#EVERY TIME I REMEMBER IT I WANT TO JUMP IN THE NEAREST WELL

[whenthegoldrays]

oh today also marks one year since I made the most complete and utter fool of myself after meeting the man I now refer to as Mr. Three-Day Crush

[no-144444]

red flag- o.piastri

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summary: you get in an accident on track.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x fem! driver! reader

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“Red flag, red flag, safety car coming on track to retire all cars, too dangerous out in sector 3, drive with extreme caution,” his race engineer called over the radio.

“Is everyone alright?” Oscar questioned, slowing the car, the other drivers behind him doing the same. 

“We’re not sure, Y/l/n crashed in sector 3 and hasn’t gotten out of the car just yet. We’ll keep you posted.”

What? You’d crashed and you weren’t out of the car yet? What the fuck? He knew you, he remembered what happened back in f2, back when you’d had the worst crash of your career and you jumped out of the car with a broken leg. Then, you’d at least gotten out of the car. Now? You were in the fucking car. Still. Minutes after your crash. 

“Race is off, conditions are too dangerous.”

Fuck. 

As he pulled into the pitlane, he jumped out of his car, following the other drivers to the briefing room as they all pulled off their soaking suits and damp helmets. 

They sat, waiting for news as none came through. All they knew was that you had to be pulled out of your burning car and airlifted to the nearest hospital. Which meant that you weren’t conscious when you got out of the car. Which meant fucking terrible things. 

Time passed and nothing really happened, so they were all sent back to their hotel rooms. 

“Hey Osc, you want us to come with you? We don’t want you to be on your own right now,” Logan smiled softly, standing at the exit to the McLaren motorhome. Beside Logan was George, Lando, and Alex.

“Thanks guys,” he mustered up some half-smile and they shared a car, then hung out in his room for a few hours. 

Oscar’s phone rang after about an hour, an unknown number. Usually, calls like these would go ignored, especially at a time like this, but something told him to pick it up. 

“Piastri speaking,” he asked quietly. 

“This is Oscar Piastri? Y/n Y/l/n’s emergency contact?” a female voice asked. 

“Yes, yes it is,” he blurted out, grabbing the attention of Logan, Alex, George, and Lando beside him. They held their breath. 

“Well, Y/n was in an accident on the track and she suffered extreme internal bleeding from a broken rib, one that broke during the early laps of the race. She passed out from a lack of oxygen, and crashed into the barrier at a very high speed, meaning that she has a few more broken bones and issues. We'd ask you to come to visit her, she’s been asking about you non-stop since she woke up.”

“S-she’s awake?” 

“Yes, Mr. Piastri, and she’s refusing to take any medication unless you come down here.” 

“I’m on my way,” he hung up the phone without questioning and grabbed his coat and shoes, as the boys followed. Oscar didn’t even bother putting on his shoes as he ran through the hotel and out into the pouring rain. Logan hailed a cab as the other boys tried to get him to calm down. 

“You need to slow down,” George soothed, getting a grip on Oscar’s shoulder. It was strange for them, seeing this much emotion from Oscar. He’d always been so level-headed, so calm. Well, it wasn’t strange for Logan to see it. He was there in f2 when Oscar started crushing on you, and when you two got together. Every summer break you three (and a few other ex-f2- current f2 drivers) go on a week-long trip, just to stay in contact, Logan got a front-row seat to Oscar’s devotion to you. It was sweet, and it brought Oscar out of his shell. 

“She’s refusing medication, if I don’t get there fucking quicker, George, so no, I don’t plan on calming down-” he cursed, brushing his hand off his shoulder. 

“Hey! That was shitty, apologise Oscar. Everyone’s fuckin’ stressed right now,” Logan called back as the taxi pulled up.

“Sorry George,” Oscar added and George nodded, unaffected by his comment. 

The car ride was tense, all of them wanted to get to you, needed to get to you. The hospital came into view, and the boys ran out, George paying the driver and following the rest of them into the foyer. 

“Oscar Piastri, I’m here for Y/n Y/l/n?” 

“Oh yes! Are you family?” the nurse behind the desk asked. 

“I’m her emergency contact,” he replied. 

“Yes, but are you family?”

“I’m her fiancé?” he answered. 

“What?” Lando gasped. “You two got engaged?”

“During the summer break,” Logan answered. “He was planning on telling you after today.”

“All her family is in another country,” Oscar explained. “I’m the closest thing- we’re the closest thing.”

The nurse nodded and handed them visitor badges, and led them up to your room. 

“You go in first,” George nodded to Oscar. “You’ve got this.”

Oscar tried to look positive, but it was difficult when the love of his life was in a hospital bed behind the door in front of him. He pushed open the door and when he saw you, he wanted to scream. Hooked up to machines, but you were awake and bothering the nurse about him. Who gave a shit about him? You were important, you were the most important thing on the planet. 

“Baby, take the meds please,” he barely whispered, but you heard it and almost cried at the relief. She administered the drugs and left you to be. Your engineer left the room to give you privacy, he’d gone in the helicopter with you and had been the first to notice something wrong with you during the race. 

Oscar listened as the nurse explained your condition before she left. They suspected that you’d broken a rib during the first few laps, but it had punctured your lung, and you’d passed out in the car. Then you went straight into a barrier at almost 250 km/h. You broke 3 more ribs, 5 vertebrae in your back, your right hip, your right leg, your left arm, and you fractured your collarbone, as well as all the bruising and cuts you’d gotten. He felt sick to his stomach. The nurse left to inform the others.

Oscar stood at the end of your bed. “What were you thinking? Why would you refuse medicine?” He asked, his voice tense but calm.

“I wanted to see you,” you shrugged. “I needed to talk to you.”

He looked up to see you. The bruising, the cuts, the bandages, all of it, it was almost too much. 

“I lost the ring,” you admitted, choking up. “When I woke up it was gone. I’m so sorry Osc-”

“I dont give a fuck about the ring baby, I care about you. I care that you’re alive, alright?” He sighed, moving closer to your face. “I’ll get you another.”

You started crying as you held him close. It was all too much, the pain, the stress, thinking about what would happen after you got out, wondering if you’d ever be in an F1 car again, it was too much. Oscar always seemed to calm you down, to settle you, not this time. You’d never seen him this stressed, no one had. It was unsettling, unnatural, and it made you more worried, it made you think more, and it made everything too real. Every sob that left your body caused another surge of pain through your back and chest, god, broken ribs were no joke. You kept crying and he kept holding you, pleading with you to stop because he knew how painful it was, and he knew you’d pass out, and he’d be alone again. 

You passed out in his arms and the nurses ushered him away and back to the boys. 

“How is she?” Alex asked, standing from his seat.

“She passed out,” Oscar answered. “She’s in so much pain.”

Logan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “She’ll pull through. She’s the strongest person we know.”

Oscar nodded as tears filled his eyes. “This is so fucking unfair,” he cursed. 

“We know mate,” Lando agreed. “We’re fucking livid.”

“Did she at least take the meds?” George asked. 

Oscar scoffed. “Yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “She wanted to talk to me because she lost the fucking ring I gave her. Like I’d ever fucking give a shit about a ring over her.”

Logan chuckled softly. “Well, that’s your Y/n for you. Loyal.”

They all cracked a smile, even Oscar (kind of). 

“She’s going to be ok, alright?” George reminded him. “She’ll be back in that car in no time. She’s a fighter.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep going if she doesn’t,” Oscar answered. The weight of his confession sobered the other three to the somberness of the moment. 

“Well, it’s a good thing she’ll pull through,” Alex said. 

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (19/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: There's so much going on in Charles' brain, but having to come clean with his feelings is the hardest.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of fingering, masturbating), angst, swear words, Lando being a little shit

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: sorry. and happy season finale. let’s hope for a better 2024.

Charles has never been so happy about a pot of plants. 

After you slammed the door in his face, he barely made it to the street before throwing up in the nearest plant pot. His fingers clawed around the hard ceramic edges as his body struggled against the nasty words he spat at you. 

He doesn't even know why he was so mean to you. 

Was it because you had a wonderful evening last night? Because you two got so close that you both almost kissed? Because you fell asleep next to each other and he slept incredibly well? Or because Lando texted him in the middle of the night and asked what your favorite food was so that he could do everything right on your date?

Maybe he does know why he was so mean to you. 

"Charles? Concentrate, please," he is snapped out of his thoughts and Charles sits up a little straighter in his chair. He can feel something crack in his spine.

The meeting has been going on for hours. So long, in fact, that the private chefs in Maranello have already had to bring food to the room four times, with the last meal being dinner. Charles has eaten so much pasta and bruschetta that he feels sick just looking at the leftovers on the table in front of him. And the water with the slice of lemon in the glass in front of him no longer tastes very refreshing.

No matter what he eats or drinks, he can't get rid of the disgusting taste in his mouth. 

He wonders if your "I hate you" is as heavy on your stomach as the nasty words are on his. He would love to take back everything he spat in your face. Turn back time and undo everything. But he can't do that. Unfortunately. 

He'd love to bang his head on the tabletop. 

In fact, he can barely remember what he said. It's as if his brain short circuited, has had some kind of blackout, or as if a bomb has gone off and wiped everything out. Which doesn't excuse any of it. But from your hurt look, the tears in your eyes and your venomous response, it was so unacceptable that he'd like to slap himself for it. 

It wasn't the first time Lando had asked Charles for dating help and they are actually such good friends that Charles has always been happy to help him. But the fact that the Brit asked for help so that he could take you out nicely - that doesn't sit right with him. Which is complete nonsense, because he has no reason to. He has no claim of ownership over you. And besides, he didn't want to kiss you in the bookstore. 

Although that's not entirely true either.

He did want to kiss you. Desperately. And you'd been so close all day, you'd shown him your favorite place and everything had pointed to you wanting to make the move to something more - and then you gave him that look when he asked you for a dance. And he can understand why you didn't want to. After all, it's your place, your favorite place, and never would Charles do anything to tarnish that place in any way. Create a memory that you would later regret. 

The Petit Mondes is your safe haven. And as much as Charles wants you - and he definitely does - he wouldn't cross that line.

Since you've known each other, Charles has had to fight every waking - and to be honest, every sleeping - moment not to jump you. He can't stop thinking about you standing in front of him half-naked in a towel. Or how you turned around just a few steps away from him before dinner with his friends to show him your outfit. How you slept next to him and dreamt - dreamt of him. A moment he will never forget. 

Although he is actually a late riser, Charles woke up early that morning. Not because he had slept in, but because he was warm. Contrary to his expectations, it wasn't because of the comforter or the heating, but because you were lying half on top of him. Your head was resting against his shirt-clad chest, one of your legs was draped over his hip, while your arm was wrapped around his middle. 

At first, he didn't understand what was going on at all. He wanted to lift his arm to rub the sleep from his eyes, but he was met with resistance in the form of a lightly clad, sleeping beauty. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand was a little too high on your ribs to pass for being friendly, and by God - he hadn't felt this comfortable in ages.

Feeling your closeness had triggered something in him that confused him, but at the same time made him incredibly relaxed. He had pulled you closer to him, pressed you against him and enjoyed your warmth. For a moment, he had even considered whether he should just pull you all over him so that he could be as close to you as possible. 

Before he could think about how wrong that would be and how many boundaries he would be crossing, you had turned in his arms so that your back was against his chest. Your body molded perfectly against his, your warmth engulfing him, but nothing could have prepared him for the fact that you were going to move your butt a little in his direction, right up against his crotch. 

Charles had been awake in a flash and while you continued to sleep soundly, all the blood from his brain had rushed to his dick. Embarrassed, he'd squinted and focused on something else - Ferrari strategies, Joris last Christmas with the Leclercs, anything - and had scooted back a few inches to stick his hand down his pants so he could fix his raging boner.

But alas, you'd followed him like a magnet, squirming against him like you knew exactly what you were doing, so that his cock was wedged between your ass cheeks. Your body had been so warm, so soft against his hard one, that he had to stifle a moan.

Something you hadn't been able to do. If you hadn't been so close to him, he would have missed your soft gasp of his name. That's when he blew a fuse.

He would have loved to wake you up with kisses along your neck, let his fingers wander slowly over your skin until they finally disappeared into your panties. He would have let them glide through your folds and collect your wetness before gently rubbing your bundle of nerves. You would have turned to him and moaned into his mouth as he slid one of his fingers into your tight walls.

He'd never escaped his bedroom so quickly and quietly and jumped into the freezing cold shower.

The water felt like fine pinpricks as it splashed down on his burning hot skin, but no matter how cold he turned it on - his cock stood angry and proud. He put his head back in despair, his brain vehemently refusing to see his friend in this light, to desire you like this. But before he could do anything about it, his fingers had wrapped themselves around his aching cock. His imagination ran away with him, too many images popped up in his mind's eye as he squeezed it twice in the hope of relieving some tension. But the only thing it triggered was the feeling of a moment ago, when his cock was against your ass. 

He was almost ashamed of how quickly he came. 

He just hoped you didn't notice when he came back into the bedroom and woke you up with it. He had thought about lying back next to you, but had decided on the foot of the bed to create some distance. 

The fact that you were dreaming about him threw him off course. And he'd really wanted to kiss you - by God, he'd wanted to do even kinkier things to you - but the timing never seemed right. 

And then Lando's message came.

The vibration in his pocket brings him back to the present. Charles takes a quick look around to make sure he's not the center of the conversation, then glances at his phone. 

Lando: You need to come home now.

He looks at the screen, confused. Why the hell is Lando texting him? Lando of all people? Did you tell him all the things Charles threw at you? How badly he treated you? 

Charles: I'm in Maranello. 

If you really did confide in Lando, his answer sounds pathetic. Why else would Lando text him? His friend certainly knows that Charles screwed up. And also that you want to move out of the apartment. But does the Brit really believe that Charles could change your mind when he's the reason you're moving out?

Lando's answer comes immediately.

Lando: I don't care. Get your ass over here. 

