#I came across this interview by chance

[musette22]

"When I first heard you were cast as Captain America, I thought 'that's an odd choice'. But I saw the film... and you made it work in spades. What for you was the key in becoming Steve Rogers?" [X]

[thewidowsledger]

Gratitude

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Tags | Warnings: +18, AMAB!Natasha, MILF!reader, Natasha is 28 and reader is 36, beefy and nerdy Natasha (she has glasses and is a good cock cook too😩), blowjob (Natasha receiving), mommy kink (?), Natasha calls r 'mama'😩 r came from an abusive relationship before meeting Natasha, r has a son, mentions of cheating, physical abuse, Natasha and r met on a dating app

Author’s Note: I came up to this interview where this artist said, “When I came downstairs and the kitchen is clean and you’ve done it all, all the dishes, you better be ready to get your dick sucked.” And I was like I need to write something out of this, lol enjoy :p Nat + acts of service=😩🤲💗😜🍆 (I'm so nasty, I'm sorry bye)

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⧗

“Thank you for accepting me.”

Another kiss.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

Another kiss.

“Now, let mommy show you how grateful she really is.”

⧗

You had always envisioned yourself pursuing law school after graduation, but life had other plans. You unexpectedly became pregnant right after graduating, when you told your boyfriend of 3 years that you were pregnant, he was ecstatic to become a father. However, once your son was born, his true colors showed—he began to lash out at both you and your son and it became a living hell for you. 

He was the main provider when you were pregnant and for the first couple of years after your son's birth, he continued to support you. However, when your son turned 2, he provided less and less for you and your son, and that’s when you started looking for a job again.

You quickly pivoted to finding a job that would allow you to support yourself and your son. Luckily, you found a job as an advertising specialist, which provided you with a stable income that was enough to meet your needs and even help contribute to the household. When you had to work long hours, you would leave your son with your lovely neighbor, who was a grandmother and loved taking care of him like her own grandchild. She would always try to talk to you about leaving your boyfriend every chance she gets, she even tried to set you up with her amiga’s son. Of course you knew she meant well, but you would just offer a forced smile and a coffee she told you was her favorite to try and change the subject everytime she talks to you about it.  

Over time, your relationship with your boyfriend continued to deteriorate. He stopped helping you around the house and you would come home to find dirty dishes piling up in the sink and no food in the fridge. If there was food, it seemed like he only prepared it for himself. It felt like he was becoming more and more selfish and unthoughtful, leaving you to take care of everything on your own while he prioritized his own needs. 

He showed little to no interest in caring for your son too, often expecting you to handle all the parenting, household…everything! If your son cried, he wouldn't bother trying to comfort him and would just give him his phone while he watches TV. You didn't even know if he listened to you when you tried to talk to him about keeping your son away from gadgets.

If there was a mess to clean up, he always expected you to take care of it. He even went as far as shouting at you like a maid to do everything, showing a complete lack of empathy or willingness to share the responsibilities of raising your son.

As if it was only you who made your son? He literally put him inside you?

The breaking point in your relationship came when your boyfriend laid a hand on you. He was drunk when he got home, you asked him where he’d been and he told you, he went into a bar, out with friends—after that he told you not to ask any further questions. But the sickening perfume clinging on his shirt didn't stop you from asking if he was cheating on you and out of nowhere he came up to you and slapped you across the face. You knew at that moment that you had to leave him to protect your child from further harm. Yes, it was you who got hurt by him and if he could do it to you, he would do the same to your son. So you gathered your things and left that very night, never looking back. You also decided to leave the job you were working at, wanting to put as much distance between you and him as possible. Surprisingly, your ex-boyfriend never made any attempt to contact you or even ask about your son, as if he was relieved to be rid of you both.

Now, meeting Natasha felt like a breath of fresh air after the toxic relationships you had experienced. She was kind, empathetic, and genuinely interested in your well-being. Not to mention that she was almost a decade younger than you and was a beefy woman that has godly arms, that made you literally swipe right on sight. And behind that godly body she had a geeky side—she wore glasses, framing her intelligent green orbs, sparkling as she literally rambled about Greek mythology during your first date.

You were having a great time with her and you think you both clicked and you know that eventually that night during your date you have to tell her about your son which you were hesitant about, fearing judgement or rejection.

What if after you told her she will excuse herself to the bathroom and never come back and leave you with the bills? Or what if she will suddenly tell you that her dog is sick even though she doesn't even have a dog? Well, you don't want to assume already but these are the things you had experienced in the past when you started dating again—a lot of stupid excuses that led you to expect rejection or disappointment when you mentioned you had a son. 

However, as you gathered the courage to reveal this information, Natasha's reaction took you by surprise. 

“You have a son? That's wonderful. I hope to meet him soon.”

And you knew from there that you would let her take you to bed…not just to sleep though.

And speaking of bed you are now stretching yourself around your own bed, the memories of the night before came flooding back to you. You could still feel her lips on yours, her hands skimming over your body, her inside you. But then, the sheets where she had been laying is now cold, she is no longer beside you. You tried to look around your room but she's nowhere to be found. 

You immediately get yourself dressed soon, your mind shifting to a familiar routine—cleaning the house. Having come from an abusive relationship, you have become accustomed to cleaning as your ex-boyfriend had placed the burden of household chores on you, demanding that you clean the house, iron his clothes, and prepare his breakfast before he left for work and it has been an ingrained habit on you.

Though you were saddened by the thought of Natasha actually leaving, your instinct to still do the things you usually do every morning is a priority, and after that, you are planning to call Darcy to pick your son up and cry to her that you feared yet another date failed.

Maybe she was just embarassed to say it in front of your face, that she's not into single mothers and she was just being kind and she thought that you seemed like you haven't been laid for like what? Two years now? So she just slept with you and immediately fly off afterwards. Maybe you have to start putting a single mother warning on the dating app you have been using or maybe stop using it at all.

As you descended the staircase, a tantalizing aroma wafted through the air, causing your stomach to rumble. You strained your nose, trying to identify the source of the mouthwatering scent. Was it a rich pasta sauce or perhaps a delectable baked mac and cheese that was cooking in the kitchen? The mystery deepened your hunger, making your stomach growl even more insistently.

Wait, who was cooking in your sacred kitchen?!

Entering the kitchen, your gaze fell upon a delicious delightful sight —Natasha, clad in your strawberry-patterned apron, her beefy arms flexed as she skillfully stirred a pot on the stove, her strength and cuteness on full display. Sensing your presence, Natasha turned around, her smile widening as she laid eyes on you. 

“Good morning.” Natasha greeted you with her deep and velvety voice. 

“H-hi…”

“I hope you don’t mind me being here in your kitchen.”

Well, you literally let this woman take you in your own bed and be inside you the very same night you met…where else couldn’t she be in?

You looked around, taking in the immaculate state of your house. It was as if a cleaning fairy had come in the night and transformed the place. The floors were spotless, dishes were washed and put away, the couch cushions were fluffed and there were beautiful freshly cut roses arranged in a vase on the countertop. Your gaze fixed on the vibrant petals as you admired its simple beauty.

Natasha, noticing your gaze, commented shyly, “I brought some...for you, a while ago. I'm sorry for getting out of bed, I wanna prepare something for you before you wake up.” She smiled sheepishly, her fingers playing with the straps of the apron as she removed it out of her godly body.

Your eyes now darted to the vacuum, neatly tucked away in its usual spot and a frown creased your forehead. “D-Did you vacuum?” Natasha with her glasses slightly fogged up, nodded affirmatively, her hands busily wiping away the condensation.

“You know you don't have to do all this, right?”

“Yeah but I want to.”

“I'm sorry if my house is really that messy that you have to clean it yourself.”

“That's not what it is mama.”

You bit your lip trying not to moan right then and there with the nickname she gave you as you slowly walked up to her, thinking of some ways on how to thank her. 

Your eyes locked onto her figure as she prepare two plates for the two of you, “Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You reached out and cupped her cheek to get all her attention. You gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, your fingers brushing against her cheek.

“Baby…it’s nothing, alright?” she giggled.

“Let me thank you for doing all this.”

“Well, your welcome.” She kissed your forehead but when she was about to turn and go back to plate the pasta your hands gripped her tighter and you pushed her gently against the kitchen counter, pinning her in place.

“I thought you will let me thank you for you doing all this for me?” you frowned, looking at her with best puppy eyes you could give.

“Y-yeah…and I said you’re welcome didn't I?” Natasha’s cheeks flushed with a rosy tint, her breath hitching in her throat unaware of what you’ve been meaning to say or do.

Her eyes widened in shock as she watched you slowly kneel down in front of her, your hands reaching for the waistband of her joggers, not even wearing a boxers. She didn't fight, her body seemingly frozen in place as you pulled them down, revealing her erect cock springing free.

You smiled up at her, your gaze fixed on her cock and she felt a heat spread across her cheeks. You wrapped your hand around the base of her shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for doing all this, baby,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of her cock.

“Thank you for tidying up the house.”

Another kiss.

“Thank you for cooking for me.”

Another kiss.

“Thank you for accepting me.”

Another kiss.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

Another kiss.

“Now, let mommy show you how grateful she really is.”

Without a second, you wrapped your lips around her thickness, taking her into your warm, wet mouth. Natasha’s head fell back against the cabinets, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her fingers tangled in your hair, guiding you as you bobbed your head. 

You continued to suck on her cock with fervor, your mouth stretching to accommodate her girth. Natasha’s hips bucked slightly, pushing her dick deeper into your throat. You gagged softly, but didn’t pull back, determined to show her just how grateful you were.

You looked up at her, your eyes meeting hers as you continued to suck on her hard length. Her glasses were fogged up, her eyes hidden behind the blurred lenses. But you could feel her gaze, intense and unblinking, as she watched you pleasure her.

“Fuckfuckfuck baby, sh—shit!”

As you continued to suck on her dick, saliva dripped from the side of your mouth, a small smile attempting to form on your lips despite the awkward position. You tried to grin up at her, hoping to catch her eye again through the fogged lenses.

Natasha's breathing grew ragged, her hands gripping tighter onto your hair. “B-baby I-I fu—!” she panted, trying to pull you off. But you tightened your grip on her thighs, keeping her in place as you continued to bob your head.

“Babybabybaby I’m going to…” she warned, her voice strained. You hummed in response, the vibration pushing her over the edge. She came with a low moan, her hips bucking forward as she spilled into your mouth.

You swallowed every last drop, your eyes watering slightly from the intense sensation. You slowly pulled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Natasha sagged against the cabinets, her legs shaking as she tried to catch her breath. You slowly stood and she sighed, leaning against you for support, trying to steady her nerves. 

“If there should be someone who needs to be thankful, that’s me,” she buried her face in your shoulder, her breath warm against your skin. “Fuck, mama is-is there something I could still do around the house?” her voice coming out a little bit raspier and low.

You took a hold of her face and giggled, “Someone wants to be rewarded huh?”

“Mhm,” she nodded with a puppy dog eyes, her lips pouting at you.

You bit your lips at her being so cute and placed a kiss on her plump lips, “You have to stop before I let you fuck me to every corner you've cleaned around here.”

The red head then blush at your blunt words, “That's what I want,” she whined as she put her face back at your shoulder, embarrassingly admitting the reason why she wanted to help you around the house. And you just can't help but giggle and place a comforting kisses on the side of her face.

“Pasta’s getting cold, let’s eat?” She offered weakly as she pull back after clinging from you for support after the lingering aftershocks of the orgasm you gave her.

“I don't think I'm hungry for food anymore, I just had my breakfast,” you said with a smirk written on your face. You wiped the remaining evidence of her from the side of your mouth, sucking your thumb clean with a satisfied expression.

Natasha’s gaze intensified, her eyes locked onto yours, in a swift second you yelped as she effortlessly lifted you onto the kitchen counter. 

“Well, I haven't had mine, mama.” 

[no-144444]

making moves- l.norris

a/n: HI AND WELCOME TO MY FIRST FIC-TOBER FIC I HOPE YOU ENJOY :)))))

Day 1 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: Lando and you don't exactly get along and now you're quitting, he'll surely take it well, right?

pairing: lando norris x fem! mclaren publicist! fem! reader

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You turned the corner of the media pen with Lando’s arm in your hand. If he stepped one foot out of line, if one hair was out of place, one unnecessary giggle or joke, you’d lose your mind. You were getting sick of this, of him, of cleaning up every single one of his messes. 

“I said I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you sighed. You hadn’t studied mechanical engineering and sports journalism for years in college to become a goddamn babysitter. “Just do your interviews and don’t say anything about your relationship status, please Lando.”

He rolled his eyes but obliged, moving past you to start an interview with some sports journal.

You watched the room around you. You would miss this, the buzz of the media pen, the entire paddock, being so close in the action of your favourite sport. You wished it hadn’t come to this. You didn’t want to quit, but you were being driven mad by a 24 year old man-child, and you couldn’t take it anymore. A year and a half ago, you were being driven crazy by how much you wanted him, now, it was his party-boy ways and arrogant smirk that set you off. Lando had always been a popular driver, you understood the attraction on every level. He was a pretty, sometimes funny, and rich man. He was on the younger side of the grid, and he was talented. Christ, was he annoying to work with. He was conceited, self-centred, a manwhore, and downright difficult the majority of the time. You disregarded almost every time he was kind to you, because less than 48 hours later he would do something dickish and ruin your weekend off, or make you cancel a date to come get him from a club because he was drunk and his friends left him alone, blah, blah, blah. You were excited to finally be free of Lando Norris and his asshole-ish ways, yet, maybe you’d miss his face. Anyways, just one race left, and your two-weeks are up. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ Team dinners were simple, you usually sat beside Lily, Oscar’s girlfriend, and chatted with her about her course (the same one you took) and whatever else came to your minds. As the night came to a close, you walked Lily and Oscar back to their rooms with Lando trailing behind, texting on his phone. 

Lily pulled you into a hug. “I’ll miss you so much!” she sighed. “It sucks you’re not even finishing the season with McLaren.”

You shrugged, hugging her back. “I’ll call you, I promise. And we have Greece in January,” you reminded her. She nodded and pulled back. 

“See you in the morning,” she smiled, then disappeared back to their hotel room. 

“See you in the morning,” Oscar smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “You better call her once you land in New York, or she’ll lose her mind,” he chuckled. 

You nodded, smiling. “I will, don’t worry. And I’ll miss you too, Osc.”

He smiled, pulling back. “I’ll miss you too.”

You turned to go to your room, but Lando stopped you. “Why are you going to New York?”

“For my new job,” you explained calmly. “I’m leaving on Sunday night.”

Confusion flashed across his face, and you took the silence as a chance to leave. You brushed past him and continued on your way down the hall. 

“What do you mean you’re ‘leaving’ on Sunday night? Are you going on holidays for the weeks we have off?” he asked, catching up with you. 

“No, I start my new job the next week and I need to get my apartment unpacked and sort out my office,” you explained. 

“What? Why are you doing that?”

“Unpacking my apartment? I’ll be living there-”

“No, moving? You have a job, y-you work here, you work with me,” he stumbled through his sentence and you raised an eyebrow. 

“Did Stella not tell you? I’m leaving after the race this weekend. I sent in my two-week notice almost two weeks ago. I got a job offer from the New York Jets and I took it. Anyway, good night Lando, I’ll see you in the morning,” You continued on your way to your room. 

“You can’t just leave! What will I do without y- someone to-”

“Get your laundry and fix your mistakes in the media? You’ll be getting a replacement when I leave. His name is Will, he’s organised, and he’s quite funny. I think you’ll get along.” 

“What will I do without you?” he gritted out. “You’re meant to be here, with me, and now you’re leaving? How am I supposed to feel?”

“Imparcial I’d assume.”

“Imparcial? Y/n, come on, you can’t be that blind?” This was a different version of Lando than what you were used to. He was usually a brass and confident arsehole. Yet, here he stood in front of you, upset that you were leaving. 

“Blind to what? The way you abuse your power? The way you make me do your bidding? The way you make me cancel important things in my personal life to fit your schedule of heavy drinking? The way-”

“The way I’m in love with you?!” He practically shouted. You clapped a hand over his mouth and a surge of panic ran though you. You pulled him into your hotel room after you and sat him on the bed, then proceeded to pace the room. 

What did he mean he loved you? He hated you. He made your life a living hell. He made sure you’d have to see him everyday. He made sure you’d be in his apartment building. He made sure to-

Oh. Shit. He loved you. 

“Y/n,” his voice was soft. “You need to calm down.” 

You turned to him. “Calm down? What the fuck do you mean ‘calm down’? I’ve just spent the last fucking year and a half burying any and all romantic feelings for you, tried to hone in on all of your flaws to make myself hate you, quit my job to get away from you, and now you’re telling me you love me? What the fuck Lando?!” 

“You had romantic feelings for me?” He blushed. 

“That’s what you got from that?!” 

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, alright. We can work this out, just tell Andrea you don’t want to quit-”

“Lando I’ve accepted the job offer in New York, I’ve signed the contract. I can’t back out,” you sighed, putting your head in your hands. “You really have great timing,” you scoffed. 

He smiled, placing his hands on your waist. “Then we’ll make it work,” he shrugged. “I want you, if you’ll have me.” 

You looked up at him. Were you really doing this?  Lando Norris was your typical male celebrity in his twenties. He had everything he could ever want, any girl he could ever want, and he wanted you? Every insecurity and logical bone  in your body told you to run away. You’d seen what the internet did to girls he was seen in public with, let alone a girl he actually came out and admitted to dating. Was he worth being torn apart for? 

“You’re killing me here,” he laughed to hide his fear. He’d waited a year and a half for this moment. He wanted you more than anything. He wanted to be able to call himself your boyfriend and get to call you his girlfriend. He wanted you around him all the time. Every time he’d found out about a date you’d been on or met a guy you’d been seeing he was filled with jealousy. He was yours, he just needed you to be his too. 

“Lando, I don’t know if this is a good idea-”

He pressed his lips to yours and it was undeniable. This was what you had been searching for. That stupid ‘spark’ all those rom coms talked about all the time. Kissing him was like fireworks. He brought your hands up to wrap around his neck and smirked when you kissed him back. You fit together so perfectly, his lips against yours, your skin against his, everything. 

You pulled back slowly. 

“So can I be your boyfriend now?” he whispered, the hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Only if I can be your girlfriend,” you smiled back.  He pressed his lips to yours again. Maybe he was worth being torn apart for.

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[puckinghischier]

Falling

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader gets hurt and nico is worried about her

notes: y’all i ain’t gonna lie, i went through a bit of a rollercoaster while writing this. i loved it at first, then halfway through started hating it, then somehow started loving it again towards the end. so if it seems a little all over place i’m sorry. also i know very little about how a dislocated shoulder works, so just pretended i didn’t if i got anything wrong. i hope y’all enjoy it!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “A hears that B got hurt and rushes over in a panic to see if they are okay” where reader maybe gets in an accident or gets hurt in their sport (nothing major). Bonus points if you add “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.”

[4.5k]

part 2

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Nothing’s broken, just a nasty dislocation,” you attempt to calm your mother’s nerves, trying to unlock your apartment door with your good arm while balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. “They reset it for me and told me to follow up with my primary care on Monday. Gave me some pain meds and sent me on my way.”

“Well, what about until then? What if you need help? What about work? How will you drive?” she rapid fires questions at you.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Since it was a work-related injury, I’ll still get paid. And they’re paying all of the medical bills, so that’s all taken care of,” you make your way into your apartment, shutting the door with your foot behind you. “Everything else I’ll handle as it comes.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, tsking into her phone, making you picture her trademark displeased headshake.

