front of the closed door. He is able to make out the shape of the figure as his eyes adjust to the darkness. It's small but only seems to be a few inches shorter than Paul, however does not have the frame of any man he can think of. A woman, most probably.
"Who are you?" Paul asks. His voice is calm but his mind and rapid heart are not as he reaches for the dagger that usually rests without use under his pillow. He stands, hiding the weapon behind his back, the cold steel pressed against his bare skin.
The woman walks towards him with confident strides. Paul holds in a breath and tightens his grip on the knife. When she's mere inches from him, she draws a knife of her own from her side and presses the tip against the underside of Paul's chin.
"Drop it," she demands. He obeys on command despite the Voice not being used. Paul doesn't feel as though she possesses the ability to use it, and yet, he feels an odd inclination to do as she says.
Paul huffs out the air from his lungs. Her eyes are large and almost seem to be glowing; they're dark as a starless night sky, though he can't make out the colour. Her lips are plump and inviting. She pushes the knife upwards slightly, nearly breaking the skin, before dropping it herself. It clatters against the floor though Paul barely hears it. He has the overwhelming desire, suddenly, to kiss her.
"Who are you?" He asks. He wishes to be assertive in this moment, threatening to the unknown intruder, but he finds his voice will not obey and instead every word he utters comes out as a beg of a higher pitch. What is he begging for?
"It doesn't matter who I am." Her voice is soft and comes out unhuman, like an echoed whisper in the wind. Paul wonders if she's an angel, or a spirit, with her unnatural beauty. "I know who you are, and I'm quite surprised this is working so well on someone like you."
"May I...May I know, at least, what your purpose here is?" Paul's voice is low and hoarse and he can barely get the words out. He's been hypnotized by her - his hands squeeze together behind his back so as not to give into the urge to touch. She needs to leave.
She grins and looks down over Paul's half-naked frame. She rests a warm hand over the right side of his chest. His breath hitches. "I've come to give you something," she replies, her voice sweet and intoxicating. "I'm sure you'll like it, as will I."
Paul, without thought, places his hand over hers. "Has somebody sent you?"
She sighs and drops her hand. Paul's eyebrows furrow in worry; he doesn't want her to leave before she gives him whatever it is she's here for. All worries disappear when her hand returns to touch his face. "Yes, Paul, but I cannot disclose by who."
Paul's name on her lips make him gasp and lean into her touch. She's turned him into an obedient puppy, his eyes hazy and wide with anticipation and his red lips parted lazily. In a part of his mind that is usually far closer to him than now, he's disgusted with himself, his lack of the authority that's expected of him.
"May I see what you have come to give me?" His voice is a whine now. He wants to slap himself for his stupidity. He should tell her to leave, draw the knife to her throat and demand to know who she is, but he doesn't. Instead, he twists his head towards her palm and plants a soft kiss in the middle of it. She smiles at this gesture.
"Yes, of course."
Paul inhales deeply as her soft fingers slide from the side of his face and down his neck, fluttering over his collarbone then over his nipple, down his stomach. Her fingers leave a tingle behind on the skin she's touched. She stops once her hand is rested on his lower abdomen, edging dangerously close to his stirring arousal. "Please..." Paul whispers, barely audible.
"Will you lay down for me, Paul?" She asks sweetly. Paul nods, over and over, until he's rested on his back, his hands drawn up towards his chest in remaining insecurity over his fragile frame.
The woman is straddled over his lower hips in seconds though he didn't see her move, as if she used some sort of teleportation. She leans down until their mouths are barely touching, her breath light against his wet lips. "You're very beautiful, Paul. So delicate."
She reaches between their bodies and lightly grips his erection. A soft oh leaves his lips in a moan and he lifts his hips on instinct in search for friction. The head of his cock is wet and stains the thin material of his pants. He can almost swear, through the daze of his brain, that his erection is far bigger than it typically is, barely contained in the fabric. What he knows, for sure, is that his sensation to touch is amplified to an intensity he is unsure he can handle.
She connects her lips to his and they are as soft as Paul had imagined. He groans deeply into her mouth and pushes his wet tongue between her teeth. Their tongues dance together and her hand grips harder, stroking him frustratingly slow. "Please..." It's as if please is the only word he knows.
She pulls away and smiles, nodding in understanding, and grips the waistband of his pants to slide them down. His cock frees and makes a dirty slap against his stomach, loud in the stillness of the room. Paul reaches for her and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her back down so they lay skin to skin. She's so warm, and she's naked. Paul wonders if she's been naked this whole time, shadowed by the dark.
She leans into his ear, massages his curls between her fingers. "I'll make you feel good," she whispers so lightly Paul wouldn't have heard if it weren't for the deep silence of the room besides their breaths and his beating heart. He can't hear hers, nor can he feel it against his chest.
"Yeah?" Is all he can mutter, dizzy with desire as he feels her wetness slide over his cock, tip rubbing against her clit. Her pace is slow, too slow, so Paul grips her tighter and lifts his hips upward in a smooth rhythm, meeting her movements. She lets out a moan against his ear, so unhuman but so lovely he wonders if this is in fact a dream.
"Yes." With that, she lifts her hips and sinks down onto Paul's erection, filling her to the hilt. He shrieks an ungodly moan at the feeling and almost cums but manages to, somehow, hold it in. It's the best sensation he's ever felt.
"I can't, I can't," he repeats in huffs, "I don't think I'll last long, I don't—"
"Shh." She places her lips to his neck, sucking on the warm, salty skin. He goes pliant at this: arms slack and dropping to his side, his hands flexing and reaching for sheets to grip. He lets out a shaky whine. He wouldn't mind if his only purpose in life was to exchange pleasure with her, whoever she is.
Once she finally moves, her hips lifting slowly before coming back down again, his head pushes back into the pillow and a whimper escapes his throat. His neck is further exposed and she switches to the other side, sucking there. Paul lightly grips her hair, shorter than his own, and arches his back off the bed.
