#i make the mistake of coming back to it from time to time

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[in-class-daydreams]

Imaging you and ex-husband Gojo getting into an ugly fight for one of the first times since the initial divorce.

"Does your little boyfriend know you kissed me?" he asks lowly.

Your living room was not the ideal place to get into spats like this, but you'd rather here than either school where eavesdroppers can spread your business all over the place.

"He doesn't, actually!" You turn and stalk towards the kitchen, calling over your shoulder, "He's not my boyfriend, so it doesn't matter."

Satoru and his ridiculous long legs easily keep up with you. "Is that how that works?"

You turn to face him, only to bump right into his chest. When did he get that close?

Jabbing a finger into his chest, you say, "If, by some insane lapse in judgement, I kissed you while I had a boyfriend, I'd own it and come clean. It's called 'communication,' Satoru, look it up." Again, you turn to make your way into another room, eager to be away from him, but he grabs you by the wrist.

"I hate when you do that! You say some pain in the ass thing, then you try to walk away! You do it every time," he gripes. "And what would you tell him, huh?"

"I'd tell him your fucking lips were dry!" you snap. "And that it was a mistake."

Satoru grabs you by the face with one hand, squishing your cheeks together and forcing you to look at him. With one flick of his finger, he uses his technique to force his blindfold off. You're left looking into his crystal blue eyes that make you feel like a teenager again.

"You still love me," he tells you.

"I don't."

"I can tell. You look at me the same way you always have."

"No."

"Say it!"

"Fuck off!" You turn and bite his hand hard. He yelps and recoils. His fault for always letting you through his infinity. "You want me to love you, Satoru?" you shout. "You wanna act like you've changed?"

Memories of him walking into the restaurant with another woman on his arm flash in your mind. Holding back tears, you continue, "Maybe you have. But you changed for other women instead of me, so why should I give a damn about what you want?"

Satoru always blamed himself for the divorce, as much as you tried in the past to reassure him that there were a dozen factors working against you. He's done his best to take what you've said in the end days of your marriage to heart and become a better man. Communicating with dates, being better about speaking his true thoughts, all of it was an attempt to be the type of man you wanted to be married to. For you to imply that all that was too little, too late cut him deeper than you could ever know.

And so, in a stroke of pure idiocy, Satoru reaches out, cups your face, and kisses you like he'd never get to again.

Heehoo

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[viaisms]

twenty questions

summary: penelope accidentally mentions that someone has a crush on you, she can't say who it is but you make it into a game so she can :) warnings: spencer reid x bau!reader, gn reader, mentions of drinking wine, pg-13 language, talk of bugs?? its a nickname,,, lots of use of pet names lol, fluff, no mention of y/n yeehaw, pining, you're completely oblivious about how much spencer wants you, not proofread </3 authors note: first fic!! i haven't officially written a fic in. gosh, years?? since the pandemmy :( i really want to get back into writing, so have this little blurb that i thought of! by all means i am here for any constructive criticism you may have<3 wc: 2.7k

The clatter of fingertips tapping against a keyboard filled the dimly lit BAU office. You sit at your desk, eyes fixed on the glowing screen as you scroll through reports, cross-referencing case files and taking notes. The quiet hum of the building has long since settled into a lull; you barely realize how deeply you've fallen into your work,

The distant ticking of a clock finally breaks your trance, but it wasn't until you feel the hairs arise on the back of your neck that you become fully aware. You slowly blink with a quiet groan, glancing at the time at the bottom of your screen.

10:58 PM. Shit.

You align your fingertips atop of your keyboard, the soft clatter filling the office once more before you hear the all-too familiar voice.

"Babes, what are you still doing here?!"

You turn and see nobody else but Garcia, finally emitting from her bat-cave. Her arms cross against her chest, a disappointed hum coming from her pressed lips. "You, my love, should be at home in a nice hot bath with a glass of wine."

Your lips splay a lazy smirk as you lean back in your chair, stretching your body with a quiet groan. "I was just about to wrap up, Pen, I promise..." You assure your colleague, feeling the strain of staring at a screen all day every time that you blink.

"Good deal my beautiful bug," Penelope chirps as her arms drop to her side. She's just as tired as you are, having spent all of her day digging through databases to find information on a potential UnSub. Her heals click as she goes to turn away, walking back towards her office.

"You know, you have to get your beauty sleep for your lover boy in the mor..." Her once confident words grow timid as she begins to trail off.

Penelope's breath catches in her throat as she realizes the words that so effortlessly flew off her tongue, her blood running cold at her grave error. Spencer is going to kill her.

"My what?" Your eyes narrow, scoffing in a confused manner.

She stills, yet she doesn't turn to you.

"Nothing! I... I didn't say anything..." She mutters with a nervous stammer of your name, the rhythmic clicking of her heels continuing as she speeds to her office.

You stand, the wheels of your office chair sliding out from under you as you feel a weakness in both of your legs. You stretch once more, trying to think of when the last time you even stood was.

"Penelope Grace Garcia!"

Her hand is resting on the cold, slick material of the doorknob that has the potential to separate her from this deep abyss that she just dug herself into. Instead, she stills for another moment before turning to you once more.

Penelope has to think of a lie, and quick.

"Obviously... I was talking about Morgan!"

There is a reason why she does what she does for a living, and is rarely out on the field with the rest of the crew unless her technical skills are needed.

Your eyes squint with a tentative hum. You don't believe Garcia, not for a second.

"You do know I'm a profiler..." A grumble of amusement comes from your chest at Penelope's attempt.

"Right..." She murmurs, her voice quiet as she breaks your gaze. She's mentally kicking herself for blabbing, such a rookie mistake in the game of workplace gossip.

Your eyebrows raise as you await Garcia's confession. However, she stays strong, not uttering another peep from her velvet-painted lips.

"So...?" You sing after a beat of silence, stars of hope glistening in the pools of your eyes.

With a whine, Penelope's shoulders drop.

"Look... I love you, sweetness, I do..." Her lips droop into a frown. Penelope's eyes greet your own somberly with a shake of her own head. "But I promised I wouldn't tell..."

You feel a weight of disappointment on your chest, and with a sigh, you decide to drop it. Penelope sees the way the sparkle in your eye begins to dim, eliciting a whine from her barely audible to your own ears.

"But!" She chirps, trying to share some of her own light with you. Penelope shouldn't be doing this, and she knows it. However, she is far too nurturing to let a beautiful smile like yours falter for even a second. "If you guess it... it's not technically me telling you, right?"

"You know? I like the way your mind thinks," You hum, reveling in the fact that you got your way. "Twenty questions?" The cold sensation of the faux-leather hits you as you sit back in your chair.

The corner of Penelope's lips twitch upwards as a combination of guilt and excitement course through her veins. "You know I love a good game, hit me..." She murmurs, her voice self-assured as she pulls a chair from a nearby desk, her legs crossing as she sits next to you.

"Okay..." You mutter with a shaky sigh. The pounding of your heart fills your entire body, your stomach slightly cramping with nerves. "Is it someone I know?"

"Uh, duh?"

Your eyes flutter shut, raking through potential victims that fell for whatever love trap you didn't even intent on setting. "Male or female?"

"Acht! That's not part of the rules my curious friend and you know it," Her dark eyes narrow as she playfully scolds her colleague. "I'm totally counting it though, eighteen more questions..."

With pressed lips, you weigh out the obvious individuals who are least likely to be a contender. Penelope sees how deep you are in thought, and she can't help herself but quietly scoff.

How can you not know it's Spencer? She thinks to herself. Everyone around the office sees it -- everyone but you, apparently. As you think, her mind wanders to about two months prior, where Spencer came to her for love advice. Penelope, being herself, already knew he was fawning over you. She picked up on it the moment the genius somehow grew more awkward every time he were to speak to you.

However, also being herself, she refused to give him any sound advice until he spilled who the lucky contender was; which just so happened to be you.

The sound of your voice pulls her out of her own mind.

"Do I see them often?"

The corners of her lips prop upwards, almost tauntingly. "Very," she affirms.

Someone you see very often... you mentally walk through your day-to-day routine, retracing every step no matter how minuscule. You awake every morning to nobody in your apartment but your cat, besides the occasional sleepover with a friend every now and again. You ready yourself for work alone, your first stop in the morning being the local coffee shop down the street...

"Ooh! Is it someone from the coffee shop?" You chirp, your heart beginning to race at the idea of an unspoken stranger admiring your beauty from afar. Individuals you see there on a day-to-day basis flood your mind, although it completely falls empty for the exception of one person; a barista behind the counter, roughly your age who is not bad looking in the slightest.

"That would be a negative..." Her red-painted lips press together, a slight pang of disappointment hitting you in the gut that it wasn't the barista.

"Darn..." You tut, your mind trying to silently place the pieces of the puzzle together. Someone you know, someone you see often, not someone from the coffee shop...

Penelope can't believe how oblivious you are. How do you not pick up on the fact that Spencer follows you around the office like a lost puppy? Or the fact that when the two of you are on the field together, he insists you go with him or vice versa because he feels the need to protect you?

"No way that it's a colleague?" Your brows stitch together, your head slanting as you throw the inconceivable idea into the open.

Penelope's head slightly tilts downwards as she gazes at you through the top of her frames. She flashes you a sly, almost flirtatious grin at your not-so-far-fetched theory.

"And if it is?"

The feeling of your heart hammering in your heart is felt throughout your entire body, your cheeks warming as you feel blood rush to your brain.

"Who?!" You exclaim, completely forgoing the rules to the game. This narrows your options to about seven. Your hands fumble with the cotton on the hem of your shirt as you narrow your options down even further, a shuttering breath falling from your lips.

"How do you not know?!" Penelope is quick to match your energy, an actual pain shooting through her chest at your own naivety. Her brows raise as her eyes widen, her fists balling as she folds herself back from blurting it out.

Your lips part as you're about to exclaim something quick and witty back to your colleague when it hits you. Like a fish gulping for water, you feel the soft skin of your lips quickly snap shut.

The memories hit you all at once: the mornings you're in a rush and you forget your coffee - Reid excusing himself for a moment with a muttered excuse before returning with it minutes later, the nights you return home from a case and he offers to spend time with you because it pains you being alone after what you saw, the countless facts he will ramble to you on the plane because damn it, you're the only one that actually listens to him.

"Oh my god, Reid?" Your jaw drops as you gasp, your arms numbing as your nerves shoot past the roof and to the stratosphere.

With a relieved sigh, Penelope's palms slap against her thighs, planting her leg down onto the floor with her other one. "Finally!" She groans, almost feeling a sense of comfort that you know and the weird tension around the office while the two are around would soon come to an end.

"Since when?!" Your heart ticks against your chest so hard that you can hear it in your ears. Never in a million years would you assume it would be Spencer that would be silently pining over you. Reid?!

"Since like... forever, buttercup!" Penelope giggles. She can see the dots being connected in the pretty little brain of yours, and god, she loves it. Her voice softens, a warm, almost maternal intent behind them. "We really should be getting home..." She groans, her gaze flicking to the clock on the wall. "Since you two are totes madly in love already, let me know when one of you decides to make the move, okay?"

With a roll of your eyes, the back of your hand ever so gently strikes the side of Garcia's arm. She notices the way blush speckles across your face, a knowing grin playing against her own. You can't ignore the way your chest fuzzes over at the thought of Spencer feeling about you the way you feel about him, it makes your stomach ache with desire; you don't know if you love or hate the sensation.

"Goodnight, Garcia..." A mix between a chuckle and a sigh of contentment is emitted from you. She mumbles a quick 'good night' with a quick, playful wink before standing from her chair, returning it to its original home.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

The next morning you're in a hurry to get to work, oversleeping by a long shot as it took you forever to wind down last night due to your wandering thoughts.

You get to your desk with merely minutes to spare, a tired, overwhelmed groan falling from your lips as you place your bag in your desk and splay your jacket against the back of your chair.

"Long night last night, agent?"

You don't even have to look up to know who it is... your body freezes for a moment, not sure if you're prepared to deal with this; not yet, anyways.

With a soft sigh, your gaze is lifted and immediately greeted with Spencer's. His large, curious and caring stare. His hazel eyes almost bare into your own, causing a tingle to run down your spine. You try to ignore the butterflies that patter within the walls of your stomach, yet they're hard to confine.

"Yeah... I'm fine, Reid," You nod, your lips tentatively pressing together. "Just didn't sleep worth the damn last night... just... thinking about the case..." You trail, the sound of your voice growing softer and quieter like a beautiful decrescendo.

His lips part for just a moment, an inaudible 'ah' coming from him before giving you an understanding nod.

"I figured... Garcia told me you were here late last night and I kind of... presumed this may happen," He muses with an awkward chuckle. "Which is why... I brought you this..."

Reid's tall frame trails away from your desk for a moment, which draws out a soft hum from you as you tap your fingertips against the smooth, cool material of your desk.

His long stride is quick to return, your heart almost leaping out of your throat as he sees what's within his long, slender fingers.

Your favorite coffee.

You accept the gesture, your stomach doing flips as you take the cup within the confines of your own grasp. You mumble something quick and playful, telling Spencer that he is your favorite person in the world right now for such a small action.

The feeling of someone else watching you is burned into the back of your skull, a sensation churning in your gut that you can't shake. Your gaze flicks over to the side, in which you're immediately greeted by Garcia.

She not-so-subtly flashes two thumbs up at you, her nails painted a shade of dark purple. "Go get 'em!" She mouths in approval, your gaze quickly turning over to the male in front of you in attempt to hide Penelope's matchmaking attempt.

"Hey... do you um... maybe want to get coffee at this place together sometime?" You attempt to thickly swallow down your nerves, trying to soothe the heartbeat creeping out of your chest.

Spencer is silent a moment, his lips twitching upwards in a sign of approval at your suggestion. You see the thoughts shifting through his mind, the rates of his blinks increasing in a sense of disbelief that you're actually asking him this.

"I-- um... yeah! Let's do tomorrow before work? If... you're okay getting up that early, if not we can totally do a different time, perhaps--"

"Tomorrow it is..." You cut him off, something you rarely do. He nods in agreement, a quiet 'tomorrow' mumbled from his lips as he attempts to conceal his excitement.

You’re not sure how to shake off the butterflies in your stomach, but Spencer’s shy smile is enough to make you feel warm all over. You take a sip of your coffee, letting the moment linger. Before you can say anything else, Garcia’s voice breaks through your thoughts, louder than life.

"You two better not cancel on me! I want details!" she teases from across the room, flashing a mischievous grin your way. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips.

Spencer, now fully aware of the matchmaker’s antics, lets out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair, looking even more flustered than before.

You meet his gaze again, a new kind of tension settling between you—a mix of nerves, excitement, and something deeper that you’re not ready to name just yet. You take a breath, feeling that the next chapter of whatever this is has already started, and it’s thrilling.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you murmur, unable to stop the grin that’s threatening to split your face. Spencer nods, his smile small but genuine, as he turns to head to his desk.

As he walks away, you catch a glimpse of Garcia again, this time with an exaggerated wink. You shake your head, but you can’t suppress the warmth blooming in your chest. Tomorrow’s going to be interesting, to say the least.

And maybe... just maybe, things are finally falling into place.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ANIMAL INSTINCT

PAIRING: logan howlett x vampire mutant!female reader

RATING: explicit | WORD COUNT: 2.3k

SUMMARY:

after helping you out by letting you feed from him, logan asks you to return the favor.

part two of bloodthirsty

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

thank you for all the love on bloodthirsty! here’s a nice and smutty second part. big thank you to @guiltyasdave for reading this over for me 💕

TAGS/WARNINGS:

explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), x-men (2000) logan howlett, able bodied reader, vampire mutant!reader, no use of y/n, single POV - reader, primal play (chase/capture), gratuitous use of growling/roaring, light fighting, mentions of blood, biting, rough sex, semi-public sex (in the woods), oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, creampie, dirty talk, blade play (the claws come out).

Logan finds you in an empty hallway one afternoon, about two weeks after your encounter in the kitchen. You made the mistake of making eye contact, leaving you unable to turn and pretend you didn't see him like you've been doing since that night. 

"You avoiding me or something?" he says, hint of a smile on his lips. 

"No," you reply quickly. "What makes you think that?"

"Haven't seen you around much lately."

"Just busy."

"Right." He looks away for a moment, hands on his hips. "Look, I got a proposition for you."

"I don't--"

"I got this issue--," he continues, ignoring your response "--where it gets to be too much, you know? And I helped you out so--"

"What are you talking about?" you interrupt.

His voice drops a bit lower. "We're predators, right? And I don't know about you but sometimes my prey drive can be...too much, if you catch my drift."

"Okay..."

"And I got two words for you - quid pro quo."

You blink at him. "Logan, that's three words."

"I thought pro quo was one word."

"Why would you think that?"

"We're getting off topic," he says, waving his hands. “Think you can help a guy out?"

"Help you...how, exactly?"

You agree to meet Logan at the edge of the dense forest that surrounds the X Mansion at nightfall and as you walk through the grounds blanketed in darkness, your senses begin to feel more alive. Anticipation courses through you and the further you venture from the mansion, the darker the night becomes.