“What about Nico? Why don’t you stay with him until you’re back to 100%? I’m sure he’d be willing to help out,” she suggests, her tone switching from worried to suggestive.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.

“Mom, how many times do I have to tell you, Nico and I are just friends. We work together. Just because you think you saw him look at me a certain way when you were visiting doesn’t mean I have to call him every time something goes wrong,” you tell her, placing your bag on your kitchen table.

Ever since your mom came in a few months ago to visit, she’s been on your case about making a move on Nico, it all starting when she witnessed Nico helping you across the ice during a pre-game practice while trying to get some action shots.

You work as a photographer for the Devils, not realizing that being able to ice skate would have been a nice addition to your resume.

Your college advisor arranged the interview for you right before graduation. You had no previous knowledge of hockey, having come from a football family. You told your advisor this, but she insisted you didn’t have to know anything about a sport to be able to take good pictures of it.

During the interview, you made sure to inform your now boss that you didn’t know how to skate, hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. He assured you that you could take pictures from the stands or the players bench, the chance of you having to step onto the ice slim.

For the first few months of your job, it was smooth sailing. You were mostly taking pictures from the camera holes in the glass or being told to cover locker room and arrival pictures. You worked with one other photographer, a seasoned sports photography veteran named Phil. Phil was a New Jersey native, having grown up skating, so he took over the duties of any major action shots the director wanted from on the ice.

Unfortunately for you, Phil’s wife had convinced him to retire early, losing his help right before the league’s short Christmas break.

Seeing as they had just hired you, and it was the middle of the season, the hunt for a replacement for Phil was put on the backburner, more important team matters taking precedence.

You were forced to take over Phil’s duties, meaning you were now responsible for any on the ice shots. You had found a way to slowly scoot across the perimeter of the rink, staying out of the way while also getting the shots you needed.

Your system was working well until the morning of a gameday, having gotten permission from your boss to bring your mother along to this particular practice, wanting to show her all aspects of your job.

For this particular game, the players were especially focused on practicing their skills and running drills during morning skate. You were doing your typical shuffle while clutching the edge of the waist-high wall when someone came zooming past you, causing your feet to start sliding uncontrollably, not being able to find your footing on the slick ice.

You felt the moment you were about to fall, waiting for the impact of your butt on the cold ice, but it never came. You felt yourself fall into a body covered by plastic pads, gloved hands shooting out to grab your upper arms.

You looked up, seeing Nico smiling down at you in amusement.

“It’s a bit slippery out here, huh?” he jokes, making sure you’re standing steady on your feet before letting go of you.

“Well, we are standing on ice, so….” You trail off, grabbing onto the wooden ledge again, preventing another near fall.

Nico laughs, looking down and shuffling his skates back and forth.

“Well would you look at that? We are on ice ” He flashes a smile, looking back up at you.

You stick your tongue out at him, earning another chuckle from the team’s Captain.

“You know, most people use these great things called ice skates when they try to walk on ice,” he tells you, lifting one skate up for emphasis.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff out a “Oh wow, why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Just some food for thought,” Nico shrugged as he placed his foot back down on the ice, skating in a little circle, as if to say “See, told you so.”

You let go of the ledge to cross your arms, forgetting that you needed the stability. When you try to shift your weight from one leg to the other, you lose your footing again, this time falling forward into Nico. You let the camera in your hands fall, grabbing onto his biceps to stay upright, thankful for the camera strap around your neck.

His hands shoot out to grab your forearms.

“You know the sad thing is, even with the skates, I’d still be as clumsy, considering I have absolutely no idea how to use them,” you tell him, the two of you still holding on to one another.

Nico shakes his head at you, placing one of your hands on his forearm, moving you from in front of him to beside of him.

He starts slowly skating towards the bench while you shuffle your feet along, putting all of your focus on keeping yourself upright until you reach your destination.

When you finally reach the bench, you step off of the ice and let out a breath of relief.

“Thanks, Cap. Would’ve hated to make a fool of myself out there while my mom’s watching,” you thank him, looking over to where your mom sits, a smile on her face.

Nico follows your gaze and waves to your mom, matching her smile.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? What if she found out her daughter was a skating fraud?” he teases, leaning in to whisper the last two words.

“It’s her fault for never taking me to the rink my town would throw up once a year at Christmas. Who knows, maybe I would’ve been a skating prodigy if given the chance,” you shrug.

A mischievous smile makes its way onto his face. “I think we should put that theory to the test,” he tells you, causing your eyes to latch onto his.

“Come again?” You raise your eyebrows and tilt your chin down.

“I mean, I can’t have some photographer out on my ice during practices that can’t even stand up,” he keeps his tone light, making sure you know he’s just teasing, “So, I’m going to teach you how to skate, and see if you really would have been a skating prodigy.”

He skates off, winking before resuming his practice.

You don’t have a chance to speak to him again until after the game, when you get at text from an unknown number reading “Rink, tomorrow, 2pm. I’ll bring skates, just bring your prodigy skills.”

After that, you meet with Nico twice a week for skating lessons.

The two of you quickly form a friendship, Nico bringing you coffee on gamedays and you slipping him snacks on the bench during games. You even started inviting him over for dinner after your lessons, insisting the least you can do is feed him to repay him for preventing you from making a fool of yourself on the ice.

Today, however, you did make a fool of yourself on the ice.

You were standing behind the net, telling the players to skate towards you so you could get some shots for the team’s Instagram account by request of the social media manager.

Once you were pleased with the amount of shots you had gotten, you left your spot from behind the net, skating slowly towards the benches, still a little wobbly on your skates.

You were looking down at your camera, thinking of how you’ll have to get Nico out here after the game to get some shots, knowing he’s currently doing pre-game interviews in the locker room.

You weren’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the pucks littering the ice in front of you, skating right into one and losing your balance, holding your camera up with one arm while trying to catch yourself with the other.

You felt the way your shoulder shifted, crying out in pain as players turned and started rushing towards you on the ice.

The team doctor came out and told you he was pretty sure your shoulder was simply dislocated, but sent you to the hospital to make sure nothing’s broken.

The ER doctor confirmed your diagnosis, putting your shoulder back into place before pumping you full of pain meds and placing your arm into a sling.

Which leads you to where you are now, back at your apartment, explaining to your mother why Nico can’t be at your beck and call.

“Honey, when are you going to realize that boy is in love with you? I’m telling you, the way I saw him look at you that day I came to visit, the skating lessons and dinners,” she starts, giving you her typical speech when you tell her Nico is just a friend.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter what you think you saw, we’re seriously just friends. And he’s busy, his schedule is too hectic to spend his time babysitting me,” you interrupt her, not wanting to hear her Nico speech for the thousandth time, regretting ever telling her about the skating lessons.

She sighs into the phone.

“I’m just trying to help you, you know…” you hear your mother start, but you tune the rest of her words out, focusing on the three loud knocks on your front door.

Your head turns to your door, the unexpected noise causing you to jump, the sudden motion tipping your bag over, the contents spilling all of your kitchen floor.

“Honey, are you alright? What was that?” your mom halts her one-sided conversation, worry in her tone.

“Shit!” you exclaim, watching the container of memory cards fly open, the small squares sliding across the linoleum floor.

You forget about the sling on your arm, crouching down and trying to reach for the cards with your bad arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder at the movement.

Letting out a loud yelp, you bring your arm back to its resting positing in the sling.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Did you hurt yourself?” you barely hear your mother’s voice through the phone speaker, not being able to think about anything other than the throbbing pain in your shoulder.

You hear three more pounds on your front door, this time a voice following the knocks.

“Y/N! Open up!”

You groan, trying to stand up, too many people trying to get your attention at the moment.

“Honey, talk to me. Is someone in there with you? I heard another voice,” your mother asks you as you stand, making your way over towards your front door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door,” you grit through your teeth, trying to think about anything but the pain in your shoulder. “I dropped my bag and tried to pick something up with my bad arm. I’m fine. Just hurts,” you tell her, opening your door to see a frantic Nico standing there.

His wide eyes scan your body, stopping once they see the sling on your arm.

You notice his wet hair and lack of socks on his tennis shoe covered feet.

“Are you okay? They told me you had to be taken to the hospital before the game started, but no one knew what really happened,” he rushed out, looking up at your face.

“Hey, Mom, gotta go, Nico’s at my door,” you tell her, a little stunned that the object of your conversation just appeared, hanging up the phone before she could make any comments about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you ask him, pointing towards his feet, an amused smile on your face. The shock of seeing him at your door making you completely forget about the pain in your shoulder.

Nico looks down at his own feet, looking back up at you with red cheeks.

“Oh, uh, I couldn’t find my socks after the game and i couldn’t get you to answer your phone, so I rushed over to the hospital to see if you were still there, and they told me you left about an hour ago, so I hopped in my car and came over here to make sure you were okay,” he tells you, not meeting your eye.

You’re shocked at his confession, not expecting him to be so concerned about your impromptu trip to the hospital.

“Well, I’m here and still standing,” you awkwardly stand in your doorway, not knowing what else to say, thinking about how if you weren’t arguing with your mom over Nico on the phone, you might have gotten his calls.

“Yeah, I see that now,” he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

The two of you stand there, not really knowing what to say to one another.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask him, moving out of the doorway to let him step into your apartment.

Nico shakes his head yes and walks past you, looking towards the mess on the floor in your kitchen.

“What happened here? Is this the crash I heard?” he asks you.

“Yeah, the bag fell and spilled everything. When I went to pick it up, I forgot and used my bad shoulder,” you gesture to your slinged arm.

Nico shakes his head at you, crouching down to pick up the camera disks all over the floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

“Well you’re sure as hell not trying to pick them up again,” Nico interrupts you, standing and placing the now full box of disks on your table.

You roll your eyes at him, walking over towards your fridge.

“So, what exactly happened? Jack told me you hurt your shoulder?” he follows you over to your fridge, watching you scan its contents, or lack thereof.

“Well, I was looking at my camera and skated right into a bunch of pucks on the floor, then was too focused on saving the equipment instead of remembering how to fall properly,” you told him, remembering his words during your first skate lesson, telling you not to catch yourself if you fall on the ice.

“See, I told you to just let yourself fall. Never try to catch yourself,” he echoes his words in your thoughts.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier said than done,” you deadpan, shutting your fridge door and looking at Nico.

Your stomach growls at that exact moment, making you groan at your lack of food in your fridge, not having eaten since before your accident.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Nico asks you, looking down at your growling stomach.

“Uhhh, breakfast?” you recall.

Nico’s eyes widen. “It’s almost midnight. Did they really not feed you at the hospital?” he asks you.

“Considering they were busy doing x-rays and scans to make sure nothing was broken or torn, no,” you walk over to your cabinets, finding them also bare.

“Alright, go sit down and I’ll order us something to eat,” Nico shoos you out of the kitchen, walking over and opening the drawer where you keep all of your takeout menus.

You wonder how he knows where your menus are, forgetting for a moment that he’s over at your apartment at least twice a week after your skating lessons. Sometimes more, the occasional movie night making its way into your weekly routine.

“What do you want? Sushi? Chinese? Burgers?” he questions, flipping through your menus.

For some reason, your brain chooses this moment to register how much you enjoy the sight of Nico in your kitchen, looking through your takeout menus and offering to order you dinner.

You think back to all the times he’s helped you make dinner, laughter filling every moment of your time together. You think about how he always wear his pjs when he comes over for a movie night, bringing a different chocolate candy to put in the popcorn each time. You think about how he somehow learned your coffee order without you ever telling him, bringing you a coffee every morning, even at away games.

You think about your mother’s words, and how you didn’t even have to ask Nico to come over tonight, or to give you skating lessons. You think about how you never have to ask Nico to do anything he does for you – which is a lot, you’re realizing – he just does it. He does it because he wants to, because he’s kind and caring and wants to spend time with you.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N, what do you want for dinner?” Nico snaps you out of your sudden revelation.

“Sorry, spaced out for a second. Must be the pain meds,” you tell him, knowing that your mind isn’t the least bit impaired right now.

“Okay, go sit down, we need to get some food in you then,” he fishes his phone out of his pocket, mumbling out “Can’t believe they pumped you full of meds on an empty stomach.”

You make your way to your couch, sitting down and taking your shoes off, making yourself as comfortable as you can.

You remove a stray piece of hair that fell onto your face, knowing how awful it must look.

When you fell on the ice, the claw clip that was holding your hair in its up-do broke, causing it to fan out over the cold, wet ice. Once you got to the hospital, you were put in and out of so many different machines, you can only imagine the tangled, matted mess it is.

You get up and go to your bathroom, finding your brush and trying to comb it out. The task proving to be difficult with only one hand. The tangles keep pulling your head back and hurting your tender scalp, but you keep trying, whimpering each time the brush gets stuck on a particularly bad tangle.

You don’t even hear Nico approach your bathroom, just a sigh and “I told you to sit down,” before the brush is taken from your hand and you see Nico’s reflection behind you in the mirror.

Without another word, he proceeds to brush your hair for you, ensuring every tangle is gone before setting the brush on your sink.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, neither one wanting to break the silence during the surprisingly intimate moment.

You clear your throat, looking down after the silence got too intense, causing Nico to avert his eyes as well.

“I really wish i could wash my hair, but i know that’s a no go tonight,” you chuckle, wishing your bathroom was a little bit bigger in this moment.

“I can braid your hair for you,” Nico starts, staring at you in the mirror, watching your eyes snap up to meet his. “I mean, only if you want,” he stutters out.

“Really?” you ask him, a little stunned.

“Yeah. I used to help Nina with hers all the time when I was younger,” Nico mentions his older sister, grabbing your hair lightly and starting to section it off. “Anytime she would have a sleep over I would always weasel my way into the party. So one day, she made me sit in a braiding chain and learn how to braid her hair.”

You let out a giggle, picturing a smaller version of Nico sitting at the end of a line of girls, braiding their long hair.

“Then, Nina claimed I got so good at it she always wanted me to braid her hair before her volleyball matches, then her friends all started wanting me to do theirs, too,” he continues talking, nearly lulling you to sleep with the soft movements of his hands as you listen to him speak.

“I think that’s adorable,” you quietly speak, closing your eyes.

“What can I say? When a pretty girl needs her hair braided, who am I to keep my skills to myself?” he jokes, making you wonder if he meant you or his sister’s friends.

“I’m sure it’s any little boy’s dream to have an entire volleyball team at his mercy, all those pretty volleyball players begging him to play with their hair,” you tease him, handing him the hair tie that you always keep on your wrist.

“I don’t know, I think playing with a pretty photographer’s hair is better, if you ask me,” he ties the hair tie around the bottom of the braid, reaching up to pull the braid loose, making sure it’s not too tight.

You keep your eyes closed, knowing he can likely see the redness on your cheeks at his words.

“Alright, eyes open. Need to make sure you like my work,” he places his hands on your biceps, making sure to keep his touch feather light on your bad arm.

He turns you around so you’re facing him, holding a handheld mirror that was laying on your sink in front of your face, allowing you to see the reflection of the braid.

You’re shocked to see the flawless Dutch braid that cascades down your back.

“Nico, you’re like…really good at this,” you reach your good hand to the back of your head, running it down the braid.

“Told you, I had a lot of practice,” he shrugs, setting the mirror down.

You yawn, the relaxing nature of having your hair braided allowing you to realize how tired you are from the day’s events.

“Nuh-uh, gotta keep you awake until we get some food in you,” he tuts, taking his hands and patting your cheeks.

You groan, leaning into his palms that stay resting on your face.

“C’mon, let’s get you changed and on the couch,” he motions for you to leave the bathroom.

You walk to your room, Nico helping you carefully remove your sling before leaving and giving you some privacy.

You change into your pajamas, somehow managing to get your arm into an oversized Devils shirt you found at the bottom of your drawer.

Nico is standing outside of your door when you open it, helping you back into your sling.

He stands in front of you, staring at you with a look that you can’t decipher.

“Is…everything okay?” you question him, noticing his stare after adjusting your sling.

His eyes snap up to you, seemingly unaware that he was even staring at you in the first place.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I just- is that my shirt?” he asks you, pointing to your pj shirt.

You look down at the oversized shirt, trying to think of where you got it.

It had just showed up in your laundry basket one day, assuming it was one they gave you when you got your job, but Nico’s question makes you think harder.

You realize, suddenly, you do remember where you got it.

During one of your post lesson dinners, Nico had spilled his drink all over his shirt. You offered to wash it for him after he changed to a shirt in his duffel.

You meant to take it back to him after you washed it, but forgot about it entirely, packing it away in your pajama drawer.

“Oh, crap, it is. Do you want it back, I can go change?” you ask him, worried he’s upset that you forgot to give it back.

“No…no it’s fine. Keep it. I have plenty,” he shakes his head, glancing down at it once more.

The two of you make your way to your couch, finding something to watch on tv when there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of your food.

You start to stand to go get it, but Nico sternly tells you to stay put.

Rolling your eyes you sit back down, grabbing the remote and continuing to channel surf.

Nico’s gone for longer than you expect, causing you to sit up and turn back towards your kitchen, wondering what’s taking him so long.

You see him walking over to you, a tray full of food in his hands.

He had ordered from your favorite sushi place, figuring it would be the easiest for you to eat one handed.

As he sat down the tray on the coffee table in front of you, you realized what took him so long.

Nico had put a toothpick in each piece of your sushi, knowing using chopsticks with your non dominant hand would have been hard for you. He poured soy sauce into a small container, allowing you to simply pick up each toothpick and dip it in the sauce before popping it in your mouth.

He had also ordered you a bottle of cherry coke, which he knew was your favorite, and placed it on the tray with the lid unscrewed and a straw peeking out of the bottle next to a glass of ice, just incase you wanted it that way instead.

You looked up at him, feeling that funny feeling in your chest like you did earlier in your kitchen, blown away at how he always seems to think of everything he can to help you out, even when you’re not injured.

You must’ve been looking for longer than you realized, because he cocks his head at you, confusion present on his face.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what’s wrong. “Did you not want sushi? I thought you said it was always the one thing that could cheer you up?”

You shake your head at him. “No, sushi is perfect,” you tell him, a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

He smiles back for a few moments, then started scooting the coffee table towards you so you don’t have to reach to grab your food. He moves around the table to sit beside of you, the size of the small table causing him to sit so close to you that you can feel the warmness of his large thigh against yours.

You once again think about all of the things he’s done for you without you even having to ask. Now including coming over after a game—no doubt exhausted and sore—and taking care of you without even thinking twice. Braiding your hair and calling you pretty. Staring at you unintentionally wearing his t-shirt. Modifying your food so it’s easier for you to eat with one hand.

You sit there, staring at the man you fear you’re falling in love with, already planning out the apology text you’re going to have to send your mom.

[dksfml]

picture perfect - lhs

pairing: ex!heeseung x midnight rain!reader genre: angst, exes meeting again in a different circumstance, heeseung is getting married, the one that got away word count: 2.5k summary: what's worse than interviewing your ex-fiancé for his wedding while tormented by the life you could have had? especially when you couldn't stop glancing on the ring on his finger.

My boy was a montage A slow-motion, love potion Jumping off things in the ocean I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

“When did you realize that she was the one? That it was love?”

The room was colder than you expected, or maybe it was the weight of the moment that made you shiver. Five years had passed since you left Heeseung behind, but here you were, standing across from him again. He stood in a pristine tuxedo, tailored to perfection, like the life he now led—polished, flawless, but distant. Heeseung, heir to a powerful conglomerate, and you, the broadcast journalist in a media uniform tasked with interviewing him for what was being called the "wedding of the century."

It had been an impossible love, one you knew couldn’t last. But that didn’t stop you from falling hard for him.