The Monegasque turns on the keypad lock on his cell phone and places it on the table in front of him. It wouldn't make any difference if he went home now and tried to change your mind. What could happen is that his presence would only strengthen your decision to move out. Besides, he doesn't know how he's ever going to face you again. 

Before he can think about it, his cell phone starts ringing. The eyes of his co-workers land on him and he apologizes with a quiet "mi dispiace" before leaving the meeting, phone in hand. Out in the corridor, he doesn't even need to look at the screen to know who is calling. 

"If you don't go back to Monaco immediately, I'll come to Italy myself to get you," Lando snaps at him and Charles has to hold the receiver away from his ear to stop his eardrums from bursting.

"Hi, Lando."

"Don't give me 'Hi, Lando'. Get your fucking ass over here."

Charles rubs his forehead before running his whole hand over his face. "I can't just leave here."

"Don't talk shit like that. We both know you're not up for the meeting," the Brit replies bitchily. "Don't act like you don't have a choice."

The Monegasque rolls his eyes. "What do you want to hear from me now, Lando?"

The answer comes like a shot from a gun. "I want to know what you've been up to! Are you completely stupid?"

Charles would like to know the answer too.

"You go home right now, explain your shitty behaviour and apologize."

"And you're interfering because...?" His tone is cold. 

"Because I was in your apartment all evening and had to watch how devastated Y/N was. I'd love to kill you for it."

"Go ahead and do it. She sure as hell wouldn't mind."

He swears he hears Lando take a deep breath on the other end of the line. 

"I'm going to tell you this once. Just once, Charles. And I'm saying this for her sake, because I still have hope that you're the person I was praising to her."

Praising? If you've told Lando everything, then you've certainly told Charles everything about the Brit. That he just wants to get you into bed. So why would Lando want to help him?

"What you did was absolute bullshit, Charles. Totally below the belt and you've never acted as fucking shit as you just did."

Charles rolls his eyes. "Is there anything positive coming?"

"Shut up, you idiot. I don't know what you've done in the few days you've known each other to make her so crazy about you, but I don't have to. Any blind man can see there's something between you. Something good. So go home now and save what can be saved before she really decides to leave the country."

Charles, who had just been leaning against the wall, stands up straight. "The country? I thought she just wanted to move out."

"She's been thinking about it, asshole. United States, Australia. Something really far away from you."

"But she has her job here, at that one magazine. There's no way she'd leave like that."

"She got fired, motherfucker. Before you made your weird deal. Nothing's keeping her here anymore. So get your ass over here now before she really decides to take off."

How could Charles be so blind? He knows the magazine, his mom reads it occasionally and he actually knows that a new issue comes out every week. You've known each other for five days - five days that you've spent entirely with him. Something that would definitely not be possible with such a full-time job. 

"And what do you want from me now? That I drop everything to go home even though she doesn't want to see me?"

"I've never seen anyone as stupid as you."

"Can you stop with the insults?" Charles snaps through the phone. 

"You have nothing to say to me, you arsehole. She told me what you said about me. You owe it to us to go off and try to make things right." 

Charles can't help but laugh. "Us? So you two are already an us?" He doesn't know why he's talking to one of his closest friends like this. Especially when the latter only wants to help put things right that Charles has messed up. The Monegasque has no reason to be angry. But the disgusting taste in his mouth, which he hasn't been able to get rid of for hours, is not anger. Unfortunately, he only realizes it now.

He's fucking jealous. And he can't do anything about it.

"We're friends, but apparently you don't know what the word stands for," Lando replies snippily. "Go home, explain to her why you behaved so badly and apologize to her." His voice softens, warmer than it has been throughout the phone call. "Charles, I know you're being careful because you're afraid of getting hurt again. And I can understand that, I really can." He takes a deep breath. "But it's Y/N we're talking about here. Sit down and talk to each other, be honest, and then it'll all work out."

Charles' gaze wanders to the huge Ferrari logo hanging on the wall next to him and his bad guilt returns. You don't even know who he is. To you, he's Charles, the roommate who shows you beautiful places, introduces you to his friends and with whom you share a bed. You are the only person who knows him as Charles and not as Charles Leclerc.

What would you think of him if the cat was out of the bag? When you see who he really is, including the spotlight? What happens if you like Charles, but not Charles Leclerc? He doesn't know if he could handle it. His job is his life, he's on the road all year round and what little time he has he has to divide between friends and family. 

That's why his relationship with Annika failed. She was right about what she threw at him. That you always have to wait for him and that it's not fair. And she knew what she was getting into from the start. But you don't. You would be thrown in at the deep end if you decided to go for it. If you chose him.

"I don't think it's that easy," Charles says quietly, and he has to suppress the tremor in his voice. "She - she doesn't deserve this life. This risk. She - she," he takes a deep breath and has to wipe away the tear running down his cheek. "She's too good for me. She deserves someone great."

"How strange," Lando replies. "That's exactly what she says about you. So get in the car and apologize. I'm sure you'll be able to sort it out. And if you say shit like that about me again, I'll drive you into the wall in Bahrain next year."

Charles curls his mouth into a thin smile. "I'm truly sorry, Lando. And thank you for everything."

"I'm just absolutely the best." Charles can almost hear his grin before the Brit hangs up.

When the Monegasque re-enters the meeting room, all eyes are on him. With deliberate steps, he walks to his chair and grabs his jacket before looking at his team boss. "I'm going home."

His boss crosses his arms in front of his chest. "You can't just leave like that, Charles. We need to talk about next season and everything that's gone wrong this year."

"I can tell you exactly what happened," the brunette replies as he zips up his jacket. "The strategies this year were all for the trash, you screwed me over and you cost me the title." He grabs his wallet and car keys from the table in front of him. "Make sure things go better next year. After all, it doesn't get any shittier than this. See you next year. Have a good holiday."

He knows that his Ferrari can drive fast. And he also knows that he shouldn't drive that fast. But the roads home are empty and he wants to get to you as quickly as possible, in the hope that you haven't left the apartment yet. The accelerator pedal is almost stuck to the floor and he would certainly have to pay a heavy fine if the police caught him speeding. But apparently luck is on his side and it takes him just over three hours to turn onto the streets of Monaco.

The closer he gets to your apartment, the faster his heart beats and he can feel himself starting to sweat. What's the best way to start the apology?

I'm sorry I was so shitty to you, but it was because -

I behaved like crap, but it was only because - 

I'm sorry I was such a bad friend, but you should have - 

Wow. It actually all sounds like shit. 

Maybe Lando is right. Maybe the most reasonable thing would be for Charles to just be honest, even if it means destroying everything between you. But you deserve the truth.

I'm sorry I said those bad things to you and I'm sorry I hurt you. Of course, apologizing can't undo any of it, but if you gave me the chance, I could explain myself to you. I was jealous because we had such a nice evening and then I find out you planned a date with one of my friends. I wanted to kiss you in the bookstore, I've wanted you ever since we met. You've been messing with my head from the beginning, taking over my heart and I can't think straight when you're with me. Maybe it's crazy because we've only known each other for five days, but I've never felt about someone the way I feel about you. I'm in lo-

His train of thought stops abruptly as he turns into the street. A green Nissan is parked on the sidewalk in front of your apartment, the driver's door is open and the hazard lights illuminate the walls of the house. 

Charles worriedly parks at the next opportunity before jumping out of the car and dashing to the front door, which is wide open. He can already hear angry voices from outside, a male voice that almost shouts the whole house awake. 

And your voice, angry and rough and shaky, as if you were at the end of your tether. 

Charles sprints up the few steps to your apartment and stops like a flash on the top step when he sees you. You're wearing your pyjamas, your hair is disheveled, as if you've run your hand through it several times, and when you see him, you snap your eyes open as if you've seen a ghost. 

But it's not the sight of you that makes Charles' blood boil. 

It's Raphael's, who follows your gaze and takes a step back when he realizes who he's facing. "Your roommate is Charles Leclerc?"

next part

[pacifierbby]

* ੈ✩‧₊ STRAWBERRY KISSES

* ੈ✩‧₊ The taste of her lips is what pulls him in every time he kisses her. He can taste the fruitiness of her strawberry lipstick, making him urning for more.

୨ৎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 LN4 x fem fan girl

୨ৎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 kissing,sexual innuendos,

୨ৎ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 1,212

(ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)

The club was packed with sweaty people. The dance floor looked chaotic with how many people were dancing and grinding on each other to any beat that the DJ played. Your friends pulled you to the nearest table, not very keen to stay there but not wanting to upset your friends. They have been asking you to come out for a while, but you are making up 50 excuses as to why you couldn't go until your friends showed up at your door and dragged you out.

placing your bag on the chair closest to you, keeping your eye on it now and then so it doesn't get nicked "Well, ladies, what should we drink?" Your friend shouted out a little louder over the music all your friends replying with their favourite drinks "Um JD and Coke please" grabbing your bag to get your purse "Don't even think about giving me any of your money our treat and also for you too be wild a little" laughing placing your bag back on the chair watching your two friends walk to the bar.

"Isn't he fit?" Your friend is leaning towards you, speaking softly in your ear, your eyes leaving your two friends. "Who?" Looking around the club, including the dance floor, "That guy in the V.I.P. " looked over towards the V.I.P. area. She was right. That guy did look pretty fit "You're right?" "Whose right?" Chloe spoke, placing your drinks in front of you both "That guy in the V.I.P.", Sasha quickly said before you could even say oh, nothing. She knew exactly what you were like. Both of them turn around making it obvious to the guy that you are talking about him making you roll your eyes at them all for being an embarrassment turning their heads around looking straight at you and winking "Now that's who you need to be with" Sasha nodding agreeing with Chloe "well let's carry on with the night" changing the conversation immediately.

Taking a sip of your drink. Well, the only bit you had left. Watching your friends taking over the dance floor, probably more drunk than you were, each of them grinding on a guy that they probably would take home tonight. Sighing, "That was a big sigh," a male voice spoke behind you, making you jump, turning around, noticing it was the same guy from the V.I.P area "Haha yeah supposed to be girls' night but that changed" pointing to your friends "well hopeful I can entrain your boredom for the rest of the night do you want anything from the bar going to get myself another drink?" unsure if you should trust this fella but an offer you couldn't refuse " can I have a JD and coke please but um I didn't get your name?" the man smiled "sorry forgot to introduce myself, Lando Lando Norris," holding out his hand for you to shake which you quickly accepted not wanting to be rude "well love ill be back soon with our drinks" nodding watching him leave towards the bar slowly going away from your eyesight towards the crowd in the middle of the room forgetting to even introducing yourself why are you dumb laughing to yourself a little making sure you tell your friends if you see them later for the small embarrassment. Lando places your drinks on the table sitting on the chair in front of you "Sorry I forgot to introduce myself Chelsea but you can call me Chels for short" You and lando laugh a little "It's okay I forgot to even ask myself to be honest" holding out your glass to lando "cheers?" which he quickly accepted touching his glass with your taking a quick sip placing it back on the table "so who did you come here with?" wanting to start a conversation not wanting to make anything awkward looking up at lando "my friend actually whose dancing with one of your friends" pointing towards yours and his friends who still dancing with each other remembering he was in the v.i.p earlier and that's expensive enough in its self always packed with celebrities that get hidden in the area "you was in the v.i.p area before who do you know?" quickly saying "not wanting to be nosey or anything" lando laughed "its okay have you heard of formula one before?" shaking your head "my friends always say that i live under a rock and should widen my hobbies instead of working all the time" "well i work for formula im a driver for McLaren" softly whispering so his attention didn't get brought onto him "one of my friends who are not here tonight watches formula one but they like red bull i think" taking a small sip from your untouched drink "that will be max Verstappen" Lando begin to say joining you on taking a swig

The night was filled with more laughter sadly it was slowly coming to an end but you can't deny that this man sitting in front of you was attractive his eyes drew you in instantly giving you some sort of butterflies in the pit of your stomach every time they look into yours to his smile the one where it reached his eyes the one he shared with you through the night the conversation instantly flowing between the two of you. so many girls coming to your table flirting with the poor man or asking for a dance and with every question he always said no the girls left with an angry look smirking when lando wasn't looking but he always said sorry at the end of it making you fall a little more in love with him. The guys that you have been talking to in the club just run off with them leaving you back to square one where you originally started Lando shows the instant respect he has for women giving him an instant brownie point hearing the bell for last orders going at the bar no longer seeing your friends on the dance floor anymore "should we go outside?" lando softly spoke taking the previous swig off his drink placing the empty glass on the table slowly leaving the table looking back to make sure you didn't forget anything.

The cold air instantly kisses your skin making you shiver a little completely forgetting your jacket before you leave your house. Lando instantly recognised the shiver bringing his coat around your shoulders and bringing some sort of warmth back "Thank you" you softly said blushing a little with the kind gesture "Wouldn't be a gentleman would I if I I left you shivering" smiling at you rubbing your cheek bringing your eyes up from the floor his eyes instantly looking into yours both of your noses slowly touching like magnets pulling you both in the lips connecting together neither of you wanting to end it Lando hand softly placed on your back bringing you in a little more your hands placed on the side of his arms both of you disconnecting his lips a lot plumper than they were before "your lips taste like strawberries "making you smile "that be my lip balm" softly touching your lips "well never change it" closing in for a gentle kiss.

© pacifierbby works

[frankieburieshisdead]

ℬ𝓇𝓊𝒸ℯ 𝒲𝒶𝓎𝓃ℯ 𝓍 ℳ𝒶𝓁ℯ ℳℴ𝒹ℯ𝓁 ℛℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝓇

cw: NSFW

~ You liked modeling enough. It was exciting, and new, and you got to meet a bunch of people you otherwise wouldn't. For instance, if you could go back to the skinny, slightly effeminate brace face in rural Smallsville and tell him he would be hanging off the Bruce Wayne's arm at a promotional after party in Gotham he would laugh in your face. But here you were, and here he was, all 6ft (6'7? 6'8? God he was intimidating) wrapped around your shoulders, two of the girls from the shoot on his other side. You didn't know either of them very well, but they we're kind to you whenever you crossed paths, and it was always nice to see more black models in the industry.