Logan is already there when you arrive, tension rolling off of him in waves. He gives you a tight smile.

"Took you long enough," he says. You roll your eyes.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" You gesture to the forest. "So, what now?"

"You run," Logan replies. "I hunt."

The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. What he's asking for goes against your nature but some deep part of you is eager to please. 

You take off through the trees, running as fast as your legs will carry you across the soft forest floor. With your enhanced speed, it's not long before you're miles from the manicured mansion grounds, surrounded by gnarled roots and a thick canopy of leaves that blocks nearly all light from the moon.

You slow to a stop, catching your breath. The snap of a branch is the only warning you get before Logan's heavy weight barrels into you, sending you both tumbling to the ground with him coming out on top, smiling down at you, a wild glint to his eyes.

"Gotta do better than that, bub," he says. He stands up, holding a hand out to help you to your feet. "I'll give you a head start this time."

"I don't need a head start," you grumble. "I'm faster than you."

He laughs. "We'll see about that."

You start running, his laughter ringing in your ears. Your path is less direct this time, weaving through the trees and doubling back to leave your scent in more places and crossing a small creek with the hopes that the running water helps to cover your tracks. You grow comfortable enough in your lead that you begin to slow down, keeping yourself attuned to the sounds of the forest and any changes that might indicate Logan has found you.

The trees break into a vast clearing, tall grass swaying in the breeze. Moonlight trickles past the branches, stripes of faint light illuminating the floor. You take a moment to appreciate the tranquility of it, but the calm is short lived when you catch movement at the corner of your eye.

Logan steps through the trees. He's removed his shirt, thick muscle glimmering with sweat, his chest heaving with labored breath. Your mouth goes dry at the sight and for a moment you really do understand what it's like to be prey, faced with something so deadly it's almost hypnotizing, impossible to look away even when you’re in danger. He stalks closer and you feel frozen in place, unable to move a muscle.

"Found you," he growls. 

Your survival instinct kicks into gear and you attempt to run away, sprinting across the glade with renewed vigor. If you can make it back into the forest you know you could shake him loose again, but staying in the clearing makes you a clear target. 

Logan roars, the sound loud enough to shake the branches of nearby trees. You risk a glance over your shoulder and are met with the sight of the man on all fours, running towards you with single minded determination. He rapidly closes the distance with impressive speed, wrapping his arms around you and taking you down to the ground for the second time that night.

You grapple with him, landing a kick to his chest that gives you the chance to crawl out from beneath him. He reaches a hand out for your ankle and drags you back toward him, using his weight to hold you in place. You wiggle an arm free and strike at his face, though he dodges and your fingernails scrape against his neck, leaving red gashes in their wake that heal in the blink of an eye. He pins your arm to the ground above your head.

"No more runnin’,” he says, a command that shoots straight to your core. You know he’s not talking about just tonight, but rather how you’ve been avoiding him. 

But how were you supposed to face him when the only thoughts you had of him since then were about how sweet he tasted, how good he felt, how much you wanted more, more, more that you couldn’t possibly ask him to give?

Your inner turmoil is lost when his lips slam against yours in a kiss that’s hot and hungry, stealing your breath with its ferociousness. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and you gasp at the sharp sting of pain that lights up your nerves. There’s nothing gentle about it, but you’re not gentle creatures and the beasts that pace and snarl beneath your ribcage have finally broken free.

Logan breaks the kiss to stare down at you with wild eyes. Blood, your blood, stains his lips and his tongue darts out to lick it away with a satisfied hum. He leans in close, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, mouth open against your skin with the threat of sharp teeth over your racing pulse.

“Can’t hide it,” he says. “Not when I can smell it on you, sweetheart.”

“Smell what?” 

“How much you want it.” He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, making you hiss. “How much you want me.”

Heavy hands find the hem of your shirt, shoving it up your chest until it’s bunched beneath your armpits. He pulls down your bra to expose your breasts and your nipples tighten at the sudden burst of cold air against your skin but his mouth is on you in an instant, warm tongue tracing the taut buds. Your back arches at the sensation and you dig your fingers into his thick hair, pulling at the strands. He hums with pleasure as he switches to your other breast, giving it the same maddening attention.

His palm slides down your belly, fingers dipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and finding your needy center, swirling through the mess you’ve already made in your underwear. You can feel the smug grin on Logan’s face before he even lifts his head to look at you.

“That’s what I thought.” He withdraws his hand, holding it up to his face. In the moonlight you catch a glimpse of the strands of slick stretching between his index and middle finger before he sticks them in his mouth with a groan, licking them clean. “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.”

The metallic sound of his claws unsheathing reaches your ears and your pulse jumps as he drags the blunt side of a single blade up the inside of your thigh. The tip catches on the fabric covering your pussy and with one quick move of his wrist he slices through your pants. His claw disappears and he reaches down with both hands to tear the fabric further.

Logan settles on his belly with his head between your thighs, your legs propped up on his broad shoulders. He kisses your pussy over the soaked fabric of your underwear but

spares you any further teasing, grabbing your panties in a tight fist and pulling roughly until the elastic snaps against your skin and he holds the torn fabric in his fist. He tosses them aside and buries his face in your cunt, devouring you like a man on a mission. His tongue alternates circling your sensitive clit and dipping into your dripping entrance, expertly tracing every inch of you. You’re so lost to the pleasure that you don’t notice him getting to his knees until he’s lifting your hips, hands gripping your ass tightly to keep your lower body suspended in the air and his mouth sealed to your cunt.

“Fuck!” you cry out, muscles growing tense as your orgasm builds. It hits you like a tidal wave, coursing through your veins as you shout his name like a prayer. His hold remains tight as he works you through it until you grow boneless in the aftermath.

He lowers you slowly back to the ground and you fight to catch your breath while he quickly removes his belt and shoves his jeans down enough to free his cock. You watch him take himself in hand, a brief slide of his fist over his impressive length before he runs the glistening head through your sensitive folds, bumping your clit and making you shiver.

Logan’s gaze remains fixed to yours as he presses forward, breaching your tight entrance. Your body accepts him greedily, the slight sting and stretch barely a thought when all you can focus on is how full he makes you feel.

His lips find yours for a messy kiss while he begins to thrust, a slow drag of his cock from your body followed by a sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs. You cling to his shoulders, clawing at his skin. The scent of his blood invades your senses and your teeth begin to ache at the memory of his taste. 

Your teeth catch on his lip and he hisses but doesn’t pull away. Copper blooms across your taste buds and you can’t help the desperate moan that escapes into the kiss.

“Come on, baby,” Logan says. “Take a bite.”

You rest a palm on the back of his head, urging him closer, lifting your head and kissing his neck, licking the salty taste of him from over his fluttering pulse. You open your mouth, sinking your teeth into skin and muscle and vein until warm blood spills into your mouth. The combination of his blood on your tongue and his cock spreading you open sends you over the edge.

Above you, Logan growls, a deep rumble you can feel down to your marrow, some ancient part of you preening with excitement. He holds himself still as you clench around him. Your orgasm slowly subsides and you find the strength to unclench your tense jaw from his neck, gently licking at the blood that spills from the deep impressions of your teeth.

Logan sits up, cock slipping from your body and leaving you achingly empty. His hands grip your hips, forcefully turning your lax body over and hiking your ass into the air. He spreads your cheeks and the vulnerable position has your whole body growing hot.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done,” he tells you as he positions himself behind you, thrusting his length back into your body and setting a brutal pace that has you crying out into the night. 

One hand holds your hip with bruising force while the other settles on your shoulder, pulling you into every delicious snap of his hips. Your mind goes blissfully blank with the overwhelming pleasure building up inside of you for the third time.

He folds forward, his chest pressed to your back and his pace growing sloppy as he nears his own release. A hand curls around yours, a moment of intimacy that leaves you reeling.

Logan roars, hips slamming into a final time, dragging your last orgasm from you as his cock pulses with his release inside of you. A sharp pain on your hip makes you gasp and you notice his claws have extended from the hand wrapped around yours, sinking into the dirt.

“Shit,” he pants, sitting up after a moment. The loss of his heat makes you shiver. “I nicked you.”

You slowly move yourself into a seated position, muscles feeling like jelly, and inspect the area that the pain came from. Your leggings have a new slice in the fabric and the material is sticky with blood but to your surprise, there’s no wound to be found.

“You heal that quick?” Logan asks. You shake your head.

“Not usually.” You run your fingers over smooth skin. “Must have been your blood.”

“You think so?”

You shrug. “Just a guess. Never fed from someone with advanced healing factor.”

“You sayin’ I’m your first?” he asks with a smirk. You can’t help the laugh that escapes and his smirk stretches into a grin. Logan stands, fixing his pants and holding a hand out to help you up. 

“How am I supposed to get back into the mansion like this?” you ask, gesturing to your destroyed leggings. 

“Guess I didn’t think that through,” he admits. “Give me a few minutes and I can be back with some new clothes.”

“How are you going to get into my room?”

He turns to look at you, continuing to walk backwards.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

With a wink, he disappears through the trees. You sigh.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Thank you for reading!

LINKS

all masterlists | logan howlett masterlist | support for palestine

[freyito]

ᴅᴇʟʟɪɴɢʀꜝ ⨟ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ in which: you wake up next to them.

✧ a/n: for those who have read my works since i first started writing, i made a little masterpost on the mk(1) boys nightly rotuines... i figured id do one for hsr men since my mk hyperfixation died and is buried 6ft under... and i might do one for the hsr men nighttime routines but for now... wakey wakey

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 3.9k

⎯ Aventurine

Ever the gambler, AVENTURINE even takes a gamble on waking up in the morning. He can set as many alarms as he wants, but he always sleeps in. He finds any excuse to cuddle up next to you and enjoy your warmth for a minute, or even an hour more. He doesn’t mind coming into work late, he always finds a way to slip out of write-ups.

You’ve lost count of how many alarms went off by now, as annoying as it was. Still, despite how important Aventurine was, he’s cuddled up against your back, hands gripping your clothes tightly as if you’d dare to wiggle out of his arms. You could remind him, again and again, that he needs to go, that he has a meeting that day, or a certain deadline, and he’ll just groan and say that his superiors can handle him being gone for another hour or so.

When you do manage to convince him to get up and start the day, he does everything with such reluctance. Forget his rank, forget all of it, he’d much rather spend several more hours in bed with you, even when the sun dips low. He’s slow to put on his uniform, asking you the most mundane of questions, with answers he already knows. He skips out on breakfast at hope, douses himself in that expensive cologne that makes you have to distance yourself until he leaves, and wires you enough money to buy the entire menu from the cafe you mentioned you liked in passing.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

The early bird gets the worm, as they say, and VERITAS is no exception to the saying. Considering work has him busy, he’s thoughtful enough to leave you to sleep, if you are not accustomed to a sleep schedule like his. He tends to wake up early, to give himself enough time to prepare himself for the day. He likes to be thorough, check over his lesson plan for the day, make sure he made no mistakes the day before (although he rarely needs to revise it).

While on the outside, he seems cold and uncaring, on the inside he’s flustering himself with how much he worries about you. He knows he will see you later in the day, when you’ll bring him his lunch, or after his lectures, but some part of leaving just unsettles him. Not that he believes you’d be in danger if you were gone, but more so how you take care of yourself. Of course he knows you’re capable, but some part in him wants to make sure.

So, before he leaves, right when you wake up, he does his best to cook a filling breakfast. Most of the times, Ratio has to put it in some tupperware and save it for later at work, but there are very rare occasions that he gets to enjoy the meal with you. He always makes more– “it was an accident, nothing more,” he’ll say, shaking his head, stoic as ever. But you know it wasn’t– and shovel it onto your plate, it’s his own love language. 

⎯ Boothill

BOOTHILL is an early riser. It’s a habit that was ingrained in him since he was knee high. Granted, he doesn’t need much sleep, and he isn’t around as often as you’d like. He doesn’t stay in one place for long, and he really only swings by your apartment once or twice every month. But that doesn’t mean he’ll sleepover, if only for a night.

Despite the fact that he wakes up even hours before you, he decides to let you sleep. Sometimes he’ll stay in bed as long as you are, soaking in the peaceful sight, one that he’s never afforded himself until you came along. He reaches out ever so tentatively, as if he’ll feel your warm skin underneath his finger tips, but all it earns him is a shudder and your face scrunching. And when you wake up, he’s in such a hurry to pretend he wasn’t watching you sleep, mumbling apologies like he’s disturbed you.

When he’s not watching over you, Boothill enjoys cooking. He might’ve lost his taste and stomach a while ago, but he’s still an excellent chef. For all he can’t eat, he loves cooking. And he believes one of the best ways of waking up is to have a hearty breakfast. While you catch up on your sleep (most likely because he showed up at your apartment late into the night scuffed and bloody(?), acting like nothing happened), he’s making the most heavenly smelling pancakes ever, humming some old country tune to himself. If you dare get up to see what he’s cooking, he shoos you back to bed, tutting and claiming that you’re ruining the surprise, as if he doesn’t do this every time.

⎯ Gallagher

For such a busy man, GALLAGHER tends to sleep a lot. Or perhaps, too little. His schedule is always fluctuating, which means he’s up early and home late. It’s unfair, you think. Most of the time he’ll come home all quiet, settle on a snack, and then sneak into bed, and pull you up close. Half the time he doesn’t even care about his clothes, opting to take off his vest and shirt and throw them on the floor. He’ll worry about the laundry later.

That being said, it’s often a gamble if you’ll see him in the morning or not. He wakes up quite early, and as much as he’d love to spend time with you, cuddle up, and go straight back to sleep, he has to at least look presentable for the next time he’s called in. Most of the time, he accidentally wakes you up when he gets up to shower, but you settle back in quite comfortably. 

Most of the time, he’ll have to leave right after his shower. So he’ll do his best to be quiet as a mouse, sneak in, and press a kiss to your forehead, before starting his day. But on the days he can sleep in, or when he doesn’t have work… he climbs right back into bed. The scent of his body wash rolls over you, in the near-overpowering sandalwood haven it is. He’ll wrap his arm around your waist, pull you impossible closer, and nuzzle into your neck. If you are awake by that time, he urges you to go back to sleep. ‘5 more minutes’, he’ll grumble, and in possibly record speed, he’s out like light. His arm loosens ever so slightly, as he snores away until his thirteenth alarm goes off.

⎯ Sunday

As a stickler for schedules, it’s no surprise that SUNDAY has a strict morning routine. He wakes up at 7 AM system time, 6 AM being too early, and 8 AM being too late. Of course, he encourages you to do the same. You get used to it with time.

He likes to start with a shower, of course. Something intimate with you, yet so normal. He does not mind spending an hour in the shower, but with his station, he cannot. So unfortunately, he has to cut such time short. But he makes sure to soak in every single minute left in the morning with you. A nice breakfast and some tea, as he chats away about his ‘chores’ for the day, what matters he is attending to, whether or not it is a day in the office or out and about. 

Regardless of how busy his day is, Sunday makes sure you know that you are in every waking thought of his. A kiss and a hug at the door, and he’s on his way. You can see some flicker of sorrow as he leaves, as if it is something to grieve over, not being by your side for a minute longer. But alas, to achieve and infinite amount of sundays, he cannot afford to make room in his schedule for more down time. 

⎯ Argenti

ARGENTI never ceases to look as heavenly as ever, even in his sleep. However, he has quite a strict schedule he sticks to, something that manifested when his master started training him. He has quite the strict schedule: wake up early, shower, enjoy his breakfast, and start training, unless he has somewhere to be. 

However, he does allow him so rest days, where he sleeps just a little longer, and allows himself more spare time. Very rarely do you catch him asleep when you wake up, and most mornings when he does ‘sleep in’, you often wake up to him gazing down at you. His head propped up by his hand, hair cascading down his shoulders. He could even miss out on several hours of sleep or perhaps even the entire night, and still look angelic. He greets you with a soft smile and a huff, his fingers brushing against your cheeks, as he waits for you to properly wake up.

And once you’re ready to get up, he’s ready to start the day. Anything you do, he's practically following you around like a lost puppy. When you make breakfast, you're either watching over his shoulder, or he is. He never skips out on a chance to dance in the kitchen, making something that was normally a spectacle regulated, and yet, it still feels as intimate as it does the very first time he pulled you into his arms.

⎯Sampo Koski

SAMPO KOSKI needs his beauty sleep. Granted, his sleeping schedule varies based on his business. Sometimes he needs to rob someone blind in the early hours of the morning, or his clients want to meet way past his bedtime. He’ll huff and puff and complain about it, but he always makes time to curl up in your arms like a poor little stray kitten.

When he is finally free of his dreaded work (his path in life that HE chose), he sleeps in quite late. Most of the time, he wants to enjoy the time he has left with you, pout and complain about how hard his job is (again, a career HE CHOSE). He has a lot to say when he (or you) wake up, only because he’s missed talking casually, and most of all, he’s missed you. His jobs and clients have him acting all proper, putting on some other character than he truly is for his clients. While there are some acts he likes… sometimes he just wants to break character and get his clients to buy whatever piece of junk he’s stolen.