Back in college, it felt like the stars had aligned just for you two. You met by chance in a quiet library, studying late at night. You were flipping through notes, while he sat across from you, struggling to stay awake after hours of classes and business meetings for his family’s company. He caught your eye when he nearly fell asleep, knocking a stack of books to the floor.

“You alright there?” you had teased, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Heeseung rubbed his eyes and chuckled. “Yeah, just tired. Guess business majors don’t get to sleep, huh?”

That small interaction turned into late-night study sessions and shared meals at the local café, hiding from the world that seemed to have already decided your places. The more you learned about him, the more the quiet, gentle side of him drew you in—the side that wasn’t always front and center in the media’s image of him.

“Let’s keep this just between us,” Heeseung had said once, eyes soft as the two of you sat together in a dimly lit restaurant far off campus, tucked into a corner where no one would recognize him. “The world outside… it’s too complicated.”

You agreed, understanding the stakes. His family had expectations, and you were just an ordinary student. Yet, it didn’t stop the stolen glances in class or the secret hand-holding when no one was watching.

Those were some of the happiest moments of your life. No matter how fleeting, they felt like something real, something lasting.

And then there was that night—your last trip together before everything changed. The two of you had gone to a secluded beach, the sound of waves crashing against the shore the only witness to your love. Underneath a sky full of stars, Heeseung pulled out a ring, his hands trembling slightly as he looked at you, eyes wide with hope.

“I know it’s crazy… but marry me,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion. “I want you to be the person I come home to. The one who knows me when the rest of the world only sees… him.”

You had said yes without hesitation. How could you not? In that moment, it felt like everything was falling into place. You had both once pictured yourselves at opposite ends of the aisle—him in a crisp, white tuxedo, and you in the wedding dress of your dreams. It was this memory of him that still kept you awake at night.

But reality didn’t wait long to rear its ugly head. Graduation came, and with it, responsibilities neither of you could ignore. You got your dream job as a news presenter, but it meant constant travel. Heeseung, meanwhile, was tied to his family’s legacy, the weight of it pressing down on him, anchoring him to a life you couldn’t share.

"I can’t leave everything behind," he had told you one night, frustration evident in his voice. "This is who I am."

"I know," you replied quietly, staring down at the engagement ring on your finger, feeling its weight more than ever. "And I’m not asking you to. But I… I need to be someone too. I can’t just be… your shadow."

Heeseung had pleaded with you to stay, to make it work somehow, but deep down, you both knew it wasn’t possible. The worlds you came from were too far apart, the demands on you both too great.

When you took off the ring that night in his car, your hands trembling, the look in his eyes broke you. Heeseung had always been composed, even under pressure, but that night, he cried. You watched as his tears fell, and the ache in your chest felt unbearable.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, voice barely holding steady as you placed the ring in his palm. "I love you, but I can’t… I can’t do this."

Heeseung had tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. All he could do was watch as you opened the car door and walked away.

Now, five years later, that past stood between you like an invisible wall.

The soft murmur of crew members adjusting lights and setting up cameras filled the studio, but all you could hear was the steady, rhythmic pounding of your heart. Heeseung sat in front of you, the gleam of his dark wedding tuxedo catching the artificial light. His hand rested on his knee, the gold band on his ring finger gleaming—a silent reminder of everything that had changed.

You cleared your throat, shuffling your notes, attempting to shake off the unease settling over you. This was supposed to be just another interview—routine, professional. But the tension in the air was palpable, an invisible thread tugging at memories you thought you’d buried.

"Mr. Lee?," you asked again, your voice steady, eyes fixed on the paper in front of you to avoid the intensity of his gaze. "A lot of people are curious about your relationship with Ms. Choi. When did you realize that she was the one? That it was love?"

Heeseung shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes flickering to yours before looking down at his hands. For a moment, he hesitated, and you found yourself unconsciously glancing at his left hand again—the wedding band glinting under the lights. The sight of it made your stomach twist.

"When did I know…" Heeseung trailed off, his voice quiet, reflective. He took a deep breath before answering, his eyes still focused on his hand. "I think love can be complicated. Sometimes, it’s not about a single moment, but a series of small ones. You come to realize what's expected of you, and you grow into it, bit by bit."

It was a carefully worded response—safe, diplomatic. He wasn’t answering the question. Not really. And that tugged at something deep inside you, pulling at threads you didn’t want to unravel.

You nodded, trying to move forward, but your thoughts were slipping. "But… when did it feel like more than just expectation? When did it feel like love?"

The words fell from your lips before you could stop them. Too personal. Too revealing. Heeseung’s eyes snapped to yours, surprised at the sudden shift, the edge in your voice. For a second, the air between you thickened, the unspoken past rising to the surface.

"When did it feel like love?" Heeseung repeated slowly, his eyes lingering on your face, as if searching for something. His voice softened. "There was a time I thought I knew… what love felt like."

You blinked, the space between his words loaded with meaning. There was an implicit sadness in the way he spoke, a crack in the façade he’d been holding up for so long.

You felt yourself sinking deeper into the moment, losing grip on the professional veneer you had worked so hard to maintain. Your gaze dropped to his left hand again, to the gold ring encircling his finger. It felt suffocating, knowing it symbolized a future you once imagined would be yours.

Your own fingers absentmindedly brushed against your ring finger, where once a promise had been worn but was now bare. Heeseung’s eyes followed the movement, his gaze lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but he closed them again.

The camera’s blinking red light reminded you where you were. You cleared your throat, refocusing on the script, but your mind was still spiraling.

You hesitated before asking the next question, feeling the weight of it before the words even left your mouth. It wasn’t on the script—it wasn’t the kind of thing you were supposed to ask in an interview like this. But it was the question you had to ask, the one lingering at the back of your mind since you stepped into the room.

You swallowed, feeling your pulse in your throat. "Are you happy?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. Heeseung’s gaze lingered on you, and for the briefest moment, his polished composure cracked. His eyes softened, as if searching for something in yours.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly to the ring on his finger again—gleaming and perfect, a stark contrast to your own bare hand. The ring you had taken off five years ago.

"I... I have everything I’m supposed to want," he began, voice quiet, almost too quiet for the room. His answer was measured, careful, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was you. "I’ve built a life, a career... I’m where I’m supposed to be."

But then his eyes met yours again, and for a heartbeat, something vulnerable passed between you. "But happiness?" He let the question hang in the air, not answering it fully, but leaving the meaning clear. His gaze lingered a second longer, unspoken words filling the silence.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your emotions in check as the weight of what wasn’t said between you pressed down. His answer, or lack of one, told you everything.

You glanced down at your next question, but your voice betrayed you, trailing off as you asked, "Do you… ever think about the life you could have had? If things had been different?"

Heeseung’s gaze locked onto yours, his expression unreadable. The question hadn’t been on the script. You hadn’t even realized you’d said it until it was too late. A deafening silence filled the room, every crew member, every camera operator feeling the tension brewing between you both.

His jaw clenched slightly, and for a moment, it looked like he wasn’t going to answer. But then, his voice came, soft, barely above a whisper, yet laced with emotion. "Sometimes… I think about the life I could have had. The life I almost had."

The way he said it made your breath hitch. You weren’t sure if anyone else in the room could hear it, but to you, it felt like the only thing that mattered. His words hung in the air, filling the space between you with a weight too heavy to ignore.

You tried to regain control, but you were slipping further, your thoughts clouded by the memories you had worked so hard to forget. "Do you have any regrets about the past?” you asked, the question intended more for your own sake than for the magazine.

Heeseung's expression softened, and for the first time throughout the interview, his voice wavered. ‘Regret... it's complicated. There are times when you make choices because you believe they’re what’s best for everyone. Yet there are nights when you can’t help but think… what if?’"

His words hit you like a wave, washing over you with the force of all the unspoken feelings between you. What if. Two simple words, yet they carried the weight of everything you had left behind.

Your breath hitched, and you glanced down at your notes, trying to steer the interview back to safer ground. But the damage was done. You couldn’t hide from the truth anymore.

You felt your eyes well up, memories flooding back of the days when Heeseung had been your world. The secret rendezvous, the promises whispered under moonlit skies, the proposal on the beach—the life you almost had. You swallowed hard, pushing the memories down.

"Two weeks until the wedding," you said, your voice hollow, desperate to pull the conversation back to the present. "Are you… ready?"

Heeseung didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at you, really looked at you, as if seeing past the years, past the distance, and straight into the heart of the girl he had once loved. His lips parted, but the answer you expected didn’t come.

"Are you?" he asked quietly, the question hanging in the air like a lifeline.

Your breath caught in your throat. The room felt too small, the walls too close. You blinked, shaking your head slightly as if that could shake off the weight of the moment.

The tension between you was unbearable now. You could feel every unsaid word, every lingering regret, every what-if stretching between you, filling the space with a heaviness you could no longer ignore.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Lee," you said, your voice tight, trying to wrap up the interview before you completely unraveled.

But as you stood to leave, Heeseung’s voice stopped you.

"Y/N…"

He adjusted his cufflinks, and the air between you grew heavier. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “Do you ever think about… that time?”

You looked at him, surprised he had asked. The cameras aren’t rolling anymore. “All the time,” you admitted, the truth slipping out before you could stop it.

Heeseung nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah… me too.”

You paused, not daring to turn around, your heart in your throat.

"If I had another chance…" His voice was barely a whisper now, but it sliced through the room like a knife. "I would risk everything."

Your hand hovered on the door handle, but you couldn’t move. His words clung to you, wrapping themselves around your heart like a vice. You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

But you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t.

Instead, you stepped out of the studio, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you, knowing that you’d leave this room just as you had left him five years ago—heartbroken and haunted by what could have been.

About an hour after the interview, you found yourself standing at the back of the studio, watching as Heeseung and his fiancée posed for their couple shots. He looked effortlessly handsome in his pristine black tuxedo, while she glimmered in a flowing gown, radiant and picture-perfect.

“Smile a little wider, Heeseung!” the photographer urged, and your heart ached as you watched him comply, his smile lighting up the scene in a way that had once been reserved for you.

You swallowed hard, the memories flooding back—late-night laughter, whispered secrets, and the way he’d promised you the world. A crew member nudged you, breaking your reverie. “They really are the perfect couple,” he said.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice thick with unshed tears.

As you turned away, the sight of them—the life you had once envisioned—felt like a dagger to your heart. It was time to leave, to step back into your own reality, but a lingering question haunted you: What if things had been different?

[papaya-twinks]

out the window - l.n

Warnings: smut, 18+, angst, upset!lando

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

All the promises and talks of Lando finally being able to have a chance at the title what with Oscar helping out when he needed to, and to not even get out of Q1. It hurt. And you could tell how much it hurt him whilst watching the interview.

So much so, that he didn’t even have the effort to go and fuck his anger out on you. It was more…sadness. “Lando,” you sighed, taking your boyfriend’s hand as he mumbled something incoherent, and you led him to his room.

“You did so well,” you sighed, kissing his cheek softly as he shrugged, his shoulders evidently slump with hurt. “Lando,” you said, positioning yourself on his lap, pulling his suit down to his hips. “I don’t wanna,” Lando muttered under his breath, though you could hear he did want some sort of comfort.

“I’m doing it, not you,” you said, running a hand through your curls as you pumped him slowly, his semi-hardness throbbing in your hand. His chin rested on your shoulder, breath fanning across your back as he fiddled on pulling your skirt up, so you could sink down on his cock, your cunt clenching round him as he hissed.

Lando’s hands came to your waist so he could hold you, your hips bouncing down, his cock sliding in and out of your core. “It wasn’t your fault,” you said, hands still twisted in Lando’s curls, his lashes fluttering as he kept in his small moans and gasped. You could tell he was close.

His cheeks were tinged a soft pink, his breath laboured and quicker than usual, eyes squeezed shut. “C’mon baby,” you mumbled into his ear, your core clenching round him, hands curling in his hair as he moved his own hips, once, twice, before his orgasm flooded through, his cum coating your thighs as he clung to you, head in your neck.

Yes, it was better having this when he was on pole, but having you was all he ever needed, regardless of what trophies. And maybe stroopwafels.

[marlenesluv]

Rule Breaker (CS)

summary: charles has one rule for you, don’t date his teammate. he doesn’t want his little sister infringing, but both you and carlos can’t help falling for each other. so what harm does a little soft launch do? well, a failed soft launch. (side note: carlos watches game of thrones and i love game of thrones, so there’s some content like that in here as well.)

type: smau + dialogue

pairing: carlos sainz x leclerc!fem!reader (7 yr age gap. reader is 22, carlos is 29.)

warnings: cussing

fc: anaïs (_ssiana on insta)

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

Being the youngest Leclerc sibling came with its benefits. Like being able to watch your brothers race, meeting lovely fans, having your own amazing fans, and getting to travel across the world. Opportunities were endless for you. Magazines wanted photo shoots, people wanted interviews, you were lucky really.

The only con? Having to look at Carlos Sainz Jr. every day, and not be able to do anything about your crush.

When Carlos joined Charles in Ferrari in 2021, Charles made a point to forbid you from dating him, just like Arthur did with his friends. Which you figured was fine, until you met Carlos.

He was such a gentleman, pulling your chair out for you, getting you a drink when you wanted one, making sure you were comfortable in the paddock, and making sure your headphones felt good before races.

Carlos experienced something very similar. Charles took him aside an hour before he was to meet you, and told him that you were off limits. He didn’t want a relationship with his younger sister to ruin such a good team, god forbid the relationship be messy and end horribly.

But lucky for you and Carlos, your relationship was perfect. No one knew, and you intended to keep it that way. That was until you were spotted together at dinner after his win in Singapore. People couldn’t fathom what was going on. The ‘young, innocent, law degree leclerc’ dating Carlos Sainz? Her brothers teammate??

Arthur had his suspicions. The way that you were on your phone at family dinners, smiling and blushing, was enough of a sign for him. Charles, oblivious as always, had no idea. And Arthur wasn’t a snitch, you got yourself in this, you could deal with Charles on your own.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After about three months of privately dating, that article came out. So, you both decided to soft launch your relationship. Surely Charles couldn’t be all that mad. Carlos knew from the first time he met you, that he wanted to spend his life with you. Cliché? Sure. But your demeanor, sarcasm, kindness, and the way you held yourself was enough to make him want to drop to his knees.

“Do you think I should post this?” you asked Carlos, showing him a picture of the two of you, but not noticeably him.

“Yeah, you can’t even tell it’s me.” Carlos looked at you, head on his chest so he could see your phone.

Post-sex cuddles were very important, you even said ‘I need them to survive. Don’t laugh at me!’ They were intimate, yet sweet and calming.

“Okay. I’m gonna post it with these other two…” you typed a caption and posted it, groaning in Carlos’ sheets as he laughed, running his fingers through your hair.

“It’ll be okay, amor.” he kissed your temple, both of you falling back to your cuddles as you drifted to sleep as your post got attention.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: charles_leclerc, carla.brocker, and 576,024 others

y/n_leclerc: nom nom

view comments…

charles_leclerc: who is that in the second photo, y/n?

↳ y/n_leclerc: what second photo?

↳ charles_leclerc: don’t gaslight me

f1updates: she slays, again, as always

lilymhe: prettiest girl ever

↳ y/n_leclerc: that’s you tho??

user6: who tfffff is that man?!?!

y/n.fan624: is that like…her new bf? you mean to tell me….i don’t have a chance anymore???

↳ y/nseditfan7; i don’t think any of us ever had a chance :/

cs55edits: that looks like the sainz vacation home, no?

↳ user2: oh my gosh.

yourbsf: pizza looks so good (so do you)

↳ y/n_leclerc: it was so good (thx, you always look good)

user7: you guys smell that? its a soft launch

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Soft launching was a good idea, in theory. You both thought it was the perfect way to announce your relationship, but not with Charles calling you every ten minutes and blowing up your messages to find out who the guy was in your photo on Instagram.

You sighed as your phone started ringing for the eighth time during this Game of Thrones episode. You and Carlos sat by each other, watching your show. Game of Thrones time, was your guys’ time to disconnect, not be on your phones, and enjoy the show and each other. Not a time to deal with a protective older brother.

Looking down at your phone, you saw the picture of you and Charles as he called again, “I should probably just answer. He’s not gonna stop until I answer.” Carlos got up, gave you a kiss and started walking to the kitchen, “Answer him, hermosa. I’ll go get more wine.” As Carlos went to the kitchen, your thumb hit the ‘accept’ button and you put your phone up to your ear.

“Pourquoi ne m'as-tu pas répondu ? Je pensais que tu étais mort ou quelque chose comme ça ! Qu'est-ce que c'est, y/n ?!”(why have you not been answering me? i thought you died or something! what the hell, y/n?!) Charles was shouting through the phone, you could tell he was worried and pissed at the same time.

“Je suis désolé, Charles. J'étais occupé. What’s up?” (i’m sorry, charles. i was busy.)

Charles sighed on the other side of the phone as he sat down at his barstool in his kitchen, “Please, just tell me who this guy is. I wont get mad, I swear. I don’t even care who it is, I just want to make sure he’s a good guy.”

Carlos made eye contact with you as he sat down beside you, whispering “If you want to tell him, you can, amor.” You nodded, taking a deep breath, “Carlos.” You said. One word. One name that brought fear through Charles. Carlos?! His teammate.

“What do you mean ‘Carlos’?” Charles asked, his voice suddenly too calm. “Carlos….I’m dating Carlos.” you stared at Carlos as he went wide eyed, Charles silent on the other line.

“Charles? Are you there?” you heard shuffling, Carlos handing you your wine as Charles cleared his throat.

“Okay. Um…alright. I gotta go, Y/N. Love you.” Charles hung up, leaving you staring at the glass in your hands.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Carlos asked you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, “He didn’t really say anything when I told him. Just ‘Okay, alright, I gotta go, Love you.’ and then hung up.”

Carlos sucked his lips in, placing his hand on your neck, making you lean into his touch. You fell back into his sofa, clinging to his side, Carlos turning Game of Thrones back on and pulling the blanket over you two.

He wasn’t sure what it would take to convince Charles that this wasn’t a fling. But he would try everything.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n_leclerc, landonorris, and 834,231 others

carlossainz55: I’m not very good at soft launches, anyway

view comments…

y/n_leclerc: no, no you are not, mon amour

↳ carlossainz55: oops 💗

chili55: y/n: “let’s soft launch!” carlos: “how about no.”

y/neditsss551: WOAAHHHHHH

landonorris: mom and dad

↳ y/n_leclerc: landoooo

char16car55: where’s charles😭

↳ f1fan: look around everybody on mute 🤫🤐

carlando554fp: my fav leclerc😪 she’s so prettyyyy

user4: AWOOGA I LOVE THE LECLERCS

arthur_leclerc: nice to see my suspicions have been confirmed

↳ charles_leclerc: you had suspicions?

↳ lorenzotl: um..what’s going on

user8: leclerc brothers protective and confused mode LOL

f1wags: ooooo new wag, yet one we already know we all love and adore

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After Carlos’ post, you freaked out. Of course, he asked you first, and double checked, and triple checked. You wanted everyone to know that you guys were dating. The only worry was ‘what would Charles do/think’?

Both of you had talked to Charles since the call a few days ago. Charles asked Carlos when he wanted to train again, and Charles checked on you everyday.

Arthur didn’t care. He was worried, at first. He thought maybe Carlos wouldn’t treat you like a princess, like you deserved to be treated. Carla told Arthur that you couldn’t have a better boyfriend.

When Carlos posted, Carla called you immediately, asking for details. Like when you started dating, the first date, did Charles know? And you trusted Carla with your life. The girl knew how to listen, too.