~ So why did you feel so much vitriol towards them? This ugly feeling curling in your stomach every time Wayne leaned slightly towards them, slightly away from you. You chopped it up to star power, pure unadulterated charm that came with being one of the richest men in the Americas, but as long as it had been, you still remembered what it was like it have a crush.

~ It was hard to not have a crush on Bruce Wayne. He was confident, ridiculously so, but not the kind of confidence that made you feel small. When you arrived, he asked you "Do you like dark chocolate? I can't stand the stuff but for some reason people keep giving it to me." You could see he was lying, and that maybe he had just wanted to give you an expensive box of chocolate without making you feel like you owed him anything. It made you feel special.

~ It didn't take him long to invite the whole party back to his manor. His home was beautiful. Like a castle in one of the picture books your gran used to let you borrow from her job at the library. You told Bruce that, and he had smiled so genuinely you hadn't stopped blushing for the rest of the night.

~ You ended up asking yourself up to his bedroom. One of the bottle girls had popped the cork right over you, drenching your pants in sparkling cider. She had been so apologetic, and you hadn't wanted to make a scene, so you stumbled up the stairs in into the nearest unlocked door you could find. You closed the door behind you, stripping out of your soaked jeans to dab them clean in the joining bathroom.

~ "Not that I'm complaining, but I have to say it's not everyday I find pretty boys stripping out their clothes unprompted in my bedroom." You must have jumped about a foot in the air, hiding behind your thread bare trousers. "Oh god Mr. Wayne I'm so sorry, I just needed- there was this champagne girl- and well-"

"Relax, I'm just teasing." You looked at him properly now, his weary tone bleeding past your initial embarrassment. He was propped up against the bedpost, shirtless with one hand clamped firmly over his ribs. There was a mean purple blotch under his fingers, and his chest rose and fell in stutters. He was in pain.

"What happened?" You were across the room the next second, pants forgotten on the floor as you scooted next to him in your briefs. There was a slight blush across his chest and cheeks. Maybe he was drunk. Maybe you were.

"Got into... a brawl. Nothing serious don't worry." You got the feeling he liked that you were worried. You wondered how many people worried about Bruce Wayne. You had seen an older man in butler attire fussing over him when the party first got here. You hoped he was looked after.

"Well... I best get going." You were inches apart now, you could feel his harsh breath against your top lip.

"Best." He replied, curling his lip to mirror your Midwestern accent.

You fell into him first, crashing your lips against his as his arms came to grip your biceps. He lifted you with an insane show of strength, you squealed into his mouth, ending off in a giggle. He gave that genuine smile again.

~ You were straddling him now, grinding down on a ever hardening length. He gasped into your mouth, squeezing almost painfully as he pressed you firmer against him. He was massaging the v on your waist, teasing just above where you wanted him.

"Can I?"

You nodded manically against his shoulder, the both of you generating a frantic energy. He dipped down, palming you through your underwear.

"Protection?" You managed to pant out, remembering every talk your granny had drilled into you since you came out.

"Bedside drawer."

~ 3 hours. You kept going for 3 hours after that. He had taken you, knees pressed up against your shoulders, hitting all the right spots until you had come dry and untouched. He was still hard inside you, panting and you squeezed your way through your orgasm. He was kind, clearly straining to not thrust forward while you were so sensitive. You hooked your legs behind the dip in his waist and tugged him forward. A dare. The result of which had you on your hands and knees panting and keening after your third, fourth? climax. He was good afterwards as well. Sweet. He held your head up as he poured water from a sealed bottle down your throat, petting through your slim locs. You woke up tucked against his side, unsure if he had even slept a wink as he stared down at you. He had to go, but he had arranged one of the cars for you as soon as you wanted to leave. The butler, Alfred, had cleaned and dried your jeans while you were asleep, although Bruce had made it clear you were welcome to his extensive wardrobe. You giggled, imagining getting back to your apartment in a pair of 1000$ tracksuit pants with the ankles rolled up to your calves.

~ When you finally made it back to your apartment, you patted down your jeans, pleading to whoever was listening that you hadn't lost your keys in the chaos of the previous night. Instead, you pulled out a neatly folded parchment paper, thumbing it open to find barely legible handwriting reading:

555-0199

Call me if you liked the chocolate.

END

[gilverrwrites]

Hi

Could you make a Sam Winchester having erotic dreams with his female best friend?

Author Note: Hello! I hope you don't mind, but I combined this request with your other request for Dean in the same scenario (and added Cas cause 😍) I'm also working on a separate fic for Dean having erotic dreams about a rival per that request. I really hope you enjoy! ❤️

Rating: M/18+

Words: 1940 (Dean 685, Sam 685, Cas 570)

Request Info | Masterlist | Ko-Fi

It's a total coincidence that Dean and Sam are both 685 each!

Please remember: To focus on the things that make you happy.

Dean Winchester

“Oooh yes Dean, yes, that’s it.” Your voice sounds hoarse and breathy. Makes sense cause you’ve been moaning like that, praising like that all night. “You like that baby?” Dean asks from beneath you, completely entranced by the bounce of your breasts and the sway of your hips as you ride him. “You like fuckin’ yourself on my dick baby?” “Yes, Dean, yes! You feel so fucking good. Make me feel so good.” You chant, and when your head rolls back in ecstasy, Dean follows. His fingers grip at your skin, forcing you against him as he ruts into you, spilling himself inside.

That was last night’s dream. The most recent in a string of dreams that left him hot and bothered every morning. The worst part was facing you. Trying to look you in the eye, discuss a case, or make a game plan without thinking about you naked and moaning on his dick.

He’d been avoiding you as much as possible, but sometimes just your name was enough to make him pop a boner, much like the one he had now. He positioned his beer bottle over his offending member and forced himself to stare out the window, averting his gaze from the sight of you, bent over the nearest pool table.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” The sound of your voice made him jump. Man, how out of it was he?

“What?” He looked up at you, hands on hips, staring down at him. The sight made his lips dry. “Oh nothin’, I think I’ve had too many. Maybe I should call it a night.”

“You’ve had like two drinks. That barely even touches the sides.” You state, and you’re not wrong. You know him too well. He can’t help clenching his jaw as you sit down across from him. When he sees how your new angle offers him a perfect shot of your cleavage, he thinks he might start grinding away his teeth. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean then?” He leans in closer. Not to be closer, but he hopes leaning forward might help hide the bulge in his jeans.

“You’ve been acting funny, and avoiding me all wee-“

“N-“

“Don’t interrupt. Yes, you have.” You punctuate your statement by placing your drink on the table. You don’t slam, but it's hard and firm enough to communicate your point. “Don’t you try to deny it Dean Winchester! I know you too well. You’ve been avoiding me, and when you can’t get away you’re all squirrely and quiet. Now tell me what’s going on.”

He drains his beer as he thinks it over. Partly to try and return some moisture to his mouth but primarily to buy himself some time while he thinks things over. If he’s honest, he might get something out of it. A one-night stand, a fuck buddy, maybe more? Or he might lose you, which he couldn’t stand.

“I…”

“Come on Dean, whatever it is, we’ll get through it. We always do.”

Fuck it. You’re right. He gestures to the bartender for another round, takes a deep breath, and spills. And a funny thing happens: he starts to feel more relaxed as he lets it out. If you’re not into it, that’s fine. So long as it doesn’t scare you off.

When he’s done, he watches you as you process his confession. Man, he loves the way your face moves when you’re thinking.

“So…” You purse your lips and take a quick sip of your drink as you prepare your response. “What’s the problem? Do you not want to sleep with me?”

“No, I do. Obviously, you’re…” hot, incredible, the only woman I want. Unable to voice any of the thoughts in his head at that moment, he gestures to you, head to toe and back again. “I just don’t want it to cause problems between us. Our friendship”

 “Then we won’t let it.” You state matter-of-factly. “Now, are you gonna take me back to the bunker so we can fuck each other dumb or not?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Sam Winchester

His fingers are knuckle deep inside of you as you lay back, spread out across his bed. “Fuckkk… Sam!” You look up at him, eyes hazy, hair a mess, and he can feel his dick throb in response. “Sam, I’m so full.” “Poor baby.” He coos in response. “So full already, and I’ve barely even touched you.” He watches the way your expression melts at his words with pride, when he sees your lips start to form your reply, he places a direct smack to your clit. The whine you release is music to his ears. The way you wither and moan as he begins to play with your clit, fuck, you’re so hot. “Are you ready for more?” He asks. He’s pleased when you begin vigorously nodding. “Yes, Sam! Yes! Yes, please!”

Years of impersonating officials and hustling at almost every bar he stopped at had earned Sam a more than convincing poker face. But you always saw right through it.

For that reason, Sam had been bending over backwards to avoid you. He wasn’t totally sure what he was hiding, the fact that he’d dreamed about you, or the fact that he’d furiously masturbated to the memory of it upon waking up. Either way, he wasn’t ready to face you.

He’d hung back in the morning, grabbing his breakfast later than usual. Gone to the local library all day to research, citing a change of scenery when Dean questioned him, and had gone grocery shopping as an excuse to stay out later.

After unpacking the shopping, he’d hopped in the shower, making up for skipping his usual morning routine.

What he hadn’t accounted for was finding you, dressed in nothing but your panties and one of his t-shirts, in the centre of his bed. The very bed he’d vividly fantasised about pleasing you in.

It wasn’t an unusual sight. You were his best friend after all. You often hung out in each other’s rooms, and you frequently borrowed his shirts. He just really could have done without all this today.

“Hey Sam.” You greeted him with a smile, looking up from your laptop. “I missed you today.”

“Hey.” He responds awkwardly. Both hands clutching at his towel. He clears his throat before continuing. “Yeah, I was busy I guess. You too.”

“No worries.” You assure him before returning your gaze to your screen. “I could use your help with something if that’s alright?”

“Sure.” He approaches the bed. Certain close proximity will escalate his predicament he resolves to remain standing. However, looking down at you, with your head so close to his crotch, is equally stirring something within him. Reluctantly, he sits beside you. He glances at your computer briefly but quickly becomes preoccupied with adjusting and readjusting his towel, determined to cover the growing erection beneath.

“So, I’ve been looking into the apple of Sodom for Claire but…” he swears he meant to listen, but he’d never noticed how good you smell before, or how your skin glows even under the dingy light of his room. “Sam? Sam are you even listening?”

“Yeah, of course.” He finally tunes back in. “Apple of Sodom, Claire… hand of God?”

He looks into your eyes to judge his improv, but you’re staring, wide-eyed, right at the thing he’s been trying to hide.

“Is that- are you…” You look at his face, and he can feel the heat spreading across his cheeks. “For- because of me?”

“I’m sorry!” He stands, pausing to compose his words before continuing his apology. “I just, I had this dream last night about you, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about all day. I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?”

“Because you’re my friend. My best friend.”

“Right.” You always saw right through him, but fortunately, that was a two-way skill, and right now, he could hear, he could feel the disappointment you were radiating.

“Unless…” he cocks a brow at you, and your body immediately perks up. You look up at him, eyes hazy, identical to his dream. “Do you want this too?”

Castiel

You’re a vision on your knees before him, eyes watering, cheeks puffed out, hair tangled between his fingers. He stares intently, relishing in all the subtle movements of your faces as he lazily pumps his penis between your lips.  His grip grows tighter every time he feels the back of your throat against his tip. Your muffled pants and moans are music to his ears. The way your lips glisten beneath the sheen of your own saliva is erotic, and he worries the sight of you alone will be enough to make him finish before he’s really begun.

It’s that vision he’s thinking of now as he watches you on your hands and knees, scrubbing a chalk pentagram off the floor.

He’s brought out of his chain of thoughts by the sound of your voice. “Is there something on my face?”

“No.” He squints at your face; he is confident it looks fine, more than fine, beautiful in fact, but he examines it in more depth, nonetheless. “There is nothing on your face. In fact, your face is quite adequate.”

“Quite adequate, I’ll take that as high praise.” You laugh. He’s not certain what’s so funny, but the sound is exquisite, and only further fuels the unfamiliar fiery feeling he’s experiencing. “But seriously, why are you staring at me?”

Your line of questioning makes sense to him now. He briefly considers lying to you, but on the spot he cannot think of anything convincing. “I slept last night.”

“I didn’t know Angels did that.” It’s not a question, but he has learned many human cues during his time on Earth. You’re digging for more information.

“We can, but we do not need to, so typically we don’t. I thought I might trial it to see if it would help in replenishing my grace.” He answers.

“Did it help?” Your inquisitiveness is ceaseless. It is something he has always liked about you.

“No.” He replies, he enjoys the brief frown of disappointment you give in response. “I did however, dream of you.”

“Ahh, and what did me and my quite adequate face do in your dream?” You’re smiling again as you scrub at a particularly stubborn stain. He notices the unintentionally alluring way you chew at your bottom lip and is immediately reminded of the way you had looked in his dream, as you waited in anticipation for him to expose his genitals.

He allows himself to wonder how you will react to his next statement; he hopes you’ll be as excited and pliable as you had been in his fantasy.  “You were nude, on your knees, performing fellatio on my, well, my vessels penis.”

“Oh!” You respond in a tone that he believes to be humorous and a little surprised. Until you look down at your knees, considering your precarious position. “Oooooh.”

You don’t say anything else, nor do you look back up at him. He begins to worry that he may have said something inappropriate, or that you thought he had disliked the experience.

“It was an enjoyable dream, if that is your concern.” He attempts to offer comfort.

“Well, I suppose that’s good news.” You nod to yourself; your tone gives nothing away. “I wonder if my real-life skills are as enjoyable as your fantasies.”

“I wouldn’t know, we have never…” His line of speech, his thoughts are interrupted by the enticing sight of you crawling towards him. “Oh.”