Despite all his yapping, he truly enjoys the time he gets with you, even if most of it is him keeping you in bed. He pulls you up close to his chest if you even dare to move, burying his face in the crook of your neck and muttering pathetic little ‘don’t leave’s and the like. When you look down at him he’s just so tired, his eyebags are somehow seven times darker and he’s lost all that luster in his eyes. But you know he’s putting on an act. When you get up, he’ll be crawling to your side in no time.

⎯ Jing Yuan

Ah, the Dozing General. Who better to wake up with? While JING YUAN has to be up early, he doesn’t skip out on any time that could be spent with you. When his first alarm goes off, he’s quick to snooze it, rolling over and throwing his arm over your waist, pulling you closer. He’s used to waking up this early, of course, but he doesn’t like to miss out on those precious 30 minutes where he’s holding you close, uninterrupted. You’re accustomed to this schedule, as well. Wake up; but not really, spend the next moments cuddling, and then start your day.

As the Divine Foresight, he doesn’t get as much leisure time as he’d like, or days off. He could spend all day in bed, really, spoiling himself (as he sees it) to high heavens. But unfortunately, there is work that needs to be done, and he needs to start his day. And (un)fortunately, he quite enjoys dragging you along. A nice walk in the garden before he truly starts the day is a sign of a peaceful day. With you by his side, half-awake or not.

That being said, he does so because he wishes to spend every possible moment he has with you. His station means his workload will be unpredictable, and while he wishes that all days would be mundane, that wish will never come true. So, spending the first thirty minutes to several hours of his morning with you is what he rewards himself with. A nice meal and a good bath sets him in the right mood, being simply a step away at most in the morning. 

⎯ Blade

BLADE doesn’t sleep well in general. Often times he’s woken up at all hours in the night by things he won’t share– “It’s childish.” is what he says, with a huff. Nightmares. It’s nightmares. He doesn’t have much of a reaction to them anymore, aside from grumbling and complaining quietly, which is normal. As much as he tries to go back to sleep, he simply can’t most of the time, opting to do something to keep his mind and hands busy, as sleep deprived as he is.

You tend to be met with his back when you wake up, tense as ever. When he can’t find something to do, he settles on meditation, which does nothing to calm the voices and ‘vengeance’ that addles his mind. It does too little for him, his mind always circling back to what could have been. The minute you shift in bed, he snaps out of it quickly, looking back at you with his unreadable gaze. 

Most of the time, if you ask him to lay down with you, he will, as long as he doesn’t have an assignment he needs to be on. For all his sharp edges, he’s quite… dull when it comes to you. Perhaps it’s the many years he’s faced that’s made him lose his luster, or simply his own undoing. Yet, somehow, when you pull him in close, he relaxes ever so slightly. Perhaps not all the way, but it’d take you a couple more years to break down his walls completely. You could sleep for another three hours and he’d at least get time to close his eyes and let his mind rest; something he desperately needs.

⎯ Luocha

While LUOCHA’s “work” has him up quite early, well into the AMs. Of course, with all the traveling he’s done, his sleep schedule varies, and it’s not like he gets to spend as much time as he’d like with you, but you tag along all the same. He could be awake at 3AM system time and you’d be sound asleep until 10AM, and somehow, he’d still look as handsome as ever. You’re starting to feel a little jealous.

Still, he makes time to greet you in the morning. Aside from being a merchant, he is, of course, a healer, and he wants to make sure you're sleeping right. And, perhaps to catch up, if he has been gone for a few days. After all, not only does physical health matter, but mental, as well. A quick little chat, maybe some tender touches, and a hearty meal that he’s brought from the markets is quite enough mental stimulation, yes?

Sometimes, it seems he disagrees, choosing to crawl in bed alongside you, even if you chose to wake up properly. He’ll play with your hair, whisper sweet nothings to you, or simply just stare and smile. He doesn’t get to be affectionate often, either, and often that need for human touch culminates, which leads to those impromptu cuddling sessions in the morning.

⎯ Jiaoqiu

As a healer, JIAOQIU wants to make sure you (and him) maintain a normal, healthy sleep schedule. Unless he’s on an emergency call, he tends to wake up at a mostly normal time, between 8-10 AM. Of course, he wakes you up with him, wanting to start his day off right with your pretty face.

He wakes you up oh so sweetly for a man with such a scheming smile. His fingers glide over your skin, pushing your hair behind your ear, using such a sweet voice, one so sweet that it makes your teeth ache. And when you're finally properly awake, he’s all too excited to rush off to the kitchen, like a giddy child. 

Of course, what’s a morning without Jiaoqiu without some breakfast? When you return from your shower, the kitchen is alive with his cooking, the sounds of sizzling and smells of spices (what else?) a delightful concoction. What is he cooking? Ji dan bing, a fulfilling breakfast. While you are the only person he cuts down the spice for, the food still has enough kick to make you make a face. Of course, his plate smells so spicy that it makes you recoil, which earns a chuckle from the Foxian.

⎯ Moze

Most of the time, MOZE sneaks into your shared bed by the morning, seeing as most of his work is carried out during the night. By the time he’s settled in bed, it’s around the time you wake up. It’s a peaceful sight, really. You’re so used to him scowling or simply not emoting, that when you wake up to his face, tranquil as ever, it makes your heart flutter.

Of course, that does not last. He is up within the first couple of seconds you stare too long, easily woken by any simple rustling. The feeling of someone’s eyes on him means one thing: danger. And he unfortunately hasn’t shaken that habit. However, he has grown used to the fact that it’s you staring at him in the morning hours, and thankfully you are spared a knife to your throat.

He jolts awake with a disgruntled groan, his eyes darting over your features, taking in as much information as he can in his hazy mind state, as if he hadn’t seen your face a thousand times over. Once he is satisfied with the fact that it’s you, he lays back down with a huff, before pulling you down with him. You may have the day to start, but he would like at least a couple more moments in bed with you, he’s stubborn that way.

⎯ Dan Heng

With his days off, DAN HENG tends to enjoy lounging. If not lounging, then reading, and if not reading, then cleaning. But most of the time, since you came back from the Xianzhou Loufu, he’s been sleeping in an awful lot. You're often the first to wake up, or at least, the first to get out of bed.

Most of the time, you sleep in with him, happy to get a couple extra minutes to a couple hours more of sleep. It’s a nice moment of peace and quiet after the amount of missions you two have been on, while March and the Trailblazer updates you on what’s happening wherever they are. Still, sometimes sleeping in gets kind of boring. So while Dan Heng catches on some much needed sleep (and alone time), you busy yourself with cleaning around the express, helping Pom-Pom with certain tasks, and even doing your best to cook up some breakfast.

When you bring your expert attempt at pancakes back to you and Dan Heng’s room, he perks up. He goes from sulking to practically beaming (or what you can consider beaming, you get a soft smile nonetheless), and digs in eagerly. It seems like enough to energize him for a couple of days, pushing away what had happened on the Loufu to the furthest reaches of his mind.

⎯ Gepard

GEPARD does not get much time in the mornings with you or himself. As captain of the guard, he has to be up early, and on call whenever the need arises. While it is very rare that he is called to dispatch an issue in the middle of the night, he is often reluctant to simply leave you in the morning. Of course, he won’t wake you for his own selfish reasons, he just simply wishes he could get more time to enjoy your presence in the morning.

As quietly as he tries to move, somehow he always wakes you up, or perhaps that's what your sleep cycle has gotten used to. Oftentimes, you wake up when he’s taking his shower, his soft humming rising over the sound of water. You know he only does this when he believes he is alone or heard, and every single time, you can’t help but think of it as cute. But you won’t tell him you heard it.

Most of the time you stay up so you can say goodbye to Gepard and tell him to have a good day, while he stumbles over excuses that he doesn’t need. He’s adorable in all his fluster, before he finally collects himself with a deep breath. He promises he’ll see you at the end of the day, and that he’ll bring some dinner home from one of your favorite restaurants.

⎯ Caelus

What adventure with CAELUS drag you on next? That’s a constant question that haunts your mind every time an adventure is done. The most sleep you get is on the Express, in between missions. In the morning’s, he wakes up with such determination, it’s almost impressive. He could have the worst sleep of his life and he wakes up raring to go.

Of course, he does his best not to wake you if you aren’t up. In fact, he’ll do his best to be as quiet as possible, sneaking out of the room, and even tip-toeing down the cabins. Like any little movement will wake his precious partner up. However, sometimes, when he’s feeling a little clingy, he’ll cuddle back in bed and pull you really close, refusing to let go unless you need to do something.

On the occasion you guys are out on a mission, he is the complete opposite. He could wake up well into the noon and groan and complain about not getting enough sleep, even if he slept like a baby. Of course, he wants to get on with his adventures, but at the same time, the hotel’s bed is soooo comfy, and he doesn’t want to leave. Which, he’ll keep you there too until he’s fully awake, spooning you and hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

⎯ Welt

On his days off, which seems to be most days now, WELT sleeps in only a little. Mornings with him are nothing short of intimate, simply laying there in each others arms, muttering sweet words. Truth be told, he enjoys these quiet moments, even if they push back the work he has to get done around the Express.

Still, no one's complaining, right? The work he has to get done will get done eventually, and he can spare a couple hours for his beloved. He cherishes every stolen second, as the hours tick away, his fingers trailing over your skin, before cupping your face. Framing his entire world in his palm.

However, you can’t stay in bed forever. Unfortunately, you do have to get up, and start your day. Welt won’t leave your side, though. Not if he can help it, at least. You two share a shower together, some more words, of course, and even cook together afterwards. Pom Pom huffs and puffs about not only Welt, but you being late and taking too long, and how the Express is founded on the structure of the schedule. It’s okay, however, because Pom Pom will be thanking you two for your hard work (sweeping the other cabins, cleaning the windows, and vacuuming the carpet) at the end of the day.

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[cutielando]

a baku special | l.n.

synopsis: in which Y/N is there for the Baku GP

my masterlist

To say that Lando was excited for the Azerbaijan weekend was an understatement. Baku was probably one of his favorite tracks, and he was excited to finally be back after a year away.

He was especially excited that you were finally able to attend the race, having been stuck at work ever since you came back from the summer break. You were just as bummed that you had to miss the Dutch Grand Prix, especially since his family was there for Lando, but you finally managed to get some time off of work to join your boyfriend.

The entire team was grateful that you were able to tag along, frankly. They never failed to let you know just how mopey Lando was every time he had to leave you behind at home, how down he was and how much it took to get him to even smile or seem excited about the race.

Poking fun at him with Jon and Will was one of your favorite things, in truth. Even though he always got embarrassed, you knew he secretly loved seeing you get along so well with the closest people to him from the team. 

The weekend started very promising, to say the least. Both Oscar and Lando seemed very consistent and quick during the runs they did in the free practice sessions, and everything was looking very well for the qualifying session later that Saturday.

Lando had a very good feeling about it, jumping up and down in excitement in the last half hour he had free before he had to get in the car.

“You look excited as hell” you commented as Lando brought you with him as he started getting ready, smiling at how bouncy and energetic he was.

“I have a good feeling about this weekend, just wait and see” he smiled, giving you one last kiss before putting on his balaclava and his helmet, making you press a kiss to it before he made his way towards the car.

It had become your little ritual whenever you attended a race, giving his helmet a little kiss before he would get into the car. It made him feel more confident when you did that, reminding him that you were there with him, supporting him like you always did. 

But as the minutes ticked by during Q1 and Lando exited the garage with 2 minutes left on the clock, your heart started racing a little and panic started creeping into your veins. 

They had left it very late, and with the amount of yellow flags that have been shown during every single session so far in the weekend, you worried that something was going to go wrong and he wouldn’t be able to set a fast lap in time.

And, unfortunately, that was exactly what had happened.

He was doing so well, his lap times were so much faster than his previous lap and he was so close to the finish line when the marshals decided to wave that yellow flag for Ocon’s car, ultimately ending your boyfriend’s quali run in that exact moment.

Slamming on the breaks just mere meters away from the finish line, Lando slowly limped back to the pits, the session over for him much earlier than anyone had expected.

You didn’t need to see or hear him to know how gutted and disappointed he was by the pure bad luck he had with the timing of that yellow flag, the fight for the World Championship now more intense than ever. There was no room for mistakes, everyone knew that, but what could you do when things out of your control happen?

Will was just as disappointed as Lando when he had to tell him he did not have the time to start another flying lap, Jon was just as sad as you were to see him aborting and coming back 17th, and you… you had no words left in your body.

Lando got out of the car quickly, taking off his helmet and balaclava before accepting the water bottle you had been holding for him, his expression neutral, but you could see the turmoil happening in his eyes.

You slowly approached him as he drank from his bottle and stared off into the distance, pressing a hand on his back as you leaned in to whisper in his ear “Do you want to go back to your driver room for a bit?” 

He nodded, his mind still somewhere else but he allowed you to pull him with you, not even glancing at anyone in the garage. He felt bad enough as it was, he didn’t want to see the disappointed faces of his entire team, it would only make him feel worse.

You silently walked through the motor home, smiling slightly at people passing you and praying that none of them say anything to Lando. He just needed to be alone and away from everyone for a moment, he didn’t need to be bombarded with questions from the media just yet.

He deserved to be alone for at least 5 minutes following that qualifying.

The moment you got to his room, you locked the door behind you as he sat down on a chair, staring at his feet with an absent look on his face.

“Are you okay?” you asked as you kneeled in front of him, taking the bottle out of his hands and taking his hands into yours.

“The championship battle is over” he muttered, biting his lip as he sniffled. 

You shook your head, squeezing his hands into yours.

“Don’t say that, don’t you dare say that. You had back luck, baby, everyone knows that. You would have been P2 if that yellow flag hadn’t happened, and you know it. It had nothing to do with your performance, baby. It was FIA's mistake, don’t beat yourself up over it. You’ll come back stronger in tomorrow’s race and you’ll show everyone what a brilliant driver you really are” you said, punctuating every single word.

“What if I can’t do it? P17 is not really an ideal start” he said, but the corner of his lip threatened to lift upwards.

He was slowly coming back to you, slowly realizing that this wasn’t the end of the world, and it certainly wasn’t the end in his championship battle with Max.

“You will fight like hell and you will come back from this. I’m sure others will receive penalties and you’ll move up either way, but you’re a brilliant driver and this is nothing but another challenge to prove to everyone just how good you are and how much you deserve to have a quick car and win with it” you declared, your heart growing fonder once you saw the small smile Lando had on his face.

Just for the moment, he didn’t care about the race tomorrow, or about the fact that he had to start at the back of the grid. The only thing he cared about in that moment was that you were there with him, and that was all he needed in order to push through.

Just you.

♡♡♡♡♡

The morning of the race was very busy for Lando, having woken up a good while before you and left for the track so he could discuss the strategy with his team thoroughly. 

You didn’t wake up until 10am, having taken your time to get ready before heading to the track alongside Jon. 

Meeting up with Lando took longer than you had expected, him finally emerging into the motorhome an hour and a half before he had to be in the car to start the race.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” you asked once he came into your view, joining you as you were grabbing breakfast.

He sighed, resting his elbows against the table and his head against his palm.

“I’ve been up since 7, going over different strategies since 8:30. I’m starting 15th, by the way. Pierre and Lewis are both starting from the pitlane, so that’s some good news” he said, making you smile and squeeze his arm.

“Remember what we talked about yesterday?” you asked, making him nod. “This is just another day where you have to drive your best and show everyone just how talented you are with a good car. Don’t think about how many cars you have to overtake, just go out there and have a good time. I have faith in you” you smiled and kissed the side of his head, resting your forehead against his shoulder as your hand caressed the hair at the back of his neck, the soft curls waving between your fingers.

“Sometimes I don’t know how I manage when you’re not here with me” he said, resting his head against yours.

You smile sadly, wishing that you could attend every single race in order to be with him. 

The two of you had had some talks during the course of your relationship, with Lando suggesting that if you didn’t want to, you didn’t have to work because he had more than enough money to comfortably support the both of you.

But you liked your job, you liked the feeling of belonging to a place just like Lando belonged in the racing world, and you liked earning your own money (even though you barely used any of it because Lando always insisted on paying for everything). But when there came times like these, when your fiancé just needed you to be there for him, you wanted nothing more than to quit your job and just follow him around the world.

That was a conversation you would have after the race, though.

“I love you, never forget that. I’m always here for you, even if I’m not physically here. I’ll support you from whatever corner of the world I am at, never doubt that” you turned his head towards you and kissed him, pouring every single emotion into the kiss.

Lando melted at the feeling of your lips against his, the feeling of kissing you never having less of an effect on him than it did when you first got together. The butterflies were still there, and he still giggled on the inside whenever you two kissed, like a teenager in love.

Because he was in love with you, head over heels, and he would never get over it when it felt so good.