Her movements increase in speed and, against the sensitive skin of his neck where she's licked and sucked and nipped at, she asks: "Am I fulfilling my promise?"
A sobby whine vibrates in his chest as he nods, his cock leaking profusely with clear liquid inside of her. He's so blissed out he's unable to speak, eyes pricking with tears.
The noises that fill the room are unholy, wet slaps and heated groans of pleasure. She's mainly quiet besides the occasional soft moan when Paul bucks his hips upward to meet her in the middle.
She disconnects her wet, full lips from his neck and connects them to his lips once again, breathing in his steady flow of moans. She takes his cock fully and begins to rock her hips forward and backward, sucking on his tongue as she does so. He whimpers into her mouth at this sudden change of movement and grinds his hips to meet the rhythm of hers.
Paul turns his head to the side, disconnecting their lips, and throws his head back. He moves his hands from her hair to grip her ass and push her down, grinding harder with added force. He's close, and has a deep, forceful desire to cum inside of her.
"I'm gonna– Can I– Please–" Paul mumbles and whines against her ear, unable to form full sentences. His grinds become sloppy as his release climbs close and his grip on her loosens, hands flexed and shaking.
"Yes, Paul," she breathes against his ear, granting him permission. She plants a soft kiss against his cheek as he cums, calming him down with fingers through his hair as he writhes and moans loudly beneath her.
Tears run down his cheeks, cock pulsing inside of her heat and spurting out rope after rope of cum – an unnatural amount. He can feel the warm liquid seep out of her, pooling around the base of his cock and running down his tight balls. The feeling is so intense and delicious he knows that, if he is never to see her again, he may not be able to live with his craving for this. For her.
Once Paul has settled and his heart returns to a steady beat, she lifts her hips and his soaked, softening cock slides out of her and slaps against his thigh. More of his cum leaks out of her and onto his lower stomach. She smiles and places her hands on either side of his face, kissing him, then flips onto her back beside him.
Paul immediately rolls over and wraps his arms around her, unable to handle the lack of her touch. He rests his head against her chest and she lifts a hand to stroke his damp curls. "Don't go," he whispers.
The woman feels cruel knowing she eventually must. But she won't tell Paul this, not yet. Possibly she's been too harsh with her seduction, or Paul is far more sensitive to it than she assumed he would be.
"I won't," she fibs.
#paul atreides#paul atreides imagine#dune part 2#timothee chalamet smut#timothée chalamet#timothee chalamet#timothee chalamet x reader#timothee chalamet imagine
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꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ HANDS ON | wind breaker headcanons
⋆୨୧˚ WITH: umemiya ; togame ; sakura
⋆୨୧˚ SUMMARY: which place they like to touch the most!
⋆୨୧˚ MATURE CONTENT WARNINGS:
fem reader, bit of size kink, lots of praise, pet names [sweet thing, baby, 'pretty'], mentions of bondage/restraint, oral [m. receive], dry humping, nipple play, creampie, MDNI
꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ UMEMIYA
umemiya wasn't too particular with any one place on your body - not for a while at least. he'd try different positions, focusing on how tightly you enclosed around him when he angled different ways. he was determined to find the best one, to have your pussy squeezing him tight and your frame shuddering in ecstasy. all it took was one time in doggy, and he was fucking hooked.
your knees dig into the mattress, chest pushed against the sheets as you peek back at a turned on, panting umemiya. his big hands find your hips, playing with the plushness of it all as he lets his cock slip in ever-so-slowly. a languid groan leaves his lips as he curls over you, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses along your spine. "that's it... fuck- squeeze me more."
"too big, 'miya," you murmur between panted heaves, body rocking each time his hips rut forwards. each purposefully angled thrust hits a spot that feels like heaven, and all you can do is moan and whimper between mumbled curses. "g-god, feels so good- fuck."
"oh, i know, i know," umemiya coos under his breath, his voice low against your cheek as he picks up the pace, fucking deep into the hilt of your cunt. his hands wander back to your hips, enticed with the way they move along with the rock of his body against you. "keep takin' it like this, yeah. knew you could do it, sweet thing. look at me, just keep lookin' at me..."
it's not long before his muttered praises and heavy ruts have you reeling over the edge, with him not far behind. he shudders and digs his fingers into your hips, panting hard before his body tenses up. with a low grunt, ropes of white spill between your walls and it makes you shudder. umemiya mutters between a chuckle, "oh, shit... think i found a new favorite way to fuck you."
꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ TOGAME
togame has a bit of an affinity for control, so he enjoys things like restraining your hands, or making you take agonizingly slow ruts until you're begging for him to speed up. but above all, there's something he just loves about your lips, your mouth, the softness of your tongue... it entices him like none other.
"that's it, just like that. suck it, yeahh," togame sneers as he watches the way your head bobs and your hands pump and twist and glide against him so sophisticatedly. he can't help the little smile on his face as he sees you look up into his eyes, little tears pricking at your waterline. his hand brushes against your hair gently, "c'mon, i know you got more for me. show me how nasty you can be..."
togame lifts your chin, letting you breathe as saliva and pre-cum coats your lips. his cock throbs as he slides his thumb over your bottom lip, all before slipping it into your mouth to feel the slickness of your tongue. he murmurs a little 'fuck, so wet' through an enticed gaze as he feels it languidly, then lowers your mouth back onto the head of his cock.
"show me what you can do with that pretty tongue," togame rasps lowly, enamored by the way you start to swirl it around the head of his cock, then suck tantalizingly. his chest rises and falls quickly, little twitches jolting here and there as he feels himself building up. it only takes a few more pumps of your fist and tongue dragging along the shaft before he's letting out hitched grunts.
"fuck- me, baby," he groans out between a chuckle, rutting his hips slowly into your mouth as he flits his hands on your hair. with a low shuddered moan, his hips rock up into your mouth and hot ribbons smother your tongue in a tangled mess. he slips his cock out, mouth agape and panting as he watches you swallow it all. he takes no time before leaning in to kiss you, muttering, "now it's my turn to use my tongue."
꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ SAKURA
sakura has always been obsessed with your tits, it's clearly been a favorite for him for a long time. you'll be snuggling and his hand quickly finds its place on your chest, and he can't help but squeeze here and there. he loves any possible position where he can see or touch your breasts as much as he wants.
"so fuckin' hot, god," sakura grunts out as he grinds his clothed cock against you, clad in nothing but boxers. you can tell he's pent up by the way he's breathing so heavily, his hands wandering your body in wanton need. he quickly slips up your shirt, his palms finding your breasts as he ruts his hips on you a little harder. "so hot, baby, yeah, they're all mine."
“little more,” you murmur desperately as he ruts along your clit above your shorts, feeling his thumbs shift towards your exposed nipples to circle and feel them in irrevocable intensity. every little grind of his hips and shift of his fingers leaves you a shuddering mess, and sakura can’t help but think it’s just the hottest thing ever.
“so cute when you do that lil' shaky thing," sakura mutters between a small sneer as he rocks his hips a little harder this time, shifting downwards to press open-mouthed, eager kisses along your chest. his tongue replaces his hand, circling around your nipple and letting out a little enticed groan every time he feels you shiver from it. "fuck- wanna cum while i'm kissing these pretty tits."
with quick, panting breaths and a feverish slew of kisses on your chest, sakura shudders and moans as he spills a load of white into his boxers - and he can't help but think. maybe he'll ask if he can fuck between your tits next time.
2024 SAETOSHIS. do not copy/repost.
#YAAAAY my first wb smut#HEHEKLASLA#sorry this is late ive been busy😭#umemiya x reader#umemiya smut#umemiya hajime smut#umemiya hajime x reader#wb smut#wb x reader#wind breaker smut#wind breaker x reader#togame jo smut#togame jo x reader#togame smut#togame x reader#sakura haruka smut#sakura haruka x reader#sakura smut#sakura x reader#cw size kink
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You're definitely my top fav Mizu writer I love all your fanfics 😭😭😭‼️‼️‼️
Could you do one of Mizu and reader already being a married couple, but Mizu still is deeply in love with reader despite the years, could be smut or not I just want Mizu to be super affectionate wodkendkend
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Hey dear!
Thank you so much for requesting and saying something so sweet <3 I really try my best to do well in writing and compliments like these make me so weak ///
I haven't done a fanfic about Mizu in their current time period for a long time so I'll try to do it now.
Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*
warning/s: not proofread, wound cleaning, injuries, both feminine and masculine pronouns for mizu, implied afab reader
Your eyebrow twitched in irritation, hands hidden inside your kimono as you balled them into fists. 'No, no. Let's stay polite. Let's stay polite,' you thought to yourself, keeping a small faux smile. "Are you sure we can't get this for less?" you asked the straight-faced vendor who looked just as irritated at your constant haggling.
The middle-aged man in front of you grunted in annoyance, in his hand was a bundle of herbs you needed to make an antiseptic paste for Mizu. "No, 5 ryo and that's final," he replied, raising an eyebrow.
Holy shit. 5 ryo for a bundle of herbs that was already wilting? What a scam. You could buy a travel pass for that already!
"Please sir. My husband really needs it now. How about 2?" you asked, giving him the best doe eyes you could without letting your irritation show. "And what do I care about your husband? The best I can do is 4," he replied in a snarky manner.
"2?"
"5."
"2 and some mushrooms?"
"I said 4 is the best I can do."
"Oh c'mon please! 3?"
"No."
"3 and some mushrooms?"
"I don't care about your stupid mushrooms!" the man snapped, lifting himself off of his seat to loom over you. "4 ryo. That's it. If you can't pay, then get the hell out!" His hand raised the bundle of herbs, seemingly about to smack you with it until a firm bandaged hand gripped his wrists almost painfully.
Looking up to curse at the offender, the vendor suddenly reeled back upon seeing your husband's orange-tinted glasses. "And who the hell are you?" the vendor asked, trying to sound intimidating.
Mizu's blue eyes narrowed at him behind her glasses, scanning his figure before letting the vendor's wrist go. She opened her mouth to respond but was immediately cut off by the feeling of your body pressing against her arm. "Mizu? Aren't you injured?" you asked in pretend innocence, glancing back at the vendor whose eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and nervousness.
Your husband grunted slightly and nodded. "You were taking a long time," she replied before looking at the vendor. A bit of slyness mixed with the polite smile you've been keeping up for the past hour. "I was about to go back but.." You looked at the vendor who was now glaring at both of you, eyes squinting as your smile widened mischievously. "This man was about to hit me all because I asked if he could sell those herbs for 3 ryo."
Upon hearing your words, her eyebrows immediately knitted together. Her hands gently pushed you behind her, approaching the vendor with a terrifyingly thick aura of anger. She glanced at the bundle of herbs in the vendors hand, tongue clicking. "These herbs look like they might as well be feed for the pigs and you threaten my wife over them?" she scowled, glare hardening. Her hand reached towards her sword, using her thumb to push the katana slightly out of its scabbard.
The vendor glared at the ronin in front of him, thinking carefully before conceding. "Fine I'll hand it over for 3. Just leave before you scare the other customers away," he grumbled, tossing the bundle over to you haphazardly. Mizu was about to have another talk with him but you decided to pull her away, grinning at the vendor.
"Thank you sir. My husband and I will surely come back," you said with a mischievous hint in your voice. "Isn't that right, love?" Your head turned towards your husband who was still looking over at the vendor menacingly. "Sure."
With that, the two of you left. A soft yet cheerful hum emanated from your throat as the two of you walked out of the busy marketplace and back to the old run down inn the two of you checked in.
Sure, it was old. The floorboards would creek with every step and the decorative textiles looked dull and worn down. The futons they provided were very flattened out from years of use and washing. But the two of you were fine with it, a cheap inn was better than having an injured person out in the wild.
Upon arriving, you immediately set down the herbs on a nearby stove, getting a flint to light it up. A satisfied hum left your lips as the sparks from the stones finally ignited a fire, fanning it out to increase the flames. The cute little sound made your wife chuckle softly as she untied her scarf and obi.