[nackrosor]

~ Childhood Sweethearts ~

[Part 1/?]

Leon S. Kennedy x bestie!Reader

PART 2 ✨

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, slow burn, pining, eventual romance, eventual smut, depressed/drunk/sick Leon, angst with hurt/comfort, drunken confessions (kinda)

series synopsis: You and Leon have been friends since you can remember. You've always been there for him, especially through the bad times. He's in a bad place again and he needs you. You're the only light in his pretty dark life.

word count: 2,3k.

It was storming outside, and you could hear the violent tapping of the rain on your window, as well as the rumbling sound of the thunders, making you flinch and tighten your grip on the blanket draped over your shoulders. The noises from outside were making it difficult for you to concentrate on the show playing on the TV, and you found yourself turning to look at the black sky repeatedly, anticipating the jump each time you saw the white light pierce the dark.

You were yet again staring at the gloomy night sky when, instead of a rumble, you heard a knock on your front door, which startled you considerably more. You warily walked to your entrance, wondering who could possibly be wandering outside in such bad weather, not to mention looking for you so late at night.

When you opened the door, Leon was standing there, soaking wet and looking absolutely rattled. He staggered inside without saying anything and almost bumped into you in the process. He had clearly been drinking, judging by the way he dragged his feet and the reddish tone of his cheeks. You'd seen him in such a state before... but there was something different this time. Something in his expression that deeply concerned you.

"Leon?" you inquired with alarm, your wide eyes tracking his movements. You shut the door behind you while never taking your eyes off of him. He was visibly fighting to stand up straight, and you were ready to step in and help him if his legs gave out under him but somehow he managed to take a few unsteady steps forward and lean against the nearest wall.

"I'm sorry..." he murmured, hanging his head. His eyes darted restlessly around your flat, pointedly avoiding yours as if he was ashamed of his state. He attempted to undo his jacket but his fingers kept missing the zipper and so you jumped in to lend him a hand. Your eyes raised to meet his, an apprehensive look on your face.

"Leon, what happened?" You asked carefully although failing to hide the worry in your voice.

It took him some time to respond, as if he was trying to catch the words that kept on escaping him.

"I'm not feeling well..." he finally admitted once you had removed his jacket. From so close, you could smell the alcohol on him but also see the bags under his eyes which made him look as if he hadn't slept in days.

He raised his shaking hand to push back his wet hair, and your frown deepened as you realised he was not only drenched in rain but also covered in sweat.

You so desperately wanted to know what had happened, what had triggered him to relapse into his toxic addiction. But it was clear that he had no strength left to stay conscious, let alone answer your questioning. You had to wait until he felt better.

"Do you need to puke?" you pressed him, feeling your concern grow by the second.

Leon nodded with some effort.

"I... I don't feel well..." he mumbled again, straining to keep his eyes open.

He reached out towards his hair again, as if to do something with it, but instead only ended up scratching at his scalp. You instantly took hold of his hands and squeezed them gently in yours to draw his attention.

"Come... Let's go to the bathroom," you whispered, trying to keep your voice low and gentle as if you were speaking to a wounded animal. Carefully, you tugged on his hands and walked him across your apartment, your gaze flitting from the room ahead and back to him at every step to ensure he didn't trip on his own feet.

Leon leaned into you the entire time, and once you got to the bathroom, he barely managed to voice a trembling 'I'm sorry' before he bent over the sink and started to retch.

Your hand immediately found his back to support him, while the other wiped his damp strands of hair out of his face.

You were so worried for him, so much so that you didn't even realise that you were shaking from anxiety; seeing him in such a miserable state was breaking your heart.

"It's okay... It's okay," you cooed softly, attempting to soothe him and at the same time to calm yourself down as he gagged violently and puked his entire being into the sink.

When the retching stopped, he glanced up at you, his eyes glazed over with what looked like humiliation and exhaustion. He extended his hand, attempting to take hold of your arm for support.

You let him lean against you once again while hurriedly dabbing his mouth with a towel. You could see how pale he was and how his body trembled, and the sight alarmed you. Placing your palm on his forehead you gasped at how warm his skin was at the touch. He needed some medicine and to get out of his wet clothes as quickly as possible.

"Stay here. You hear me? I'll be back in a second." You said firmly yet maintained your tone of voice low, afraid of hurting him. You carefully guided him to sit on the toilet lid, then gave him an apprehensive look before rushing out of the bathroom.

Leon sat there, shivering. He slumped against the wall, closing his eyes, attempting to cope with the dizziness and the nausea and the ache in his feverish body.

When you returned to the bathroom with everything you needed to help him, you caught him clutching the air as if reaching for something that wasn't there. With a tug at your heart you grasped his hand in yours, your eyes searching his face to ensure he was conscious.

"Hey, hey... Look at me. Look at me."

Leon made an effort to meet your gaze. He looked at you with glazed-over eyes and he appeared to be both confused and overly aware of what was going on at the same time.

"I..." he spoke quietly. "I can't..." a rough cough interrupted him and he glanced down. "I'm sorry..."

"Stop apologising, Leon..." you chastised him in a soft but desperate tone, reaching out to delicately caress his moist forehead. "I'll take care of you, you got that?"

You swiftly took a glass of water and added the pill into it, making sure it dissolved before crouching in front of Leon and bringing the glass to his lips.

"Drink this, you'll feel better soon."

Leon seemed hesitant at first; he glanced at the glass of water, then back at you before slowly taking a sip. He grimaced through it, but you held the glass in place for him until he swallowed the last drop.

You watched as he tiredly leaned his head back against the wall and stared at you in silence for a moment. His glassy blue eyes transfixed on you were tugging at your heart strings and when he weakly reached out a hand to cup your face, you felt even more for him. You leaned into his timid touch, with a faint smile on your lips. You were trying so hard not to give in to your anxiety and burst into tears. You couldn't. Your dear friend needed you. You had to be strong for him.

"Let's get you out of those drenched clothes, okay?" You softly interrupted the silence, rising up and proceeding to roll the hem of his soaked t-shirt up his abdomen.

You were so focused on aiding and taking care of him that no distraction could slow you down, not even the sight of your closest friend's half-naked body, whom you had been crushing on for as long as you could remember. It was not the time to allow your thoughts - nor your eyes - to roam or linger. You also tried not to meet his drowsy gaze, which he kept locked on you the entire time you undressed and clothed him in the most baggy-fitting clothes you could find in your wardrobe.

"I'm sorry," he whispered one more time while you adjusted the sweatpants on his hips. "I messed up again..."

You could see his lips quiver as he attempted to form words, though he seemed too weak to speak. He reached out and took hold of your hand. He looked like he wanted to add something, but you interjected to softly 'hush' him before he could apologise again.

Cautiously, you tugged at his arms to get him to stand up. "Do you think you can walk to my bedroom? You remember my bedroom, yeah? It's right beside the bathroom. You can do it?" you asked him, searching his eyes as you continued to support his body.

"I... I think so..."

He followed you to the other room while still holding onto your hand.

You huffed in distress as you struggled to keep his body up, almost dragging him through the hallway, but eventually making it to your bed.

"Lie down..." you whispered, holding on to him as you guided him onto the mattress.

As he lay there, he looked so drained. His face was as white as a sheet, his breathing laboured, his eyes barely open and out of focus, yet keenly fixed on you. You could see his lips quiver as if he meant to say something, but his voice kept failing him; all that came out of his mouth were indecipherable murmurings.

"What is it? What do you need?"

You saw him reach for your hand, his fingers weakly intertwined with yours. Your stomach fluttered at the contact.

"Stay" was all he could muster up to whisper in a faint rasp of voice.

A sweet smile appeared on your lips. You knelt alongside the bed, right next to him, and gently grasped his hand with both of yours.

"Of course, Leon. I'm gonna watch over you while you rest." you reassured him. "Don't you worry..."

Placing one of your hands on his face, you softly brushed his hair off his forehead. How you wished you could do more to help him, to do anything, just so he could be serene and live the peaceful life he so much deserved, to never go through this kind of pain ever again. But other than watching over him and waiting for his fever to pass, there was nothing else you could do for him at the moment. Hopefully in the morning he would feel better and open up to you. Only then maybe you could find a way to fix this, whatever this was. You had the feeling this time it was more than just the same old issues. Something else must have been tormenting him.

Leon sighed and turned his head, burying his face in your palm. A faint, worn smile crept up the corners of his mouth as he met your gaze yet again. You always did get lost in his blue eyes, so deep and beautiful and yet looking so troubled more times than not.

His lips moved silently, and you bent forward to catch what he had to say. Your gaze moved anxiously across his face, lingering on his lips.

"Hmm?"

You waited patiently as he wet his dry lips. His eyelids eventually fluttered closed, too tired to focus on anything any longer.

"...I love you."

Your heart leapt at his ushered words, and your mind turned to mush for a few moments. Was it a confession? No. No… you needed to shake yourself out of it before you began overthinking it. You could not interpret his words in any other way other than platonic; you wouldn't dare. After all, your friend was clearly incapable of speaking lucidly about anything in his current situation. You couldn’t take the word of an intoxicated and feverish Leon for true. No, he definitely meant it platonically, no matter how you wished for it to sound. But it did feel… odd to hear those words leave his mouth; you had never expressed your affection for each other in such a direct way throughout your 20+ year friendship.

"I… I love you too." You blurted back a few breaths later, but he did not reply. You felt his grip gradually lessen and his hand slip free from yours. His breathing had become steadier. It seemed he had finally fallen asleep.

You exhaled a long, deep breath you hadn't realised you had been holding and then ran your hand over your face, suddenly feeling the anxiety and fatigue get to you. A few nervous tears spilled from your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away. Your gaze moved to his face yet again; you were still worrying about him, but seeing him rest so peacefully after all he had gone through made you feel a little better. He looked so different while sleeping. Despite the fever, he appeared much younger, healthier, serene...

Once you made sure he had fallen into a deep sleep, you left the room to go pour yourself a coffee. You had a long night ahead of you and needed to be vigilant. You would continue to monitor his fever to ensure that it did not rise again, so he could sleep properly until the morning. You also prayed the nightmares kept him alone, at least this time. He was already in such a horrible state that he didn't need his sleep disrupted by the terrible memories from his past, the same ones that had kept him awake more times than you’d like to admit. He had told you all about those restless nights and you had tried to console him as best as you could but the memories just kept on coming back and mess up with his fragile mind… Oh, how you wished you could just make them disappear, somehow. You would do anything for him, even take his burden yourself, if only that was possible.

Sipping your coffee, you returned to your bedroom and took a seat in the armchair close to the bed. Your attentive gaze landed on his sleeping body once again. The sight caused your chest to tighten. His delirious revelation made its way back to your head and you let out a sigh, your fingers curling closer around the warm mug in your palms.

"Sleep tight, my love."

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[battymommastuff]

A Night with the Knight

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Masterlist

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

Wherever you were, it was warm. Warm, but cold at the same time. You felt safe, but you were also in danger. Maybe the danger was the freaky cult that tried recruiting you. The warmth, you came to realize was a blanket draped across your body. You'd woken up in a dark, unfamiliar place for the second time tonight. The sound of rushing water filled your ears along with the faint buzzing of the dim lights, and sounds of machines in every direction. 

This place was far too dark to be a hospital, and you were glad for that. Any public setting was the last place you wanted to be right now. The last thing you remembered was Batman hovering over you after saving you from your kidnappers. After that were faint memories from you going in and out of consciousness. The city flying by faster than it ever did, the masked face of the man who saved you, and brief images of a black tailcoat with white gloves. All of these images were taking their sweet time processing in your mind. Your entire body felt like it was hit by a train despite you having the body of an acrobat. 

Slowly, you got out of the hospital bed you were in. You wanted to find somebody. It was too quiet, and it felt like you had eyes on you at all times...which you did. Walking out of the little room you were in, you saw a massive screen that lit up the area around it. Pictures of your captors, the leader of the Court...and several members of the circus were all over the screen. You looked down to see the back of Batman's head as he typed away on the keyboard, "How are you feeling?" He asked, suddenly. You jumped then looked around. No one else was around, but how did he know you were there? You didn't make any noise. 

"A-A little sore..." You answered while closing your robe around your body more. The warmth you felt was definitely from the blanket you had when you woke. It was freezing in here, "Where am I? I figured you would drop me off at the nearest hospital and leave me there." You asked, with a small laugh at the end. Batman stopped typing on the computer and turned his chair to face you. He stood up, and you were in awe at his size. Not only was he tall, he was very well built. No wonder it was so easy for him to take down all those Court members. You felt very intimidated by his presence, but oddly attracted to it. 

"You're in the Batcave. It's too dangerous to take you into any public setting. You have knowledge of the most dangerous group in the city, the entire Court is no doubt hunting for you." Batman explained, in the most monotone voice. You already knew this, but hearing it just made it worse. Where would you go? All of your possessions, money, your life was still at the Circus. You didn't have any family that cared for you anymore, and you had nowhere safe to go. The more you thought about your life being over, the more emotional you got. It made the man in front of you highly uncomfortable to watch you break down. 

"You could have broken the bad news to her in a more gentle way. Maybe start with offering her warm clothes, Sir?" A British voice asked, followed by the sounds of footsteps coming down metal steps. You wiped your eyes quickly then looked over to see the man in the tailcoat that you saw briefly. His face was very familiar, but where? As he stepped closer, your eyes widened. This man was the butler of billionaire Bruce Wayne. You've seen him in pictures as well as on the news when Bruce Wayne made an appearance at events for the city. You looked from him to Batman, and you could tell from the uncovered parts of his face who was under the mask. It seemed that Batman also knew what you were thinking, so he lowered his mask.

"Would you like some warm clothes?" 

"Ugh...excuse him, his bedside manner is in need of work." 