“I love you too”

♡♡♡♡♡

Frankly, the race was one of the most stress-inducing races you had ever attended personally. 

You were biting your lip every time the screen would cut to Lando overtaking someone, the sight of the walls coming at him at very high speeds making your heart jump every single time.

But seeing him climb through the order as fast as he possibly could made you prouder than you thought you could ever be.

The last sting on the mediums trying to catch and overtake Max had you the most stressed. You knew it was a pretty high gamble, one that both Lando and the team were willing to make, but you also knew how badly Max defended his positions, whether he had the car to do it or not.

Painful flashbacks of their fight in Austria came at you with high speeds, the unfortunate retirement on Lando’s side with just a couple of laps to go still haunting the both of you.

But then, he got closer and closer to Max, with fewer and fewer laps to go, and then he was in front of him. You didn’t remember cheering as loudly as you did in that moment with the team, not even when he won in Miami or Zandvoort.

Crossing the finish line in P4 was more than anyone could have wanted, and with Oscar winning the Grand Prix and McLaren leading the Constructors Championship, it was an amazing day for everyone in the team, every single person involved.

But especially for Lando.

You were anxiously and excitedly waiting for him to get back to the garage, ready to congratulate him on a superb drive that he should be nothing but proud of.

And then when you finally saw him approaching, you couldn’t stop yourself from running over to him, jumping straight into his arms, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck and your legs locked around his waist.

“I’m so fucking proud of you” you whispered against his neck, tears running down your cheeks from how proud you were of him.

“Who would have thought, right?” he joked, sighing against your neck as he took in your scent and your presence, his adrenaline starting to wear off as your presence calmed him down.

The world around you seemed to not even exist anymore, it was only the two of you locked in a tight embrace, ignoring every noise other than the steady breathing and heartbeat between you.

“I never doubted you for a second. I know what you’re capable of and you proved everything today on track” you lifted your head from his neck and took his face in your hands, not wasting another second before pressing your hungry lips against his, kissing him like he was your oxygen and your life depended on him.

And so, in those moments, after such a disastrous start to the weekend, the love of your life prevails, with you by his side.

Like always.

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[lovrsm]

“ꜱʟᴜᴛ!”

sum: Ferraris golden boy moves over to RedBull Racing Team.

Daughter of the CEO of Red Bull, you’ve grown to love racing, and in the way making new friends. Even if you felt like your world was falling apart, even when you denied it, he was the only one you needed. And there was absolutely nothing that could change his mind about your beautiful self, the way he loves you.

word count:idk, prb 2k

pairing: rb!charles leclerc x horner!reader

warnings: name calling, alcohol, smut f! receiving, first time writing real horny shit!

a/n: sorry for the long intro, I swear it’s worth it😔✋ LOOOL, I WROTE THIS LIKE A YEAR AGOO, and I rlly wanted to clear up my drafts but this is too good to not come out. Yet idk if I have any mistakes, if I do let me know!! Also, checo acting as a dad (#IloveCheco)

Spotify - Apple Music

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

“and I break down, then he’s pullin’ me in In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman”

Clink, clink, that’s what our champagne glasses sounded like together.

“Congratulations, what a wonderful year. It’s been a pleasure being with all of you.” Sergio, Checo Perez, made a brief goodbye to your team.

He was leaving Red Bull. Everyone here loved him, and loves him, including yourself. He became quickly your family after seeing him every day for more than 3 years.

“We will miss you” your dad palms his back, making Checo break a smile.

“It isn’t the end yet, you know that boss.” He laughed.

His reasons? Family, everything for him, he couldn’t bare leaving them anymore alone, so he decided after, several years, to leave formula 1. After helping Max to win his championships, he is a fucking legend.

“Well, I won’t leave you alone, I will still drag you everywhere, you know? Even after you leave.” Max and Checo have developed a very special bond, even if social media said otherwise.

“We, wont leave you alone, you still owe me those therapy sessions” I winked at him, he became a very big emotional support for me, believe it or not, he’s got some great advice to give.

“Lovely dinner” I took a picture of all of us with my camera, a goodbye dinner for Checo, and tomorrow, all of the world would see this on the newspaper.

-

“I really don’t know what to do, do you know how many drivers have reached us out in the last 2 hours? I mean, I have a few options but they keep giving me more reasons and… I just don’t know.” My dad was stressed, typing in his computer as if his life depended on it.

“It’s going to be alright, okey? You don’t necessarily need to worry about it right now, we still have a championship to win, you know?” I gave him a cup of tea, just so he could relax a bit.

When something is about work, everything else doesn’t matter. At all.

“We’ll watch your options, alright? I can help you with anything you want” I smiled at him.

“When did you became such a great business woman?”

“You’re my father, of course I’m hardworking.”

-

“Red Bull did it again, Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez, world champion and sub-champion!”

Screams from Max and Checo blasted my ears, P1 and P2, again. Absolutely no mistakes. The internet going crazy. And somehow it all became quiet.

“Who will get that Red Bull seat next year? Will he be a fit to Sergio Perez place?”

Everyone went outside to celebrate, while I stayed so I could hear the TV and media.

what do people want?

“Ferrari didn’t have a great year, let’s hope they both get a better car”

“I agree! Great drivers, such a shame Ferrari has been getting worse every year. What a waste of talent.” The other interviewer said.

Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz appeared in the screen. Both with an obvious forced smile plastered in their faces.

Charles, my secret crush ever since… forever. Was I obvious? Not a single soul knew, well, except him.

-

Charles Leclerc signed in RedBull that was the only thing appearing on my feed right now . Red bull? Bullshit, you mean? What kind of a big lie is that?

Internet was filled with Charles leaving Ferrari for RedBull.

In what twisted universe does that even happen?

I later learned, I am living in that twisted world, and I discovered the great news in social media, and not my own team.

“What do you mean Charles Leclerc, dad? Why wasn’t I even informed about this. Wait, hold on, when did it even crossed your mind?!” I was dignified.

Following around the kitchen.

“I didn’t have to, oh, I do think I need to tell you this, he’s coming to dinner tonight so wear something nice.”

Wear something nice.

Thanks dad, as always, you’re so, so great.

Night time came sooner than expected, if my dad hosts a dinner, even if there’s a million, or just one person coming over, he likes to be extra.

-

Almost time, 8:00 and it is 7:50, all that was missing was the dress. It was placed on my bed. Showing all of it’s beauty.

Navy blue, our color. It was my dream dress.

Light, silky and fancy dress.

I walked downstairs, watching people running and arranging everything, doing just the final touches.

I’ve come to learn, that people arrive late, or just in time. Never earlier.

“Ah, what a beautiful young woman I have here!” Geri, my father’s wife came to greet me.

“You look amazing, I knew that dress would be perfect for you!”

“Geri, you are amazing, seriously. Thank you, and look at you! We both look gorgeous.” I smiled at her and we linked arms, she and I were walking towards the garden, where would be the dinner.

Some big, round, wooden tables were set in the middle. Each seat would have a name, decorated with a white flower in the middle of the plate.

It was easy to find my place. I was at the biggest one of all, where the most important people of this night would be seated.

Lucky for me, his name was right next to my plate.

In a matter of seconds, people started to arrive, old friends, and new faces passed through those doors.

This will be a great night.

“Funny to find you here, it’s been some time since I last saw you…” I rolled my eyes, I (sadly) recognized that voice anywhere.

“Go away Mike.” I grabbed my wine glass and took a big sip out of it. “C’mon princess, where are your manners?” He got too close to me.

“Hey y/n! Your dad was looking for you, like right now.” Max Verstappen here to save my day.

“Oooh that’s unfortunate, I’m so so so sorry Mike, hope to see you later!” I waved him off and quickly moved towards Max who then friendly linked his arm with mine.

“I owe you one.” I sighed. “You owe me much more than 1, little one.” I laughed at him.

We got close to my father, who now had a microphone at his hand.

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming here and be with us tonight. A toast for Checo here!” He announced and a light was shining on Checo, standing from his seat.

“It has been a wonderful year, sadly it has to end. And I know I’m not the first to tell you that an incredible young talent will be joining us for next season.”

There he was. Navy suit with our logo on him. His hair was messy yet perfectly placed. He showed his dimples and I’m sure I heard someone behind me moan at his sight.

My heart rate was increasing slowly but surely.

“y/n, you’re going to squeeze all my blood from my arm. Stop.” Max whispered in my ear.

Shit. I basically dug my nails into his arm due to my tiny crush.

“Yeah, It’s amazing to know that I’m to race with RedBull next year. I hope we can achieve everything we’ve dreamed of. Looking forward to race with my lifetime partner, Max here.”

Now the light was on Max and me. I discreetly let go of max so that he could have the spotlight. As Max waved I looked back at Charles.

The dimples in his face showed even more, he was looking at me too.

“I can’t wait to work with these wonderful people, and I hope we have a great year to remember, thank you and enjoy this night!” He raised his glass and so did all.

“Well, I hope we don’t have any inchidents” Max laughed at his own joke. Dad joke I must say.

“Well If you don’t push me off the track I think we’ll be just fine” his voice gave me chills. I felt his chest on my back.

I wasn’t strong enough to turn around.

“Oh, shoot, you hear that? I think P is calling me!”

“No, Max-” I tried to stop him.

Around Charles, I barely have control over myself.

“Uh-huh, yeah that’s P, she wants to go to the bathroom, and she needs food, ok have a great night bye!” He rushed to god knows where.

“You really don’t want to be with me, do you?” He whispered on my ear. Feeling the heat of his breath.

“Why wouldn’t I? You are such a lovely company, mr Leclerc.” I gathered the strength and turned around, and his beautiful green eyes shined at me, making me blush.

“Look at you, could you get any more beautiful?”

He lowered so he could whisper again. “I’ve missed you” I looked around real quick, thankfully Max took everyone’s attention on the other side of the place.

“Not here, Charles.” I whimpered.

“Yes here, I can finally be with you, do you think I would waste any more time pretending to not love you? If you do, let me tell you, you are completely wrong.”

He kept whispering, his hands slowly finding his way to my hips. And mine to his collarbone.

“It’s not even 9pm, Leclerc, this party hasn’t even started” I fighted against my own will to drag him upstairs.

“You know I’ll wait, just for you.” He winked at me, before slowly letting me go and walking away.

“You’re not coming, mon coeur?” Charles turned around to look at me. “If you insist.” I happily walked by his side.

We walked and talked for a few minutes before Mike magically appeared before us.

“Oh not even 5 seconds and you are already like a slut with the new driver” He looked at me with a disgusted face.

“Excuse her? Don’t tall to her like that. Do we even know you?” Charles used a very cold tone on him. And Mike started to stumble on his word.

“Uhm, no, she does, like I was something to her-”

“Was, that’s a key word, pal. Don’t you ever talk to her, no, don’t you ever talk to any woman that way do you understand?”

Now, I can defend myself just fine, but that right there soaked my pants in an unexplainable way.

“Get out of our sight, man.” And he crawled away.

“That was hot.” I whispered and he blushed. “Your mother did raise a gentleman.” I smiled at him and he gave me a cheek kiss.

-

Lost on the moonlit pool, drinking my… 11th (?) glass of wine at 1 in the morning while everyone was still dancing, was weird.

My feet swinging as I drink the last drop of my glass.

I went on a side quest myself just to get distracted for a bit. All the noise was going to hurt my ears if I stayed any longer.

“Here you are, you got lost?” He sat down at my side. Didn’t have to look, his thick accent gave him away immediately.

I took a long breath and rested my head on his shoulder . “Yes, Charles, I’m going to get lost in my own house.” I felt him move beside me. He then had his feet in the pool, just as I did.

I smiled to myself.

“Has anyone told you just how beautiful you look today?”

“You have, more than once.”

“I couldn’t let that slip, you do look beautiful with that dress. It suits you just perfectly.”

He paused.

“But I bet you’d look much better without it.”

I nervously chuckled at his comment.

“You haven’t talked to me in ages, you came back being a driver for my father, and now you want to have sex? Why don’t you already make me your wife?!” I dramatically fell into his arms

“Ages? I talked to you last week!” He showed his teeth to me in a smile. “That was a long time ago! Besides, you never told me about you and RedBull.” I sit straight up again.

“I needed your dad to love me one way or another. How else am I going to get him to approve of our marriage?” He joked.

“You are unbelievable Leclerc.” I stood up, and grabbed my high-heels on my hand, walking back to the party barefoot.

I surrounded part of the pool, my dad wanted to add a bar right beside it, and it was freshly cemented.

He quickly copied my moves, but instead, he went on a straight line to me, and in a step he covered his feet in cement, falling down and thankfully placing his hands before getting worse.

“Shit!” I ran back to help him. I stupidly placed my hand in the cement, the other helping Charles to get up.

“Look, we made a masterpiece! Your handprints and mine in wet cement.”

“And your feet.” I laughed

“And my feet… I really need to wash this off before it gets dry.” I grabbed his hand and he followed my lead.

If my dad sees that I’m getting his new driver to my room…

We rushed through the multitude of people on the garden.

“Ooh we’re going to your bedroom, can’t remember what happened last time there…” he whispered shouted as we were running up the stairs.

I jokingly rolled my eyes at him. We were giggling like children. He kept making dirty jokes and as much as I tried to control myself I’d end up giggling much more.

We got there quicker than I thought. With my clean hand I closed the door and he was already in my bathroom washing his hands, and feet with water. I ran to his side and did the same with my left hand.

“I’m done” I announced and got out of the bathroom. Deciding to do a touch up for my makeup, thankfully nothing was much out of place, but my lipstick faded.

I slowly applied it looking in the mirror, and through it I saw a curious Charles looking at me. “Why do you even apply lipstick?” He slowly walked towards me.

I took my sweet time spreading the color on my lips.

“Cause we are going back, party is not over.”

“But we don’t need to.” He grabbed me by the waist and turned me around to look at him and he swiftly placed me on the desk. A smirk plastered on his face, as he slowly got on his knees.

“Charles…”

He got to his knees, not breaking eye contact with me.

“You know that if you say no, I won’t do anything. But I’m not hearing those words, am I?” He lifted my dress planted wet kisses on my inner thighs, getting closer to my sweet spot. “You’re so fucking wet”.

“They will know we’re gone” I nervously whispered. He looked into my eyes and stopped, his hot breath making me squirm. “That isn’t a no.” He stood his ground.

And I’m not saying “do it anyway”, but we both know he is going to.

I didn’t even have a chance to think about the cons, his tongue was already doing its job.My legs were closing due to the pleasure, but his strong arms kept them wide open while he drew circles with his thumbs.

“Charles…” he hummed in response, sending me shivers all the way up. He kept licking my folds and as I looked down, he had his shiny green eyes looking at me. A hint of darkness in them that made me moan just at sight.

His head between my legs was surely what heaven looked like.

I curved my back and my hand gripping his hair so he could get closer. He groaned and sucked even harder.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy, I missed this.” His hand moved quickly into me, curling his two fingers finding my g spot. “Fuck, Charles!” I screamed his name while cumming all over him, his tongue taking all off of me, as he rose without slowly moving his fingers again. My hips rocking back and forth as he arose, keeping his hand busy. “Too bad that pretty mouth of yours can’t do much right now. I really would love to feel it sucking my dick.” I hummed imagining it and getting even closer to my second climax.

“I'll take care of you, just so my princess can remember who she belongs with.” His lips were on my neck, whispering sweet nothing between kisses and soft biting. My moans filled the whole room along with the sound of his fingers working on her center.

Charles, Charles, Charles…

Each time his name left your mouth his cock got even harder, to the point where it hurt. In a short motion his pants down and without any warning he thrusted into you. You both let out a pornographic scream. If the music wasn’t loud everyone would have heard you two. The sound of your slaps were evident, heat rising, the feeling of his beard in your neck was all too much. Curses along with moans were the only thing louder. He did a final thrust and immediately pulled out, jerking off and finishing in his hand.

“You just washed your hands.” I joked breathlessly, he messed up with my head real bad. “Couldn’t resist” he smiled, gave me a peck and disappeared into the bathroom. I melted on that spot.

“Come on mon coeur.” What I loved about Charles was that he always cared. we got into the bathroom and I washed my hands, in the reflection of the mirror his eyes were already in mine.

“What?” I asked as the blood rushed into my cheeks. “Nothing.” He gently smiled, and his eyes shined to me in a different shade of green.

-

Taglist

@delicatepeanutsublime @ironspdy @architect-2015 @buendiabebeta @dreamergirlatpaddock @lercvlie

[abswhore]

JUST A FRIEND PT 3

Part one and two.

Pairing: college!fwb!abby Anderson x reader

A/N: I have a proofread so please excuse any mistakes - and thanks for all the likes and follows I’ve gotten so far 🩷 and don’t be afraid to comment!

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Come over I miss you the text message that came through your phone read, you bit your lip tapping your thumb on the screen, you were swarmed with work but you arching to see her. You slid off the bed , quickly putting on your shoes and jacket.

You told your roommate that you would be back later, once you got a notification that your Uber had arrived . The trip to Abby's was brief since her apartment wasn't too far from campus. You quickly texted her to let her know you were downstairs.