It was during times like these where Mizu was truly able to be at peace, savor her time with you. The two of you met years ago, when she had finally returned to Japan, now on a new path to try and reconnect with herself. The self she hated so much. You were the apprentice of an apothecary owner, skilled in foraging and identifying herbs. Although you could not call yourself a physician, the title only belonging to men of that time, you were greatly skilled in treating wounds and injuries.
She entered your master's apothecary in search for a treatment after accidentally making contact with a poisonous plant while she was training. The rash traveled up her arm, blisters forming, making it unbearably itchy and painful for days until she could no longer bear it. However, upon entering the shop, you were the only person there, sweeping the floors as you hummed a cheerful tune. You looked up at her, hands pausing as your eyes observed her.
A soft smile graced your lips and the moment she heard your sweet laughter—shit, she knew she was smitten. It was like time stopped for her. Despite the place being lined up with various medicines and trinkets, all she could see was you. The slight flush of your cheeks from the cold, the way your eyelashes fluttered, the slight dilation of your pupils as you stared at her (more like her rash but ok), and the curve of your pretty lips. Maybe the god of affection decided that she was capable of admiring someone again.
"Poison ivy," you chimed, pulling her out of her trance. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion then suddenly raising one up as you approached her. You lifted her arm up gently, inspecting the rashes and blisters before setting it down. "You must've been from the mountains."
She watched as you looked over the shelves, hands on your hips. A small 'aha!' left your lips as you picked a jar from the shelf. "Here." You placed the jar on the table and gesturing her to come over. "My master is away, and I don't know how much these cost, so I'll give you a discount. Okay?"
You were so beautiful she probably ended up paying more than how much the medicine actually costed.
A soft smile tugged at her lips as she watched you grind the herbs and some sort of boiled concoction into a paste using your mortar and pestle. She loves the way your eyebrows scrunched together in focus, the way you licked your lips subconsciously, and the little huffs of breath you let every time you brought your pestle down onto the herbs in the mortar.
"Here," you mumbled, setting the mortar down next to her. Carefully, you helped Mizu out of her haori, eyes inspecting the expanse of the injury.
It was nothing serious. Just some abrasions she obtained from an accident while training in the morning. Her foot slipped, sending her sliding down the hill. However, the moment you saw her blood trail, the scream you let out was so loud it woke the birds up. Probably woke the whole world up while at it.
Another chuckle slipped out of Mizu's throat at the memory. It was another thing she loves about you. You're always so concerned about her, even more than she was to her own body. 'Mizu! Holy shit! Your skin is peeling!' she remembered you shout at her, looking like you were about to cry.
God, you're so cute.
"What's so funny, love?" you asked, tilting your head at her. Warm water ran down her wounds as you cleaned them. Mizu shook her head, eyes fluttering shut, lips curling up. "Nothing," she replied.
Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around you, making you whine. "W-Wait! Your scabs will reopen if you keep moving, dummy!" you whined, trying your best to continue washing her wounds. She hummed in content, resting her forehead against your womb. "Just remembering my wife."
You rolled your eyes at her, washing your hands on the basin before drying it. "I'm your wife," you huffed at her. She once again hummed, agreeing with you. "My wife," she mumbled against the cloth of your kimono, pressing your womb closer to her.
A small huff came from you as you picked up the mortar from the side, scooping out the paste with your fingers. "Yeah, me." Mizu nodded, the feeling of her head moving made you giggle. Gently, you applied the medicine onto her wounds, even to those that scabbed over, giving her a blissful feeling. The cold paste on her stinging wounds felt calming. A slight menthol after-effect adding to the relief. You could feel her pressing herself closer to you, her cheek now resting over your womb.
"My wife," she repeated absentmindedly
"What is it love?"
"My wife."
"You're being silly."
Her blue eyes looked up at you with a content eye smile, admiring how hard you were working on her wounds. "And you're beautiful," she sighed out. A chuckle made it past your lips, your head shaking in amusement. "Oh please, time already passed me by. I don't look as young as I used to," you replied with a fond smile.
You could see her eyebrows knitting together in disagreement through your kimono. "As if," she huffed, almost in a growl. "You're still as beautiful as the day I met you. Maybe even more." Her hands gripped your forearms firmly but with a sense of caring. She gently pulled you down, medicinal paste smudging across her shoulder as you tried to balance yourself. Before you could protest, rough, calloused, yet gentle hands cupped your face, tracing every line and every spot.
The words in your mouth died at how fondly she was staring at you. Her eyes were filled with love and affection, heavily contrasting the intimidating stare she usually had. Your big bad husband was just a pile of goo, melting and gushing at your beauty.
"I'm starting to have wrinkles over my face, aren't I?" you joked, holding a bit of truth. Mizu hummed in agreement, a soft smile still on her face as she traced over the said wrinkles. "Especially here," she replied, tracing your smile lines.
A playful huff escaped your lips, fingers smudging a bit of medicine onto her forehead. "That's your fault. I can't help it if you keep making me smile, love."
She buried her face against your shoulder, allowing herself to take in your scent. A mix of something earthy, medicinal, and a bit of rain. "It's your fault," she mumbled against your neck in a low yet content voice. "You're too pretty when you smile."
"Oh hush, dear husband," you teased, a laugh leaving your lips upon hearing her grunt at the word 'husband'. "Flattery won't get you anywhere."
"Flattery makes my wife smile," she replied with a cheeky grin. "That's more than enough." You stuck your tongue out at her, making her laugh at the playful gesture.
Silence took over the room as you continued to apply the medicine over her wounds, fanning it with your hand to allow it to dry faster. "Love?" you heard her call out. With a small hum, you craned your neck to look at her. "I'm sorry we couldn't get a better inn," she sighed.
You laughed at her words before setting the mortar down, wiping your hands over a washcloth. "It's fine. We don't need to go anywhere special," you replied, trying to get the medicine out from under your nails.