You looked between the two men who just told you the one thing that the entire world wanted to know, and acted as if it wasn't a big deal. Did they trust you to keep the secret? Of course you would keep it, but how did they know they could trust you? Did they have some memory wiping device that would erase your memory after they got what they needed out of you? Judging from the tech that covered the place, it didn't seem that far fetched, "W-Why are you telling me your identity?" You finally ask after several seconds of awkward silence. 

"I'm going to move you into my manor, that I way I can monitor you as well as get information about the circus." Batman answered while turning back towards the computer. Your jaw dropped a bit. He didn't even consider if you wanted to live with him or not. Not that you were going to turn it down. The chance to live in a mansion? You'd be stupid to refuse, "I will retrieve your things later, but I will take you to buy a new wardrobe in the morning." You're going to be spoiled too? Maybe you should be thanking the Court for kidnapping you. 

"I suppose I should thank you then, Mr. Wayne." You said with a small smile. He turned towards you and gave you a small smirk. 

"Call me Bruce."

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[bahrtofane]

you drag jude to take a nap with you in his backyard. he likes it more than he can admit. 

word count : 700+

watch it : pure fluff, mildly cranky whining jude, still loves you any way 

enjoy <33

—--

"still think this is a good idea ?" jude sighs, closing the back door with his foot and dragging the blankets behind him. 

when you said you wanted to relax and enjoy the sun he was thinking of the pool, maybe even a quick flight to the nearest nice beach. going to a park, hell even just tan. nowhere in his mind did he think you wanted to sunbathe and take naps in his backyard. yet here the both of you are. bellies full from lunch (thank you to his mother for the lovely meal), warm from the sun. not half bad actually. he just likes being dramatic.

he's far too shy to say it outloud, contrary to popular belief, but any time spent with you is good time. no matter what you're doing. if you wanted to sunbathe on the moon hes pretty sure he'd follow. 

"yes i do thank you. it's a lovely day." you beam, smoothing out the blankets and rearranging the pillows just how you like. throwing your phone somewhere near the far corner. you are going to nap dammit. no distractions allowed ( jude not included ). 

he huffs, "why the backyard, there are plenty of parks," squinting up at the sun the breaks between the tall trees that span the yard. 

you shrug, "it's more intimate this way. i don’t want to get all dressed up and deal with people, and i know how tired you get from having to interact with the public. now sit," you pat the space next to you on the blanket. nice and neat against the grass. 

he supposes that it is much more intimate. it's a welcome change from your usual outings. always with security and his agent. here he can be jude, and you are free to be you in every capacity. under the shade, you each blossom and bloom under the suns warm touch. each leaning on eachother. 

he finds it endearing how you thought of him, remembering his likes and dislikes. you really are something. 

but you don't need to know that just yet. he finds complaining rather fun. 

"ants are going to have a field day." jude grumbles, sitting himself cross legged next to you.

you shrug, "they don’t do much honestly. we don’t even have food out anyway."

he hums, "i guess so."

you hunker down belly flat on the soft blanket, stretching your limbs out with a yawn, "well im going to nap." you sigh softly, grabbing a pillow and burying your face into its side.

jude looks at you aghast,"no no no. you drag me out here and then you bail to nap ? absolutely not."

"i need my sun nap time or i die. like a plant." you retort, eyes closed. 

"i need my time with you or i die. like a jude." he shoots back, arms failing as he whines.

you crack an eye open to glare at him, "just try it, "arms open and inviting him next to you. 

he eventually gives in, rolling his eyes playfully as he slides right into your arms. face pressed into the same pillow, he lets you get comfortable against him. sliding your arms to bring him closer, wrapping a leg around his. 

"see? not so bad you big baby." you mumble into his skin, pressing a few kisses into his skin.

"guess not." he mumbles, warm and content in your embrace. 

you're out light a light not even a minute later, softly grasping his arms and face buried into him as you doze off in the sun. just like you wanted. 

there's much worse things he could be doing right now he realizes. a slew of illegal activities, hundreds of bad food to chow down on and make his nutritionist hate her life. the amout of shit he gets from his teamates on his habbits is enough to last a life time. they really should be jumping for joy. 

but more importantly, he could jump for joy. happy and warm, pressed close to his lovers side. cuddling with you on soft blankets in the sun on a warm day is the best option. safe and sound in your arms jude soon finds himself drifting away. he hopes he dreams of you. 

[yanderestarangel]

HEADKANONS MK11 | BLACK DRAGONS DUO | ERRON BLACK AND KANO ☆ HARD SMUT VERSION ☆

A/N: This one goes out to my 3 followers who are horny fans of Kano and Erron Black <3!

TW: daddykink, semi public sex, degradation, smut, nsfw, blowjob, afab anatomy,ftm/male reader, praise, creampie, rough sex, eat out, painkink, anal sex, cunnilingus, v!sex, gun play, dom!kano, dom!erron black.

KANO

He is a vulgar man, and this applies in bed too, he spews disgusting and extremely arousing words, fucking you until you are a dumb mess because of his dick, pulling your hair hard and not worrying if you will feel pain or not - at that moment, all that mattered was fucking your holes with all the vigor he could muster.

"You're just a hole for me to use. This is your purpose - to please me and obey me. Remember that, whore, while daddy fucks your little slutty body mercilessly."

He's so brutal as he fucks your throat, forcing you to the base of his dick, you can touch the tip of your nose to the base of his pubic hair - but don't worry, Kano takes good care of his body, oddly enough, he smells well, a strong smell of expensive, sporty, woody men's perfume is quite pleasant - he will degrade you and praise you at the same time, seeing the tears come down from your eyes with each involuntary choke because of his dick hitting the back of your throat holding your head in place while he looked you in the eyes, his bionic eye glowed even brighter with each expression of pleasure you made when sucking him, phrases like:

"You love sucking my dick don't you?"

"F-Fuuck yeah~ that's it my good boy, choke on my cock."

"That's it! Take my dick, you dirty little slut oh- fuucck yes!"

He will also spend all the money he gets just to make you as beautiful as possible for him, and also on sex toys - vibrators, dildos, special lubricants, heart-shaped plugs that he will force you to use while dating him, so preference in public after fucking your pussy and ass, inserting the butt plug into your canal still filled with his thick, hot seed, placing a collar with his name in diamonds around your neck while pulling the chain to bring you even closer of him, you moaned softly at the feeling of having the hot liquid running down your thighs, mainly because he was going to make a point of complementing the pleasurable torture, he was going to put a vibrator on your clit, watching you whimper for him, while he smiled at the pathetic mess that you where.

"Are you shaking already? Just a cute and sensitive boy isn't that love? Want me to fuck you? Then beg louder."

Kano will wait for you to beg him to fuck you in the nearest alley, while he roughly pulled you down, pulling down your panties and exposing your two needy holes for him, the mercenary didn't really care if anyone saw or not - he was just going to fuck you - He turned around slightly, eyeing your exposed pussy hungrily, as he turned off the vibrator from your clit and removed the butt plug from your body.

"That's mine now isn't it?"

the Australian man will fill you up again, taking turns with his thick cock between your cunt and ass, giving painful slaps to your skin as he watches you go weak in the knees from the brutal thrusts - ending up on your ass, while ramming his thick shaft again in your overstimulated pussy, totally dirtying your thighs, taking out his dick again and hitting his member on your sensitive flesh, laughing hoarsely when he sees you hold on to him - he will reward you later don't worry, everything you want he will buy without question and pamper you like you were royalty -

"That's my warrior, You took it all like a big boy, I'm proud of you... I knew you're mine."

ERRON BLACK

Erron is a domineering and rude man, but not evil. He wants you to make the most of it every time you two make love, he takes the phrase: "save a horse, ride the cowboy" very seriously. He wants to fuck you in every possible position... But his preference will always be "cowgirl", seeing you jumping on his dick so eagerly while trying to control himself not to let out beautiful sighs - which only you do - fills his eyes of the gunman of passion.

"I want to feel your tight little pussy milk my cock dry, my baby boy doll."

"You're a filthy whore, taking my cock so willingly... Your tight, needy pussy is made for me to fuck."

He also likes to see you riding on his face, with his tongue fucking your pussy with all his hunger, the cowboy will make you roll in his mouth - grabbing your hips while placing you even closer to him, doing a provocative cunnilingus while watching you whining for more of him, pulling on his hat while - Erron's scruffy beard tickled your thighs, leaving a trail of juices, he also loves dirty talk, talking about how he missed you throughout the day, how he masturbated thinking about you, while bringing you even closer to him.

"I've fantasized about you, imagined fucking you until you're a moaning mess."

Erron also likes gun play - I think that's obvious - mainly, when you make him jealous on purpose, he will obviously unload the pistol, but he will use the cold, icy barrel to tease your skin, the gun inside your shorts, pressing it against your delicate flesh. It was a shocking and exhilarating sensation - one that made you feel excited, very... Excited.

"No one else can satisfy you like I can... You really like playing with fire, don't you pretty boy?" He continued to rub the gun against your pussy, you found yourself getting wetter and wetter, lightly slapping material on your clit - he will end up fucking you, making a creampie in your pussy while slapping you hard on the face, telling you that you were just his.

Aside from the occasional rough sex, Erron likes to be softer too. Fucking you sweetly on a rainy and tiring day, after a risky mission, holding hands with you looking straight into your eyes as he absorbed every reaction you made to him slowly fucking you - he loves being called "my cowboy" by you, you can see the small smile that forms on his lips, as the older man grabs you by the hips, massaging your breasts, sucking the creamy flesh while leaving small marks.

"I really love you baby...Fuck...Be a good boy and take all of this old cowboy's seed right here in this pretty pussy ok?"

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[ushijimaschubbs]

"just please understand...."

an: im sorry if this sucks I have exams and i really wanted to finish this request. this is not proofread btw. based on this request. have fun reading anon and thank you so much for this adorable request <33

synopsis: reader has a bad luck in love and their bestfriend kuroo picks up the pieced after heartbreak while he's in love with them.

1.2k words

pairings: timeskip bestfriend!kuroo tetsurou × reader

warnings: breakup, cheating, reader has bad luck in love leading to multiple heartbreaks, slight angst

the sunlight felt too bright this morning as you tried to shield yourself from it by covering your face with the nearest pillow. the dreadful memories from last night started clouding your mind when you remembered how you had to break up with your ex boyfriend because you found him flirting with multiple girls online. tears rolled down your the bridge of your nose as you tried to find your phone on the table, only to see 20 missed calls from kuroo. you sprang up from your bed and called him immediately knowing he is going to be pissed off because you probably drunk dialled him last night after the brutal breakup.

"oh wow look who has decided to wake up. it's 1pm", kuroo spat on the other line.

"I'm really sorry, kuroo. i was having a really awful night okay? please don't shout at me I'm still so hungover", you cried, falling back into the mattress.

"i don't remember the last time you had a good night actually, princess. i was really worried for you and I couldn't even check up on you because I'm still on this business trip", he sounded annoyed and pissed off and this really wasn't the first time. you didn't blame him since you did find yourself in horrible situations ever so often in your love life. cupid did not do anything for you because if it had, you wouldn't end up with rat looking, bad kissers every time you had a liking for someone. you were simply questioning your taste at this point and kuroo was clearly growing tired of watching you struggle, and worse cry yourself to sleep ever so often.

what you didn't know was how much kuroo longed for you but he was too scared to admit it in the fear of rejection and the loss of his bestfriend, he didn't want to give up something so precious only for it to break into pieces in future, if it ever does that is.

"i promise i won't jump into anything too hastily after this okay? and when are you returning? i really miss your stupid face, jackass", you replied, trying to lighten the mood because you knew kuroo was furious right now.

"im returning in a week and i swear I will keep my eyes on you at all times because I really don't like seeing you like this, y/n. you're my bestfriend and you deserve so much better please",he sighed and proceeded to hang up as his coworker urged him to the meeting room.

after this call, you swore to yourself you won't go out with any guy anymore no matter what happened but guess what, it hadn't even been two weeks before you were going insane over your new neighbour. his blonde locks and hazel eyes had you on a chokehold and you rambled on about it to kuroo who knew this was not going to end well. you went on two dates with this neighbour guy and gushed about him to your bestfriend, describing where he took you, how he treated you, how he paid for your dates blah blah.

"that's very bare minimum, y/n. I've done way more for you and you know that", kuroo blurted out in the middle of your rambling.

"yeah but he's not you, stupid. he's sweet, and kind and he has such beautiful hands you have no idea", starry eyed you went to bed peacefully that night not knowing what was going to take place the next day.

it was your third date now with this neighbour boy and he took you to a classy family restaurant, pulled your chair to seat you, ordered your favourite food and ran circles on your calves with his toes as he looked into your eyes. that was until a girl who had just entered the restaurant stormed towards your table and started screaming on top of her voice about how this guy was her boyfriend, and they had been going out for months now. you couldn't register what she was saying, the noise of shouting and him explaining himself drowned as you lost balance and fell on the chair. your head hurt and you knew you had to leave immediately. you ran towards the road, looking down in shame and got into the nearest cab. the entire night you kept calling kuroo, hoping to confide in him only to remember that he was supposed to be on a date too leading you to cry yourself to sleep that night.

you woke up to several knocks on your door and someone shouting your name outside loud enough for everyone in the building to hear. you made your way towards the door and found kuroo sweating profusely and out of breath.

"I'm so sorry y/n I'm really sorry I passed out last night after the date and my phone was on silent are you fine is everything okay??"

"yeah don't worry my bad luck in love just doesn't seem to leave", you sighed, plopping on the cream coloured sofa in your living room.

"what happened this time?"

"he was already in a relationship"

kuroo was usually always annoyed everytime you would tell him about a crush, or a bad date or even a relationship but this time he looked enraged.

"you can't be that blind right y/n"

"huh what do you mean"

"i mean we've been friends for almost idk our entire life and we've spent literally every fucking day together. there hasn't been a single day I have wanted to wake up and the only reason why I do anyways is you. you are my first thought of the day and every other thought after that and I simply cannot go on even a day more without saying this to you but I've always and always loved you y/n and I'm tired of other undeserving men breaking your heart everytime and I will not stand it anymore. my heart beats for you everyday so please..." he breathes hard "just please understand." he was now standing right over you, his eyes not leaving your face for even a second as you tried to process each of his words.