She sent you the access code to her apartment. And As you arrive at her door, you nervously fidget with the rings on your fingers, anxiously waiting for her to open up.

She smiled at you, saying, "You look good." As she ushered you inside, she nestled against you and planted a kiss on your neck before helping you take off your jacket.

“Why you acting like that?” Abby questioned raising her eyebrows

“Acting like what.” You approached her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter while watching her as she moved around .

“All nervous like you never been here before.” She responded while leaning against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest.

“You make me nervous.” You joked with a little bit of truth mixed in, she hummed nodding “I do have that affect on people.”

“Whatever.” You chuckled lightly and rolled your eyes at her, enjoying a the silence that came over as you both kept eye contact. She pushed herself off the counter walking towards the fridge, grabbing a container of ice cream and two spoons.

“Tell me something about you.” She finally spoke breaking the silence between the two of you.

“What do you wanna know ?”

She shrugged pulling the spoon out of her mouth “whatever you think is important.”

You hummed while nibbling on your lip, contemplating what might be worth sharing with her. Eventually , you ended up discussing your family and a few other little details.

“You just gonna stare or say something?” You asked her once you finished sharing as she just looked at you with a grin.

“Open.” She told you putting a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth pulling out the spoon slowly “you’re cute.”

You turn your head as a smile slowly appeared on your face, your smile faded as you notice Abby’s phone glowing on the counter, the name Jade flashing brightly on the screen. Your gaze locks with hers as she turns her phone face down.

“You can answer, it seems important.” You told her As her phone chimed a few times, you felt a strange sensation wash over you, causing your chest to tighten.

“It’s nobody important.” She assured you and you responded with a hum while spinning the spoon around your fingers.

“C’mere.” As you moved around the counter towards her, she extended her arms, lifting your chin gently and brushing her lips against yours a few times.

“I’m with you right now.” She mumbled into your neck as her hands gripped your ass pulling you closer.

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Abby leaned in, planting kisses along your neck. “Good morning, beautiful,” she whispered, her voice warm and affectionate. You shifted your position, stretching your arms out before finally turning to face her and saying, " morning."

You felt her face press against your neck as she playfully nibbled on it. You let out a groan and gently shifted her face, asking, "are you not tired from last night?"

“I can’t get enough of you.” Abby’s lips curled into a playful smile as she began to pull you closer to her . “ I just want to lay with you.” She admitted as her fingers began to rub her thumb over your side

Wrapped in each other’s arms under the warmth of each other, the world outside of seemed to fade away. And Despite the rules you both had set no strings attached, no falling in love you couldn’t help but want more. You craved to be more than just friends you wanted Abby and all of her.

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Out of the blue, your roommate asked, “So, are you and Abby still together ?” This made you look up from your laptop.

“Yeah, something like that,” you answered, feeling uncertain about where this was going.

“It’s nothing serious, I just came across something and wasn’t sure if you knew,” she said, reaching for her phone.

“Her ex-girlfriend posted something a few days back,” she mentioned, passing you the phone. The image showed Abby with another girl after one of her games—the one you couldn’t attend due to work. Abby looked happy, her arm around the girl.

“Oh,” was all you could manage as you glanced at the username before returning the phone. “Thanks for letting me know.”

A tightness formed in your chest as you browsed through the account. Abby wasn’t very active on social media, but every picture had likes and comments. You tried to shake off the feeling, but it stuck with you.

You went to Abby’s contact your thumb hovered over the phone icon, deciding against it you deleted her contact throwing your phone to the side. You wanted to protect your feelings the ones that you had left.

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A few weeks had gone by since you promised yourself that you were finished with Abby, and it had been the toughest week of your life. You struggled to resist the temptation to respond to every message and call she sent your way.

However, it was at the homecoming party that you realized avoiding her would be nearly impossible. You knew you would cross paths with her at some point during the night.

As you stood next to Ellie and Jesse, you downed the shot that Nora had bought for you. “Might wanna take it easy,yeah ?” Ellie asked, you concerned .

“I’m fine, Els,” you replied, your words slightly slurred. You had drunk more than you planned, trying to keep pace with Jesse. You set the empty cup down and moved toward the group where Nora and Dina were, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of Abby.

Then you spotted her. She was laughing with Manny and a few others you didn’t recognize, and you made your way over, your eyes fixed on her.

“Can we talk?” you asked nervously. She glanced at you, then at her friends, before handing her beer to them and grabbing your wrist, pulling you through the crowd.

She led you into an empty bathroom and leaned against the door. “What is it?” she asked, her tone sharp.

“I-I miss you,” was the first thing that came to mind as you looked at her. She opened her mouth to respond, but everything faded away as you moved closer and pulled her into a chaotic kiss. You both struggled for control, but she overpowered you, pushing you against the door and gripping your clothes tightly.

You don’t remember how you ended up from the bathroom to your room, both of your clothes were tossed around the room. Tugging on Abby pants you pulled them down, rubbing her throw her boxers as your felt the strap she wore

“You want this ?” She asked you lowly unclipping your bra, as she rubbed your boobs aggressively, you nodded your head backing up onto the bed.

“Words, tell me you want it.”

You exhale, "I want you," as you lean in for a kiss, but she pulls away, turning you around and gliding the silicone between your folds.

Abby reached for behind you grabbing. Your neck as she pushed the tip of the strap inside causing your to grasp her grip on your neck tightly as she pushed the entire strap inside of you pounding inside of you roughly, each stroke harder than the last .

“You feel me ? You feel my dick inside of you.” She whispered into your each slowing down her pace , pushing on your back making your arch.

Abby began to speed up her pace , her hips slapping against your ass as she thrust into you. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room, mixing with your moans. She reached around, her fingers finding uoue clit, rubbing it in tight circles. Your moans grew louder, as you moved back matching her thrusts.

“You like how I fuck you.” Abby growled her grip tighten on your hips “don’t you? I’m the only one to make you feel this good.”

You could only nod as you bit on your wrist feeling your orgasm approaching, “ I wanna look at you while you fuck me.”

Abby smirked flipping you over slapping the black strap, on your clit rubbing it up and down causing you to whine. As she slid inside on you her chest met yours as she kissed on your neck.

her hands sliding up your sides to grip your boobs as she thrust harder into you. Abby squeezed at your chest as she bent down kissing you. Pulling back you stared at her face the confession fought to slip out as she hit your spot over.

“I love you.” You whispered lowly only for you to hear, she slowed down grinding into you “I can’t hear you baby speak up.”

“Fuck! I love you.” You busted out in a moan, Abby movement stopped her eyes widen as she looked at your face But she still doesn’t move, the tip kissing your cervix. Moving your body a little, feeling a tad uncomfortable at the position.

Her hand tightens at your hip, “Stop” she says, quietly moving your hand away from her hips But then, pushing past the weight of the words, she resumed her rhythm. Bring you to your climax and with a few strokes she came after you.

You both collapsed together, your chests pressing against each other as She gently brushed her hair away from your face, holding your jaw as she kissed you deeply.

“Abby.” You called out her name as she moved off of you wrapping her arms around you. The feeling was back in your chest . You had messed up the three words you spoke could run her away.

She hushed you kissing your back “let’s sleep.” Tears filled your eyes bitting down on your lip fighting to keep your emotions together.

And when you woke the next morning Abby was gone. You reach over grabbing your phone and no text or call. You had ran her away.

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[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter three, full machine)

‘I'm a forest fire, you're the kerosene. I had a life here before you, but now it's burnin'. I know I know better and you're ignorin' me, still, if you asked me to run away, i'd go easily’

summary; you know you have a bad history with relationships, so to try not to get in your own head when you stop hearing from spencer.

warnings; fem reader, mentions of bad relationships, ghosting, commitment issues, self doubt & overthinking, preettyy angsty idk guys, no comfort yet but there is some fluff, and theres penelope & reader friendship!! reader lowkey shit talks spencer but he deserves it. reader is embarrassed & upset.

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules

2.1k words.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since you had last seen Spencer. You understood the demands of his job, that it kept him busy and a lot of the time you were fine with that — you enjoyed your space and your own personal time. You had never had an issue with him being gone on cases before but he would always text you or call you when he got the chance.

And never had he been on a case for two weeks. Not that you knew of anyways.

It was difficult not to jump to conclusions and ruin the idea of him you had. It was difficult not to shut down. It was difficult to not think ‘how could you be so stupid’ and you were trying really really hard to not repeat past mistakes and project past relationships onto this one.

But it wasn’t even a relationship.

It wasn’t like he had talked to you at all. The first two days after he left for his case he had sent you numerous texts, telling you how sorry he was for having to leave early, he called you on the first night and stayed on the phone until you had fallen asleep. Everything was normal. There was nothing that set off any warning bells in your head.

That made you feel even worse.

You hadn’t spammed him with texts, nor calls. You hadn’t messaged him since the last text you sent was left on delivered. You wouldn’t beg for him to reply to you, you wouldn’t beg for an explanation on what you might’ve done wrong. You’d rather live with the lack of closure than further damage to your pride.

But then there was a part of you that wondered if maybe something happened to him, a big part of you worried that something happened to him — actually. You tried to ignore the lingering dwindle of anxiety in your stomach as you carried on with your day to day life. You tried so hard to ignore it.

But two weeks was a long time to ignore an aching gut feeling, one that kept you up at night and never seemed to go away.

Could you have called Spencer? Yes. You could’ve. But did you want to risk the call being ignored and every lingering doubt in your mind being proven correct and then be embarrassed about it? God no.

You were a shame spiral when you instead texted Penelope, who had given you her number when she saw you and Spencer at the grocery store, the last time you had seen him. She begged you to reach out when she got back so you two could arrange to hang out.

You weren’t even sure if they were back. Normally you would know that by Spencer coming over to your house at some ridiculous time and delving into your arms like it was the only place he had ever been able to call home, but he didn’t come over this time.

It was a simple text, ‘Hey Penelope, how are you? I haven’t heard from Spencer in a while so i just wanted to make sure he was okay’

It was good enough. You didn’t want to explain how you just wanted to make sure he was alive so you didn’t feel guilty for hating him. You didn’t exactly want to hate somebody who was dead. Yet a twisted part of you hoped that something had happened to him, because at least then he wasn’t just ignoring you.

What you weren’t expecting was your phone to light up with an incoming call from the one and only Penelope Garcia. You answered it, partly scared that she was calling because texting you to tell you that Spencer was dead seemed insensitive.

“Hello?” You answered. The place in your bed warm from the weight of your body as you shuffled slightly. It wasn’t exactly late, but it was past evening times. You heard mumbling and shuffling on the other side of the phone, before a happy voice.

“Hello my sweet angel!” Penelope greeted you, even in your doubtful mood the warm greeting from the sweet women made a smile line your lips. “I got your message — I’m a little confused. He is fine, he just left work” She answered.

Okay. Not dead.

“Oh” It passed through your lips because now you were just overwhelming confused. “Uh- How long have you guys been back?” You asked, almost afraid of the answer you would receive. You were hoping she would tell you they had only just gotten back, and that the case had been so busy that nobody had time to text anybody.

“A little over a week.” She answered. That made your chest tighten, a lot. Almost painfully. You didn’t want to cry, you didn’t want to give the situation the satisfaction of your tears. You didn’t want to give Spencer any more power over you.

“Right. Okay. Thanks.” It came out shakier than you intended it to be and a wave of embarrassment washed over you. You took pride in your ability to not care about things like this, you didn’t get emotionally involved because of this reason. Your mind was overwhelmed with an abundance of doubts and self depreciation. Embarrassment. You were so embarrassedz

“Did Spencer not tell you? He has been stroppy all week. We thought maybe he had messed up and you were mad at him.” The words came out as a playful joke, but you found it humourless. Because although you weren’t mad at him, you were now.

You wondered if you even had a right to be mad. Clearly he wasn’t dead, so he was just ignoring you. You hated how much that thought made your heart hurt an overwhelming amount. You hated how you had now let someone in enough for their absence to have an effect on you.

“He.. No. He hasn’t told me” You mumbled out, your voice representing how distant your mind was from this conversation. A million different thoughts and each one as bad as the last. You didn’t want to tell his co-worker and one of his friends that he had just up and ghosted you, you didn’t think it was fair, but you could basically hear the confusion and concern lacing her voice. “He hasn’t talked to me at all in over a week..”

“What?” Her response came out hard and fast, tone laced with clear shock and confusion. “Thats- I mean it was a rough case but.. not.. that rough — Maybe he is just overwhelmed? Have you tried calling him? He can get distracted easily.” She rambled, trying just as hard as you were to find a valid explanation for his sudden disappearance.

But you both knew Spencer. Or you thought you did. You knew enough to know about his memory. He didn’t just forget. Or maybe he did. Were you forgettable for him? Were you something so minority important that it slipped through the tight grasp of his memory. Oh that wasn’t a fun thought.

“No- uhm.. I’m not going to call him.. If he wants to talk to me he would.” You muttered. You wanted to believe that, you wanted to not care as much as you were making it out to seem you didn’t. You wanted to feel casually about it. About him.

You really regretted kissing him two months ago.

You wished you could be the type of person who believed that was no point dwelling, the type of person who would be grateful it happened rather than sad it was over — but you just weren’t. You didn’t think you were capable of getting over someone unless you hated them with every fibre of your being. Unless they hurt you to the point of no forgiveness. You couldn’t be glad it happened — not when it ended like this.

It always ended like this, you knew that from the start.

“Im so sorry. I have no idea whats going on with him!” She apologised in his behalf and it was almost funny to you. How come a girl you met once seemed to have more remorse than the guy you had (stupidly) falling in love with.

You shook your head, but she couldn’t see you. “Don’t apologise. Its fine. Its not a big deal really. We weren’t much of anything anyways.” Maybe the words came out fast enough for you to believe them, maybe they were to try and convince yourself that it was true — that it was how you felt.

It seemed it was how he felt.

“Oh sweetheart” Penelope synthesised. “How about this — We can have a massive movie night at mine sometime over the weekend and if you haven’t heard from him by then, then we can talk about how bad his eyesight is and the amount of sugar he puts in his coffee” She mumbled.

You let out a laugh, you wished that his bad eyesight and way too much sugar was the worst you could say about him right now. Your opinions on the boy seemed a lot stronger. Although it made your heart ache that it was his friend apologising and making you feel better.

“I’d like that.” You said, pulling your knees closer to your chest as your curled in on yourself in your bed. You hated how cold and empty it felt without his presence by your side. Even with the same glow of your fairy lights, the room was lit with the same warmth when it was just you.

You were mad. If you could only use one emotion to describe how you felt it would be mad. Embarrassment, disappointment, hurt — they’d all be thrown out the window. You were just so mad.

At him, for making you believe that maybe things would be different, for letting you get close to him, allowing you to trust him, open up to him. You were mad at him for giving and taking like it was some sort of game. You were mad at his lack of communication. You were mad at how he once looked at you like you held so much value only to leave as if you were worthless.

But you were more mad at yourself. You had made it a rule not to date. You had a life, a good happy life before. You busied yourself with work and going to the library to read and get a moment of peace beneath the shelves of books, you enjoyed getting your coffee’s from the small cafe on the corner in the morning, and dancing with your small group of friends at the club on the weekends, and then Spencer came along and now all those things you enjoyed so much seemed dimmer without knowing you’d see him at the end of the day.

You were frustrated because you knew better than to let someone get close to you. You knew how codependent you became on the existence of another by your side. You knew this. You knew all of this. You knew you were cursed, unloveable if you really wanted to hurt your own feelings. You knew this.

Yet you let yourself get sucked into his sweet words and empty promises, his soft touch and warm embrace. You let yourself believe that things might be different this time.

And god were you mad about that.

But most of all, you were mad about the fact that despite all of this. All of the doubt and anger swirling through your veins and leaving every harsh breath that existed your lips, you didn’t hate him. You were mad at him — so mad, but there wasn’t a single part of you that would ever say you hated Spencer Reid.

Not optionally. If it was up to you, you would go back in time and you wouldn’t have let him get close enough for the line to be between love and hate.

You worried, still. About if he was okay, what he was doing. You hated that. You hated that he had made you soft.

You hated that you let him make you soft.

You hated that you still wanted him to reach out to you, apologise and say he had just been so busy, or say he just needed time after the case. You hated that if he showed up on your door step right now you’d probably let him in without a word — whereas if this was prior to six months ago you would’ve slammed the door in his face and told him to get fucked.

Love didn’t come easy for you. But loving Spencer was the easiest thing you have ever done. Hating him was near impossible.