"Besides," you started, cupping her face, squishing her cheeks up a bit. "Anywhere is fine as long as we're together."
Her smile only continued to grow brighter at your words. "Maybe someday, we'll have a place of our own. With place to build a forge..and lots of shelves for my things," you added, the warm feeling in your husband's chest growing and growing with every word.
Gently, she cupped your cheeks back and placed small kisses on your face, pressing her lips on every feature she loves—which was everything. "And if we can't find one, we'll build it," she concluded.
A soft giggle of content could be heard from you as you wrapped your arms around her, making sure you weren't touching her wounds, and sinking into her warmth. "I wish we could get married," you sighed out against her chest. "Like with witnesses and all that."
Mizu could feel her heart pounding at your words, her love and affection overflowing. "I'd love a life like that. Maybe in our next."
"And what if we still can't get married in our next life?" you asked, closing your eyes as you relaxed against her skin. "Then, I'd find you and love you the same," she chuckled, eyes warming up at the sight of your body against her's. "Even if we can't get married in that one?"
"Mhm..I'll find you in every life," she started, tracing her fingers up your back. "Every purgatory." Her hands gently and tenderly caressing your face.
"And love you the same."
#bes#bes mizu x reader#bes mizu#bes x reader#mizu bes#blue eye samurai netflix#blue eye samurai#blue eye samurai mizu#blue eye samurai x reader#mizu blue eye samurai#mizu#mizu x reader#mizu imagine#mizu x you#mizu x fem!reader
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haunted house with yoon jeonghan.
a/n: idk what this is or where it came from but the things i would do to go to a haunted house with him. 😔
"how do you feel about scary stuff?" jeonghan asks without taking his eyes off his phone, scrolling through the photos a friend posted of a haunted house they visited recently.
"like horror movies?"
"like haunted houses," he glances up at you to check your reaction.
you think for a while, trying to remember the last time you went to one. "the last time i've been to one was back when i was still in high school so i don't really remember how i feel about it."
jeonghan nods, "so i take it as you don't hate it?"
you turn to him, "i think i'll probably be good with it since i enjoy horror movies."
"okay, let's go to one tomorrow."
that was a big mistake.
the next day, you find yourself trying to hide behind jeonghan in the dark and creepy haunted house. you're grabbing onto his shirt with both hands so tightly that your knuckles turned white. your legs are so wobbly that they feel like they're about to give out at any moment.
jeonghan jumps when you shrieked right into his ear after one of the scare actors crept up behind you to grab you. you quickly shove jeonghan aside to get in front of him, deciding that hiding behind him isn't the safest anymore and it'd be better for him to shield you from the back instead from this point on.
you're so focused on moving quickly, wanting to get out of this place as fast as you can, that you didn't even sense that something was off.
"jeonghan, hurry up." you urge, reaching your arm behind to try and find him while keeping your eyes ahead in case anyone appears.
you feel him wrap his fingers around your hand and you immediately tug him along as you pick up your pace.
"is there anyone behind us?" you ask, stopping in your tracks to poke your head out from behind a wall to check for anyone hiding around the corner.
"why don't you take a look?"
you jump and whip your head around at the unfamiliar voice in your ear and let out a blood curdling scream when you finally realise that the person you've been dragging along with you isn't actually jeonghan but one of the scare actors covered in fake blood, smiling sinisterly at you.
flinging his hand away, you start yelling hysterically for jeonghan as you run back to look for him and soon you find him not that far behind you, hiding in a dark corner, doubled over in laughter. if it was brighter in there, you would have caught him wiping away the tears at the corner of his eyes.
you smack him hard on the back, "what the fuck is wrong with you!"
jeonghan tries to catch his breath. "i'm sorry, but this is too funny. how did you not realise that it wasn't actually me this whole time?"
you let out a groan, "i don't know. i was so focused on getting out of here."
jeonghan bursts out laughing again when he looks at you, "you should have seen your face when you turned around."
"that's it, i'm leaving you here." you start walking away from him and after a few minutes, you hear footsteps closely behind you. "go away, jeonghan. i'm leaving alone."
the footsteps become quicker and you turn around to find another actor chasing after you. you're about to start running when jeonghan suddenly cuts past the actor to grab your hand, pulling you with him and you find yourself outside the haunted house after a few minutes.
once outside, you brush jeonghan's hand away harshly and he can't help but smile at how cute you look with the pout on your face.
"aww, you can't seriously be mad at me." he coos at you.
"how could you leave me alone with the murderer," you whine.
you see jeonghan trying to hold in his laugh, "you can't deny that it was pretty funny."
"yeah, it was." you relent and give up on trying to control your own laughter.
after a few minutes of just standing there and laughing at his silly antics together, jeonghan reaches for your hand to pull you closer to him. "you know if it was a real murderer i would sacrifice myself for you, right?"
"no, you wouldn't."
jeonghan looks visibly offended. "yes, i would."
"did you forget when you pushed minghao out when you got scared?"
he sighs, "you're never gonna let me live that down are you?"
"nope," you cross your arms across your chest and turn to walk away with a chuckle.
jeonghan catches up to you to wrap his arms around you from behind, "sorry i'm a scaredy cat." he starts swaying you from side to side as he rests his chin on your shoulder, "that's why you should protect me."
#seventeen fic#svt fic#seventeen fluff#svt fluff#seventeen drabbles#svt drabbles#seventeen scenarios#svt scenarios#jeonghan fic#jeonghan fluff#jeonghan drabbles#jeonghan scenarios#seventeen x you#svt x you#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#jeonghan x you#jeonghan x reader
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Listen, I love, love, love, Luka so much… however…. I feel like he’s missing something. Maybe I’m just having trouble envisioning him in my head. It may be that I can’t read people very well so I don’t really know if he likes me, but I wanna see the look on his face after I kiss him for the first time. I wanna see the reaction to my fear when he threatens me. I wanna see how his body reacts so my touch. I love him, but for me, I feel like he’s missing a little pizazze in comparison to Kairos. Thank you so much! This is in no way critiquing Luka, his character or your writing, I just wanna have a better idea of him in my head.