Lorenzo wasn’t too bothered. He knew Carlos, knew he was a good guy, and accepted it fairly fast. He also wanted you to be treated well, it’s what you deserved.

Charles wanted the same thing. He looked out for you the most. The guys you dated had to pass a test in Charles’ books. They needed to be kind, funny, honest, loyal, a gentleman, a family guy, good goals, and they needed to love you. And Charles ticked all of those off when he saw that post. He knew Carlos more than a lot of people.

Carlos was kind, loyal, and honest. He never lied to Charles, never broke a promise, and was kind to everyone. The man was also quite funny. He knew he could be a gentleman, he saw him with his last girlfriend three years ago. Carlos was a huge family guy, and had good goals. And obviously, he loved you. Charles decided he had no reason to be mad. You two were in love, and he needed to accept that.

When you called him, you were nervous. Carlos had went out for his morning run, which you usually joined him on. But you wanted to talk to Charles. It only rang three times before he picked up.

“Hello?” your brother groggy voice came through your phone speaker, which was sat on the counter as you made coffee.

“Hey. Can you talk for a minute?” stirring your coffee, you picked up your phone to hold in one hand.

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Are you mad at me? For dating Carlos? Because we aren’t breaking up if you are. You’re just going to have to deal with it! Charles, I love him more than anyone-“ Charles cut off your rambling.

“Y/N, stop. I’m not mad. Its okay.” he sat up in his bed, looking at the time- 5am? You called him at 5am? “Wait, it’s 5am. Why are you even up??”

“Oh, Carlos and I have been getting up every morning at 4:30am to run and workout together.” you took a sip of your coffee, “I skipped today to call you, through.”

“Wow. He’s already rubbing off his good habits.” Charles smiled, happy that you were happy.

“Yeah…you’re okay with this, though?” you asked, setting your cup down.

“Of course. I’m sorry about the other day. I was just startled.” he apologized, he really did feel bad. He didn’t intend to be rude and freak you out.

“It’s okay. Thank you for being okay with this. I’ll let you go back to sleep.”

“Great, I need my eight hours. Night, Y/N,” Charles yawned, making you laugh a bit. “Night? Love you.” Charles muttered an ‘I love you’ back and hung up.

No need to worry about that anymore, you thought. Carlos walking in the front door, and by your smile, he didn’t even need to ask. Charles obviously didn’t mind.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 593,204 others

y/n_leclerc: my game of thrones watching buddy <3

view comments…

carlossainz55: hold the door

↳ y/n_leclerc: hodor :(

user3: oooo its official guys, the carlos bf content is here

charles_leclerc: didnt need to see this

↳ arthur_leclerc: did any of us?

↳ lorenzotl: no.

↳ y/n_leclerc: you guys are soo dramatic. shut up

lilymhe: awww you guys are adorableee

↳ y/n_leclerc: me when i see you and alex

f1wags: carlos is boyfriending so hard

landonorris: WHIPPED

↳ carlossainz55: have you seen her? had a conversation with her? of course i’m whipped

↳ y/n_leclerc: 🥹🫠

ferraribabe: the way he’s so sweet stopppp

yourbsf: holy shitttt, you guys are THE couple

*liked by creator*

user8: wowowowow too cute

formula1updates: new favorite couple - unlocked

user1: a couple that watches game of thrones together, stays together

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: carlossainz55, danielricciardo, and 601,138 others

y/n_leclerc: muy guapo, papi🖤🤍

view comments…

user3: PAPI???? Y/N PLS

carlossainz55: she’ll never know guys, shhhhh

↳ charles_leclerc: but i do

↳ carlossainz55: it was a joke…

↳ charles_leclerc: i’m pushing you off the track this weekend.

f1wags: they way they look at each other🥹 (THE CAPTION????)

user5: oh…ok!

arthur_leclerc: cant wait to hit a spaniard this weekend

↳ carlossainz55: dios mío. cállate

↳ lorenzotl: we know spanish, carlos

↳ y/n_leclerc: i hate my family sometimes (not mom tho)

↳ leclerc_pascale: ❤️

leclercsfp16: my fav family

y/n.editingggg: adorbssss but girl the caption??

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, and 578,014 others

seen by: carlossainz55, lorenzotl, and 532,103 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 1,238,014 others

carlossainz55: “you are the moon of my life” ❤️

view comments…

y/n_leclerc: did you j khal drogo quote drop

↳ carlossainz55: i thought it would be cute :(

↳ y/n_leclerc: it was so cute <3

↳ carlossainz55: :))

f1ygotedits: my two favs: carlos and got 😋

user5: the way they make me want to sob bec they’re so cute

verstoppan1fp: their pics >

vroom34: my fav game of thrones lovers

thenightwatch99: the way he khal drogo quoted

user3: mama y papa 😪👏

f1editpage: can’t wait to see her with carlos merch

↳ char16pg: charles is gonna be mad lollll

formula1page33: they’re soo cute🥹🥹🥹🥹

charles_leclerc: cant believe im the only single sibling now

↳ arthur_leclerc: i can

↳ charles_leclerc: 😦

user8: awwww the cutest shut upppp

y/nandcarlosfp55: ARG SO CUTE

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: carlossainz55, landonorris, and 548,024 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n_leclerc, georgerussell63, and 929,820 others

carlossainz55: i took an amazing, photographer photo of her, and she took this monstrosity one of me??

view comments…

y/n_leclerc: no, amor. you look so handsome

↳ pierregasly: why are you lying to him?

↳ carlossainz55: you are a dick, pierre

↳ pierregasly: 🫨good one

user3: LOL I LOVE THIS

f1wags: our fav wag photographer!!

formula1wc: carlos is turning his instagram in to a y/n fan account

chilipepper55: michael phelps WHO⁉️we only know our olympic swimmer carlos the mermaid sainz!!!

carmenmmundt: y/n looks so elegant

↳ carlossainz55: and me?

↳ carmenmmundt: 😬

landonorris: bro rly said 🧜‍♂️😟

user1: merm-couple

f1memes: the third pic is so cute. HELLO?!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[hedwig221b]

hey, love your fic recs, would love to see youtuber au if you have any 🥰

Thank you! Now, here's what I found:

Of Green Beans and YouTube by nerdfightingwhovian

Stiles has a YouTube show that is essentially Hannah Hart's "My Drunk Kitchen" where he cooks food drunk but actually pretty well. Derek is a serious chef on YouTube. He has cookbooks that you can buy in actual stores and stuff. He's the real deal.

Stiles' video-block is fixed when he stumbles across Derek guest-starring on a Food Network show. In a rush of inspiration he starts a new series where he cooks Derek's recipes drunk. Derek finds out about the show and instead of being angry, he's intrigued by the guy cooking and throwing things around his kitchen while drinking too much alcohol.

Who's Sourwolf?? by Star_crossed02

Based on Kris' prompt:

YouTuber Stiles doing a livestream when mysterious boyfriend comes in to kiss Stiles and everyone freaking out.

I twisted it a bit, but hopefully you'll like it.

Stop @’ing Me (It’s Giving me Anxiety) by isthatbloodonhisshirt

Derek… had no idea what to say. Or how to react. Or what to even feel.

What the hell was going on?

He immediately went to YouTube to check his video, and the first thing he noticed was that his subscriber count had indeed changed, just as he’d suspected.

Except not in the direction he’d anticipated.

When he’d gone to bed, he’d still been a few thousand subscribers away from one million. Something like seventeen or eighteen thousand away.

He was now staring at his subscriber count sitting at over one million by a fair margin.

“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself, and went to look at his newest video about AllAboutMischief. It was sitting at three-hundred thousand views in the first hour, and had more comments than he’d ever gotten on any of his videos since he began uploading.

“What the fuck?” he whispered again, a little more desperately.

I'll Be Your Robin by mikkimouse

"You're sitting in my background!" Stiles waved behind him. "Can't you just scoot to the left by, like, two feet? Or go to the library until I'm done?"

Derek scowled, and really, that angry look shouldn't turn Stiles on as much as it pisses him off. "I don't have room to scoot two feet to the left. And the last time I left the room while you were recording, I ended up getting stuck outside until midnight."

"I had to do multiple takes!"

Derek's scowl didn't lift. "You yelled at me when I came in here to go to bed."

Good for you by lilysaid

Completely by chance, I saw a "human boyfriend for werewolf roleplay" ASMR video on YouTube and thought 1. Stiles would totally do something as reckless as making an ASMR channel for werewolves 2. He would be really good at it and 3. It would definitely blow up in his face.

The Curly Fries Show with Stiles Stilinski by greenleaf

“Curly fries are only for the brave, so is love.” -- Five times Stiles interviewed celebrities for his popular YouTube show, ‘The Curly Fries Show with Stiles Stilinski’, and one time he was the one interviewed.

Or

Five times Stiles hung out with his attractive, adorable, bashful, architect building-mate Derek Hale and one time he hung out with his attractive, adorable, bashful, architect building-mate, boyfriend Derek Hale.

Ink Me by AsagiStilinski

Derek is never going to find his soulmate, because there's no way in hell there exists a man named Mieczyslaw in Beacon Hills

Then Erica hires Stiles

Daddy Do's by apocryphal

“Hi Mr. Stilinski!” Lydia said pertly. “My name’s Lydia, and this is my daddy. His name is Derek Andrew Hale and he watches all of your videos on YouTube a lot, but he still can’t braid.”

[Stiles is a celebrity YouTube hairstylist. Derek may or may not have a crush. Lydia just wants a French braid for school picture day.]

My Stupid Boyfriend Tag by ALoza

Stiles is a Youtuber, and this is Derek's first time on camera.

Thirsty and trapped by TalesoftheEnchantedForest

Stiles has a YouTube channel and decides to film a video where he reacts to thirst traps.

Then he promptly falls in love with one of the men, but it's not like they would ever meet in real life, right?

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | possessive Derek | smut | hurt/comfort | magical Stiles | mafia | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse

[writing-mlm]

Blue-pilled man [D.W]

Summary: Sophomore year of college and life is good-- until Bruce invites your family to Thanksgiving. Thankfully your boyfriend is there to distract you-- wait, boyfriend??? Pairing: Damian Wayne x male!reader WC: 9.3k A/n: part 2

A glitch in the system is what you’d considered yourself. There wasn’t supposed to be anything special about you, the middle child born from the rare chance the birth control didn’t work. The failed plan B. The unimportant middle child in a large family living along the West Coast. You hadn’t been anyone special, you hadn’t done anything remarkable with your life. 

You’d graduated high school and flew across the country to Gotham of all places. Low housing costs, honestly, was the only reason. You’d been going to Gotham University for what? Five or so months before you’d gotten an internship at Wayne Enterprise for your major in business. It was going fine, you met some other interns and made fast friends and went out with them as often as you could. 

Which is probably where you fucked up. You’d gone out to someone’s birthday party in a club, fake IDs locked in. It was fun, from what you could remember. And you were all going to head out since it was a Sunday— poor choice, you know but you went to use the bathroom when someone shoved some blue pill into your mouth. But at the time you were too drunk to care about what it was. It tasted like a mint though, so you assumed that’s what it was and thanked them for the breath mint before heading to meet your friends in the Uber. 

The next morning you woke up with a raging headache and the need to vomit. Unfortunately for you, you had a meeting with the Bruce Fucking Wayne. Apparently, he interviewed each intern a couple of months into their internship and it was your turn. Surprise!

But thankfully, it led to where you are now. 

As a Junior in college, you like to think you’ve been doing this long enough to get the hang of it. You’ve also been granted off-campus housing. Which was fucking amazing. You lived with one person and get this… he’s Bruce Wayne’s son! Honestly, for a nepotism baby, he was cool. 

Plus, he was Robin. So it made going out to fight crime at night so much easier, and his dad— your boss in more ways than one, always understood why you were late to work. But it also meant he called you whenever Robin was called in. 

“Player!” Robin shouts as you leap from roof to roof, leaving an animated dust cloud after you. “Player!” He repeats this time his voice cutting through your comms. “You’re going the wrong way!” He groans and you land on the roof, confused. He watches as you tap in the air and a holographic map pops up, taking over your field of view. 

   “Oh, shit!” You say, tapping a button on the bottom of the map and it shoots back to the corner it came from. “My bad, Rob!” Tapping on your waist bag, you see a selection of food and swipe to find a glowing lollipop. “Heading your way now!” Popping the lollipop into your mouth, you feel a surge over you and look down at your boots. There’s a green glow on them and you nod to yourself before jumping to the roof that was closest to him. 

He nods when he sees you following him, taking off towards the robbery happening at a local, beloved restaurant. 

“You think they’ll be open tomorrow?” You ask, catching up to Robin just as the two of you jump down from the roof and land across the block from the restaurant. “I was thinking we get some of their food for dinner tomorrow.” He glances at you then sighs, heading towards the restaurant.

   “Considering no one’s dead, yes.” He says once he's halfway across the block. You grin and catch up to him, already scanning through your inventory for where you kept handcuffs. 

—

“Do you reckon I could be a mad scientist?” You ask Damian as you walk into his bedroom, not even looking up from your laptop. “Or could I get roped into a cult? Am I cult material?” Sitting on his bed, you tuck one leg under you and let the other dangle off of the bed. “I don’t think I’m cult material, I’m not easy to peer pressure,” You mutter. 

   “No,” He sighs, setting his own laptop down next to him but he doesn’t close it. “You couldn't be a mad scientist but you would get sucked into a cult.” Gasping, you look up at him and blink. 

   “Nuh-uh! How?” Crossing your arms, you sit properly on his bed and shut your laptop. 

“You almost signed up for the Church of Scientology last week because they asked if you wanted to take a personality test. Every time you pass by a club that asks you to join, you sit on it for a week before declining because I remind you that you’re a full-time college student with a job and a vigilante!” He lists and you huff, throwing yourself onto his bed. “It’s not your fault, though. Growing up in an environment where you didn’t feel loved would lead to a person being more susceptible to a cult. They make you feel needed, wanted.” God, you hated that he had taken that psychology course. 

“Ouch,” You mutter, resting your hands on your stomach. Looking over at him, you see he’s gone back to doing his work. “Do you want me?” You ask and he glances up at you before looking back to your laptop. 

   “In my room? Depends on my mood.” He shrugs.

“In your life, I mean.” He looks at you this time, his hands ready to close his laptop. 

   “I do,” He gives one strong nod. “Considering I agreed to live with you until we graduate, I would hope I’d… enjoy your company.” Smiling, you look back to the ceiling. His ceiling is bare, although you can see the marks from the times you’ve thrown sticky balls to the ceiling and pieces got left behind. You wonder why he hadn’t taken those off yet. 

Damian’s room isn’t what you had expected it to be. He has various art materials set up around his room, an entire section of his room is dedicated to his pets like their beds and toys, and his walls are covered in various items. You see drawings, news clippings, posters of various famous people he enjoys, and a full-length mirror was nailed to the back of his door. He doesn’t have a rug, he says Alfred the cat likes to tear those up. But he does have a curtain that looks like a rug. 

Not to mention his swords. 

His bed is nice, too. Bruce had spared no expense furnishing the place, he’d gotten the best beds possible for the two of you. Damian preferred a firmer bed, he never liked the feeling of sinking into a bed and not being in control of that. He also needed space for his pets, since there was no rule about how many could sleep in his bed now that he no longer lived in the manor. Prior to moving in, you’d pegged him as a one-pillow type of guy. But he had an absolute mountain of pillows, most of which he didn’t even use. 

Tapping on the transparent food icon that was always in the corner of your eye, you watch as your inventory materializes above your body. You widen the bar into a grid and scroll until you reach a water bottle. 

“Want one?” You ask. “They’re cold.” He hums and you pluck two water bottles out from the bar and toss one to him. Of course, being Damian, he catches it without looking up from his work and you roll your eyes. 

   “Thank you,” He says as you close out your food inventory. 

Honestly, major fucking thank you to that blue pill guy. Whatever was in it had made you into your very own video game character. You could even change your appearance! It was so fucking cool, you could find random items lying around and literally create a bomb in two seconds! 

Not that you’ve ever done that. 

Sitting up, you take a slow sip of the water as Ace trots over to you and lifts his paw. Grinning, you pat the bed and he jumps up, bumping his nose to your arm as a greeting before curling up at Damian’s side. He glances down at his dog and mindlessly pets him along his spine. 

“Have you studied yet?” He asks, lifting his eyes from his screen to meet yours for a brief moment. Capping the bottle, you toss it back into your inventory and lean back on his bed. 

   “A little,” You admit. “Between jobs and class, I haven’t had time. Was gonna during break, though.” He raises an eyebrow and you shove his foot. “Sorry some of us won’t be visiting family and will have an entire week to do nothing!” 

“Oh, and where do you think you’re staying?” He asks, finally fully closing his laptop and setting it on his nightstand. 

  “Here,” You shrug as if the answer was obvious. 

    “Father wants you at the manor, he’s invited you to Thanksgiving,” This is news to you. Looking at him, you see Damian is looking at you before he turns his attention back to Ace. He’s old, you note. He’s gotten the powered face and you’re pretty sure he’s been sleeping on the sofa while watching late-night game shows. He even snores now. 

   “Oh, thanks so much for the heads up!” Scratching his backside, Ace’s leg kicks and you chuckle. His eyes crack open when you stop and he moves to nudge your hand, letting out a small howl. 

“Don’t be cruel, he’s old.” Damian gestures to the dog who’s doing his best to look like he’s about to cry. Where he learned that, you’ll never know. But you lay down properly on the bed and continue to pet him. Damian pets his head, and you just barely register that he probably doesn’t want you to smash his pillows underneath you. Adjusting yourself, you look around for Alfred. 

He’s awake in his cat tree, but his tail is slowly swishing in the air. A little harshly, you might add.

“Someone’s jealous,” You joke, and Damian follows where you’re looking. “Come and get pet, Alfred!” The cat lets out a chipper merwl and leaps from his place on the tree and onto the floor. There are two small thumps, one from the front paws hitting the floor and the second from the back paws. Alfred flicks his tail as he lands before jumping onto the bed in one big jump. 

He nudges your free hand and when you lift it, crawls underneath forcing you to pet along his back before he settles on your chest. One thing about cats is that despite their small size, when they’re sitting directly over your ribcage they all but quadruple in weight. 

“Ow,” You bite back a groan, closing one eye and slowly easing onto Damian’s pillows. “Lay down, please,” Whispering to Alfred, he blinks and then plops down as if his bones had just gone away. Chuckling, you pet wherever he asks and close your eyes. 

“Fathers texted,” Damian mutters, shifting down on the bed so he could comfortably lie down. “We’re patrolling tomorrow,” 

“Thank god, not tonight,” You huff, looking down at Alfred whose content on your chest. He’s purring loudly, and his front paws are neatly tucked under his body while his lower half is splayed out to the side. His eyes don’t leave your face, though. They’re half-lidded like he’s fighting sleep and you see his head rocking a bit. Scratching his forehead, he pushes his head further into your fingers and gives one lick before laying his head flat on your chest. 

“He likes you too much,” Damian chides. “He’s a traitor!” Alfred doesn’t miss a beat as he rolls to turn his back to Damian, letting out the loudest sigh he can muster in his very tiny body. 

   “He’s a baby!” You protest. “Ain’t that right, Alfie?” In response, Alfred flicks his tail once, slowly lowering it back down to your stomach. “See,” Looking over at Damian, you see him watching his cat with an almost envious glare before he looks at you. 

“You know it took me five hours to train him?” He asks as Ace gets up and jumps off of the bed. You watch for a second as he paws the door open before slipping into the hallway. Damian scoots a bit closer and raises his hand to pet Alfred. “He was totally feral before me.”