[lee-laurent]

T'es ben chix - Luke Hughes

Summary: Amélie decides Luke Hughes is the cutest boy she's ever seen, but she doesn't know how to tell him.

wc: 7k

content: fluff, a little bit of angst, kissing, panic attacks, anxiety, quick make out session, a couple dirty jokes, long distance relationship (let me know if missed anything!)

notes: don't let the title fool you, this fic is still in english!! i realized the other day while doing schoolwork that i don't have a fic that discusses being french-canadian. so... here we are! this fic was super fun for me to write and i incorporated experiences and challenges i have faced over the last few years. a lot of the mistakes that amélie makes are mistakes that i have made or that other french speakers make when speaking english bc sometimes we try to directly translate things and it just does not work lol i reallly hope you guys enjoy!!! and to any other francophones out there: let's be friends!!

just finished writing and it's about 5k words more than i was planning

Amélie honestly wasn't the biggest fan of going out back home, so going out in a place where she could barely speak the language was even worse. But a few of the girls she'd befriended had convinced her it was a good way to get to know more people and to let loose. She sat with the three other girls at a small table, her fingers drumming against the glass of her cocktail.

"Yeah, what did you think of that guy that presented today, Am?"

"Hm? He did... good."

"No, silly. Did you think he was cute?"

"Oh, um, he's... how do you say... not my type?"

"Not your type? Then what is your type, Am?"

"Probably that guy she's been making googly eyes at all night," one of the others teased.

"Who? The tall, curly haired guy in the corner?"

Amélie blushed, sipping at the alcohol for courage.

"Ooo, she's totally into him!"

"You should go talk to him, Am!"

"No... I tell you... no American boys," she waved them off.

"Well, that's too bad. Cause it looks like he's comin' over here. We'll be at the bar if you need us."

"Guys..."

But it was too late, the other girls were already up and headed towards the bar.

"Calisse," she mumbled, trying to ignore the tall figure approaching her table.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked. She looked up at him, her lips pursed. He had the same curly hair and boyish smile that her friends had been teasing her about. She really hadn't planned on talking to anyone tonight, let alone any boys. The girls knew her rule: no falling for any boys while she was in America.

"Uh... sure," she replied, gesturing to the empty chairs across from her.

He smiled, sitting down casually, rubbing his palms on his pants. "I'm Luke. I, uh, I thought I'd come introduce myslef since we, uh, made eye contact so many times."

Amélie bit her lip, nodding as he spoke. She barely knew enough English to follow what her friends were saying, and now she had to talk to some random guy at this bar she didn't even want to be at. "I, uh, I am Amélie."

"Amélie? That's a really pretty name. Did I, uh, did I say it right? Amélie?"

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flickering down to her drink. "Yeah... that is right. Thank you." Her fingers tightened around the glass, trying to think of something to say next, but everything just came in French.

Luke could sense her hesitation, suddenly becoming way more nervous about coming over. Maybe it had been stupid. Maybe he was making her feel uncomfortable. "I just thought... I don't know. You seemed nice. Do you, uh, want to talk, or...?"

She met his gaze, taking a deep breath. He was trying and he seemed nice, like he really wanted to talk to her. "I... my English, it is not very good," her accent thickening as she spoke. "It is... hard for me."

Luke nodded, leaning forward slightly. He had teammates that didn't speak English as their first language, so he kind of knew what to expect. "That's fine. I'm sure it's better than my French. That is your first language, right? French? Sorry, I just assumed cause your name-"

"Yes, French," she cut him off, giggling at his rambling.

"I can barely say anything in French, so you've already got me beat."

His attempt to make her feel better worked... a little. "It is easier... to write. But speaking... more pressure, I forget the words lots."

"I get that. But we can just... talk slowly."

She sipped at her drink, waiting for him to continue.

"So, what brings you to Jersey? Not a lot of French people here."

"Exchange... at Rutgers. I am from Québec. Saguenay. But I come here... and I work on my English."

"That's super cool. It's awesome that you're pushing yourself to get better. I, uh, I went to Umich for a bit, but-"

"Umich?"

"Oh, right. University of Michigan. I lived in Michigan before I lived here."

"You move here because..."

"For hockey. I play hockey."

"Oh... that's cool. I like Les Canadiens. You play in the LNH?"

"The NHL? Yeah, I do. You like hockey?"

"Everyone in Québec likes hockey. Very popular."

"But you didn't know who I was," Luke teased.

"Only like Les Canadiens, sorry," she shrugged.

"Well, that's fair, I guess. The Habs are pretty big in Québec, huh?"

"Yes! My family... all big fan." She felt comfortable talking about her family, talking about home, the things she liked. Her dad watched every Habs game on TV and sometimes he'd even drive down to Montréal for a weekend to see them play.

"My family loves hockey too. Everyone plays. My mom, my dad, me, and both my brothers. It's like in our blood... or something."

"They play for... the same team?"

"One of them does. Jack, he plays with me. My other brother, Quinn, he plays in Vancouver," Luke tried to keep it casual, not wanting it to seem like he was bragging.

"Ah! The Canucks!"

"See, you know a bit about other teams," he teased.

"Shhh," she giggled. "Your family... they seem very... what's the word... talented."

"Guess you could say that."

She took another sip of her drink, her mind buzzing with questions to ask, but none of them coming to her in English. She wanted to ask more about his brothers, about how he started playing hockey, but her mouth just couldn't keep up with her brain. She also didn't want to come off as rude or obsessed with him because of his title, so she just nodded.

"You don't have to worry, you know. I'm not judging you," Luke comforted. "So, what do you do when you're learning English or watching the Habs? You got any other hobbies?"

"I like to... read. And bake... when I have time."

"Reading and baking," Luke mused. "What do you bake?"

"Everything," she giggled. "Tarte au sucre is my preferred. My mom... she always bakes with me."

"Tarte au sucre? What's that? Sugar pie?" Luke's eyes lit up. "You'll have to make me that one day. I've never had it."

"Maybe. You will have to see."

"Challenge accepted."

Amélie went to respond, but her phone buzzing stopped her. It was her friends calling, probably ready to head on to another bar. She didn't want her conversation with Luke to end, but she knew she couldn't stay there all night.

"I have to go. My friends... waiting," she sighed.

Luke's face fell a little but he nodded. "Yeah, I get it. But I, uh, this was fun."

"Me too."

There was silence for a little, neither of them wanting to be the first to say goodbye. "You should give me... your phone number. So you can try my tarte au sucre."

"Sounds like a plan," Luke said, handing his phone over for her. She typed in her name and phone number, adding a '<3' next to Amélie.

"Text me," she giggled, waving goodbye as she joined the other girls at the bar. Luke watched as the four of them started talking amongst themselves quickly, giggling as Amélie told them about her conversation with the hockey player.

He finally stood up, making his way back over to the table where his teammates were sat. Curtis raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Well, how'd it go, Romeo?" He leaned forward, failing to conceal his grin.

Luke rolled his eyes, "Good, actually. Really good."

Nico raised his pint, "Told you. You just had to go for it."

"So... what's next?" Curtis nudged him. "You ask for her number?"

Luke nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, we'll probably meet up again."

"Probably?"

"Okay, fine. Yeah, we'll see each other again. I'm going to try her sugar pie she was talking about."

"Sugar pie? Is that what we're calling it nowadays?" Nico teased, causing the whole table to erupt in laughter.

Luke shook his head, letting the teasing slide. His mind was too focused on the girl with a French accent and promises of baking him pie. He had to see her again.

~~

Luke found texting Amélie way easier than he'd imagined. She wasn't lying when she said her writing was better than her speaking. Her texts barely ever had mistakes, in fact sometimes they were worded better than his.

They texted back and forth constantly, which earned Luke some teasing from his colleagues. In writing, Amélie was much more confident, returning his flirting with practiced ease. Her personality really shone through in a way it hadn't at the bar. She'd occasionally crack jokes, usually about how he didn't know any French and that she'd have to teach him. Their conversations flowed, talking about their days, sharing stories, discussing the schoolwork that Amélie had, and sometimes sharing pictures of their meals. Although Jack did most of Luke's cooking, he'd never admit that to the girl.

You have to come and try my tarte au sucre soon! Only if you're brave enough though ;)

Luke grinned at his phone, his fingers furiously typing back a reply.

Oh, I'm brave enough. Just let me know when, and I'll be there.

I will. Maybe next week? I need to make sure it's perfect first.

Deal.

~~

Amélie paced her apartment, making sure that everything was in order before Luke came over. She was even more nervous than she had been in the bar. She really wanted things to go well. They had decided to label the event as their first date, and although a bit informal, she was still shitting herself.

The pie was sitting on her kitchen island, untouched. She didn't want to eat any of it until Luke was there to eat it with her. She was worried he'd get in trouble because it wasn't part of his meal plan for work, but he had reassured it multiple times that it wasn't a big deal if he had a little pie.

Just as she was about to rearrange her throw pillows for the third time, there was a knock at her door. She froze mid-step, wiping her hands on her jeans as she made her way to the door.

It was just a pie. And it was just Luke. Nothing to be too worried about.

She hesitated for a moment before she pulled the door open, tilting her head back to look up at Luke. He was standing there in a Devils hoodie and some track pants, a baseball cap covering his curls. He looked relaxed, his hands tucked in the pocket of his hoodie. Amélie hated how nonchalant he looked in comparison to her.

"Hey," he greeted. "I brough my appetite, as promised."

"Good. I hope you are ready," she joked, stepping out of the way to let him in. He pulled off his shoes, taking in her cozy apartment. He laughed when his eyes landed on the big Québec flag hung behind her couch.

"I'm sure it'll be amazing. I'm looking forward to it, don't worry."

She nodded, though her nerves didn't disappear. She led him into the kitchen where the pie sat waiting. The smell of it filled the small space, warm and sweet.

"Wow, looks good, Am. Guess you weren't kidding about being a good baker."

"It's like you with hockey. My talent," she giggled, blushing as their eyes met.

"I don't know. Your baking skills may be miles ahead of my hockey skills."

"Don't lie. Let's see if it tastes as good as the smell," she grabbed a knife, finally cutting the pie into pieces. She placed a generous slice in front of Luke, taking in how comfortable he looked in the situation. She really admired how easygoing he was compared to her. It was their first date, but his demeanor made it seem like they'd been seeing each other for months. Meanwhile, her heart hadn't stopped racing since she opened the door minutes before.

Luke picked up his fork, flashing her a grin before taking his first bite. His eyes widened and he let out a pleased hum, "Holy shit, this is so good."

"You like it?"

"Are you kidding? This is like the best dessert I've ever had... don't tell my mom I said that. But really, Amélie, you've ruined all other pies for me. Can I take some home to show Jack?"

"Of course! I'm glad you like it. Is my mom's recipe."

"You should probably teach me how to make this, so I don't have to beg you every time I want some."

"I wouldn't mind," she giggled, taking a bite of her own slice. The taste reminded her of home and she suddenly felt a lot less nervous about messing up her English in front of Luke. They continued to eat their pie as they talked, shifting the conversation to more personal topics, wanting to know everything about each other.

Luke told stories about growing up with his brothers, sharing embarrassing moments from their childhoods and the occasional hockey-related mishap. Amélie found herself laughing more than she had since she'd arrived in America, her body filling with warmth.

"And that's how Jack ended up chipping his tooth. Our mom was furious, but Quinn and I thought it was hilarious," Luke explained, shaking his head at the memory.

She laughed, her shoulders shaking. "You and your brother... troublemakers," she teased, resting her chin on her hand as she listened to him talk. God, she could listen to Luke talk for hours. His accent was the cutest thing she'd ever heard and his smile curved up more on one side than the other, almost like a smirk. He was so perfect.

"Yeah, we were. Still are, I guess. But what about you? You got any fun stories about your family?"

"One time my dad, he take us to Montréal for a Habs game. And my older brother he had... he liked one girl he saw. But she was anglophone, no French. He goes up to her and he tries to talk English. But it was soooo bad. Even worse than me. He only knew maybe like three word. I think he said like 'Hey, you pretty, drink?' and she looked at him like he was... insane! He... he panicked and ran away. We bullied him for years after. Our dad, he will still talk about it at dinner sometime."

"That's brutal," Luke laughed. "Glad our first conversation didn't go like that."

"I am just better than him."

Luke shook his head, flashing his lopsided smile that made Amélie swoon. "Clearly. You've got the charm, no doubt about it."

"Maybe a little. But still I get nervous. When you arrive, I think maybe that I would die."

"You hid it well. I didn't even notice. I was the nervous one."

"You? Nervous?" she raised an eyebrow, placing her fork between her lips .

"Yeah, you were... well you are, like the prettiest girl I've ever met," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't want to mess it up."

"Is that a joke? You did not... mess up. I like talking with you."

"I like talking with you too, Amélie"

~~

It was their fourth date and they were back at Amélie's apartment. Luke was sprawled out on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he playfully scrolled through one of Amélie's French-to-English learning apps.

"Come on, give me a word," Luke teased, turning to look at the girl sitting beside him with her legs tucked under her.

"Alright. Alright. Um... try... 'papillon.'"

Luke squinted, trying his hardest to translate it. "Papillon," he reapted slowly. "Uh... sounds like pasta, maybe? Wait, no, wait... um, balloon?"

She let a burst of laughter, learning back against the arm of the couch. "Non! It's butterfly!"

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back in mock anguish. "Butterfly?! That doesn't even sound like butterfly! What?!"

"You are needing more practice," she giggled, comfortly placing a hand on his thigh.

Luke's eyes widened at her touch, but he couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, clearly I need a lot more practice. You might have to become my full-time tutor."

Amélie smiled, her fingers lingering on his thigh, sending a warmth through both of them. They'd been spending more and more time together, and things were less awkward, but still full of nervousness. The banter between them was easy, but there was an ever-growing tension gnawing at them both.

Luke reached for a throw pillow next to him, lightly tossing it at her. "Give me another one. I swear I'll get it this time."

She swatted the pillow away, but her focus had moved on from French. The space between them had slowly been shrinking and she had just noticed how close they were. She tilted her head, her eyes flickering up to meet Luke's. "I think... maybe you are better at other things than French."

Luke's grin faltered, his breath catching in his throat at her new tone. He glanced down at her hand still resting on his thigh, then back at her face, then back to her hand again. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like... this."

Before he could question what she meant, she leaned in, her lips brushing his, testing the waters. The kiss was soft, hesitant, but the second their lips connected, everything they'd been holding back snapped into place.

Luke's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened quickly, no longer hesitant, but instead filled with the feelings they'd been dancing around for weeks. Amélie sighed against his mouth, her hands sliding up to his chest, gripping his shirt in his fists. Luke groaned softly, the sound muffled by her lips.

Their kisses turned hungrier, more urgent, as the tension in the room built. Luke shifted, gently pushing Amélie back against the couch as he leaned over her, his body pressing against hers as their kisses grew sloppier. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Luke's hands slid up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing her cheek as the kiss deepened.

Neither of them wanted to pull away, not wanting to be the first to end the kiss. Luke realized he couldn't hold his breath any longer. He gasped for air before kissing her again, harder this time, his lips moving with more urgency than before. Amélie let out a soft, breathless moan in reponse.

They pulled away again, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to catch their breath. Luke brushed a strand of her hair, that had gotten stuck between them, out of her face. His eyes were still half-closed as he whispered, "I've wanted to kiss you for so long."

Amélie smiled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to fill her lungs with air. She looked up at him, her lips still tingling. "Me too. I... I did not expect it to feel... like that."

"Good or bad?"

"Good," she whispered, her fingers tracing the back of his neck before pulling him in again, her lips finding his once more. There was no hesitation this time, just unfiltered desire as they gave in to the kiss.

~~

"Where you goin'?" Jack asked, pausing his video game as he heard Luke head for the door. He turned around, noticing his brother wearing his Michigan backpack. "And why do you have a backpack?"

"Amélie's place. I'm spending the night."

"Damn, Lukey boy's finally getting laid."

"Shut up, Jack... there's no confirmation that that's what happening. She just asked if I wanted to sleep over."

Jack smirked, leaning back on the couch with a knowing look. "Uh-huh, sure. You don't pack a bag just to sleep over, bro."

Luke rolled his eyes, adjusting the straps of his bag. "It's not like that. We're just hanging out, maybe watching a movie or something."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, lover boy. But just in case, be safe."

"It's not like that," Luke groaned, grabbing his keys off the counter, trying to escape Jack's teasing.

"I'm just saying! Good luck, bud!"

Luke mumbled to himself as he stepped into the hallway, heading for the elevator to the parking garage. His heart was racing more than usual, not just because of Jack's teasing but because tonight did feel different. Spending a night together was a big step in their relationship, especially since they weren't officially official yet.

They hadn't even discussed labels yet, and although they were very close, there was an unspoken worry of figuring out where things were heading. Luke really, really liked her, but he didn't want to rush anything. If Amélie wanted to take things slow, then he would take things slow.

He sat in his car, getting ready to leave when his phone buzzed.

Just picked out a movie. Hope you like rom-coms ;)

Only if we watch it in French so I can practice

Deal.

When he pulled up to her building, he practically leaped out of the car, taking his backpack with him. He knocked on her door, his heart in his throat.

Just go with the flow. No pressure

Amélie giggled when she opened the front door, dressed in one of Luke's Devils hoodies and a pair of shorts he couldn't see from under the large sweatshirt.

"Hey. You look cute," he leaned down to kiss her.