"kuroo what how why have you never told me this", you cried wondering how oblivious you were to all his feelings for so long.

"because I don't want to lose you. i never ever want to have to go through the loss of you as my bestfriend and i cannot risk that but I also can't see your heart break everytime because of some jerk and if that means risking our friendship I don't mind because I want you to be mine only", he urged as he sat next to you, taking your hand in his and caressing your fingers with his thumb.

"you'll never lose me kuroo, I promise you that. trust me. I'm sorry for being so unaware of what you felt for me. why don't we start by going on a date first? is that fine?", you said while closing the distance between you two by pressing your lips on his, your noses touching slightly. he was gentle and soft and you could taste the shared breath, feel the thud of your combined heartbeat as he held you close, making sure he's never letting you go again.

[babydin]

Love in the Middle of a Firefight

The pregnancy is easy, despite the circumstances. The pregnancy was the easy part, Joel was supportive, he helped out, he ran around like a Retriever whenever you asked him to and Ellie asked a million questions every single day. But when the baby arrives Joel doesn't know if he remembers how to love something so fragile. - Joel Miller x f!reader - 18+, minors DNI! - (1/?) - Joel is dad, Joel is Daddy, paternal postnatal depression, pregnancy sex, oral. Not necessarily in this chapter, but for sure in this series!! Trauma references. Domesticated af. Angsty in places! - 1868 words - Comments/likes appreciated. Requests are open! - A/N: I didn't think too hard about the timeline, just vaguely after the events of S1, they go to Jackson to Tommy's place and live there and nothing bad happens. This will be in multiple parts but I haven't planned for how many! There will be time-jumps in each of the parts because I'm impatient™️

You haven’t heard him say the word ‘resources’ since the three of you were backpacking across the country trying to get to Jackson and your heart breaks at how quickly he has slipped back into survival mode.

“Joel I–” The words catch in your throat as he looks up at you after hearing his name. He always has an expectant look on his face whenever you say his name; he’d been so attentive since the two of you had settled town in Jackson with Ellie. You didn’t dare say it out loud, or to his face, but the man was domesticated. He was tamed and you hadn’t done a thing, he’d just set his battles aside. Both of them were, Ellie had agreed to go to school, and Joel helped around the town in the mornings then returned home for a late lunch. Just to prove your point, he was doing dishes when you found him.   “Joel, I’m late.”

He set down the bowl from breakfast he was drying with a dish towel and then wiped his hands on his jeans, “Well, where d’ya need t’ be? I’ll drive you.” Your face scrunches and you shake your head, you’d smile if you weren’t so scared. You don’t want to say it out loud, saying it out loud would make it real. Maybe if the world hadn’t fallen apart and supplies weren’t limited, risks weren’t significantly higher because of all of that you’d be a little more excited, you’d have ran to the nearest drugstore to buy a home pregnancy test and taken it immediately. “Joel.” you say his name again, firmer this time, hoping he hears you. He’s halfway between grabbing the keys to his truck and the kitchen sink, those attentive eyes trying so desperately to figure out what you’re trying to say. Your fingers grip the counter and your heels push back into the ground so your head can bow down to the ground;  if you’re going to say it, you don’t want to look at him, “I haven’t missed a period since I was 14. You could set a clock on it. I should’ve had it three fuckin’ weeks ago, Joel.” His silence is deafening. There’s no elation, there isn’t any regret though either, and if you know Joel like you think you do he’s probably going through the same thought process as you are. Thinking about where the supplies are going to come from, how the baby is going to be born, babies had been born since the outbreak it wasn’t unheard of but he wasn’t exactly carrying a four leafed clover. Except you knew Joel’s history, you knew he had lost a child, you knew he had struggled to bond with Ellie when they first met, you knew how reluctant he had been to open his heart up to being a father again when he felt himself getting closer to her. But he was a dad now, her dad; they had a strange relationship and they cursed at each other and played at roughhousing in the living room, they’d zing each other and then laugh about it afterwards, but Joel tucked her in every night and he listened to her problems and helped her with homework, and hugged her so tightly when her emotions got too big for her to voice. You take a breath and it shakes in desperation, fighting to keep your shit together as you felt his gaze burning into you, “Say something Joel, for fucks sa–” “It’s going to be fine.” There was that asshole voice you thought he had given up when you had settled down in Tommy’s town, you had to pull yourself upwards to look at him because you did not believe a single syllable that came out of his mouth. Not in that flat, robotic tone. That wasn’t a reassurance that was a reaction. That was just something he was saying to make you feel better, it wasn’t something he believed. Suddenly, his jagged expression softened and he pushed his jaw out slightly, his eyes got bigger and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He repeats himself, “It’s going to be fine.” this time he sounds so sure. He sounds like he has a plan, he sounds like he’d walk through gunfire for you. “Let me – Let me talk to Tommy; See what kinda resources they have, maybe they got one’a those ultrasound machines,” he starts rushing, grabbing his boots and trying to put them on without sitting down which does nothing for his back, “then we’ll know for sure.” You blink hard, you haven’t heard him say the word ‘resources’ since the three of you were backpacking across the country trying to get to Jackson and your heart breaks at how quickly he has slipped back into survival mode. “I’m sorry.” you whisper the words but he doesn’t hear you.  “I’ll be back.” he kisses your cheek and then he’s gone. You picture a world before the outbreak, where Joel never endured all that trauma and you tell him you think you’re pregnant and his face lights up and he picks you up and spins you around and offers to book your first scan. You’d spend hours on the couch talking about nursery ideas and baby names, and tell him not to get his hopes up in case you’re not actually pregnant but he just scoffs. Before the outbreak, you would’ve told Joel you thought you were pregnant and he would’ve been an excitable dad of two. In the outbreak, you told Joel you thought you were pregnant and his first instinct was how to survive it.  You sit on the couch with your arms wrapped around you and wait for him to come back. A million thoughts swirling around in your mind about every possible outcome of this, you tried your hardest to focus on the ones that ended happily, but without Joel there it was hard. “Come on.” You jump at the sound of Joel’s voice, your eyes finding a clock to see how long you had been sitting in your thoughts as he pulls you up off the couch. He’d come back at least. “Put your shoes on, darlin’. The hospital has an ultrasound, they’re callin’ for a nurse to meet us there.” It wasn’t much of a hospital, it was a bakery they had used for medical supplies. There was a refrigerator and storage large enough for medicines but it was a glorified med-bay at best. Nothing bad enough happened in Jackson for them to need a full hospital, if it did they’d have to drive out of town, and if they were lucky they'd make it in time to return for them to recover at home. In the 8 months you’d lived there, the worst thing that had happened was Mr Jellinsky getting chased out of the chicken coop by a pissed off rooster. He tripped and got his ass bit right between the cheeks and Joel laughed and said, “There’s a dick joke to be said, but I ain’t gon’ be the one to say it.” and you had never heard him sound more Southern. “Joel, what–” You didn’t know how that sentence ended. What if you are pregnant? What if you died in childbirth leaving him a single father of two? What if you weren’t pregnant? What are you going to do with a baby? “Put your shoes on.” He moved to grab your shoes from the door and brought them to your feet. “Joel—” He bent down and picked your feet up off the ground one by one to slip them into your sneakers, “You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout a thing right now, okay? Let’s just let the nurses look at’cha and then we’ll talk.” “Are you scared?” Joel stood up and scoffed a little, he looked at you with those heavy brown eyes once again searching for your soul,reading you like a book. There was a time when he would’ve lied and tightened his jaw and said no, but not these days. “Sweet thing, I’m terrified. Let’s go.” It wasn’t at all far for you to walk from your little cabin-like home to the place you needed to be, Joel slipped his hand into yours half way there and you found such comfort in the way his large hands enveloped yours. You had never noticed how many babies were in Jackson until now, and the parents all seemed content with their lives here. As you laid back on the gurney and answered the nurse’s questions, you occasionally glanced over at Joel. He’s been here before and he’s trying to figure out how to be there again, his teeth are chewing on the inside of his cheek, you’re desperate to know if he’s more anxious to hear a yes or a no. “Have you had any other symptoms besides your period being late?” You shrug and shake your head, you’ve never been pregnant before so you don’t know what ‘symptoms’ means in this case. “Have you been peeing more than usual? Any nausea in the morning?” You try to remember, and shake your head but you really don’t recall. “Any cramping?” You hum and put your hand on your stomach but she bats it away softly so she can pull up your shirt and prepare it for the ultrasound, “I mean, a little but I was just expecting my period so I didn’t really think anything of it…” “Any tenderness or soreness in your breasts?” You shake your head again but Joel clicks his tongue in protest and pipes up in a voice that’s so gravely and sounds like he hasn’t spoken in a week, “You wouldn’t let me touch you last week because you said your nipples were sore.” You take a moment to consider his words and he almost has you convinced that maybe you are pregnant. A cold jelly like substance is dispensed onto your stomach and you gasp and your muscles twitch, the nurse smiles and apologizes. You turn to the screen and Joel moves closer to you. It fills with static that ebbs and flows as the nurse moves the probe around your lower stomach. Even as she explains it to you, you can’t make out what exactly you are looking at but you trust she knows. Then she stops, and Joel sinks to his knees, “This is your uterus–” she gestures on the screen, He wraps both of his hands around yours and brings your knuckles to his lips and you can feel his smile and his heavy breaths as he becomes overcome with emotions. “--- and this little thing here that looks like a peanut…” She didn’t need to finish that sentence for you to know how it ended. The way Joel had reacted, the way it looked on the screen, barely there but very much obvious. Your cargo. You look at Joel as the nurse tells you that you’re pregnant and his eyes are full of tears that he doesn’t allow himself to cry, he’s hiding his mouth behind your hand but his cheeks are dimpled and you know he’s smiling. Relief washes over you and you feel like a fool for doubting him for a second, a fraction of your anxieties lift and you realize he’s with you. When he said it was going to be fine, he meant it.

[justatasteofyourpoison]

Too many cooks…

(A Hazbin Hotel/Alastor x Fem Reader fan fiction)

Part 2

I didn’t expect to write any more smut, butttt I had so much fun writing the last one (take that depression! :D) This idea came to me while casually preparing a roast on Sunday and singing along to the HH soundtrack. Enjoy!

Pairing: Alastor x Fem Reader

Plot: It’s your turn to cook for the HH gang, but Alastor decides to distract you…

Warnings: 18+, smut, bdsm, blood, rough sex (not for me, but maybe you), slight praise k*nk, p in v.

Word Count: About 1.3K

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The hotel was a hub of joy and excitement tonight, it was Friday night and that meant party time! Each week you all took turns cooking a slap-up meal for each other, then put on music, drank and laughed into the small hours. Last week Sir Pentious served up some sort of inedible egg dish which didn’t go down too well, especially when you all had noticed a couple of his egg boys had mysteriously disappeared… But anyway, it was your turn to shine and you were determined to cook something amazing for everyone!

You had it all planned out, cook a few things to suit every taste; something meaty, something veggie, something carby and something buggy… “Ugh” you scoffed as you placed the tray of roaches into the oven. It was Nifty’s favourite and who were you to deny the endearing little creep?

Niffty ran in and out of the kitchen gathering plates and cutlery to set the table. “Thanks Niffty, you’re a star!” You chimed as she grabbed some plates. “No problem! Everything must be perfect!” She sang as she grabbed some more plates. “And clean” she muttered wiping the top plate manically as she struggled through the door.

You laughed to yourself and began preparing the vegetables on the large island in the middle of the kitchen. “I think I’ll have everyone’s tastes covered with this spread” you thought. But then you remembered - Alastor. Alastor who had invited you to his room last night… Your heart fluttered as you remembered the evening’s amorous activities… “I don’t have any venison for Alastor, he’ll be so disappointed” you thought sadly. You didn’t want to disappoint him, especially now that you were his new flight of fancy.

You continued chopping up vegetables when a familiar feeling washed over you. The static was back and that only meant one thing… “Hello my little Doe” a voice suddenly whispered into your ear. You jumped violently and accidentally pierced the knife into your finger. “SHIT!” you yelped in pain as scarlet began dripping onto the white marble. You grabbed the nearest cloth and pressed it tightly to your finger before spinning round to see Alastor stood there. “Hey Alastor, sorry” you said meekly. “No I’m sorry my dear, I need to learn to not sneak up on people when they’re holding knives. Especially not Niffty, she’s a total liability…” He trailed off, “but here, let me help you” Before you knew it the cloth was tossed aside and Alastor had your finger in his mouth. A seductive look in his eye as his tongue swirled around, making sure to get every drop of you. When he was satisfied he let you go and wiped his mouth across his hand “almost as tasty as last night” he purred looking intently into your eyes. You blushed. “Now don’t be coy with me Y/N, you’re no innocent” he said leaning in closer before gently pressing his lips to yours. Your legs felt weak feeling him against you.

“What are you cooking?” He enquired inquisitively after pulling himself away from you. “Err, a little of this, a little of that” you said brushing a loose hair behind your ear. “But…” you began sheepishly “I haven’t got any venison for you, I’m sorry.”

“Oh don’t worry about it” Alastor said coolly “I prefer to catch and eat it fresh” he said almost salivating at the thought. “But the fact I slipped your mind makes me a little sad…” He said his tone changing. Your stomach fell, you never wanted to disappoint the Radio Demon. “I’m sorry Alastor” you said avoiding his gaze. “But, I know how you can make it up to me” he grinned demonically.