“Ah, so he was you before Bruce?” The tease is clear in your voice, your eyebrows wiggling and your chest shakes a little bit when you see his reaction. 

   “I wasn’t feral,” He bites, looking over at you. 

   “You stabbed your brothers,” You softly remind him and he scoffs, laying his head down on the same pillow you were using. But neither of you seems to notice or care. 

    “If they could get stabbed by a ten-year-old, they deserved it.” 

Alfred stands up, his back rising to comical heights before he spawns and stretches over to Damian. 

“Traitor,” You frown, rolling to your side and watching as he lays down on Damian, his tail curling under his body. 

   “He knows where home is,” Damian jokes, making you scoff. 

“I’m gonna go take a shit,” You mutter and press a kiss to Damian’s forehead. Somewhere in your mind, it was intended for Alfred, but you missed it and didn’t realize it until you were at the door. 

“I don’t mind,” Damian said when he noticed you had paused at the door. 

   “…Okay…” You hum and leave his room. It’s not like you’ll make a habit out of it. 

—

A week later you’re both in the apartment's living room, Damian is busy working on this art project he’s been working on and you’re cramming for your last final of the semester. You’re sure if you read another word in that stupid textbook you’re going to explode and huff, slamming it shut before tossing it onto the pile that had amassed on the floor. 

You need to do something else. Looking towards the kitchen you squint, food? No. Sighing, you look towards Damian. He’s focused on his drawing, you’d hate to disturb him. Your attention drifts down to your phone that’s vibrating on the coffee table. 

Perfect timing. 

You grab your phone and stand up before leaning down to kiss Damian’s cheek and say a quick “Call,” before heading into the kitchen to fix yourself a snack. 

Okay, so habits quickly form, according to your track record. 

Apparently, anytime either one of you leaves a room, you announce it with a kiss on the cheek or forehead— whichever is closer, and then the location. You’d actually grown to be fond of it. And it didn’t really affect your previous relationship with him. If anything, you spent more time with Damian now. Which seemed impossible considering you go to the same college, live in the same place, work at the same place, and fight crime together. 

But, still. It’s just bros being bros. 

“Hello?” You answer the call just before it stops ringing. Slipping the phone between your shoulder and ear, you open the fridge and lean inside for a better look. God, you need to go grocery shopping soon. 

   “God! I’ve been calling you for twenty minutes!” A woman shouts from the other end and you pull the phone from your ear and check the caller ID. It’s not saved and you don’t recognize it. Probably the wrong number. 

   “Who is this?” You ask, grabbing the butter tub and opening it. Yogurt-covered fruits. Jackpot. You set the tub on the counter and reach for a nearby bowl. 

“Your mother! Hello, this is (Y/n), right?” Standing up straight, you disregard the fruit and rush into the living room and wave to get Damian’s attention. He doesn’t notice and you almost shout at him; he’s Robin and he can’t tell when his best friend is literally silently calling out for help five feet away?

   “Hey, mom!” He looks up at that, slowly setting his pencil and sketchbook down. He mouths something but you don’t catch it between your blinking and pacing. “How’d you— how are you?” You cringe, biting your fist to stop yourself from speaking. 

“Horrible! Where are you? We’re in Gotham,” She huffs and you whip around to Damian, eyes wide and you’re so close to lowering yourself into a squat and banging your head on the table. 

  “You’re here! In Gotham!” Damian sits up properly, motioning for you to put it on speaker and you do, setting the phone on the table. “How long are you here?” You ask, tugging your hands down your face. 

“Two months,” Your mother answers and you swear you almost passed out right then and there. “Ujjwal, no! That place looks like it has bedbugs,” She huffs and your step-father starts to complain in Hindi. “Where are you?” She asks over the complaining. “We’re coming over!” 

“I dorm, actually!” You quickly spit out, covering your mouth immediately afterward. 

   “Ah, why don’t you have an apartment yet?” Your step-father asks. “You know, your sister, Nadia has a house.” He says, forgetting the fact that Nadia was 27 and had won the lottery before moving to the countryside and buying her own house with her roommate since elementary school. 

    “I know, abbā.” You strain. 

“I still don’t know why he went to Gotham for college,” He mutters and you wouldn’t have heard it had it not been for them being on speaker. 

“Come meet us!” Your mom demands. “We’re in front of Gotham Bright Hotel! Diana is tired.” 

“I’m busy, mom.” 

“Nonsense, come and pick us up!” She huffs. 

You at Damian, silently telling him see, crazy! He nods and thinks for a second before grabbing the TV remote and hurriedly opening YouTube. 

“I’m studying and I’m pretty busy,” You repeat, watching as he looks up Fire Alarm noises. “Just stay there. I heard it’s a go—“ The video plays and you thank god there wasn’t an ad and it’s loud enough to seem real. “Sorry, abbā, mom, I gotta go! Fire drill,” Hanging up, you sigh and press your forehead to the cold table. 

“Why are they in Gotham?” He asks, stopping the video. 

   “Fuck if I know,” You grumble into the wood. “I should get a new number…” Sitting down, you stare at your phone and groan. It’s not worth it. “I’m gonna take a nap, don’t wake me up until the sun comes up, please.” Getting up, you kiss his cheek and head to your room. 

—

It doesn’t take long for you to bump into your family. The very next day, in fact. Dick had all but begged you and Damian to come along with him and the rest of the Waynes to go and check out the tree they put in front of Gotham City Hall every year. Like the New York tree. Just way smaller and probably will be stolen before Christmas. 

You’re next to Damian, your hands stuffed into your big coat and your chin trying to retreat into your scarf watching as the crane lowers the tree. It’s already decorated in yellow and red ornaments, There’s some Gotham Vigilante ornaments, too, you note and grin when you see your insignia. 

“It looks nice,” You chitter to Damian who looks over at you. He laughs at your state and moves in front of you to fix your scarf. You watch him as he carefully unwraps it and measures it to an equal length. He does it incredibly fast and you hope one day you’re as good as him with— everything really. 

He looks back up at you and carefully draws the middle in front of your neck. He has to lean a bit forward to wrap the material around your neck but he doesn’t mind the fact that you can see your breaths mixing with the small gap he created. You don’t either, though. His fingers graze your neck as he tucks the scarf into itself before he admires his work and nods. 

“Thanks,” With a noticeably less chatter of your teeth Damian is satisfied with his work and stands next to you again. You peer over at Dick who’s grinning ear to ear, watching the tree and putting his phone back into his pocket. 

“He’s like a kid or something,” You laugh and Damian follows your eyes.

   “He’s up to something,” He shakes his head and glares at his brother. Feeling the glare, Dick looks over at the two of you and waves his hand wildly. “Suspicious,” Damian confirms to himself. You roll your eyes and look back to the tree. There are some people helping set it in place as it’s lowered. Hopefully, there are no bombs in it this year. 

“(Y/n)?” Several heads turn to the voice and you see your younger sister grinning and rushing over to you. She’s dressed in a fancy blue winter coat, the one with a small cape on the shoulders and white fur along the edges. 

   “Diana…!” Behind her, you see some other family members. Your parents, both your step-parents, your siblings, and two cousins with their mom. “Oh my god.” You whisper. In truth, you probably should’ve expected they’d be there. That’s your fault. 

“We should run.” You tell Damian and he considers it. But your mother must be the flash with how fast she’s in front of you. 

“Where’s your hat? And you don’t have gloves!” She immediately says while removing her gloves and holding your face for a second. She removes her hands as you try not to move away from her grip, then places the back of her head to your forehead then your ears. “You’re going to get sick!” 

“Is this your mother?” Bruce smiles as he stands behind you. 

   “Yes,” You nod, putting your hands in your pocket. 

    “I’m Bruce,” He introduces himself and holds his hand out. It doesn’t click fast for the others, but for Diana it does. 

“Like Bruce Wayne? So, you’re Damian Wayne, right?”

Diana’s eyes gleam as she asks and for some reason, it leaves a bad feeling in your mouth. You don’t like the way she looks at him and the idea of her touching him makes you angry. He notices, you don’t know how, and places a hand on your shoulder. 

   “Yes.” He nods. “And you are?” Her smile falters for a second and her eyes dart to you for a second. She composed herself and removed her hands from her pocket. 

    “Diana, his sister!” She holds her hand out for him as the rest of your family catches up. “He must’ve talked about me a bunch!” She flashes a grin to you. 

   “Not at all.” He shakes his head and turns to the rest of your family. You hide a grin and he shakes their hands, he already knows their names and he’s seen their faces before so it’s just a formality on his end. 

“I had already invited (Y/n) to Thanksgiving,” Bruce starts, getting everyone’s attention back to him. “Would you like to join?”

Oh god no. Please. 

Damian looks over at his father with barely hidden distaste as you stare at nothing. You know they’ll jump at the chance. They’ll ruin everything. 

“We’d love to!” Your father says as your stepmother nods in agreement. The rest of your family agrees and maybe it’s the cold air that makes it hard to breathe but for some reason, you can’t. You blink, trying to take in as much as possible but it’s hard and you’re sure you don’t have asthma. Not anymore at least. Subconsciously, you tug at your earlobe to try and calm down. 

“We need to leave now, though.” Damian cuts off your step-father as he’s about to speak. “We have finals to study for. It was nice meeting you.” He grabs your wrist from your ear and tugs you after him; you follow him without hassle until you’re back at the car Bruce had driven in. 

“I truly do not understand father's thinking. Inviting them without consulting with you was a brash and out-of-character thing for him to do.” He frowns, unlocking the car with the keys he snagged from Bruce’s pocket. You used to wonder how he did it, but you’ve learned to not truly question him and his methods. Just hope he teaches you then one day. 

   “Yeah,” Is the only thing you manage to say. Only Damian really knew about your family, the others just knew you weren’t very close with them. 

It was one night, you figured. You’ll be fine. 

—

Bruce had requested everyone be at the manor before noon, which to Damian reads as being at the manor by nine. It’s less than a two-hour drive from your apartment to the manor, so you had to be up since four in the fucking morning. Which, honestly, you didn’t mind all that much. 

It was a little homey just sitting with Damian in the living room and the sun wasn’t up yet, and then taking turns getting ready. It was nice. Different too. It almost distracted you from the fact that you were about to see your family.

“Is this okay?” You ask Damian as you enter his room, tugging at the hem of your sweater. He was already dressed, in a simple black shirt and brown pants but he made it look expensive. You felt stupid and like someone pretending to be important. God, your pants didn’t even fit right! You should probably go and change, find something from one of the gala’s you’ve attended. 

   “You look perfect,” He says as he removes your hands from the hem and locks your hands together to stop you from leaving. “Cuff the ends of your pants, perhaps.” He adds offhandedly. You frown and look behind him. He has a small bag packed and you look back at him. 

“I don’t wanna go,” You whisper, searching his face for a sign that he’ll agree and you’ll both stay in your apartment for the night. You won’t have to see your family and probably finally block them. He won’t have to deal with his brothers. It’s a win-win situation. 

    “Take this opportunity,” He says and lets go of one of your hands to grab his bag from his bed. “Show them how good you’re doing. You’re basically a Wayne, you’re above them in every way possible.” Shouldering his bag, he guides you to your room and hands you your bag. 

“But…” You bite your cheek and take the bag. “What if… I dunno— I do something stupid! I slip up and reveal everything… I’m probably better off just sitting there. Diana will do most of the talking anyway.” You huff the last part. “Did you see the way she acted? I mean, she definitely toned down the spoiled and entitled energy but still. She’ll probably try and get with you, too.” His face scrunches at the thought and it makes you laugh. 

   “You should know she’s far from my type.” He says as he checks his phone and you don’t really understand but you pretend you do. 

“Can you grab Alfred? Pennyworth is here.” Humming, you enter the living room and grab the carrier that Alfred is less than happy to be in from the table. You try and keep him as stable as possible while Damian gets Titus and the two of you head out. He locks the door and you add an extra measure from your toolbar before going to the elevator. 

“You’ll be fine,” He swears as the two of you step inside. There’s no one else in the elevator seeing how early in the day it is and all the students have already gone home. “Besides, I’m sure one of my moronic brothers will do something embarrassing and do all the talking for us. And Pennyworth has promised knafeh.” 

“I love knafeh,” He grins and steps out of the elevator. 

   “That’s why I asked him to make it.” And they call him a demon.

Following Damian, you spot Alfred waiting in front of the car with a warm smile. 

“Good morning, Mr. Pennyworth,” You greet him while giving him a one-armed hug. 

   “Good morning, Mr. (L/n),” He pats your back then moves to open the car door. “Young Master Damian,” He nods and Damian nods back. The two of you scoot into the car and you set the cage in front of your legs. Alfred meows when he realizes he’s going back to the manor and begins to scratch at the bottom of the cage. 

“I’m sure he misses the open space,” You comment, trying to peer down inside of the cage but you can only lean down so far without fearing you’d break your back. 

   “Alfred is truly a pampered cat,” Pennyworth says as he enters the car. “Buckle up.” 

The ride is spent with you and Damian discussing random topics from your next patrol to your finals. He had even gotten Alfred to join in on the topic and the two of them all but yelled at you to study for your finals. Eventually, you did cave and promised them you would and you just know Damian is going to hold you to that. 

“Now,” Alfred sighs as he parks the car in front of the door to the manor. “I have to retrieve your family along with Master Dick. Do not tell the others this, but I trust you two the most in the kitchen. Could you please continue my preparations?”

“Of course, Alfie!” You grin while Damian just nods. Alfred smiles and looks at the two of you through the rearview mirror.

   “Thank you, I have a list on the fridge. Simply follow it until I get back.” With the promise not to fuck anything up, the two of you head into the manor and quickly put your things into his room and let Alfred out. 

“You’re better with a knife,” You mutter as you read over the list on the fridge. A  list probably isn't even the right word for it. It’s four pages long and double-sided, explains what’s being made and the steps to make it and you’re not sure that’s even all of the papers he’s created. Alfred tends to go big for Thanksgiving, you think it’s because the Wayne’s hadn’t been a big family until Bruce got addicted to taking in kids. Not to mention now your family was joining. “I’ll season the food.” 

Damian peers over at the list as you move to wash your hands and sees that everything has a time next to it, they’re already a little behind schedule so he’ll need to work quickly. He’s sure that the two of you can catch everything back up to speed and hopefully allow Alfred some breathing room. 

It’s vegetables after vegetables for Damian. He’s sure he’s cut up an entire acre of carrots and onions by the time he sees the two cars pull up to the manor. You, on the other hand, are having fun mixing and mashing various foods. You just hoped it was to Alfred’s standards. 

You see both of the cars pull up and take that as your sign to wrap up whatever you’re doing and you wash your hands. 

“I’m a pro fucking chef,” You grin at Damian as he sets the last of the stuff he chopped into a bowl next to the sink. 

   “It smells good.” He agrees, watching as the cars pull to a stop just long enough for everyone to get out. Your family piles out of the cars and you cringe as Diana is quick to insist on a family photo. You, of course, are not included in it but that’s nothing new. That fact doesn’t do anything to satiate your mood, though. 

“Bathroom,” You say as you kiss his cheek and head down the hallway. He watches with a frown before he wipes his hands on the kitchen towel and decides he’s not going to greet your family at the door. 

He stops at the first-floor bathroom and hears the faucet running. He knocks on the door once with his index knuckle and hears the water stop running. 

“I’m going to be in the family library,” Looking up from your spot on the top of the toilet, you wipe your face and clear your throat. 

  “Okay, be there in a second.” 

—

Entering the family library, you’re glad your family wasn’t inside just yet. They were probably still taking pictures in front since god knows how many individual and group pictures they like to take. Damian is sitting on the middle couch, Titus and Ace are sandwiching him together but Ace moves when he sees you. Like he knows you’re going to sit there. 

It makes you smile and you greet Tim who’s on a chair, he gives a small wave without pulling his head out of his laptop. You wonder what case he’s working on, has to be important if Bruce couldn’t force him to keep it in his room. The others aren’t downstairs yet, so it’s just the three of you in the room. 

Damian moves his left arm to the top of the sofa as you sit down and only when you’re comfortable does he move it to lay across your shoulders. He doesn’t do that often, but whenever he does it’s a welcomed interaction. You lean into his touch, just a little. 

You hear them enter the manor, but you’re more focused on the fact that he started to play with the hair on the base of your scalp. He’s probably doing it on purpose, but you don’t care; you’re glad he does because you didn’t even realize they had entered the library until you felt him greet them. His shoulder bounces a bit as he nods to them. 

“Oh,” Nadia says and you look over at her. She says it in the same way you’d say oh when you catch onto something. But you’re not sure what she’s caught onto. Her roommate, Kendall, waves with her fingers and you wave back. “Hey, squirt.” Your eyes turn back to your sister and her hand that twitches to grab Kendall’s. 

“There you are!” Her hand snaps back to her side as your mother speaks. You sit up straight as you see your mother, you don’t know why. But it felt wrong leaning on Damian with your family there, you’ve never felt that way before. “Why didn’t you greet us at the door?” Your mother asks. 

   “I was busy.” You say, looking over your family. “How was the ride?” 

“No one shot at us,” Your cousin laughs, throwing himself onto one of the sofas. You cringe, watching the wood bend at the sheer force he’d thrown himself down with. “But there was this one lady with the only gyatt!” He says and oh my god, you’d forgotten he was a middle school boy. 

“How’s school going?” Your step-mother asks, sitting in your father's lap. Your mother eyes them and you try not to as well, but you’ve never liked them together. She’s twenty-five, hardly old enough to be with a man in his fifties. 

   “Good,” You hum. 

“So,” Diana grins as she crosses her leg over her right. “Damian, what’s it like— living in Gotham? I bet it’s scary.” She’s sitting on the sofa next to the one you’re on, but closer to Damian. You bet if your folks weren’t in the rooms she’d try and reach for his hand. You try and not to focus on that. 

   “It’s not,” He shrugs. 

    “Really?” She grins. “Because I was thinking of transferring to Gotham University!” She says and Damian’s fingers twitch along your back. 

   “It’s not scary for me, someone who isn’t used to life here will never make it.” He quickly adds and she frowns. 

“It can’t be that hard,” She waves her hand to you. “I mean, (Y/n) is doing fine and he’s… him!” She laughs as she says that and you look at your parents, they’re clearly listening to the conversation but as per usual, no one will ever stop Diana. 

   “What’s that supposed to mean?” Damian asks while leaning forward in his seat. 

“There you two are!” Dick shouts as he runs into the library. His eyes look between the two of you and he makes the same face he does when he sees a cute dog. 

   “Richard.” Damian greets. 

“Kori!” You gasp and rush over to the woman as she walks into the room. Damian grumbles something but stands up and follows after you. “Oh my god, Dick didn’t mention you were coming.” You glare at him but he holds his hands up. 

   “We wanted to keep it a surprise,” She laughs and holds onto his shoulder. “His father has the baby.” Two months ago, Kori had given birth to their daughter, Mari. You had yet to meet her, but Dick made sure to spam-send you photos whenever he could. 

“Aw!” You frown. “Why does that old man get to see the baby first?” Damian hides his laughter and you nudge his side with your hip. 

   “Because she’s my grandchild,” Bruce says as he walks in behind them. He walks next to Kori and you see her swaddled in a purple blanket, sound asleep. 

   “And I’m the godfather!” You remind him, looking down at Mari. 

   “As am I,” Damian reminds you and you roll your eyes, waving your hand at him.  