"Hey! Missed you."

"It's only been three days," he laughed, allowing her to wrap her arms around his waist, propping her chin on his chest. "You ready for my horrible French?"

"Ready for anything," she giggled as he ran a hand through her hair.

They stood in the doorway for a few moments more, before she grasped his hand and pulled him into the living room. They settled on the couch, a blanket thrown over their entwined legs.

"Am, I've been thinking..." his thumb brushing lightly against her thigh. "I don't want to overthink it anymore than I already have, but... we've been spending lots of time together. And I really like you."

"I like you too, Luke. A lot."

"Good. Because... I want this to be official. I mean, us. I want us to be official. I don't wanna be just 'hanging out' or 'seeing where things go' anymore. I want you to be my girlfriend." His voice softened at the end, his heart out on a silver platter just for her.

"You really want that?" she gushed.

Luke nodded, "Yeah. I want you. I want... us."

"I want that too," she smiled, shuffling impossibly closer to him, pecking his lips.

Luke pulled her back in for a deeper kiss, relief flooding his body. When they pulled apart, Amélie rested her forehead against his, her fingers gripping the front of his hoodie.

"So, it is official?" she whispered.

"Officially official. You're my girlfriend now."

She kissed him again, laughing into his mouth. "Well... now that we have... figured that out. You have French to practice... boyfriend."

"Let's get started then, girlfriend."

~~

"So... when do I get to meet her?" Jack grinned, knocking Luke's shoulder.

"Oh, um, I can ask her."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You can ask her?" he teased. "What, you haven't mentioned me?"

Luke sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have, Jack. I just... didn't think you'd be so excited."

"Dude, of course I'm excited! My little brother has a girlfriend now! And you know I've gotta approve, see if she's good for you. Duh."

"She's not a test subject, Jack. I'm not bringing her so you can interrogate her."

Jack snickered, loving how flustered his brother was getting. "Relax, I'll be nice. In fact, bring her out with us and the guys this weekend. Some of the other girlfriends will be there."

"I can ask her. Just... don't be weird about it. She get's nervous."

"Me? Weird about it? Never. I'm charming."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Come on, it'll be fun. She'll get to meet everyone, and you know the guys will love her. Plus, if she can survive a night out with us, she's a keeper."

"Look, I'll ask. But I know she's been busy with schoolwork. I'll ask her tonight. But seriously, Jack, don't freak her out. Please."

"Scout's honour, man. I'll be on my best behaviour."

"You're not a-- never mind. I'll let you know what she says."

~~

Luke laid next to Amélie in her bed, his arm draped over her waist. She was scrolling through TikTok, laughing at French words he didn't know yet. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, peeking at the screen where some girl was speaking rapid French while doing her make up.

"Hey, Am."

"Hmm?"

"So... Jack and some of the guys are going out this weekend, and a few of the girlfriends will be there too," he paused, thinking over his next words. "Jack was, uh, wondering when he could meet you. He kind of suggested you come along."

She blinked, "Meet... all of your friends? This weekend?"

"No pressure! If you're too busy with school, I totally get it. I just thought it might be fun. Only if you want to, of course," Luke quickly added.

She bit her lip, thinking it over, and Luke could tell she was weighing her options. "I'm nervous. I would... like to meet Jack. To be... part of your world."

He pulled her body closer to his, pressing more kisses to her shoulder. "You're already part of my world, Am. And trust me, Jack's been bugging me about meeting you since our first date. He's... well, he's Jack. But he means well."

"Okay. I will come. But if Jack, he makes me feel awkward, you owe me a very good dinner."

Luke laughed, "Deal. And don't worry, I'll be there the whole time. Plus, survivng Jack means you can survive anything."

~~

"C'est très cute, non?" Amélie asked, showing her outfit off to Luke.

"You look like a millon bucks, baby," he replied, leaning down to kiss her.

"What?"

"It's... it's a saying."

She tilted her head slightly, repeating the words back to herself. "A million... bucks."

Luke thought her accent made it all the more adorable. "It means you look beautiful. Like super, super beautiful."

"English says, they are so strange. First you tell me it rains cats and dogs... now I look like I am money. You explain me all of these sometimes, yes?"

"Of course, baby. But I mean it, you looks amazing."

"Thanks, Lu. We should go?"

"If we have to," Luke pouted, leaning down to give her another kiss.

~~

Amélie gripped the straps of her purse so tightly that her knuckles were white. She had never felt so nervous in her life, not even on their first date. She had so many people to impress tonight and probably less than half the words they had in their vocabularies.

Luke was quick to notice her anxiety. She usually walked with so much confidence, but her posture was slumped and her lip was held between her teeth. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded, but her choked voice betrayed her. "I... I don't know if I can do this."

"You'll be fine, Am," he whispered, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "Jack's going to love you, I can promise you that. And it's just a few of the guys--nothing big. And hey, some of them aren't even native English speakers themselves."

Her eyes were still full of uncertainty, her fingers busying themselves by picking at the skin around her nails. "But maybe I will say something wrong. Or they ask me things, and I do not understand them? Or they will all laugh at me."

"You've been doing so well with your English, love. And if you're ever feeling stuck, just squeeze my hand and I'll come to your rescue."

The bar was pretty empty for the most part, just a few tables of friends talking and sharing drinks. In the back corner, Jack was sitting with a few of the other guys and their better halves.

"There they are!" Jack cheered as soon as he saw them approaching, standing up to greet his brother as if he hadn't seen him in weeks. His tone was loud and confident, and Amélie could feel every set of eyes at the table move towards her and Luke.

Luke gave his brother a quick bro-hug before turning to his girlfriend. "Jack, this is Amélie. Am, this is my brother, Jack."

Amélie felt like all the moisture in her mouth had disappeared, her hand gripping Luke's with a vice-like strength. She opened her mouth to speak, but all her words got stuck. "I, uh, I... hi."

"Nice to meet you, Amélie," Jack said. "Luke's told me loads about you."

She gave him a tight lipped smile, her mind scrambling to find a response, but nothing came. She felt like the weight of everyone's expectations were holding her down. She wanted to wow everyone with perfect English, but all she could do was stand there, frozen.

"She, uh, she's a little nervous," Luke interjected. "Amélie's from Québec, she's here in Jersey to learn English. But her French is like the most impressive shit ever."

"No worries. We're just happy you're here," Nico spoke up.

Amélie forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She sat down beside Luke, her hand still gripping his with immense force. The conversation around the table picked back up, but she remained quiet.

The guys were easygoing, laughing and joking with each other, and the other girlfriends seemed just as relaxed. The more they spoke though, the harder it became for her to follow. She could pick up on bits and pieces of what was going on, but she couldn't seem to form a complete sentence in her head.

"So, how do you like Jersey so far?" one of the other girlfriends, Lexi, asked with a warm smile.

"It... it's very different. But I... I like it," she replied, her eyes not leaving Luke's hand in her lap.

"She thinks back home is wayyyy prettier. Right, babe?" Luke helped to direct her.

"Yes. Québec is very beautiful."

"So what brought you here?" Jack asked, desperately wanting to know more about the girl that had stolen his brother's heart. "School?"

She bit her lip, trying her best to think of how to reply in English. "Yes... I.... study at Rutgers. Exchange."

"That's awesome. What're you studying?"

Her mind went completely blank. She'd even rehearsed answering that exact question, but now, with everyone looking at her, the words were gone. Her hand tightened around Luke's again, taking a sip of water to clear her throat.

"She's studying communications and media. But the point of her exchange is to work on her English skills."

"That's sick," Jack nodded along.

The conversation around her continued, a few questions being tossed her way but her responses were usually just a few words, the gaps being filled in by Luke. The group eventually moved on to a story that Nico was telling, and Amélie used the shift of attention to shrink into herself further. She let Luke rest his hand on her bouncing knee in an attempt to calm her nerves, but his touch felt foreign in the situation.

After what felt like hours, but had most likely only been half an hour, she leaned close to Luke, whispering in his ear. "Je vais aux toilettes." She stood up before he could respond, scurrying off to the bathroom.

Jack shot Luke a curious glance, but he just shrugged, trying to mask his own worry.

Amélie slipped into the bathroom, pressing her hands against the sink as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She felt like she was suffocating, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She hated feeling like an outsider, not being able to connect with Luke's world outside of her.

She wiped under her eyes, praying that her mascara didn't run. She didn't want anyone to know she'd been crying in the bathroom. She just wanted to be like the other girls at the table--relaxed and confident, going with the flow of the conversation.

With one last deep breath, she made her way back to the table. Luke looked up at her as she approached. He could tell something was off.

"Everything okay?"

She just nodded, falling back into her silence at the table. She laughed when everyone else laughed, smiling politely when someone made a remark towards her. Luke had never seen her so quiet in his life, not even on the first day that they met. By the time everyone had left the bar, her anxiety was so bad she thought she might puke.

Luke opened the car door for her, and she slid in, staring blankly out the window. The silence between them was heavy. Luke could feel it too, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel.

"Am, what's wrong? You've been quiet all night. You barely said a thing."

The tears that she had been fighting so hard to keep at bay finally spilled out. "I... I feel so stupid. I-I couldn't even talk to them. I couldn't even... act normal."

He reached out, placing a hand on her thigh. His heart clenched at her words. "You're not stupid, Am. You're doing amazing. You're learning a whole new language, that's huge."

"But I had to have you help on everything. I could... not even answer Jack's questions. They normally think... I'm dumb. Not good for you." She wiped at her eyes, frustrated with herself for crying.

"Amélie, baby. No one thinks you're dumb. And you are more than good enough for me--don't you ever doubt that. Jack loved meeting you. Everyone did. I could tell. They don't care if you need some help speaking English. Hell, some of those guys could use the help speaking English."

"I wanted... to be better. To show I can do this. But I feel...lost."

"You don't have to show anyone that you can do anything. Not to me, not to Jack, not to anyone. I love you for--"

"You love me?"

"Of course I do, Am. I... I didn't want to admit it like this. But... I am so in love with you, Amélie."

"I love you too, Luke. Sorry if I... embarrass you tonight."

"You could never embarrass me, Am. Never ever."

"I-"

"Nope, that's enough out of you. Let's go back to yours and watch that stupid cop show you like."

"Mensonges?"

"If that's what it's called, then yes."

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you too, Am."

~~

"I don't know, Jack. She was so nervous last time..."

"But last time there were other people there too. Just tell her you've got the place to yourself for the night and then I'll walk in a couple hours later and be like 'Oh! Sorry, my plans got cancelled.' And then we can all hangout," Jack suggested.

"I'm not going to lie to her. I'll just ask if she wants to spend the night."

"Come on, Rusty! You know I'm just trying to help her relax around me. You're making it sound like a big deal. It's not! She's your girlfriend, and I want to get to know her. Plus, I'll make it fun! I'm good with people."

"I appreciate the thought, Jack. But I want her to feel comfortable, not tricked. So I'll just ask her if she wants to come over and spend the night. No tricks."

"Fine, fine. Let me know what she says."

"I will. Just... don't be an idiot."

~~

Amélie followed Luke into his apartment, her backpack thrown over his shoulder. She looked around, noticing how painfully obvious it was that two men lived there.

"I'm just gonna put your bag in my room. You wanna go make yourself comfortable on the couch?"

"Sure."

She sat down, curling her legs under herself, glancing around the living room. She picked up the remote off the coffee table, fiddling with while she waited for Luke.

"You good?"

"Yeah. Just... taking in. It is very... you."

"What, you mean messy?"

She giggled, then tension in her shoulders disappearing. "Maybe... un peu."

"Hey, it's organized chaos, baby. I know where everything is. Well... most of the time."

"I like it. Feels... comfortable. Like you."

"That's all I want, babe. For you to be comfortable."

"Where's Jack?"

"Probably in his room. Why? Wanna talk with him?"

Amélie quickly shook her head, her eyes widening. "No, no... just wonder. I don't want to... bother him."

"You're not bothering him. He's probably playing video games or doing some stupid shit. He'll come out here eventually."

The last time she'd been around Jack, she hadn't been able to shake her nerves. Tonight, she was determined to make a better impression, even if she still felt like puking.

Luke gently nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, you're good, Am. Jack's chill. You don't have to be nervous."

"I know... just... want him to like me."

"He already likes you," Luke reassured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He wouldn't shut up about how cool you were after the last time."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I wouldn't lie to you, silly."

"Love you, Lu."

"Love you too," he leaned in to kiss her when footsteps pulled them apart.

"Aww, did I interrupt a moment?" Jack's teasing voice came from the doorway.

"Relax, Jack. We were just talking... about you."

"Oh yeah?" Jack pushed himself off the wall, making his way to the couch. "All good things, I hope."

"Duh," Luke squeezed Amélie's hand, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. "Amélie was just asking what you were up to."

"Probably nothing interesting compared to you lovebirds. Was talking to Trevor--can't let Luke get ahead of me in the whole having a life department."

She tried to think of a quick response to his joke, but came up with nothing she deemed funny enough.

"Luke tells me you like studying here cause it's different. How so?"

"Um, everything... is feeling bigger here. The city, the campus. And obviously... English. There is like... zero English in my town. We use some words... but not lots."

"Well, seems like you're doing great. Don't stress it. Plus you've got this guy," he gestured to Luke, "to help you out, right?"

She blushed, "Yes, Lu is... super."

Luke grinned, leaning in and whispering, "Told you he likes you."

~~

"I don't know how I'm gonna survive without you, Am," Luke admitted, wiping the tears from his face. His usually calm, relaxed demeanor was gone, replaced with a raw vulnerability.

Amélie had told herself she wasn't going to cry, but seeing Luke cry made that impossible. Her tears had started as soon as his had. "You will, Lu. You are so strong. And... I will not be gone forever."

He shook his head, intertwining their fingers. "I know, but... shit's gonna feel so different without you here. I'm used to having you here all the time. And now I won't see you until summer. I don't know how to do that."

"You'll have Jack, the guys, your family. I'm just... a plane away. We will FaceTime, and before you know... I am back. And I will meet Quinn... and your parents."

Luke rested his head in her lap, letting her run her fingers through his hair. She could feel his tears soaking the fabric of her jeans. "I'm gonna miss you so fucking much, Am."

"I'll miss you too, Lu. So, so much."

They stayed like that for a long time, just wrapped in each other's embraces. Neither of them wanted to let go. Neither of them wanted to admit how hard the next few months would be. They just wanted to stay together... forever.

~~

Amélie was sitting at her desk, her phone propped up against her water bottle as Luke's face filled the screen. His hair was a mess and his eyes drooping. She could tell he had just gotten home from practice.

"Hey, beautiful," he greeted.

"Hey, you," she replied, resting her chin on her hand. "How was practice?"

"Exhausting," he groaned. "But seeing your face makes it better."

Amélie blushed, biting her lip as she smiled. Before she could respond, she heard her brothers' voices coming from down the hall.

"Ah, c'est qui, Amélie?" (who is it, Amélie?)

"Son chum?" the other laughed. (her boyfriend?)

"Ahhh, mais Luke, t'es ben chix." (Ahhh, but Luke, you're so hot.)

"Ferme ta gueule!" Amélie shouted. (Shut your mouth!)

Luke burst out laughing at the look on his girlfriend's face. "What're they saying?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "They're being idiots. Teasing me about you."

"Teasing, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What did they say? Come on, tell me."

She sighed, getting closer to the camera with a small smirk. "They said you're... how would that translate.... that you're 'hot.'"

"Oh, did they know? You must have good pictures of me hanging up then, huh?"

"They're just being annoying. They think it's funny to tease me because I love an American."

"Well, tell them I appreciate the compliment. And tell them I say 'hi'," he teased.

Amélie shook her head but shouted, "Luke dit bonjour!"

From the hallway, her brothers responded with exaggerated greetings in their broken English, making the couple laugh.

"They're something else, huh? I can't wait to meet them one day."

"They'll probably want you to ask Cole for free Habs tickets. But... in a few weeks, I'll be back and I'll get to meet all of your family."

Luke's eye lit up at the thought. "I know! I've been counting down the days, baby. I can't wait for you to be here again!"

"Me neither. Excited to meet Quinn and your parents."

"Yeah, my mom's super excited to meet you!"

"I'm a little nervous though."

"Don't be! They are gonna love you so much, Am!"

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you more, Amélie. Only a few more weeks, then we'll be together again. I can't wait."

"You promise?"

"I promise. And I'm gonna spoil you so much. Just you, me, and the lake."

"Can't wait."

[azsazz]

Shots & Spins

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Req from @kristijenner19: I saw you were thinking about hockey!AZ because same. How about a fic where she's a figure skater and they're trying to teach each other their respective sports. Imagine poor Az trying to do a spin/jump/twizzle and a reader who can barely ever make a shot into a goal

Bonus points if they switch their skates and have to re-learn how to skate with the new blade

Warnings: Mild panic attack, mentions of readers injury (torn ACL), trauma from coaches (verbal) mentioned.