Before you knew what was happening Alastor had spun you around and was pressing you down onto the cold marble worktop, his crotch pressed against your buttocks and his powerful hands holding you down by your neck. “Al!” you squeaked in surprise. “Y’know that bit of blood has got me yearning for a little bit more” he growled leaning down over you, his lips against your ear. His lips brushed down to your neck before biting into the flesh gently, his crotch rubbing against you. His lips trailed back up next to your ear. Your face was now flushed hot with excitement. “Last night was wonderful, I think it’s time for round two” he whispered seductively. Your heart skipped a beat, “But what if someone comes in?” you questioned, amazed that you both hadn’t been interrupted already. “I’ll make sure no one will” he said before licking your ear slowly up and down. From the corner of your eye your saw green lock appear on the door. No one would be disturbing you.

Alastor slid his hands down to your black skirt and hoisted it up. “These tights will have to go” he said sternly ripping them off with his claws. You winced as he then spanked your bare arse cheek. “Do you like that Y/N?” You did like that, a lot. “Yes Alastor” you moaned.

“Good girl” he purred as he began sliding your thong down to your ankles. You could hear him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers and felt your body tighten with excitement. He bent back down to your ears “Ready my Doe?” he cooed. “God yes Alastor” you whimpered.

His clawed fingertips traced their way down your back towards your buttocks, he dug his claws into the soft flesh and thrust himself into you roughly, you yelped in pain but didn’t want him to stop. He grabbed you by your pony tail and pulled your neck up, his lips back on your neck giving hickies. He moaned deeply with each thrust into your soaking pussy. “You’re mine” he growled as his stood up tall thrusting harder. His cock was deep inside you, tickling you just were you wanted it. “I thought you were punishing me Al” you moaned. Alastor laughed “Its not my fault you like it you little slut. Now, come for me” his thrusts became faster and the feeling was sensational. He dug his claws into your hips drawing blood and you felt yourself coming hard at the mixed feeling of pleasure and pain “fuck!” you exclaimed before moaning uncontrollably. “That’s it my little Doe” Alastor panted. “My turn!” He thrusted roughly, you could feel your hips starting to bruise from being bashed against the counter. But you didn’t care, all you wanted was Alastor to get there. He leant into you and grabbed your neck before groaning loudly. His cock pulsing inside you as your pussy was filled with him.

He kissed the back of your head before standing up and swiftly dressing himself. He gently pulled your underwear up and let your skirt down. He picked up the tattered tights and laughed “looks like I owe you more clothes!” before making them disappear in a puff of smoke. You chuckled as you turned to face him. You could never get over that face, that smile... He leaned in and gave you a soft kiss. “I’ll see you at dinner my Deer. There may not be anything I’ll eat, but some Rye with friends is always a welcomed treat.”

“Sounds good to me” you panted, still trying to recover from what had just happened. Before Alastor reached the door he stopped and turned “I’ll send some of the girls in to help you finish dinner, you’ve just used up a lot of energy so I’m sure you could you some help.” He said with a wicked grin. With a snap of his fingers the lock was removed from the door and he left inconspicuously.

You braced yourself on the counter. “What just happened…? Fuck!” You laughed to yourself removing a hand from the cold counter to wipe the sweat from your forehead. “I’d better clean up this blood, it looks like Niffty’s tortured someone in here…”

All instalments:

[goldiesvault]

Misealtoe- James Potter

Pairing- Quidditch Player James Potter X fem! reader

Warnings- diabetes giving worthy of fluff

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Nothing smelled better than a warm home with a burning fireplace and the smell of cookies and hot chocolate while it snowed outside. James Potter couldn't have asked for a better option after a long tiring day at the quidditch pitch.

He didnt know why his teammates wanted to have a practice on the day of Christmas Eve.

He smiled to himself when he heard his wife singing Christmas songs while baking the delicious cookies he could smell from the doorway of their home.

He quietly made his way towards the kitchen sneaking behind you waiting for the perfect moment to jump-scare you. He enjoyed your beauty in the ugly Christmas sweater that was his and his quidditch shorts that you wore. To him even if you were a mess you were divine.

He screamed loudly in your ear and you jumped in surprise screaming and pointing the nearest object as a weapon as you turned around to face him still screaming.

James quickly started to laugh at the ridiculousness, you glared at your husband a laugh threatening to leave your lips. "Really the choice of weapon is a wisk? What if it was some intruder and not me!" he asked amused once he calmed down.

You jokingly narrowed your eyes at him pointing the dirty whisk at him. "Don't underestimate my power in handcombact Mr Potter." you joked gently tapping your whisk on his nose.

James grinned at you wiping his nose and tatsing the batter. "Hot chocolate." he hummed at the taste and turned his attention to you. His ridiculously big hands made his way towards your waist.

He stole a kiss from you and when you raised your eyebrows he only looked above. There was the mistletoe right above your heads.

"Good Morning darling, sorry for scaring you," he whispered as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, hugging you tight and inhaling your sweet scent.

You softly smiled at your husband's actions as you warp your arms around him one hand playing with his hair. "How was practice?" you ask while playing with his hair.

"Cold, tiring, and oh! absolutely cold without you, love." you laughed at his response remembering how early in the morning he was whining and throwing a literal tantrum to take you to practice with him as well.

"Well let's get rid of the cold. I made your favourite chocolates cookies and hot chocolate!" Like a kid on Christmas day, James' smile became more energetic as he began to search for the cookies that you made for him.

You slap his hand lightly pushing the plate of cookies away from his reach. "Nah ah let them cool first Jamie, dont want you burning your tongue." James pouted at you but tried to reach for the cookies every time you were distracted with hot chocolate but you always caught him.

After playing the game of catch the thief with James the two of you found yourselves cuddled under one blanket on the sofa as you drank your hot chocolate, chatting away your time.

James moaned at the deliciousness of the cookies as he tried to gobble the whole plate down. "Hey hey slow down cave man I will make more." you laughed at him but James only gave you a small smile.

His face was coated with cookie crumbles. You chuckled and removed the crumbs from his face using your thumb. James leaned in catching the smile on your lips with his.

Your smile widens as you kiss him back hands finding to the back of his neck. Out of breath, you pull away "Noooo come here you are warm." James whines as he pulls you towards his chest.

You giggle and cuddle him closer wrapping your arms around his well-built torso as his hands found your arse. He squeezed your ass and slap it lightly.

You gasped at the man who was your husband, James only gave you a mischievous smile as he kissed your forehead. "Is something.....burning?" James asked as he sniffed around.

Your eyes widen as you remember the Christmas cake you had put in the oven to bake. Jumping away from the warm embrace you raced to the kitchen swearing with each breath as you tried to rescue the badly burned cake. James right behind your heels.

The two of you sat on the kitchen table after removing the smoke. James watched you as you sadly looked at the burned cake. "My hard work," you mumble the previous smile turning into a frown.

James rested his chin on the palm of his hands as he narrowed his eyes at the burned cake. "You are a very naughty cake. How dare you upset my wife like that! You could have not been baked at all or taken more to bake instead of burning."

You look up at James an amused smile resting on your lips. "You made her very upset no presents for naught cake like you." James scolded the cake as he pointed his index finger to the cake in a stern manner.

Your giggles echoed in the silent house as you moved towards him sitting on his lap. "Just a min' darlin' le' me give this cake a good ol' scolding," James said his Scottish accent heavy.

You smiled and laughed as James continued to scold the poor burnt cake. "I think he learned his lesson, Mr Potter," you spoke after being in a trans of admiring James's beauty.

"Well, I think he will only learn his lesson if he is thrown in the bin Mrs. Potter," James grinned as he kissed your pink cheeks. Even after being married for five months you still haven't gotten used to being called Mrs Potter. The name always leaves you flustered.

James chuckled and pulled you closer before his eyes roamed upwards his grin widening. "They say not kissing under the mistletoe is bad luck," he whispered, eyes looking at you lovingly.

"Well, I never wish bad luck upon anyone," you said and captured his pink lips, the amount of love that couldn't have been said through words was being spoken by the movement of your lips.

James looked at you in the daze of your love breathless he said. "I love you, Mrs Potter."

"I love you too Mr Potter."

You shrieked as James stood up abruptly carrying you in his arms like you weighed like a feather. He moved toward your shared bedroom and looked at you cheekily.

"Look love another mistletoe." You giggled playfully slapping his chest as he kicked the door closed.

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Please do not copy or translate my work without my permission

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hi hi babe!!!!

Ugh I'm so happy that you're request inbox is open hehe cause you know me

So I have a thot and was wondering if you could whip something up for me based on the lyrics of art deco by the one and only lana

(A little party never hurt no one

Not you and me

A little party never hurt no one

We were born to be free)

With of course Matty and some smut with it please? Love you babe 💗💗💗

my pumpkin hi!! okay so I got a little sidetracked and kinda went off course a bit, I sorta based the beginning part literally of those lyrics, and kinda did a bit of an age gap, I know im sorry!! couldn’t help myself, but suits bc it’s our queen, lana, right?? I made it a little longer than planned, but only bc I love you. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

—

friday’s

matt murdock x f!reader

word count: 1240

warnings: 18+ readers only!! mention of an age gap, cunnilingus. mdni

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

As you're a little younger than Matt - a few substantial years younger - you were in different phases of your lives, nothing drastic. You just liked to spend your weekends getting blackout drunk at the nearest club, whereas your boyfriend, Matt, enjoyed a quiet night in with a takeout dinner. 

When your free time coincides- usually weekends, you'd spend time together. You'd take turns to pick said activity, allowing for a fair game. Considering you picked last weekend, it was now Matt's turn to choose, and to no surprise, it was the same as all the other countless weekends. 

You're both sprawled out on the sofa, laying lazily against each other after your overindulgence from the local Chinese restaurant, cartons cluttering the coffee table. You peek up to look at Matt, a subtle smile on your face as you rest your chin on his chest. "Wanna go out?" 

"Out? Sweetheart, we just ate," he grins in his usual way, shaking his head in amusement. "Don't you think it's a little late?" he asks, entertaining you.

"Never too late," you perk up, an excited smile on your face. "That's not a 'no'. Come on, a little party never hurt no one."

"No, sweetheart," he chuckles, tightening his grip as if to pull you back to him. "It's my turn, remember?"

"You’re so boring," you mumble, prodding his ribs with a pointed finger.

"Aw, I'm sorry," he plays along, teasing you. "Was I too hard on you?"

You hum in agreement, trailing over his chest with a featherlight touch. "Yeah. Uncalled for." 

"That so?" he asks, his voice low and quiet, almost like he was trying to lure you. 

“Mh-hm," you nod, still playful as you sit up, slipping from his grasp. "I think I'm going to sit in the other room now."

Matt catches on instantly- well, he knew from the start, but he'd never admit that to you. He found it endearing when you thought you could trick him, how your heart jumps a few beats when you tease him or how your breathing quickens when you lie. He knew you well, and he knew these teasing mind games you loved to play- every single one.

And right now, you were playing his favourite one of all. The one where you pout and pretend to be in a mood to get what you want. It was always harmless and playful on your behalf, never any intended malice. You enjoyed how he'd hang onto what you say and anticipate what you want, like you had him around wrapped around your finger.

Though, it was often more than that. You liked to work Matt up, get him so bothered that he had to do something about it- do something to you about it. But sometimes, you forgot who Matt is. And as much as he loved to be teased by you, there was only so much he could take, especially with a rock hard cock between his legs. 

"I think you want to stay in," he smiles down at you, the corners of his pretty lips twitching with suggestive thought. 

"No, I wanna go out," you lie, protesting your non-existent ground. "I can just call my friends if you're not gonna give me what—"

A firm yet gentle tap on the ass cuts you off. "Are you telling me I don't give you what you want?" Matt faintly asks, adjusting himself so you are in his place, your back against the couch with him hovering atop. "Do I not give you what you want?" he whispers, closing the space between you, grazing your lips with his own. "Is that true, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," you pathetically oppose once more, shamelessly lying to a blind catholic. 

He tuts, lingering against your lips before pulling away, teasing you the way you do him. "Okay then." He nods, slowly lifting himself from you.

You snake your arms around Matt's neck, pulling and guiding him back to you. "No— no, okay, okay, okay," you mutter, speaking rushed. "I lied… I lied," you whisper, speaking just as whiney and pathetically as earlier. You shimmy your hips, adjusting to wrap your legs around him, your knees hugging his hips. "I'm sorry— I'm sorry I lied."

He coos, a subtle proud smile slapped on his face. "I thought so," he lowers back to you and hesitantly brushes over your lips, making you wait for it.

Matt finally encaptures them, working over them with slight vigour. One hand settles on your waist, the other around your throat, guiding you and deepening the kiss.

He parts from your swollen lips, trailing a hurried line of brash kisses along your jaw and down the base of your throat, his hand pawing at your lounge shirt, eagerly trying to rid the fabric. He succeeds, hastily removing the garment over your head, his mouth immediately attaching to your bare chest, lazily licking over your stiffened nipples.

He slides down you, trailing sloppy kisses between the valley of your tits and down your stomach, halting when he reaches the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. He lingers soft, flutter-like kisses over your abdomen- ones that mimic the feeling in your lower belly. 

His focus lowers, as does his roughened palm- fingers grazing over your hips until they snake into the band of fabric, easing the loungewear down and over your thighs, all the way off your ankles. 

"Perfect," he mutters against your warm and exposed thigh, trailing a string of kisses up to the crease, pausing when he reaches the outline of your underwear. "I think we should stop here— call it a night." He teases, speaking softly against your covered pussy, almost whispering to it. 

"Matt," you warn, fingers digging into the swole of his shoulders. "Don't do that. It's not funny."

"It is," he chuckles into the pool of sweetness between your legs, the action making you twitch. "Needy little thing, hm?"

"Shut up," you reply breathlessly, winding your hips into his face, desperately trying to refocus him. "Please," you pant, playing with his hair, guiding him back to where you want him. "Come on."

Another amused chuckle slips past his lips before he finally slips down the wet piece of fabric that is your underwear. He adjusts his weight, stomach pressed flat against the sofa as he nestles his face between your legs, his arms hooking around your thighs.