“Can I hold her?” You whisper, afraid you’d wake her up. Bruce nods and you grin, helping him slide Mari into your arms. “She’s so small,” Turning to Damian, he holds your shoulder with one hand, and the other scoops under the hand that holds Mari’s head. He’s trying not to smile in front of Dick but you can see it. 

   “She has your hair, Richard.” He notes, turning to his brother as he puts his phone back into his pocket as quickly as possible. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t broach the topic. 

“And her mother's eyes,” Dick smiles at his wife. 

“Let’s sit,” Bruce says and you nod, unable to look away from Mari in fear of dropping her. Damian guides you back to your seats and you slowly lower yourself onto the couch. 

“She’s less fragile than you think,” He softly reminds you and you finally look away from her. Damian looks away from Mari and looks at you, his eyes flickering across your face before they settle on your eyes.

   “She’s so small, though.” You frown and he nods, moving some of your hair from your face. “Wanna hold her?” 

“Wish Jay took that much of an interest in her.” Dick frowns, watching the two of you. “First grandchild of the family!”

“Hopefully only grandchild for a while,” Bruce says as he unbuttons his jacket to sit comfortably. 

   “I doubt you’ll have a baby problem anytime soon.” Tim laughs, finally putting his laptop away. “Dickie is the only one of us to date a woman.” Dick laughs and Bruce genuinely has to think about it. Had he raised a home filled with gay people? Did he make kids gay? He’s one for four at the moment but he sort of wishes Duke and Cas would even the scores out a bit. No— he’s zero for five. He corrects himself, remembering Dick’s boyfriend from a few years back. 

   “Not true,” You cross your arms, oblivious to Bruce’s spiral. “Steph—“

“You know what I meant!” He rolls his eyes. “He’s the only guy in this family who’s dated a woman.” 

“No,” You shake your head while looking at Damian. “Didn’t you date uh… what’s her name? Nika?” He looks almost offended that you said that. 

   “(Y/n), she’s gay.” He corrects. 

“Alexis?”

“She was delusional.”

“Emiko?”

“Friends.” 

“Maxinne?”

“Friends. Why do you think I’ve dated these women?” The man himself walks into the library with Alfred. 

“…Jason…” You admit and he gives you a Are you fucking serious look. Jason looks confused for a second but he can get a hint of what’s happening based on Damian and Dick’s face. 

   “You believed Todd to tell you the truth of my love life?” He stresses and now you feel stupid. 

  “When you say it like that!” You huff, turning your head away from him. “I mean he also said you dated Jon.” 

“And that didn’t give you a sign he was lying?” He chuckles. 

“So, are you single?” Your mother asks and you catch Diana pretending not to listen but she leans in closer. 

   “No.” Damian answers in a tight tone and you frown. 

   “No?” You echo and he looks at you, bewildered. 

“No shot,” Jason laughs, his head tilted. “You two with me.” He points between the two of you and you look between his family, a similar look spreading across their faces. What the fuck is going on? But you follow Jason after Damian handed Mari back to Dick. He doesn’t look happy, you note as he walks two paces ahead of you; something he hardly ever does. 

Jason guided the two of you into a smaller library that Bruce uses when he’s having meetings. You stand on the carpet while Damian stands close to the fireplace. 

 “Damian,” Jason says as he closes the doors. “Are you single?” 

“No.” He snaps. 

“(Y/n),” He turns to you. “Are you single?” 

“Yes…?” You trail. “Why?”

“Figure it out!” Jason laughs and then leaves the room. Staring at the door, you sigh and sit on the couch, leaning your arms on your legs. 

“(Y/n),” Damian calls. “Why didn’t you tell your family we’re together?” His voice is smaller than before and he doesn’t look at your face, like he’s ashamed. 

   “We’re what?” You shout, your head snapping over to him. “Dude, since when?” He realizes it then and now it makes sense. 

“You kissed me.” He stresses and sits down across from you. 

    “Yeah, on the cheek!” You roll your hand. “That’s normal and totally not romantic!” He crosses his arms and you shrink into your seat under his gaze. 

   “Do you kiss all of your friends?” He asks, an eyebrow raised in the air. You humor it for a second, thinking about kissing one of your college friends on the cheek like you did with him. It seemed gross, wrong. As if it was some sort of violation. That those kisses between you and Damian were sacred and to even think about it with someone else was somehow an act against god. 

“Well, no,” You blink down to the floor.

   “Then why me?” He asks. You don’t understand at that moment, but when you look back on the conversation you realize he was guiding you to an answer you already knew. 

    “I mean, it just feels right with you.” Looking back at him, he’s smiling and his eyes are bright. “But I’ve never liked a guy before.” You admit, taking in a deep breath. “I dunno how to be in a gay relationship.”

“It’s the same as any other relationship.” He reassures you. “If that’s what you want.” He adds, holding your hand. You look at your hands together and smile. Do you want that?

You imagine yourself, going on dates with him and announcing each other as your boyfriend. Kissing him. Like actually kissing him. And it makes your face hurt with how much you’re smiling. You’re giddy, like some kid with a crush and you feel stupid for not putting two and two together sooner. 

“I think I do.” You look at him and hold his hand back. “I do.” You nod. “I want that— this.” 

“Good,” He sighs, his shoulders relaxing. “Because my family already knows.” He admits and you look at the door. Jason is probably still there, listening and reporting back to the others. 

   “Do you want other people to know?” You ask. “I know you consider your private life… private.” 

“I would love nothing more than to introduce you as my partner.” He says, his thumb rubbing against your flesh. 

    “If I knew you liked me this much before I would’ve made a move sooner,” You laugh, looking between his eyes. He rolls his eyes and stands up, pulling you with him. 

Once you’re on your feet, he holds you by your hips and you don’t exactly know what to do with your hands. You settle on holding his waist, you’ve never realized just how toned he was. 

“Can I?” He asks, bringing his left hand up to brush against your bottom lip. Understanding what he’s asking, your heart hammers in your chest as you nod. “Use your words, Habibi.” 

“Yes.” You nod feverishly and he dips in without a second thought. His left hand cups your face, trying to pull you closer and you’re doing the same with his waist. Digging into his skin, you’re sure your lips are going to bruise with how needy you’re kissing him. It’s almost shameful how easily you’re crumbling under his touch. Your stomach is doing tricks that only Dick could perform and for some reason, you don’t know why you didn’t do this sooner. 

Never has a kiss felt this good, this right. His right hand moves from your hip and travels up, surely messing up your shirt but that’s a worry for another time. You can only focus on how it’s now holding the back of your head, his nails dragging across your scalp and you can’t help the noise that comes out. 

“Oh?” He utters against your lips. You laugh and take the time to catch your breath, looking between his eyes, listening to your shared panting. 

   “Again?” You’re almost pleading, your eyes stuck on his lips. 

    “Of course.” This kiss is different, it’s less of a release and more of a we have all the time in the world now type of kiss. It’s slow and it’s tender, you feel all the details in his lips and how yours moves against his. This one feels like a hum you’ve known all your life and it’s wonderful. 

This time, your hands find his hair and you don’t realize it, but you’re dragging your nails across his scalp and playing with his hair. He does, though. It makes his heart hammer and he moans into the kiss, unable to do anything but focus on you. 

“Alright, that’s enough!” Jason says as he opens the door. Without breaking the kiss, you open your hot bar and with pure muscle memory, grab the water gun and spray him until he leaves. Damian laughs, pulling away from the kiss, and looks at Jason who’s trying to avoid getting sprayed but it seems like Damian’s rubbed off on you more than you realize it because damn, even when he moves you’re still hitting him!

He looks back to you and you’re still looking at him, your pupils blown wide and he can feel the light panting coming from you. Your lips are glossy, coating in both of your spit and he’s sure his are too. He can get used to that. 

“We should head back,” He reasons, lowering your water gun. “Before father sends Grayson and he starts crying like before.” Throwing the gun back into your hot bar, you give him a questioning look. “When I announced we were dating… he cried.” 

“You’re joking?”

“Unfortunately not.” He rolls his eyes and stands up straight, fixing his clothes and his hair. You do the same while Jason is going on about cleaning up the water and having to change. There’s no water on the floor, you note as you walk out of the library. None on the walls either. Every single one of them hit Jason. 

Back in the family library, you return to your seats and Tim is the first to notice both of your elated moods. It’s more visible on you, but it’s harder to spot with Damian. It’s more of a feeling he gets, his face is as neutral as he can be when he’s around you but he’s so clearly happy. His steps are different, he imagines if he had less dignity he’d skip around the manor. The two of you settle in your seats and he’s pleasantly surprised to see you lean into Damian without a care of who else is in the room. 

He’d gotten the text, along with every other sibling from the NO BRUCE!!! group chat. Jason, only seconds after closing the door had told everyone that you didn’t know of your own relationship. Safe to say you knew now. 

Tim looks at your family and the only happy one seems to be Nadia. She’s a somber type of happy, though. She’s happy for you, but she can’t bring herself to be half as bold as you are and it hurts. Diana is trying to wrap her head to a different conclusion, she’s holding onto hope that you’ll be pushed away. It almost makes him laugh. Your older brother is in his own world, as he’s always been. He’s quiet, hardly noticeable but it seems to be on his own devices as he had picked the furthest seat from everyone. 

But it seems to be from more of an air of misplaced pride than anything. His nose is turned up and he’s wearing an expensive suit. But it’s clearly not his, Tim would know. If there’s the money to splurge on that type of suit there’s always a tailor to get the proportions right. 

Then there’s your half-sibling, from your father's side. She’s around ten and he wonders just when did your parents separated. Then he remembers there’s a seventeen-year age gap between the oldest and the youngest of your siblings. She’s sleeping, her head on her father's shoulder and the forgotten iPad discarded on her lap, about to fall off and hit the carpet. 

Your father sees the two of you and looks at your mother who’s trying to keep her calm around the company— rich company at that. Tim doesn’t know why, but if he were them, he would at least try and pretend as if he’s happy for the relationship. Their son was dating the richest bachelor in the world and could very possibly give them a comfortable life. But he doesn’t think they see the bigger picture. 

And yet, despite the clear disgust throughout your family, no one says a single word. The entire library is silent save for Mari and the two of you, talking as if no one else is in the room. 

He wants to gag. 

“Kids,” Bruce says as he sits straight in his seat. “Could you leave us for a moment? I’d like a word with the adults.”

“Half of us are adults,” You chide and he gives you a look. 

   “A word with the parents.” He corrects. 

    “I’m still in, baby!” Dick silently cheers to not wake Mari. But it only makes Bruce sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. 

   “A word with (Y/n)’s parents and aunt. Alone.” He stresses. Curious as to what he’s up to, and mostly afraid of what’s going to happen while you’re gone, you open your hot bar without causing too much attention to yourself. The Hotbar is only visible to yourself, so no one sees the vast list of gadgets you pull up and quickly find the listening device Tim created. 

   “Don’t need to ask me twice,” You grumble and stand up, pulling Damian up after you. 

Jason and Tim are already out of the room, there any fewer interactions and they’ll jump at the opportunity. Dick and Kori, despite wanting to enjoy the snow in the yard with the others, retreat to Dick’s room to nap while Mari is sleeping. 

You hold the door open for your siblings and cousin, but Damian sees you place the device on the door and raises an eyebrow

“(Y/n),” Bruce says in a low tone. Of course, he’d seen it, too. 

“Gotta go!” You urge and slip out of the room. 

—

Diana, alone in the yard as her family had drifted away, finds herself bored and honestly, she’s at Wayne Manor and she just has to show off. She hasn’t posted the pictures yet, she still needs to edit them so no one knows she’s there. And she’s sure her followers would love to see a snowy Wayne manor. 

Thankfully, the wifi was stable enough in the backyard that the connection for her Instagram Live was crystal clear. 

She waits until she sees five digits on the view counter before he even starts speaking. 

“Hey, guys!” She waves at her phone. “Bruce Wayne invited my family to his manor for Thanksgiving! Super grateful for that,” She nods towards the large manor and then at the comments, begging to see the man in question. “He’s inside, talking to my parents. But his kids are here too! I think Damian went into the maze…” She looks off to the green hedges coated in a thick layer of snow. “I’ll go and find him.”

She flips the camera around, and her viewers watch as she walks inside. She doesn’t notice right away, but nearly gasps when she sees she has just over two million people watching. Maybe you are good for something, she almost laughs. 

It takes about twenty minutes of aimlessly walking before she finds the center of the maze. The two million viewers had gone down to just a million but she’ll take it. 

“I think that’s it,” She mutters, seeing a clearing of bushes. It’s incredibly cold, so she’s shivering and her teeth are chattering but she can’t blame herself! She’s not used to snow. “There’s Damian!” She whispers, seeing his head of hair sitting on a bench. Pointing her phone in that direction, she decides it’s better to hide herself and look through her phone. 

From what people can see, Damian is sitting next to someone. They can’t tell until she turns the phone a bit more and it’s you. Gotham citizens know you, of course. Over the past couple of years, everyone in Gotham knows the two of you are friends but no one really cares to post about it. 

She rolls her eyes, of course, you’re still stuck to his side. The two of you are talking, but you’re too far away for Diana to hear the conversation. You’re laughing, though and Damian is explaining something. Your laughter slows down and the two of you just sorta of look at each other. 

Damian asks something and you scoff, looking away before he grabs your chin and leans in. The viewer count is going up and before Diana can fully process what’s happening, the two of you are kissing. Honestly, she’s furious! You knew she liked him, she’s sure of that. This— whatever game you’re playing is just to get at her. She’s sure of it. But she can’t act on it, the views are around eight million and she doesn't want Damian to think she’s crazy. 

He’s holding you dearly, it’s the gentlest he’s ever touched a person before and you’re proud to say you’ll be his first and only. 

His lips detach for yours and trail down to your chin. 

“Habibi,” He mutters and you shudder, feeling the vibrations against your neck. Honestly, at that moment you genuinely could not give a single fuck about your family. About their feelings towards you, about the ways they treated you growing up, and about them. As people. Each and every one of them, none of them could ever compare to this. 

Thank that blue-pilled man, seriously.

[bueckerrss]

SWEET LOVE - CAITLIN CLARK

summary𞠬: hiii could you write caitlin clark x reader where she has a crush on a singer in the same level as taylor swift (like super famous, eyes on them all the time etc etc etc) pls and thank u!!

- warnings: none? at least i don’t think so

-taglist: @patscorner @wintersstan @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @breeloveschris @endereies

masterlist | navigation | 2

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THE FLASHING LIGHTS of cameras being as blinding as it could be, people were shouting your name to get your attention and snap pictures of you.

as you made your way to the entrance of the building you were stopped by an interviewer “y/n! i’m john winston, is it okay if i ask you a few questions?” he asked pushing the microphone towards you.

“of course!” you replied with a smile “alright first question, who did your hair and makeup today?” he started “my stylist linda did my hair and makeup she really knows what she’s doing” you replied with a smile.

-

they asked you typical questions you’d always get in these events. “okay one last question before i let you go, we’ve noticed recently that you have been watching women’s college basketball who would you say is your favorite team and players?” he questioned looking up from his paper.

“my favorite teams and players?” you repeat the question “that’s a difficult question for players i would say either caitlin clark or kate martin, now for teams i don’t know actually i don’t have a favorite just yet” you replied with a smile and nodding your head. “there you have it guys she doesnt have a favorite team yet! thank you so much for your time y/n” he replied with a smile before walking off.

-

caitlin was scrolling through tiktok when she came across clips from last night’s interview, she paid attention to everything you had to say until the last question “that’s a difficult question for players i would say either caitlin clark or kate martin, now for teams i don’t know actually i don’t have a favorite just yet” your voice rang from the phone in her hand. “woah what” she said sliding her hand to go back to that specific question.

“i’m her favorite player? wait she knows who i am?!” she thought a smile creeping into her face. this was something big for caitlin you’ve been her crush since 2018, she loved everything about you from your music to how you interacted with your fans.

this was her chance, “should i dm her? no she probably gets too many dms and mine would get lost” she said responding to her own question before she could do anything she got a notification; “your.username just posted.”

liked by madisonbeer and 1,200 others

your.username: thank you toronto! 💕

user: best concert ever 🫶

user: i think i lost my voice 😭

↳︎︎ user: frrrr my throat hurtsss 💀

user: come to iowa next !

↳︎︎ your.username: 👀

user: what city/state next??

︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ↳︎︎ your.username: cleveland, ohio 😛

↳︎︎ user: doesn’t iowa have a game there ??

-

you arrived at your hotel room, dropping all your bags by the tv jumping on the bed. a loud sigh escaped your mouth, the flight was so long and there was a kid behind you kicking your seat like his life depended on it.

you were slowly falling asleep but your phone buzzed then lit up with a notification.

“we’re getting food downstairs, join us we have a few things to speak to you about”

your manager texted, you sighed getting out of bed and putting your shoes on. you head to the elevator, clicking the button that heads to the first floor you send back a quick “omw” text to your manager the door opens you accidentally bump into someone who was getting out.

“i’m so sorry” you say looking up to see those dazzling brown eyes, the ones you’ve only seen on tv. “it’s okay don’t…worry” she said softly looking down at you.

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a/n: surprise surprise this is me introducing a new mini series for caitlin i hope yall enjoy this one:)

[silovsmenot]

Foreign Language | Artūrs Šilovs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sveiki…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad to see you again.”

And your heart skipped a little beat.

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 8

Pairing: Grid x Reader, mentioned Lance x Reader

Summary: Headcanon-ish, book club reacting to clips of reader, short but utterly adorable

requests open masterlist

————————

In honor of your fifth season and your birthday, the F1 social media team has gathered your best friends to comment on some moments across your five years in F1:

Moment One

When you joined your first team, a video resurfaced of you from your days in F3, you admitted that your Formula One crush is Nick Hülkenberg, "I mean, look at him when he was driving for Sauber!". Naturally, your team brought you in for a media video, made you watch it, and surprised you with THE Nico Hülkenberg standing behind you. Cue you crying, blushing, and hugging him. Kevin was there too, no one really knows why.

Nico and Kevin laugh, it's one of their favorite memories with you. Despite your mortification and admiration, they invited you to hang out with them in Haas. They genuinely wanted to get to know the newest member of the paddock, which started the best grid friendship. "I knew right away that we were going to be good friends," Kevin tells the interviewer. "My wife surprisingly found it hilarious, she loved Y/n from that moment, probably because she agreed with Y/n," Nico adds. "Not to brag, but we are her best friends,"

Moment Two

In your first year as a driver, you had the absolute pleasure of sitting in an interview with Lando, George, and Alex. It wasn't a press conference, so it was a lot more relaxed. As the three boys joked around and acted like, well, boys, your irritation was clear on your face.

"Oh! I remember that day, she went to find Nico and Kevin, who I was with at the moment and was complaining about how some of the younger drivers were too immature. We invited her to lunch with us and Valtteri," Fernando's face lights up at the clip. "I joked that we were like an old person book club, it ran from there," Valtteri says, smiling at the memory. "How many drivers are in the club now?" The interviewer asks. "We started with just the five of us, the number stands at 10 including Checo," Fernando says, having to think for a second. "I miss Checo, he really was the epitome of our club," Valtteri sighs.

Moment Three

One morning, you were walking into your motorhome, tired and not really paying attention, you slipped on a slick step, not quite having had the chance to dry after the overnight rainfall. You quickly got back up, acting like nothing happened.

"Ouch, poor Y/n, that must've hurt," Lewis grimaces, meanwhile George and Logan are laughing. "She hasn't gotten any better, still uncoordinated," Checo says, he returned just for this surprise. "Yeah, but she got right back up and acted like nothing happened, our unbothered queen," Daniel points out. "Guys, quit laughing at Y/n," Lewis looks at George and Logan disapprovingly. "Don't act like you didn't laugh when the video first came out," George replies, giving the older drivers a knowing look. "She's gonna murder us all," Logan's face loses its color, suddenly remembering the video is recording.