(Can I be 🏵️ anon? I’ve sent in a few asks before this so yay :))
Thank you for the questions! It actually has me thinking more about Luka and his entire character as a whole.
I think that is a big part of Luka: it's hard to get a read on him.
Luka is a man who typically has something of a flat affect. Nothing in life particularly interests him; everything is somewhat boring. He's mastered the art of faking emotions around other people.
There's a part of him that has always wanted to feel something more. A part of him that yearns to know what it's like to love and be loved, what it's like to feel alive.
When he falls for you, he finally gets to feel all of the things he's been (basically) missing out on.
When Luka first kisses you, he freezes in place, his heart skipping a beat as his lips finally meet yours.
When your hands touch his body, he feels an unfamiliar warmth in his chest. All he wants is for you to touch him even more.
When he sees the way you squirm due to his teasing, he can't help but feel pure adoration, smirking all the while.
All of these things, all of these brand-new feelings... It makes him want to possess you entirely.
When Luka falls in love with you, he's willing to do anything to have you, it doesn't matter how horrible it is. By leaving him behind, you're essentially taking his life away.
But also... Luka is just a man who likes to have control; control over both himself and others. It's in his nature.
I think you're right in the sense that he's somewhat missing something- it's probably because I haven't really focused or honed in on the side of him that can't control the new emotions he feels when he's around you.
I haven't really explored the love-struck, obsessive side of him.
I mostly tend to focus on his thirst for control and his deep sense of possessiveness.
I think it'd be interesting to explore that other side of him more! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
Luka definitely keeps his emotions extremely well hidden. He could be sweating nervously, his heart pounding in his chest, mind going blank, and he'd still have a neutral expression.
My original intentions for Luka were to have him be a more dominant, stoic, possessive man with a predator/prey dynamic between him and his darling. However, as I kept writing for him, I added on the fact that his darling is the first person to ever make him feel alive.
So, basically: a cold, emotionless character who finally feels warmth and life via meeting his darling, and he quickly grows obsessed with you. I also wanted him to struggle with managing these new-found emotions, but I really haven't done that very much at all...
I'll definitely keep your words in mind as I proceed with writing more stories about him! I've explored Luka's possessive and more animalistic side well enough, but I think it would be interesting for me to dive in to his mind and pick him apart even more.
With Kairos, what you see is what you get, basically. A super obsessive, creepy, doting, emo loser yandere guy... His personality is strong, to put it lightly! ^^;;;;;
While I try to keep my characters consistent for the most part, I also try to remember that tweaking a few of their weak spots wouldn't be such a bad thing.
My ultimate goal for my characters is this:
I want to make characters that are deeply flawed, but still loveable. Characters that could be good people, but the love and obsession that they feel for their darlings ultimately lead them to doing horrible things.
Kairos is someone who's been told his entire life that he's an unlovable freak, so he eventually grows to accept the title, and he's willing to dive into depravity.
Luka is someone who has earned love and respect from others by learning to fake his emotions and fit in with society. He's never been truly loved, and he's never truly felt love either. Luka feels no real attachment to a majority of the people around him, so he doesn't truly care if they think he's a freak when he does something depraved.
Ace is someone who's desperate to get everyone's approval and is absolutely ashamed by his depraved urges. He tries his hardest to be a good person, but ultimately, he is a victim to his impulsivity and desires.
I think with Luka, it's a lot harder to depict his character... Kairos and Ace have something strong right from the get-go, while with Luka, I have to slowly unwrap him...
I'll definitely be making future plans to develop Luka's character more soon. He's a man who's done lots of horrible things in the posts I've made, but there's been very little done to counteract the bad.
To be honest, part of Ace's purpose is to help humanize Luka a bit more, which I plan on further developing in the near future.
But, uh... Really... As much as I love my characters and love writing/thinking about them, I know that none of it is really that serious. ^^;;;;;;;
I have a passion for making characters, I find it to be incredibly fun!! It's- probably a little obvious- so...
If anyone has any comments, I'm open to hear them! I'm trying to get better at taking critiques, too. ╮(￣ω￣;)╭
And, yes, you can be 🏵️ anon! Thank you for sending the ask!
Despite everything I've said about Luka and all my doubts with writing him... I still love him ღ He's my silly little creature
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Summary:you and ghost fight
some angst sorry 🥲
Pairing:ghost x reader
Warnings:fighting, some name calling, hurt/no comfort, toxic relationship, gn!reader, no use of y/n.
𝑀𝐷𝑁𝐼 18+
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 18+☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
You saw this coming, your parents warned you, your friends. But you didn't listen you thought you could fix him. You could blame it on your upbringing. Simon was so closed off. Anytime you brought something up it was brushed off with makeup sex. He was gone on a deployment and here you are sitting on the bed with a packed suitcase. You planned on leaving, with no traces left behind moving countries and covering your tracks.
But you hear the door open and the familiar steps of your (ex) boyfriend. He finds you and you can see the anger in his eyes even through the mask. "What the bloody hell is this!?" He yells. You stand "I'm leaving you simon!, I can't do this anymore" you yell back tears pricking your eyes. "I get back from a 6 month deployment and this is how you repay me!" He yells getting in your face.
Tears start streaking your face as you turn away. "Don't turn away!" He yells turning you around. "You know what simon everyone was right about you, you are just a selfish prick who only cares about himself!" You scream. Unable to stop the words falling from your mouth. "I've tried and tried and tried but you don't care! When I try to talk to you I get brushed off because all you care about is wetting your stupid dick!" You keep going. "You are a selfish man a heartless monster" you scream.
Ghosts heart sinks he never meant for you to feel this way. Usually he wouldn't care but it's you his love. "You can't leave" he states. "You don't get to make that decision ghost" you yell back. Ghost you called him ghost for the first time. It broke his heart watching you cry because of him. But the other part of him hates you and that it's dangerous to let you close. Both sides clashing for power to win. He turns and walks out "fine do what you want" acting like he doesn't care. Believing you would never leave him.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
When returning home he sighs thinking you're in bed. But the house is quiet eerily so. He walks to the bedroom finding the bed empty and cold. He frantically searches hoping you haven't actually left. Just to find a note taped to the fridge that reads
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒏
𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆. 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆.
𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍.
𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒚𝒆
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
He grips the note in a tight fist as tears threaten to spill. He was stupid and selfish and now he lost the very thing that he loves the most. He'll give you space for now until he can find where you went. So he can beg for your forgiveness and hope you take him back.
#cod mw2#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#gn reader#cod angst#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#ghost angst
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The Prophecy (Azriel x Rhys! Sister) Bonus Chapter
AN: I'm happy you guys wanted a bonus chapter because I totally wanted to write one. I'm happy this series was so loved and I can't wait for you guys to see what Azriel fics I'm cooking up next!
Part 1, Part 2 ,
Azriel's Verson: Part 3 (final)
Lucien's Verson: Part 3 (final)
Summary: The only thing worse than having Azriel not know about the bond is watching him and Elain carry on like she doesn’t have a mate as well. Lucien and you have been long time friends but things change after one fateful starfall celebration. It’s not wrong if both of your mates don’t want you right?
Warnings: some fluffy smut, a little Azriel dirty talk, and fluffy ending.
Word count: 2,356
I take a shaky breath and take in the sheer desperation on his face, “I love you too Azriel,” I laugh feeling another tear slip down my cheek.
He doesn’t waste a moment, stepping through my threshold and cupping my cheek to place a searing kiss on my lips. I melt into him, feeling his clothes soaking my own as my nightgown clings to my skin. His hands are on my waist, scarred and cold from the elements but still so intoxicating. My arms wrap around him pulling him further into the entryway. I hear him slam the door shut with his boot drowning out the sound of rain leaving only the music of our ragged breaths as he kisses me deeper.
He pulls away to press his forehead to mine, his wet hair and skin causing drops of water to cascade down my own face.
“I love you so much,” he breathes cupping my cheek to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “My mate.”
I feel my back hit the wall behind me rattling the small mirror mounted on it. Azriel’s hands were greedily pulling on every inch of me. His kiss was frantic and needy, like the man had been deprived of any warm touch for months and come to think of it he probably had.
I feel his hands wandering up the bare expanse of my thighs. Oh how I had dreamed of feeling that scarred skin leaving its brand on me. I had dreamt of nothing else for years. He lifted me onto a small table and I heard a vase crash and shatter on the floor next to us. I immediately rip away from him but it doesn’t stop him from trialing his lips down my neck, like he might cease to exist if his lips and hands aren’t all over me.
“Azriel my vase!” I exclaim laughing at how he isn’t even phased by the broken ceramic on the ground. “We’re going to destroy my house!”
He smirks against my lips, “Then how about we take this upstairs?” he smiles.
There’s a frenzy of shadows and then I’m in my own bedroom, the fireplace roaring to life providing us with light. I had never been so thankful for such blessed light as Azriel peeled off his soaking wet shirt and discarded it onto the chair by the fire. It would dry in no time.
I allowed my eyes to wander the expanse of his body. Sure I had seen the male shirtless before, I had bumped into him taking a steam after the legendary snowball fight 300 years ago and nearly fell to my knees. But this time? This time it was different because he was mine, and he was looking at me with just as much hunger as I did him.
“Say it again,” he commanded, his voice dropping an octave as he took a languid step forward placing his hands on my waist.
“Say what again?” I tease placing a kiss on his bare chest, something I always dreamed of doing. Cauldron help this male, I was probably never going to get my fill of him.
His hand slides under my chin tilting it up, “You know what,” he says more sternly.
I lean in close just brushing my lips against his, “I love you.”
A low growl emits from him as he pulls me into his kiss once more. He pressed his body into me the evidence of his arousal grazing my stomach. I take a couple steps back, my legs hit the bed and before I can let myself fall onto it he slips the straps of my too thin nightgown off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. As soon as he feels my hardened nipples brushing against his chest he looks down taking me in.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, I can’t believe you’re all mine,” he murmurs into my lips, those scared hands wandering over my exposed skin leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“Says you,” I trailing my fingers from his shoulders, over his pecs and down his abs. My hands dip to his breeches where I can see him ready and wasting, but just as my fingers slip under the hem my wrists are yanked up.
“Not yet,” he smiles deviously, landing a quick kiss on my lips. “Lie down on the bed, I want to properly worship my mate.” he orders and if his words.
I hang on every word he says as they drip from his mouth like honey. I let my bare back lay down on the soft sheets of the bed, and his eyes take in every inch of me from where he stands at the edge of the bed. He kneels on the bed, grabbing one of my ankles and bringing it up to his mouth to press a kiss to it. The gesture is so simple yet so intimate, so arousing. Scared hands and soft lips trail up the expanse of my leg, the feather light touches making me grow wetter and wetter where I needed him most. His mouth stops at my inner thigh leaving a light bite mark on the inside of it.
“Fucking perfect,” he mutters between my legs, kissing me everywhere but where I want him to.
My breath hitches as I feel the heat of his breath on my sex. Those hazel eyes flit up to me as he slowly lowers his head to my folds. He licks a long stripe up my center and I find my hands tangling in his silken night black hair, pulling and tugging on it as he feasts on me.
“Oh gods Azriel!” I cry out.
The sight of Azriel’s head between my legs, licking and sucking like a starved man was erotic enough to have me curling my toes. But the sound of his mouth on me? The warm wet tongue flicking my clit, the moans of pleasure that reverberated through him? That was truly something to behold.
I feel one of his fingers enter me and I gasp, arching my back off the bed. A scarred hand instantly splays over my stomach, keeping me down. I can feel Azriel’s smirk between my legs as he adds another finger, curling them both to hit that spot that has me letting out a cry. He smiles again, seemingly loving his ability to make his mate scream as he shakes his head back and forth, tongue moving over my clit at a pace that has me trying to arch on the mattress as I feel my claimax wash over me.