He lightly exhales over your sensitive nub, breathing over it before eventually caving in, delicately kissing around the touch-starved mound. His movements are slow and confident as he trails over your folds, briefly sucking on them before continuing lower. He knew his way around a pussy, and wanted you to soak up every single tingle he was making you feel.

He lays his tongue flat against you, slowly licking up through your slit as if to savour your flavour on his tongue. "Taste so pretty, sweetheart," he hazily praises, his words loose and sluggish as he delves deeper into you, mumbling into your folds about how good you taste, already drunk off you.

Matt leisurely swipes over you, kissing and nibbling your cunt like he had all the time in the world- and maybe he did. Maybe he wanted to work you up and make you pay for all your teasing and petty games. And maybe, just maybe, this was his idea of spending the weekend together- Chinese food and cunnilingus on the couch. 

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

this is so shit omg, I got bored reading and editing it🙃I don’t think I did your idea justice babe!?

matt taglist: @hailey-murdock @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @redecoratestan @kpopgirlbtssvt @scarletsloveletter @princess-pebbles-things @messymissy @schneeflocky @readerhead @thegreengoop @charmedkim @queerponcho @selfryed

[spicyclover]

Fireflies

Summary: After having a horrible beginning of the year, you slowly recover from your trauma and his. You soon realize that Lance will always be by your side. 

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section!

I’m open to requests.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

WARNING: Mention of miscarriage, blood and injury. BE AWARE 

Some characters are invented. I don’t know exactly the name of every team member of each driver. Please be respectful, and you can correct me in the comments. I’ll make the adjustment if I get something wrong. 

Dialogues from: Cha Cha Real Smooth

When Lance had his bike accident. She miscarried and didn’t tell him because She didn’t want him to worry about her. Weeks passed, and he slowly recovered from his injuries. Now that this dark time has passed, she feels it’s time to tell him.

She is working in the hotel room when she gets the call from Lance’s coach. He quickly informed her of the situation, and she jumped into the first taxi to the hospital where he had just been admitted. He didn’t directly describe the damage the accident caused, but she felt in his voice that it was severe. The stress has escalated, and she imagines the worst possible scenarios.

She rushed to the emergency room, quickly spotting Lance’s team in the corner of the waiting room.

“What happened?” She asks quickly. His coach once she gets close to them.

“I... I don't. I don't know. Everything happened so fast.” 

“How bad is it?” She questions nervously. 

“Very...” 

They’ve been waiting for hours, and no one wants to give them any information until his father arrives. She tried to get information, but apparently, being his girlfriend is not close enough to him to be able to receive any information. The nurses are reluctant to tell her anything; she only knows he’s with the doctors to save his hands and feet.

She returns and sits with Lance’s coach, Rob, for the fifth time. She let a giant sigh escape and crossed her arms with discontent. She has had a stomach ache since early morning, and she’s getting increasingly irritable with the hours that pass.

She’s trying to camouflage her discomfort, but she’s starting to feel cramps twisting her in half. She apologizes to the team and heads to the nearest washroom. She feels blood running down her thighs. "Oh no." She hurries and opens the first cabin available.

She lifts her dress, which is now stained with blood and looks. Tears invade her when she sits on the toilet bowl, waiting for her to finish bleeding out. "Why it’s happening to us."

A few weeks ago, she noticed that she hadn’t had her period for several weeks, but she didn’t tell Lance because she didn’t want to worry him about anything. So she said nothing and lived in denial over the holidays and Lance’s vacation. They went to the mountains, and that’s when she realized the changes that began to happen. They went back to Canada and finally decided to consult.

So the doctor told her a week before Lance’s accident that she was 13 weeks pregnant.

“Congratulation Miss Strulovitch. Thirteen weeks pregnant. We can schedule your first ultrasound for the end of the weekend.” 

“I...”

“I know this is quite a shock, especially since you didn’t know about it. You can take your time to think about it and talk to your partner. 

“Umm...”

“You can call our office anytime.”

She left the office not knowing what to do or think. She didn’t want to talk to Lance immediately until she thought about it and knew what to think. They went to Spain on the weekend and had her ultrasound picture in her bag, waiting for the right moment to tell Lance. 

“When... Is there a date of conception? She asked them on the phone some hours later to the doctor.

“Well, if my calculation is correct, it will probably be around the end of November.”

“End of November, she whispers back. 

She remembered right away the night it happened. She had been sick for a few days and forgot to take her pill, but she didn't think much about it when she was in Abu Dhabi with Lance. Lance and she have been together for quite a long time and have done it multiple times without protection. So she didn’t think much about it, and it was Lance. 

She cries, trying to find a solution. A way for her to go back to the hotel and change. But she’s bleeding out, and bleeding out her baby. She can’t believe it. She didn’t even have time to tell him. She didn’t have time. Why didn’t she have time?

She finally calmed down a bit to be able to text Rob, Lance’s coach. 

“Hi, women’s bathroom. Hum, I’m looking for someone. Is anybody in here? Is anybody’s name Y/n in here? Start with a Y?” Asks Bob entering the bathroom. 

“Bob,” She whimpers in pain. 

“Yeah. Y/n.”

“Is Lance okay? Have you seen him?”

“Yes. Yeah, he’s, and he’s keeping it up. Are you okay?”

“Um, I’m kind of stuck in here.”

“What do you mean?” Do you need toilet paper?”

“I’m. I just. I got some blood on my dress, and it’s not. I’m fine. It’s not a cut. Um...”

“Oh, word, okay.”

“Um, but I need. Can you get me some paper towels?”

“Yes”

“Like ten?”

“Yeah”

“And can you wet some?”

“Uh?”

“Will you wet some of them?”

“Yes!” He approaches the door. “Okay. Can you reach that?”

“Fuck”

“What?”

“I can’t reach that. I just got more blood on my drip on my dress.”

“I can go a little further.”

“I can’t. I. Just throw them.”

“I can, but I feel like it’s gonna fall on the floor, and it’s gonna be, like, not sanitary for you.”

“Go under, then, go.”

The door opens. He gives you the toilet paper.

“Close the door.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah...”

“Do you want me to see if someone has a tampon or something?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Lance, I need you to help me get to my car. Because I don’t want people to think I’ve killed somebody in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, it does look like that. Do you, um, that’s a period. Do you want my... Do you want to wear my coat? I have a coat.”

“I don’t think your coat will cover my ass.”

“I feel like it is. I’m pretty tall.”

“I don’t want people to see me wearing some guy’s jacket.”

“Okay, I think I have an idea.”

She spends several minutes in there while Rob goes looking for his coat. She whimpers in pain, trying to breathe through the contraction. Tears flow down her cheeks, and she feels something leave her body. 

She went back to the hotel room. Looking like a maniac trying to keep her mind busy. She’s shaking but tries to cover it. She mumbles to herself. She nervously eats her nails, and she passes multiple times at the same place. Her mind wanders away. She needs a shower. She needs a shower right now. 

It is only when the shower starts running that her minds finally silence itself. Taking a part of hers in the drains. She watches the blood flowing away. The warm water makes her feel a bit better, but she can’t help to cry again. She stays under the water for ages. Letting the water flow her emotions away. She needs to be strong. She needs to let go of the pain. She needs to be strong for him. “He didn’t have to know. He didn’t have to know.” She mumbles again to herself. 

She wears sweatpants with an oversized hoodie and returns to the hospital. Her hair is still wet, and she didn’t even bother to put makeup on. The surgery is over, and she can finally see Lance again. Seeing him, in his hospital bed, with his casts on moves her. She keeps your tear to herself and goes to kiss him. Acting as normal as possible. Even though inside of her, she just went to let her pain out. Let it out to the world and be normal again. 

The week passed, and his recovery went rapidly, and the possibility of him getting back in the car was more and more present now. She gets nightmares every night, and each worsens, keeping her awake. Sometimes, she sees Lance getting hurt in the car, in the street. Sometimes it’s her being persecuted by Lance, her family, and his family for how an awful mother she is, for losing this child. So, she lays awake in bed every night, waiting till the morning comes. 

It’s the first of the year. Overwhelmed and tired. She enters the paddock with him. Her glasses are up to her nose, and her head is down. 

It’s FP1, and she’s decided to stay in Lance’s driver's room to try and get some rest. She rested her head on her fist as her tired eye slowly started to close. Her lips slightly parted, and she drifted away. Forgetting all the sound and the agitation around her. 

A dream begins to appear in her mind. Images and sounds start to occur more for her as she finds herself on track, in the middle of it. Her eyes wander around her. All the lights on the track are on, but no spectators, no sounds, and no vibration. 

Then the sound of a Formula One car begins to reach her far away, like a storm. The atmosphere becomes heavy and humid. She is unable to move or step forward. Just her eyes move from left to right. She feels her heart palpitating, her breathing pressing, and her body hair bristling.

She feels that her body is reacting violently to what is happening. As if a great danger is going to happen and she can do nothing to stop it. She’s watching her own misery.

Then, in the distance, she sees the car heading straight toward her. The ground begins to vibrate under the pressure of the coming storm. The wind blows violently, and her breath is cut off.

She blinks, ready to scream with all her lungs, when suddenly she feels a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her.

Her eyelids suddenly open, and she desperately seeks her breath. She crosses the worried look of Lance, who still holds her shoulder.

He’s still in his suit. Light sweat on his forehead. His fireproof clothes are soaked with sweat, and his suit is tied around his waist. 

“Are you okay?” He questions, visibly concerned. 

“What time is it?” She asks, still confused by her dream. 

“Haft past seven, I think.” She looks at him confused but sits up. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, just tired...” She mumbles, rubbing her eyes. 

Lance didn’t believe a word she said. He knows this lack of sleep has been going on for a while now, even though he didn’t say anything initially, thinking that all this stress comes from his accident. He wanted to prove to her that everything was going well for him by going up to the Grand Prix and into that car, but he sees that it is no longer that that bothers her, but something else.

“Your eyes are red. Did you get enough sleep last night?” She sighs. She doesn’t want him to be distracted. Not right now, not now. She wants to tell him so badly. All this sadness and pain she feels, but she has to wait. 

“I had a bad dream.” She says, looking up at him. “I’ve been having the same dream over and over for the last few weeks, and it’s keeping me awake, and I can’t sleep.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You should have woken me.” His voice calmed the storm inside her mind, making her focus on what was really important.

“I wanted to, but every time I turned around in the bed, you’re here with your cast and blaster, and you finally look peaceful, relaxed, and rested. I just couldn’t do it.”

Lance let it go, but that night. He lay awake next to her. He waited until she closed her eyes to finally closes his. The next day flies by, and the excellent result comes in. She didn’t sleep much, but at least Lance took her in his arms all night, making her feel safe again. 

It’s already Sunday, and the race went amazingly. Lance got P6 despite the pain and everything. She’s full of joy and sadness at the same time. Watching him being happy again makes her heart full, but at the same time, she can’t stop thinking. Thinking about what could have been. What will it be? She can’t hold it back and start crying when they return to his driver’s room.

“Hey. Hey, baby. What’s going on?” He asks, taking her into his arm. “It’s all right, I’m all right.”

“No...”

“What is it?

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you crying? Has something happened?” 

“I lost it.”

“What?”

“I lost our baby.”

“What are you talking about.” Lance wanders, worried. “Breathe, baby.” 

“I’ve lost our baby.” She whispers, finally calming down. She breathes before continuing. “I found out I was pregnant a week before your accident, and I wanted to be sure before telling you anything, but...” 

“But I crash my bike.”

“I don’t know why, but I did a miscarriage when you were admitted to the hospital.”

“You went through this alone?” He asks, surprised it’s been this long. 

“I didn’t want to put more on your plate, I...” She started to cry again, not wanting him to be mad at her. Lance feels bad and pulls her close to him.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad; I just wish you had told me sooner. I want to be there for you as you are for me.” he says, kissing your temple. “That’s why you are not okay for the past weeks?” She nods, her head resting on his chest. “We should see the doctor to see if everything is okay.”

She nods again to his suggestion and stays like this for several minutes. Listening to his heartbeat. They never discuss the possibility of having a baby, but Lance never shows he is against the idea of having children. He wants kids, but he never thoughts it would be this young, this soon. 

He does not know how to feel after this revelation and must admit that he is disturbed by what could have been. A small them. A mix between her and him. He sighs and squeezes her harder. 

“Will try again,” he spoke softy. “And this time, we will be ready.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, looking him in the eyes. 

They went out for dinner that night. Just the two of them, alone. In their little comfort bubble, away from socials, friends or family. It’s only a few days after the Grand Prix that Lance took the time to make a post on his social. Looking back on his journey through recovery. On international women’s Day, he dedicated a beautiful message to her. Posting their first couple picture together on his Instagram. 

In the garden, she looks peacefully away. The doctor says they will have no problem being pregnant again. He even proposed to put her to be on the pill. She thoughts about it and turned to Lance before saying she won't need it. Lets the faith decide what comes. 

Later in the evening, she’s looking at the field of the lantern lighting up the sky. There is a special event in north London, and she begs Lance to go. Their wish lantern goes away with the ultrasound of their unborn baby on it. Saying a last proper goodbye. They watch it together, flying out. Flying away to heaven.  Her head was on his shoulder. 

“I'm glad you're feeling better.” He whispered in her ear. She smiles, delighted to have found peace and acceptance. To accept the loss. To accept the misfortune. To accept destiny. 

When they went back to Monaco weeks later. She had never been more in love with him. 

She's in his arms. On a boat. Looking at the sunset while listening to his multiple stories. She loves hearing him talking. She kisses his cheeks while he looks around the mountains and the ocean around them. His arms are around her body, keeping her close to his chest. Feeling her light skin warm by the sun. He finally settles in, contemplating her. She smiles. A real smile. Fill with love and admiration. He pulls her hair out, telling her how much he loves her. Scooping her face in his hand and giving her a kiss. Pulling her into a warm hug. 

“My little fireflies.”