Moment Four

After a night out, you were dragged out of your bed by your wonderful boyfriend, you show up to the paddock with a wealth of juicy gossip. You quickly find Valtteri, Fernando, and Checo just past the gates. As the four of you speak, you spot a camera focused on you. The dirty look you sent it quickly became a meme.

"Haha, that was a great day for gossip, and I usually don't like it," Checo says. "Before you ask, no, we can't tell you what it was. Swore an oath never to share," Valtteri stares at the camera. "It was-" Fernando starts then pauses when the other two look at him. "haha, you thought I was going to spill the tea. I am not,"

Moment Five

Most of your career has been spend on bottom of the grid teams, so when you made your first podium, you couldn't help but to celebrate. Lance ran over to you as you pulled your helmet off. You pulled him into a kiss as the crowds cheered you on.

As soon as the video is shown, the group collectively gags and cringes. "We love them, but sometimes she forgets that we didn't sign up to watch them be all lovey," George tells the interviewer. "There is your proof that she loves someone more than me," Nico chuckles. "We were all so proud of her, we forced her to go to a celebratory dinner with us instead of Lance and Kimi," Logan provided some insight.

Moment Six

Your first win came with your return post injury. But the video that the drivers are shown doesn't just show that, it shows a part of one of your post-race interviews that was previously edited out. "Yeah, the car was good, I drove well too, but I genuinely think that if it weren't for my support system, I wouldn't be here. There were times when I thought about not resigning because I wasn't performing like I thought I should. My support system, they know who they are, reminded me why I drive and have reminded me of my passion. They provided so much guidance and wisdom, they introduced me to Kimi who is now, in every way that matters, my dad, I've taught them slang. More specifically for this race, they helped me recover from my injuries, especially after free practices and qualifying when I would be incredibly sore. Sorry that I'm yapping, I just love them all so much."

All of the guys are trying not to cry. "If it isn't clear by now, we all love her too," Lewis says, passing around tissues. "She really does glue us all together, doesn't she?" Kevin hums. "I've certainly enjoyed the past 4 years, it's hard to believe it's her fifth year here," Nico agrees. "She won before you did," Fernando teases him. "Seriously, we love her so much, not because she is the only woman, but because she is so easy to get along with. She is friends with everyone on the track, never spreads malicious gossip, and is just so down to earth," Daniel says, refocusing the group. "She immediately got Kimi, the Iceman, to like her, that says so much about her," Valtteri agrees.

Similarly to Nico and Kevin in the first clip shown, you are snuck in to watch the last bit. "Guys," you cry a little, pulling them into a group hug. "Happy birthday, hija," Fernando says, starting a euphony of similar comments. "I love you guys so much," you are fully crying. "We love you too, kiddo," Daniel wipes your tears, pulling you into a bear hug.

[nats--sw]

Living Together | Alessia Russo

Alessia Russo x reader You just need to learn how to live together.

Having a relationship with Alessia Russo was the closest thing to perfection. You never argued, she never forgot important dates, and she always made sure to make you feel like the most loved woman in the entire world. The only problem was the distance; she lived in Manchester while you lived in London. You didn't play for the same team or the same nation, but somehow you ended up meeting at an event, and the rivalry that existed on the field turned into the best romance of your life. 

Sure, maybe the distance wasn't as much as other couples living in different countries or continents, but it was still exhausting and sad to come home every day to an empty house, relying only on nightly video calls and trips during days off. 

But that problem was ending now.  

Alessia Russo had signed for Arsenal for the next season. 

"I still can't believe it," you said, carrying the last box of Alessia's things. 

"Babe, it's like the fourth time you've said that" Alessia laughed, taking the box from your hands. "I thought that once you saw all my stuff in your flat, you could finally process it." 

You also thought that, but even now with the stack of boxes piled up in the living room of your small flat, you still couldn't believe it. It was unreal that now you would share your home with Alessia, going every night to bed with her and waking up by her side. 

In addition to sharing your flat, you would also be at the same team. Nothing could be better in your life than now. 

"Can I ask you something?" you approached Alessia from behind, hugging her and resting your cheek against her back. Alessia always found it an adorable gesture, given that she was some centimetres taller than you. 

"Of course," she replied without hesitation, placing her own hands over yours, enjoying the moment. 

"Why did you decide to come to Arsenal? You never told me why you decided to leave Manchester so quickly..." 

"I wasn't happy there anymore... for various reasons. But what motivated me the most to come here was that my happiness is with you. And the opportunity presented itself, so I suppose it was a bit of destiny, and I wasn't going to let the chance slip away." She spoke without putting too much thought into it. Alessia was like that, always uttering words that made your heart race without her even realizing. "Would you have preferred me to go to another club?" 

Alessia laughed and turned around, grabbing you by the waist and slowly leaning towards your face as you considered your response.  

"Of course not." 

Everything would be perfect now. 

- 

But unfortunately, it wasn't like that. After a month, everything wasn't as you had always imagined. 

Sure, having your girlfriend with you was a dream come true, but you hadn't considered the things that also came along with it. 

"I can't believe it..." 

Alessia was like a tornado, wherever she went she left a trace of her presence. From trainers to socks to her underwear. Every day you would stumble across one of her trainers that for some reason were never in your shoe cabinet, always in the hallway, in the living room and even the kitchen.   

"Alessia?" 

You had just come from a little interview, so Alessia had arrived hours before you, but when you did a little inspection around the place it looked like she hadn't arrived yet because the dirty dishes were still in the sink, but her workout bag was on the sofa, so your girlfriend was at home.    

"Alessia?!" this time you called her name a little bit louder and it worked because immediately your girlfriend appeared in the doorway of the room you now shared. She was wearing comfortable clothes and had a towel over her shoulders to keep her freshly washed hair from getting her shirt wet. 

"Hey! You're here" As soon as Alessia smiled at you, you forgot about her trainers in the hallway, the dirty dishes and the training bag on your sofa. That was one of your biggest problems with Alessia, she'd smile at you, look at you with her sparkling eyes, and everything else would slip your mind. "How was everything?" she asked before giving you a short kiss on the lips, then turning away from the door to let you into the room. 

"It went well," you replied and threw yourself onto the bed with the intention of relaxing. However, it was the opposite when you felt something against your abdomen. "Ouch! What was here?" you asked, quickly pulling out what was under the covers. 

"You found my headphones! I've been looking for them for like 3 hours," Alessia ran towards you and took the headphones from you, giving you a short kiss on the lips as a reward. "What would I do without you?" 

"I wonder the same thing..." 

- 

You could tolerate how messy Alessia was at home, because in return you got to live with her, so, in terms of pros and cons it wasn't so bad. Did you miss how tidy your flat was before? Of course you did, but now you had Alessia.   

And you had Alessia not only in your flat now, but also in your work and in your life.  

The idea of going to work together was nice, but Alessia had convinced you to take turns driving and today it was her turn to do it. You usually managed to convince her that you would drive anyway, using the excuse that you liked driving, but the truth was that -although you didn't like to say it out loud- every time Alessia got behind the wheel your heart would race, but not in a nice way. 

"Alessia! We'll be late!" It was the second time you called her, but your girlfriend was still in the room, which would probably now be a mess.

"I can't find my car keys! Give me a minute!"   

Tired of waiting sitting in the kitchen you stood up to go to the sofa, because you remembered that yesterday after coming home from work Alessia had collapsed on the sofa without even taking off her jacket. So you started to remove the cushions until you found the car keys underneath them. 

"I found them," you said, raising the keys in the air as Lessi appeared in the hallway. 

"You don't know how much I love you." And just like every time you found something she had lost, she kissed you while taking the keys from your hand. "I don't know what I'd do without you... I'd probably go crazy." 

This time you didn't say anything in return, you had barely even reciprocated her kiss. 

In the car, you didn't say anything for a long time, but when you noticed Alessia had turned into a street that wasn't the usual one, you couldn't help but speak. 

"Why did you turn here?" 

"Well, you didn't have breakfast, I know your morning isn't pleasant when you don't drink your coffee, so I'll stop by and get you something, I won't be long" she said, stopping in front of the coffee shop that according to you sold the best coffee you ever tasted, although Alessia thought the opposite. "I'll be back in a second." 

The second turned into about 15 minutes in total. By that time, your lips were nothing more than a straight line after answering messages from some of the girls asking where you were. You didn't even look when Alessia opened the car door, so you didn't see her coming with your coffee, a paper bag, and a small bouquet of flowers. 

"We'll be late-" Your smile returned when you noticed the flowers. It was a sweet gesture because Alessia knew you hated big bouquets, you always chose the simplest arrangement and the one she was offering you with a smile on her face was just what you would have picked. 

"They were taking a while to prepare your order, so I took the opportunity to stop by the florist near here" she murmured with relief as you accepted the bouquet of flowers. "Here, flat white and your sandwich, I ordered it with ham, is that okay?" 

"Yes, that's perfect." 

Alessia waited for you to settle in, leaving the flowers on the back seat and unwrapping your sandwich to start the car and get back on the road. It wasn't until you finished your coffee that you noticed Alessia hadn't brought anything for herself. 

"You didn't have breakfast either." 

"I bought myself an orange juice, but I drank it while I was waiting for your sandwich to be made." 

"But that was to drink, don't you want something to eat?" 

"I'll eat something when we get there, don't worry about me."  

- 

"Did you leave your smile at home? " Was the first thing Lotte said when she saw Alessia arrive, throwing her training bag on the floor.  

"Don't mess with me today" muttered Alessia taking her seat. "Got any of those cereal bars?"  

Lotte nodded and pulled a cereal bar from her bag, handing it over. If it had been any other day, she wouldn't have hesitated to throw it in her face, but she could tell the mood wasn't the best today.   

"Thanks," Alessia took a bite as if it were the best meal of her life. "I was starving." 

"Why? I saw YN before and she didn't look hungry like you." 

"I stopped to buy her something on the way, I'm sure if I didn't, I wouldn't have made it here alive."  

"Trouble in paradise? I thought you'd be happy here with YN, I remember hearing hours of your complaints when you lived apart."  

"Yes... Don't get me wrong" she was quick to say "I'm happy with her, it's just that.... We're not used to living together." 

"How did you do it before? I mean, when one travelled to the other, you stayed at each other's houses and there was no problem." 

"Yeah, but it was only for a few days" Alessia muttered and fell silent when she heard the door open, thinking it would be you and that you would catch her talking about you. 

Luck seemed to be on her side after her horrible morning because it wasn't you who had entered, it was Lia. 

"Who died?" she laughed when she saw Alessia's pale face. "Who are you talking about?" 

"How do you know we're talking about someone?" Lotte asked. 

"When two people are talking about someone else, they always go silent when a third person appears," she explained without much detail. "Besides, both of you look guilty of something. So, who are we talking about?" 

Alessia was about to make up something to avoid mentioning your name because, of all the girls on the team, Lia was the closest to you. Unfortunately for her Lotte spoke up first because of the guilt she felt for having been talking behind your back. 

"YN, we were talking about her. Alessia didn't—" 

"Lotte!" Alessia kicked her leg to make her stop talking. 

"Ouch! What's wrong with you? Is it true that- where are your socks?" Lotte was distracted when she saw the foot Alessia had kicked her with. Alessia was wearing her usual trainers, but it was clear that she didn't have anything else underneath them. 

"I couldn't find my socks this morning... I don't know where the hell YN keeps my socks, but they're never in my drawer, and I didn't want to ask her because it was already late, and she was already mad at me." 

Lia started laughing as soon as she heard that. 

"It's not funny." 

"Of course it is" she said trying to hide her laughter by covering her mouth with her hand. "Is that why I sometimes see you wearing her clothes?" 

"Yes," she replied, cheeks slightly flushed. "Since I take care of doing the laundry, she takes care of putting it away once it's clean, but I've told her to put hers away and I put mine away, but she doesn't listen to me. But she hates to see the clothes on the bed, so she ends up taking everything and putting it in her part of the wardrobe". 

"Well, it's something to be expected from her. YN is a neat freak," Lia commented, still smiling. 

"What do you mean?" Lotte interrupted, joining the conversation. 

"What I just said, Lotte. I lived with her for a while when she twisted her ankle, you know, to help her and all. I didn't think it was a big deal because I had stayed overnight at her place several times, but I stayed for several days that time and at the end of the week I discovered that she's crazy," Lia explained. Lotte still didn't seem to understand, but Alessia caught on to where Lia was going. "I'm not exaggerating. One time she got mad because I cooked dinner because she was starving but I didn't wash the dishes when I finished because I went to take a shower. Obviously, I planned to clean everything when I was done, but when I returned to the kitchen, she had already washed everything." 

"Yes! She has done the same to me!" Alessia almost jumped out of her seat in relief at Lia's words. "I thought I was the one exaggerating, but it's true. Besides, the organization she uses doesn't make sense, when we first started living together, I wanted to keep the cups near the things to make our tea, but she keeps them in the cupboard next to the fridge." Alessia put her hands on her head. "God, I thought I was the crazy one," she said standing up to hug Lia, who returned the hug not quite understanding Alessia's emotion. 

"Haven't you tried talking to her about it?" Lotte asked. 

"Of course I've tried, but as soon as I mention anything about it she starts complaining about how messy I am and yes, I admit that" she said before Lotte could interrupt, "But I always end up doing my things. The problem is that YN wants everything done immediately, and there are times when I just want to come home and lie down on the bed with her." 

"I'm surprised you haven't complained before," commented Lia, feeling a bit sorry for Alessia. "How do you deal with the food?" 

Both Lotte and Alessia looked at her abruptly, the first girl looking like she didn't understand anything, and Alessia looking relieved that finally someone understood her. 

"YN buys just what is necessary, you'll never find sweets or more than one type of cereal in her kitchen because she doesn't eat much of those things," Lia explained to Lotte. 

"I've been starving" muttered Alessia "She prefers to do the shopping because according to her it takes less time, so I always ask her to bring me a couple of extra things, but she always forgets, plus we don't have the same tastes in food. I don't want to make her feel guilty, so I don't mention it to her." 

"I've been starving" muttered Alessia "She prefers to buy our food because according to her it takes less time, so I always ask her to bring me a couple of extra things, but she always forgets, and we don't have the same tastes in food. I don't want to make her feel guilty, so I haven't mentioned it to her." 

"You can't go on like this," Lotte worried about her friend's state because she knew that it would only get worse every day. "You have to tell her something." 

"I second that," Lia said, having stood up to take a pair of clean socks from her bag. "If you want I can help you talk to her," she said, handing over the socks and giving Alessia a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaving them alone again. 

"I need to talk to her." 

- 

But the day had passed and although there were several opportunities to talk, Alessia never mentioned anything to you. The next few days were more of the same and neither Lotte, who continued to hear Alessia's cries every morning, nor Lia, who listened your complaints about Alessia's behaviour during the warm-ups, could take it anymore. 

So that night, you and Alessia were at Lia's house, who had invited you both for dinner.  

You had already finished dessert when Lia brought up the issue at the table.   

"Well, Alessia, it's time for you to talk to YN about what we've discussed this week," Lia's words caught both of you off guard, so much so that Alessia froze for a few seconds, not knowing what to say. 

"What are you talking about?" you asked with a nervous smile "Did something bad happen?" Alessia immediately noticed your concern in your tone, the guilt quickly invading her.   

"It's nothing, love," she tried to reassure you that everything was fine, placing her hand on your thigh under the table. 

"That's not true," Lia said getting a bit annoyed. "It's about you and your flat." 

"What's wrong with our flat?" you asked defensively. 

"That's the problem YN, that it's your flat, not yours and Alessia's." 

"What the hell are you talking about, Lia?" 

"Lia is right, YN... I don't feel comfortable living there, and one of the reasons is because it's your place, not ours." 

The three of you remained silent after Alessia's words. But Lia, not wanting to witness the awkward moment, decided to leave the two of you alone by going to her room. 

"What do you mean you're not comfortable living there?" 

"I think we both know that this isn't working the way we wanted, love." 

On impulse, you removed Alessia's hand, which had been on your thigh until that moment. 

"It sounds like you're going to break up with me." 

"I don't want to break up with you," she rushed to say, a little scared of where the conversation might be heading. "But I think we don't know how to live together." 

"Do you want to live on your own?" 

Alessia thought about it for a moment. Did she want her space? Yes. Did she want to be away from you? No. 

"No... I don't think I ever want to live away from you again," she murmured taking your hands, a little scared that you might pull away. "But I want to have a place that is ours. I appreciate that you let me live in your flat, but it's yours. Everything there is yours, love. I can't change anything because you're used to your place." 

"Does that explain why you leave your things everywhere?" you asked a little upset because deep down, you knew Alessia was right, and you felt bad for not noticing it earlier. 

"No, I admit I have a problem with that, but I'll work on it... if you can also work on some things." 

You let out a deep sigh; you knew you had issues with certain things and that you weren't an easy person to live with, but for Alessia, it was worth making a change. 

"I'll need a list..." you muttered, a little embarrassed. 

"I think so," Alessia whispered, a little more relaxed as she noticed that everything was turning out well "I'll need a list too. But I think there's something we should start with." 

"What is it?" 

"We need to find a new place for both of us." 

- 

"Good morning," Alessia's murmur made you smile. You had been awake for a while, but Alessia had you trapped against her. 

"Good morning," you replied, feeling Alessia snuggling you closer. "Why did you want to buy this huge bed if you practically sleep on top of me?" 

After the conversation at Lia's house, it didn't take long for you both to find a new place to move to, this time deciding everything between the two of you when it came to buying all the furniture and practically everything else in the house. One of those decisions was the enormous bed that Alessia insisted on having. 

Alessia loosened her grip on you a bit, so you took the opportunity to turn and face her. 

"I don't think I ever apologized," you whispered, caressing her cheek. 

"Hmm... What are you talking about?" Alessia still hadn't opened her eyes, but you knew she was awake enough to talk. 

"It was unfair all the times I got annoyed with you before... I didn't realize I hadn't given you a space for yourself." 

It was something you had been thinking about for a few days, because it took you by surprise that since you now lived in the new house, Alessia's mess had decreased almost completely. You hadn't tripped over any of her trainers again because now Alessia had her own space for her shoes –noticing now that she has a lot more shoes than you- or that now that she had a small desk, her things were always there and not between the blankets like before. Sure, you still found the kitchen a mess after Alessia had cooked, but as she had said, she always cleaned at some point during the day. 

"Don't worry... Maybe you were too used to living alone. Besides, your flat was small, there wasn't enough space for two anyway." 

"So, do you forgive me?" you asked, resting your head on her chest, taking advantage of the intimacy to slip your hand under her shirt and caress her abdomen. 

"I'll think about it- Ouch!" You had pinched her abdomen, not too hard, but Alessia tended to exaggerate a bit. " Okay, fine! I forgive you" she said, making you move away from her. 

"I love you," you said, moving closer to her again. 

"Are you sure?" she mumbled, looking at you a bit doubtful, but she took it back when she saw you move your hand closer to her abdomen again. "Stop! I believe you!". 

Alessia was the one who came closer this time, giving you a kiss on the forehead and then hugging you. 

"I love you too." 

[youngsadlesbian]

BRAZILIAN CHAOTIC — wanda maximoff.

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: wanda watches a video that shows a chaotic and different side of you.

a/n: this is so silly, but i loved writing it. i hope you like it.

word count: 1,5k

warnings: none, just fluff.