“Azriel!” I scream as my legs shake and tremble beneath him.
His hazel eyes watch me intently as I come undone for him, eagerly lapping at my clit taking everything I give him. Even when I’m left as a mess of shallow breaths I still want more of him.
He places one last kiss against my clit, “My mate makes such pretty sounds for me,” he says smugly.
Soft lips covered in my arousal find their way to my hips then my stomach, then the curve of my breast. My breath hitches again as I realize how painfully hard my nipples are and I wonder if it's the bond making me feel this way. The need for more.. more, more, more, more.
“Beautiful,” he breathes, placing a kiss to each taut nipple earning a groan for me.
“Azriel please, I need you,” I beg, running my hands through his hair.
“Shhh I feel it too,” he says, kissing my neck, confirming that the bond is screaming at him too. “Do you know how it felt to come over all the time and find you wearing nothing but those tiny little nightgowns you love so much? How badly I wanted to rip them apart with my teeth and have you right there?” he groans leaving love bites
I let out a small gasp at his words and then think of all the times I felt the same, “What about me?” I laugh as he trails kisses over my jaw, his hard on pressing into my core. I wasn’t sure when he rid himself of his pants but I wasn’t going to complain. “All those times I saw you come back from training, sweaty and dirty? Or the time I ran into you outside of the steam room and you nearly dropped your towel?”
He pulls back to look at me, “I was a fool then, and never again. My mate will have me whenever and however she wants,” he groans pressing a deep kiss to my lips.
“Say it again,” I ask, caressing his face to move the hair from his eyes.
“I love you y/n,” he breathes, kissing me slow.
In one slow movement he enters me fully, a guttural cry falling from my mouth as he buries his head in the crook of my neck.
“Oh gods, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans pulling out slowly and thrusting in again.
His hips move in leisurely motions, as if he’s wanting to savor every moment of being inside me. My hands rake down his back as his fervent sounds in my ear have me needing more of him.
“Azriel harder,” I whimper, digging my fingernails into his broad shoulders.
He smirks and presses a lazy kiss to my ear before slamming into me harder. I let out a strangled sound as I grasp onto him, needing anything to try and ground myself.
“Gods you’re so fucking perfect,” he groans slamming his hips into mine. “Everything about my mate is perfect,” he says, sucking the peak of my breast into his mouth.
“Oh gods Azriel its so-” my words get caught in my throat as he hits a particularly sensitive part of me.
The sounds of skin slapping reverberates throughout the room as I feel myself quickly approaching the cliff I was just standing at the edge of. I’ve been told my whole life that sex is different with your mate, that it’s more than just pleasure, it's the binding of souls. I never believed a word, not caring for semantics and retellings from newly mated pairs who couldn’t keep their hands off each other at dinner parties. But now I understand all of it.
“I love you so much,” Azriel mutters, his voice even deeper and rougher than before.
“I love you too Az,” I pant brushing the hair from his face.
“Fuck you’re squeezing me so tight baby,” he groans as his face contorts with pleasure. “You’re going to cum aren’t you?” he asks the cocky persona coming back.
“Y-yes,” I choke out as I feel him piston into me harder.
“Are you on that special tonic?” he asks.
“Yes, I am,” I breathe out, my voice sounding ragged.
“Thank the fucking Cauldron!” Azriel praises his snap into me.
The feeling of him sliding in and out so fluidly, the fullness of him, the euphoria that comes every time he hits that spot, it has me falling apart, tears drifting down my face.
“Azriel I’m gonna-”
“Cum for me darling!” he growls and I feel him getting closer as well.
I cum hard with his name on my lips, feeling the pleasure go through every nerve of my body like a wave. I feel my pussy clenching around him and the second I do I hear him roar, his power trembling the house.
“Oh gods y/n!” he screams and sputters inside of me the warmth of his seed enough to make me want to go for round two just so he can fill me up again.
He collapses on me for a moment, laying his head on my chest as we both pant frantically. I subconsciously run my fingers through his hair, soothing both him and myself. He rolls off me and pulls me to lay on his chest, tilting my head up so he can see me.
“I love you so, so much,” he smiles, placing kisses on my face. “My beautiful, smart, caring, hilarious, perfect mate.” he says accentuating each word with a kiss.
“I love you too Az,” I smile, brushing a thumb over his cheek.
There was a time I thought I would never have this. Never have him. Yet here I was, lying in his arms. My body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat from the pleasure he pulls from me. My lips swollen and red from his kisses I never thought I would receive. I’ve dreamt of nothing else for 400 years.
“What do we do next?” I laugh realizing that all this had started from him coming to my door in the middle of a storm. Outside I could still hear thunder and rain pouring onto the roof.
“Well the conditions are too treacherous for me to fly home so I’ll have to crash here,” he smirks, rolling over so that he’s on top of me. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says, kissing my lips.
“I suppose I’ll take you in for the night,” I tease. “But I meant after that.”
“When the rain stops we’ll gather the family and have the mating ceremony and then you’ll be mine officially,” he says, kissing my cheek. “And then later on I’ll work on giving you some winged babies,” he smiles.
My heart flutters, “Oh Az really?” I gasp grasping both of his cheeks.
“Absolutely,” he nods. “But not until much later, we have all the time in the world and I’ll need to get my fill of you before I can even think about sharing your attention with a couple of baby bats.” he jokes.
“Speaking of getting my fill,” I smirk, rolling him over so that I’m straddling him. “I have 400 years of yearning to make up for,” I tease, placing a kiss on his chest.
“Is that so?” he laughs, throwing his hands behind his head.
“It sure is shadowsinger, you think you were in misery these past few months?” I sink myself onto his cock and both of us groan. “Get comfortable mate, you’re in for a night of ravishing.”
(If you liked this check out my masterlist I have a bunch of good Az on it's way and I'm doing a Ruhn mini series AND i'm currently writing a poly! bat boys x reader that's going to be pure smut because I've been reading the L.O.R.D.S series lol)
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