You always dreamed of making it big in the fashion world, and when your agency offered you the chance to work abroad, you knew it was the opportunity of a lifetime. Leaving Brazil was bittersweet, but you were excited about the possibilities that lay ahead. Little did you know that this journey would lead you to Wanda Maximoff.

It was on a rainy night in New York City when you first met Wanda. You had just finished a photo shoot and decided to relax in a cozy little caf�� you had discovered. Wanda, sitting there with a cup of coffee and a book, caught your eye. There was something magnetic about her, and before you knew it, you were sitting across from her, lost in conversation.

Weeks turned into months, and your connection with Wanda deepened. You admired her strength and intelligence, and she was captivated by your vibrant personality and adventurous spirit. Eventually, you went on a first date. And a second. And a third. Soon, you were in a relationship and life felt like a beautiful whirlwind.

One night, while you were preparing dinner in your shared apartment, Wanda was in the living room, watching an interview you had recently given. Your charisma shone on the screen, and she couldn't help but smile proudly. When the interview ended, the next video recommended by the algorithm caught her attention: "Y/N being a chaotic Brazilian for 10 minutes straight."

Curiosity piqued, she clicked on the video. In the introduction, important warnings were mentioned; the content had been taken from some social media platforms you assumed to have lost access to some time ago or posted by your Brazilian friends. The information that relieved Wanda was that there would be English subtitles, which she greatly appreciated as she didn’t understand much Portuguese.

The video began with a very different setting. You were outside a house, surrounded by friends Wanda recognized from your previous mentions. You wore your usual casual outfit: short shorts and an oversized shirt.

Besides the music, what surprised her was a detail: you were doing a "quadradinho" dance move in a very different position than she was used to seeing, all while balancing a beer can on your head.

"Pedro Sampaio, go!" one of your friends joined you, mimicking your movements. And gosh, the way your butt moved was mesmerizing.

The abrupt cut in the video made Wanda realize it was nothing short of surprising. You were always lively, constantly showing this personality in her presence, but there was a difference in seeing you so carefree.

The next video started blurry until your face came into focus. You were in a stadium, probably watching a concert. Your face was streaked with tears as you sang along to a song.

The subtitles explained that the song belonged to a singer named Jão.

The laughter of the person filming made you look at the camera, and Wanda found herself laughing too. You were very emotional, and it was very cute.

"Eu bato o meu carro, aprendo a roubar. Eu arranjo briga, bebo em algum bar. Beijo qualquer boca, eu traço algum plano só pra não lembrar..." The pause didn't prepare her for how you screamed the rest of the lyrics. "Que ainda te amo."

Your friend laughed again and zoomed in on your tear-streaked face.

"Are you okay, friend?" You shook your head, no. "Why?"

"Because this man seems to have based his songs on my life. He is too perfect to be real, Fê."

The video cut off with a shrill scream from you. Wanda was startled and burst into laughter.

Then another video started. It had the same aesthetic as the one where you danced with a friend, but this time she recognized the outfit and setting as a birthday party you had shown her pictures of.

The subtitles explained that you and two of your friends were dancing to a song called 'Desliza e Joga,' and dance you did. Wanda had never seen a butt move as fast as yours.

Then you sat on the ground. Your leg made such an unexpected move that Wanda's mouth fell open.

Your friends cheered, and you kept dancing like there was no tomorrow.

The next video was a bit different from the previous ones. You were sitting on a sidewalk, and Wanda could guess you were completely drunk. She recognized the street; it was just a few blocks from the bar where you used to meet while getting to know each other.

"Y/N, snap out of it!" Your best friend's voice surprised Wanda, and then she remembered that she had been in New York shortly before you and Wanda started dating. "She’s going to call you."

You shook your head and buried your face in your hands.

"She won’t. I was terrible on our first date, and she probably hated me and..." You stopped when your phone vibrated and smiled when you saw who had messaged you. "She said she’s been busy and wants to see me again!"

Oh, you were talking about her. Wanda had indeed disappeared for a few days after your first date because she was on a last-minute mission and didn’t have time to let you know. She showed up days later saying exactly that. She found it cute to have a record of you talking about that day and it broke her heart to see you thinking she hadn’t liked you.

Wanda had adored you from the first moment.

Another video started with you and a group of friends at a loud, crowded party. The camera panned to you doing a playful dance with a drink in hand. The subtitles caught a snippet of the conversation.

"Y/N, you're going to spill your drink!" one of your friends laughed.

"I'll just get another one!" you shouted back, grinning widely. Wanda chuckled, seeing how carefree and happy you were.

The next video showed you attempting a popular TikTok dance in your apartment, dressed in a very sexy outfit. The subtitles captured your playful commentary.

"Okay, I have no idea if I'm doing this right," you said, laughing at yourself. But as the music played, you nailed the moves with surprising skill. Wanda watched, captivated by your confidence and energy.

Another video began with you at a different party, clearly tipsy, dancing on a table with a group of friends cheering you on. The subtitles highlighted a funny exchange.

"Y/N, get down from there before you fall!" a friend shouted.

"Never! I'm invincible!" you declared, nearly losing your balance but catching yourself just in time. Wanda laughed out loud, feeling a mix of amusement and affection.

The final video was in a club, you and your friends dancing wildly to the beat. The camera focused on you as you pulled a friend into a dance-off.

"Let's see what you've got!" you challenged, and the friend responded with some impressive moves. You laughed and clapped, then launched into your own routine, which ended with you both collapsing into giggles. Wanda smiled, seeing how much joy you brought to those around you.

As the video continued, a message appeared on the screen: " Plus: some moments where Y/N is completely in love with Wanda Maximoff."

The next clip showed you at a friend's gathering, visibly tipsy and talking about Wanda. The subtitles captured your words.

"She's just so amazing, you know?" you slurred. "Smart, strong, and those eyes... I could get lost in them forever."

Your friends teased you, "You're so in love, Y/N."

"And proud of it!" you replied with a goofy grin.

The following video was you in bed, cuddling a pillow and speaking softly to the camera, clearly in a lovey-dovey mood.

"I miss Wanda so much. She's been on a mission for days, and it feels like forever. I can't wait to hold her again."

The subtitles explained your situation, and Wanda felt a warmth in her chest, knowing how much you missed her.

Another clip showed you at another party, talking to a friend with a drink in hand.

"Have you ever met someone who just makes everything better?" you asked, swaying slightly. "That's Wanda for me. She's... everything."

The friend laughed. "You're totally whipped, Y/N."

"And I love it," you responded with a dreamy smile.

The final video showed you lying on a couch, looking at your phone and giggling.

"Look at this text from Wanda," you said, showing the screen to the camera. "She's so cute. I can't believe she's mine."

The subtitles translated your words, and Wanda felt a blush creeping up her cheeks.

As the video ended, you walked into the room, noticing Wanda engrossed in the screen. She looked up, a mixture of amusement and affection on her face.

"Enjoying the show?" you asked, smiling.

Wanda nodded, her eyes sparkling. "I had no idea you were such a chaotic whirlwind. It's... endearing."

You chuckled, sitting beside her. "There's a lot you don't know about me yet."

"And I'm excited to discover every bit of it," Wanda said softly, taking your hand. "But I have to say, seeing how much you care about me... it means the world."

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "I do care about you, Wanda. More than anything."

She smiled, resting her forehead against yours. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Wanda," you replied, feeling your heart swell with happiness.

[zu8her]

✧･ﾟ 𝕾𝖙𝖚𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖊 | 𝕷𝖆𝖜

✧･ﾟ𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘 — med-student!law ⋆ drugdealer!law ⋆ campusreporter!reader ⋆ accidental drug ingestion ⋆ aphrodisiac drug ⋆ student profile ⋆ sex under the influence of aphrodisiac ⋆ fucking ⋆ they be fuckin' ⋆ implied black reader ⋆ stretch marks mentioned ⋆ backshots ⋆ semi-public(??) ⋆ bj ⋆ slow sex

✧･ﾟ𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘 — it's been a fuckin' while. sorry i've not been confident in my abilities as a writer so i put it off for awhile. like i was legit insecure and thought about deleting my acc lol. but decided not to. hope you enjoy this

✧･ﾟ𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 — 1K (𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖎𝖈 𝕴'𝖛𝖊 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖔 𝖋𝖆𝖗)

You lightly knocked on his door patiently staring at the room number. Your heart pounding, this may be dangerous. He may be dangerous, yet here you are.

You recently discovered a student on campus has been selling experimental drugs, fairly mild but drugs nonetheless. It had been another taxing day for you. Running around, chasing after a cold case. From dead-end to dead-end. Finally, you got a tip. A med-student was responsible, Trafalgar D. Law.

When you so much as voiced that you had a story you wanted to run, the editor shut you down. “No, you don’t. I tell you what to write,” he spat shoving your camera into your stomach. He then assigned you do a basic student profile. Guess on who? So, you're taking this chance to actually do your job and snoop.

Opening the door, he recognised you immediately. Braids in a neat ponytail, white button up and a preppy lilac skirt. The cute girl always taking pictures for the campus newspaper. “The Editor sent me. He said you owed him a favour.” Sighing, he moves aside to let you in before shutting the door.

While you scan his room, he manoeuvres past you. On a cabinet to your left a small bag of gummy bears catches your eye. With his back turned you swipe one out of the bag, reflexively eating it when he rotated his chair to face you.

“You want to interview me, right?”

“Yes, I’m doing a student profile.”

He shrugged gesturing to the chair in front of him. Taking a seat, you introduce yourself before asking permission to record the interview, placing your phone on his desk and starting.

You’ve gone through half of the questions on your clipboard, when it started to get hot. Heavy breathes, followed. Your chest was tingling. You kept slightly rocking back and forth, subconsciously, squeezing your thighs together. Your nipples started to perk through the shirt.

You couldn’t focus. Your eyes instead settling to dart across his body. From the tattoos on his chest and hands to his well defined forearms. “Excuse me, I just feel a bit hot,” you awkwardly smile unbuttoning your shirt. To get more comfortable on his chair, he laid back spreading his legs. Instinctively, your eyes landed on his crotch. He smiled deviously. “Did you take on of the gummy bears?”

“I took just one. What is it?”

“That batch are aphrodisiacs.”

You watch, dazed as he stands before you, leaning down to cup your chin and twist your face for observation. “Heightened arousal.” You stare down at his crotch before meeting his gaze, salivating. Gently he lets go, staring down at the drugs for a moment before scoffing and popping one in his mouth. "I needed to test these anyway."

Cosily laid on Law’s bed, you whine as he thrusts into you. Hearing him whimper as he looks down at your fucked-out smile and watches your tits bounce along with his thrusts. One of your legs propped over his shoulder as he rams his fat cock into your sensitive pussy. He smirks down at you as you squirm feeling another orgasm tear through you.  He leaned in, his head on your shoulder as he delivered deep strokes to drag out your orgasm. “Fuck,” he whimpered against your ear before he came. You twitch as he slowly humps his cum deeper.

Your face, stuffed against the bed cushions, ass up as he fucks you from behind. Alternating between backshots to sitting on your ass and plunging his overstimulated cock into your creamy hole. His favourite is your muffled moans, the way your eyes roll back with his deep thrusts. Enjoying the way your arse jiggle against him, his hand firmly on your waist his thumb softly caressing darkened stretch marks. Watching your pussy convulse with his cum dripping out, drove him to near insanity. He had to, just had to fuck more of his cum into you. You looked so good like this.

He rolled you over. With your leg trapped under him he wrapped his right arm around your waist and his left to grip your arse holding you steady as he rolled his cock into your dripping cunt. All you could do is grip his hair while he stared you down with faint smirk and blush decorating his cheeks.

You were now propped up over his desk, his cock fucking into you as he buried his head in your neck. Watching through the small opening of the curtains as the rest of Uni goes about their day while your getting ruthlessly fucked. Feeling him grope your tits and whimper as he fucks up into you. “You feel so good, fuck-”

Licking his and your cum off his cock as you humped his pillow. Deep-throating. Taking all of his cock in your mouth, feeling his hairs lightly graze your cheek and his tip at the back of throat, before releasing his cock with deep breathes following, earning a whimper-like groan from him as he sat back on his chair. Hooded, fucked out eyes looking down at you, yearning, aching for more. His whimpers becoming more erratic prompting him to pull out and spurt his cum on your tits and mouth before gently cupping your face and pushing his cock down your throat once more. “Just a little bit more, okay baby? That’s it.” He coos with a hoarse voice.

You’d both grown tired at this point. The only driving force, seemingly being the stimulant. The high was dying down. He laid you comfortably between his sheets on you stomach. With the duvet lazily hanging off his shoulders, he slid his cock back in. “Just relax, okay?” He slow fucked into mouthing curses with his head hung low. When he felt you clench around him, he buried his cock deep as you came around his cock. Pulling out he would deliver his last moan as he rubbed his sensitive cock, spurts of his cum coating your arse and back.

Silently, you sit at your desk listening to the recording. At the 42 minute mark, listening to him drop to his knees then at your moans as he slid down your panties and ate you out. The recording is about 5 hours long. Barely an hour of which is the actual interview and the last few minutes Law moaning as he came.

“Did you interview him?” You look up at the student editor. “Uhh, yes! I did. I’ll send-”

“I want it by Monday.”

“Will do!” On his way out, he stopped by the door, his hand gripping the frame. He tilts his head slightly.

“About your story-”

“Dead end.” You lie and watch as he nods and leave. Looks like Law’s the editors supplier.

[redcrescentmoons]

Can you write a fic where Logan (If you write for him ofc if not, it could be Max, too) meets reader (Reader could be a celebrity of some kind like an actor or a NASCAR driver) in a gala or fancy event and it's kind of just love at first sight. For the rest of the event Logan/ Max tries to ask the reader out maybee? :3

It would be pretty cool but I'm pretty sure this idea has already been used countless times already buuuuut it would be pretty cool though

Thanks for reading this :D

Can’t keep my eyes off you

Logan Sargeant x gn!actor!reader

Note: You didn’t specify a reader gender (I write male and gender neutral readers) so I made it gender neutral but I can change it on request

In all honesty, Logan had never been a fan of all the fancy events he had to go to. He understood what it meant for him and for the team of course, but that didn’t mean they were his cup of tea.

Luckily for him, Alex was there too, and he knew that meant they could spend the entire evening chatting and waiting for the event to come to an end.

They weren’t the only Formula 1 drivers there; and frankly, apart for Lewis, most of them wanted to leave as well.

And so Logan stuck to his group, the people he saw every week, because it was better then socializing.

As they talked in their corner, drinks in hand, Logan fidgeted around; his suit was too uncomfortable, it was too warm in the crowded room, his dress shoes were squishing his feet.

A late arrival had everyone turning their heads: it was a very good-looking person, one that Logan didn’t recognize, but captured his attention nonetheless.

His fidgeting stopped; he went completely still, jaw slack and eyes wide, as he observed the newcomer.

"Who is that?" he was whispered to Alex, in hopes of getting some information about the stranger.

"Oh them? That’s Y/N L/N, they’re a super famous actor, I can’t believe you don’t know who they are."

So that was your name and job down. But what else could he learn about you? He had already been scolded by his team principal for using his phone too much during events, so that was ruled out.

He settled for the closest thing he could find to Wikipedia: his friends.

"What do you know about that person? Y/N L/N?" he asked the entire group.

They started blurting out random things, from your nationality to the name of your pet, and put together the information was actually quite a bit. Impressive for who he was asking.

But there was one question Logan still wanted to ask.

"And are they, by any chance, into men?" His mumbled question still managed to get picked up by his group, luckily, because he didn’t think he could say it again.

"Yes don’t worry" said Charles, the only one to have met him before "And they’re single too" the monegasque added, winking at Logan.

A slight blush spread on the American’s cheeks at being teased; and yet he couldn’t help but think about the actor, even as the conversation switched subjects.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering across the room, to where you were stood, looking perfect, greeting those who came and talked to you.

Logan wondered if there was a chance he would be one of those people, to confidently walk up to you and just start a conversation.

But that wasn’t really him, was it? As much as he liked to exhibit a confident personality in interviews and such he couldn’t flirt for the life of him.

And so Logan settled for observation from afar, at least for a little bit.

He listened to what his friends were saying distractedly, half listening and the other half of his mind consumed by the stranger.

It was so unlike him, to see someone for the first time and completely fixate on them, and yet he just couldn’t help it.

Even when he tore his gaze from you it always wandered back, like a magnet. He kept thinking about what it would be like to talk to you, to actually be close, and in that moment there was nothing Logan wanted more.

He had completely spaced out, staring at you from across the room, until Max brought him back into the conversation with a "What do you think Logan?" that he honestly couldn’t respond to.

His friends laughed, finding his cluelessness funny, while filling him in on what he had missed. While he actually listened this time, Charles moved closer to Logan and whispered in his ear "Shoot your shot. Just trust me."

He couldn’t say it wasn’t helpful, given Charles was the only one to have met you before, and yet that just wasn’t enough to convince him to do it.

He turned away from their little side conversation to join back into the groups, shooting you a glance while he could.

Each time he saw your smiling face he thought about how inviting and nice you looked and how easy it would be for him to actually talk to you, and yet he still chickened out.

It was nearly two hours later now and Logan hadn’t stopped thinking about the actor for a second.

He was afraid of the evening coming to an end without him having talked to you, and it filled him with dread.

He went down the rabbit hole in his mind: What if he never did talk to you? He didn’t think he would be able to bring himself to stop thinking about you, and knew he would regret not speaking to you if he didn’t. And yet he remained afraid.

That was until Logan looked over to where he had seen you last and didn’t find you there. He looked around the large event venue, unable to find you, getting worried you had left already and he had missed his chance.

He was beginning to spiral, until he felt someone’s arm brushing against his own; no wait, someone was hugging Charles from behind. Logan didn’t think much of it until he realized it was your arm against his, and he began to blush madly.

You hadn’t seen Charles in a while, and you couldn’t wait to talk to him again, but people kept getting in your way, asking about you and telling you their opinions about their latest movies. And frankly, you wanted to check out the cute blonde boy standing next to your monegasque friend.

Logan watched you pull away from Charles, who messed with your hair playfully the moment he realized it was you.

You slotted yourself in between Charles and Logan as Charles introduced you to everyone, and Logan could feel his heart beating faster.

You started chatting with the whole group, getting to know the friends Charles had promised to introduce you to long ago.

Logan stayed quiet, admiring your beauty, and wondering if it was appropriate to pull you aside to talk privately.

Ultimately he decided it couldn’t be that bad, and when the conversation took a turn and you stayed quiet he pulled you aside, not far, just enough for a little bit of privacy.

You weren’t entirely sure what was happening, but followed suit as Logan pulled you a couple meters away from the other drivers.

"Hi! I’m Logan, we didn’t get to talk much." yep, that was a good opening line.

As Logan started his conversation he couldn’t help but fall further in love with you, entranced by your voice and personality.

Eventually he told himself he had to do it and, during the conversation, he blurted out "Do you want to go out with me?"

He wasn’t very happy with how he had done it, but knew the nerves had just taken over. He hoped it hadn’t put you off.

"I would love to" you said, smiling gently at him. He realized that wasn’t your fake smile, the one you were giving those that greeted you earlier; he felt special: he had caused your genuine smile, and he was the one that got to see it.

Little did you both know his entire group had been listening, and began to cheer as you both exchanged numbers and promised to keep in contact, right as the event came to an end.

You walked outside with Logan, Charles and their friends, Logan still smiling as he talked to you.

As you stepped in your own car, and they went to theirs individually, you said goodbye, and Logan watched you until the very moment he couldn’t anymore, excited at the prospect of your future date.

He was glad he had been unable to keep his eyes off of you.