Word Count: 3088

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown

HOCKEY SZN SOON MY LOVES 💙💙

Notes: I swear I meant to make this cuter but of course, I had to give it some angst 😅

_________________________________________

“What is this?” You question. You’re probably being rude, with your nose scrunched in disgust. With the way you’re holding the pair of skates as far away from your body as possible, you’re pretty sure you look like the biggest bitch on all of campus. But for the life of you, you can’t figure out why Azriel has handed you hockey skates.

“They’re skates,” Azriel answers. You rip your glare from the offending skates at his obvious response. Your heart stumbles in your chest at the sight of his pink lips twitching, begging to reveal that grin he spends most of his time expertly hiding.

You don’t even realize you’re leaning closer in anticipation, so eager to see that smile until the hitch of his breath snaps you back to consciousness.

You rock back on your heels so quickly you nearly tumble over. Would tumble over if it weren’t for Azriel’s quick reflexes, his large hands enveloping your waist and steadying you back on your feet.

“Thanks,” you reply flatly, dipping your chin to the ground to hide your flaming cheeks. There’s not an ounce of amusement in your body.

“You’re welcome.” You don’t like the smugness in his tone or the way he’s playing with you. Tilting your face back up, you muster all the annoyance lancing through your veins at his retort, shooting him the nastiest glare.

“That’s not what I meant, Az, and you know it. Why am I holding a pair of hockey skates?”

Azriel sits on the bench beside the empty arena, and you want to pout. Why would you want to spend any more time at the rink than you already do? You’re bone-fucking-tired and your knee is feeling stiff. You overdid it in practice this week, trying to get back into the shape you were in before the time you’d been forced to take off, and it’s hitting you hard. All you really want to do is crawl home, roll out your muscles, and dive into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

When you don’t join Azriel, he says, with a humor you don’t feel, “Don’t tell me you forgot about our little bet. Or how you so gracefully lost it.”

Of course you hadn’t forgotten. Who could forget losing at something as simple as a race across the arena? Afterwards, you tried to blame it on the differences in the ice, how it was colder and harder than you were used to, as it was prepared for the hockey team’s game later that weekend.

A rookie mistake, honestly. One that you’ve been kicking yourself over up until this very moment. Well, if you could kick with your injured leg, that is, you’d be doing just that.

You grind your teeth as a memory rises to the forefront of your mind. Your coach’s voice rings in your head, shrill and reprimanding. Why would you take such foolish chances? You need to get your head in your sport or you’re never going to make it on the Olympic team, let alone the University team.

Shame presses down on you, and your eyes prick at the criticism you should be used to by now. Your private coach from your time before Velaris University, Amarantha, had been very creative with her insults, always coming up with comments worse and harsher to cut down any semblance of confidence you had in your sport.

You bet she’s thrilled that you won’t be back in her presence until you’re healed enough. If you heal enough to relearn the very trick that took you out of the running for the Olympic team in the first place.

It must be a thing, coaches insulting their prodigies. You glance at Azriel from the corner of your eye and wonder if his coach is the same way. If Rhys is brutal with his teammates.

And you hate losing. It was Azriel who you wished forgotten about the bet you’d so stupidly agreed to, but here he is, wearing the same look that got you into this position in the first place.

You take your time studying him as you mull over how to get out of this. Azriel’s broad shoulders take up the space of two people, and his deep, dark hair falls over his brow, growing out into the perfect flow all the players seem to be sporting right now. You wonder if it’s superstition or they actually like the look. His thick lashes sweep as he bats them, and your cheeks take on a pink hue as he pretends to preen under your attention.

“Look,” he all but sighs, giving up his act. He leans back, reaching over to grab something out of sight. When Azriel rightens himself, he holds a pair of figure skates, a sheepish smile on his face. The apples of his cheeks mottle with pink. “I got myself figure skates, so we can both look like fools out there. Together.”

Fuck. The sentiment makes your throat tighten. He doesn’t have to be so damn thoughtful, you’re hardly even friends for Mother’s sake.

“Fine,” you manage when you can speak again. You plop onto the bench beside him. Your knee throbs dully in protest, but it’s nothing you haven’t been able to smother before. You’ve worked through worse conditions than hockey prepped ice, have skated in casts and aches so deep you weren’t sure you’d be able to compete at all if it weren’t for your raw love for the sport and your brutal stubbornness, holding yourself to the highest of standards.

And it’s not like you’re going to be doing your usual tricks. No, that’s all Azriel. All you have to manage is a few forward spirals, twizzles, and perhaps an axel just to show off a little, because there’s no way he’ll be able to recreate all of that in one go.

You just hope your knee stays steady for a few more hours.

The both of you lace your shoes in silence. The hockey skates are so different from your figure skates, you note. The blade is much thicker than you’re used to, more curved too. The boots are shorter, and you grimace at the lack of ankle support.

Not to mention you’re not entirely sure how well you’ll be able to stop without your toe pick.

Azriel leads you to the ice. You step on tentatively, giving the new skates a test. They have a lot more give than you’re used to. They’re not as snug, but easy enough to navigate. Muscle memory kicks in and after a few sluggish runs up and down the ice, you think you’ve gotten the hang of it.

The rest of this bet should be a breeze, especially compared to how Azriel is faring.

His face is contorted with a concentrated frown. He looks stiff as a fucking board, which make you giggle and him complain about. “How the hell do you wear these things? I can barely even move my ankles!”

“Practice makes perfect, young Padawon,” you tease, testing how best to shift your weight on the new blades. The pressure on your knee isn’t terrible, thanks to the looseness of the hockey skates.

“Yeah, yeah,” Azriel waves you off. He trails behind you at a slower rate, focused on getting used to the stiffness of the figure skates on his feet. “Just wait until we scrimmage.”

Ugh, no thanks. This is just perfect for you, the both of you out on the open ice, all alone. You don’t want to ruin this peaceful bliss by bringing your competitive personalities into it.

“I knew if we raced under different conditions I’d have won!” You exclaim, zipping past Azriel again, showing off. He glares playfully, but you’re much too busy admiring your skates to notice the way he’s tucked his lip between his teeth, hiding a satisfied grin.

His toe pick digs into the ice, grinding down as he gets a feeling for the foreign piece, but his eyes stay glued on you.

“Ready for a stick and gloves already, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know,” you throw a smirk back in his direction, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking a brow. “You ready for twizzling?”

“Twizzlers?”

You roll your eyes at his lame joke, but your heart still skips at his wry smile. It’s more than cute. You push off your blade, moving closer to him.

Which is fine, until you try to use your toe pick to stop, only for the realization to hit that there isn’t one on these skates.

You go barreling into Azriel, who catches you in his arms. Your motion throws him off balance and before you even have the chance to squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself, you’re both falling to the ice.

Azriel hits with a grunt that reverberates through your bones. You’d think that Azriel breaking your landing would be less painful than it is, but with the way the muscle is packed on his body, he’s just as hard as the ice that’s no longer beneath your feet.

“Sorry,” you cringe. It comes out breathless and embarrassment flushes your cheeks, but you’re frozen to your spot and all too aware of how his large, warm hands are wrapped firmly around your waist.

“No worries.” Your lashes flutter as his breathy whisper caresses your face. He’s probably just winded, that’s why he sounds like that. Yes, that’s exactly what it is. “Didn’t think to remind you how to stop.”

“I know how to stop,” you argue, but there’s none of your usual fire tainting the words. You can’t even muster one of your famous glares that you reserve for the normally broody hockey player. You break eye contact as the humiliation begins creeping in. You scratch your nail distractedly down the waffled fabric of his olive colored henley. “I just…forgot, I guess.”

The hitching of his breath in his chest shifts your body and you jolt, the situation slamming into you like a truck.

You scramble off Azriel, grimacing at the sound of your blades clinking against his. His grip loosens, hands falling away as you slip to the ice beside him.

You shoot to your knees, then not-so-carefully climb to your feet. Azriel holds his hands out from where he’s still lying on the ground, like he’s more than ready to catch you again should you fall.

You’re positive the heat of your cheeks could melt the entire arena’s ice right now. You need to get the fuck out of here before you embarrass yourself further. You need to never show your face around here again. You’ve already transferred schools once, what’s one more time?

Azriel calls your name, but you hardly hear him over your racing thoughts. If the sheer embarrassment wasn’t enough, Coach Weaver’s voice now fills the rest of your head, screeching about your recklessness and how you could’ve injured yourself—

He’s quicker than you thought, or you’ve been trapped in your mortified headspace for too long because Azriel’s on his feet, towering over you and pulling you into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” your voice trembles and his hands tighten around you. He lets you bury your face into his chest and pretends not to notice the tears dampening the fabric of his shirt. You’re fucking trembling, and his heart is pounding just as hard.

This is all his fault.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breathe,” he tries to console. He looks around frantically, like one of the sports therapist students or coaches might be walking past the rinks this late at night. There’s no soul in the building besides the both of you, everyone resting for their busy weekends of competitions and away hockey games. “Please.”

You focus on his words, how he guides you, three seconds in, three seconds out. You focus on the soothing patterns he’s drawing down your back, focus on the beating of his heart and latch onto his scent: night-chilled mist and cedar.

“Sorry,” you croak when you finally manage to calm yourself and slide a step back. Your gaze sits pointedly on the ice. You don’t want him to see you like this, a woman who’s about to fucking crumble.

“Don’t be,” Azriel says softly. His hand finds your face, and as much as you don’t want him to, he lifts your chin. You don’t fight it, emotionally exhausted. You should have asked for a raincheck, but you can admit to the fact that Azriel’s gentle touch is a comfort that you can’t help but lean into.

Sad, hazel eyes meet yours. They’re more golden brown than green, a forest of hues backlit by a burst of gold. Your breath hitches as he drags a thumb softly across your lips. They part, even though you don’t mean them to, and the whisper of breath that leaves you passes over his hand, crawls up his arm, and sends shivers down his spine.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

You’re not sure you can hold yourself together enough to answer his question without completely melting into a puddle at his feet.

Your silence must be answer enough. Azriel takes both of your hands in his own and guides you back toward the bench where you left your shoes. His grip is reassuring, and you’re so tired that you don’t even have it in yourself to sling a witty remark his way.

For what might be the first time in your life, you allow yourself to be taken care of.

You can’t even muster a chuckle at the way he stumbles over the toe pick on his way off the ice, or the way you’re waddling in these skates. You feel anything but graceful and strong right now, but with Azriel’s hand in yours, it’s not as off-putting as you feared it might be.

“Sit,” he says, keeping his fingers clasped around yours as you heed his command. It brings you eye-level to his hands, puckered and pink and scarred to hell. They’re beautiful in every way. He embraces his story, and it’s an incredible strength, one you’re much too terrified of attempting to recreate.

“Azriel, no,” you protest, jolting forward when he lowers himself to his knees before you. You plant your hands on his shoulders, ready to force him away because you’re more than capable of taking your own skates off.

He catches your wrists, and you didn’t think his eyes could soften any more, but they do, and you melt. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of this for you.”

You try to swallow past the knot in your throat to thank him but are unable to. Instead, you nod and reluctantly sit back.

Azriel’s gentle with his movements, like you’re a wild doe that he’s helping free from a snare. He unties the tight knots, and your heart pinches when he struggles for a moment. You wouldn’t notice if you weren’t watching so intently, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Like he knows you need to see this.

You carefully keep your mind from wandering into how good he looks like this before you.

He slips the first skate off, and you stretch your toes. It’s a reflex. Azriel smiles, peeking up at you just in time to catch your blush. His gaze ducks away before you become embarrassed, setting your foot down and holding your other ankle, lifting to get to work.

You hiss softly at the ache in your knee.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Concern laces his voice, and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no,” you cringe a little at the lingering sting. “It’s nothing.”

“Sweetheart.” Azriel says sternly. Seriously. “That reaction wasn’t nothing. What’s wrong?”

You sigh, defeated in more ways than one. You don’t want to admit that the injury that threw your entire career off-kilter is acting up again. You’d rather not have anyone know.

Perhaps Azriel is different. Or, maybe he’s forcing you, because the gold in his eyes is intense, pinning you to your spot. His mouth is set in a straight, firm line. He looks like he means fucking business.

You avert your gaze. You’ve never admitted defeat like this, but if Azriel can wear his scars so proudly, maybe you can too.

“I tore my ACL a few months ago.” You admit, sniffling. You can feel the shock in Azriel’s gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. He’s the first person at this school outside of your coach who’s hearing it. You’ve never been so vulnerable, especially with someone you hardly know. You press on nonetheless. “It’s been fine up until now.” A white lie. “But it’s been a little sore since I started practicing my jumps again.”

“How many months is ‘a few’?” He questions, and he’s not going to like the answer, so you opt for brushing over it.

“I’ll go back to seeing my therapist,” you offer instead, but even you’re not too sure how much truth your words hold.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Azriel says, and you don’t want his sympathy, but you’re too exhausted for your usual anger to stir to life. “You need to take care of yourself, before it gets any worse.”

His sentiment has your nose stinging, eyes prickling once again. What the fuck is wrong with you these days? Get it together, girl. You can cry in your own room, not in front of the hot boy who’s helping you with your godsdamned shoes.

You drag your gaze back to his. “I will.” You think.

He studies you for a moment before nodding, accepting your answer whether he believes it or not. You don’t have it in yourself to care right now. No, you just want to be back in the safety of your dorm.

Azriel is even more careful removing this skate and helping you slip into your shoes. He makes quick work of his own, and while his head is down, you admire his stature. Broad shoulders and chest that tapers into a tight waist, an ass for days.

You’re not done drooling over him when he stands, offering you a hand.

You slip your palm into his, ignoring the electricity that zips down your arm. You’re hyperaware of him by your side, and it’s only when he’s absolutely sure that you’re steady on your feet that he drops your hand.

You try not to feel too disappointed at the loss.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” Azriel offers, and you trail him from the arena, your heart feeling a bit fuller with the nickname.

_________________________________________

Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13

[fanficimagery]

Joining the Biz.

When the hotels are all booked up, your cousin asks if a few friends can crash at your place. You accept, not knowing you'll be meeting some people who will become lifelong friends and get a shot at doing what you once loved. [Part Two of Three]

Words: 7.4K Author's Note: There's only a very brief Jey/Reader interaction in this. Oops. Just trying to set up Reader for part three, but at least there's some fluff that will make you smile. Hopefully..?

Over the next few days, your house becomes hang-out central. You even meet Liv, Finn, JD, and Carlito, but you don't click with them as you did the others.

It becomes obvious right away to everyone visiting your home that there's a connection between you and Jey, though the two of you dance around it. When he's not training at the arena or at the gym, he's snuggling you on the couch in the living room or just affectionately teasing you. Damian had volunteered to swap rooms with him, but you assured Damian that nothing overly intimate would be happening with Jey and explain your reasoning to him like you had explained to Jey's family. He understood and then dropped it, but you occasionally caught him smiling in sympathy at you when he saw you tucked into Jey's side.

Friday morning, your main three houseguests find you printing out a large picture of Roman. When asked why, you explained how Solo wanted you to crack Roman's serious facade, so you were going to sit ringside holding up a sign for him. And when they saw what you had written, they laughed, and Rhea took it upon herself to add red hearts around Roman's picture.

You drove to the arena early, flashing your backstage pass to be let in right away rather than wait in line. You had found your seat, which just so happened to be near the steel stairs leading up to the ring and took a moment to snap a few pics of the filling arena and post them. After posting them, you then had to clear out your friend requests yet again because the fans were interested in seeing who the woman that Jey, Roman, Jimmy, Dominik, Damian, and Rhea were posting about. Jey had posted about your workouts together, plus a few pics of your ass in your gear, but Dominik, Jimmy, and Rhea had posted your drunken dancing and Rhea's entrance stomp. Roman and Damian, however, posted group photos of all of you together or candids taken around your home and thanked you for opening up your home to their craziness.

And that, apparently, got their fans hella interested in you.

When the show starts, you keep your sign down by your feet until the perfect moment. Instead, you sit there cheering and booing as wrestlers come and go, snapping pics and video here and there. And when it's time for The Bloodline to come out, you boo Solo along with everyone else. However, when Solo notices you are booing him, his eyes squint as if he's trying to keep his mean mug in place and you're quick to form a heart with your hands and blow him a kiss. His lips purse as if to fight back a smile and you mentally cheer.

As The Bloodline talks, you grip your sign with one hand and prepare your phone with the other to take video. You boo as they talk and then scream when Roman's entrance song starts to play. Immediately you start to record on your phone.

Roman walks down the ramp, looking pissed off and intimidating as hell. You scream along with the fans, holding your sign out in front of you. As Roman nears, you cheer even louder and manage to garner his attention. He notices you first, keeping his expression neutral, but when his gaze darts to your sign and then back to your face, the wiggle of your eyebrows is his downfall. He barks out a laugh, realizes his mistake, and mouths I hate you while stomping up the steps. Half of your sign is a shirtless picture of him, but the other half reads Daddy's Home along with all the hearts Rhea had added.

As you watch The Bloodline and Roman argue back and forth, your phone vibrates with a text message.

From JeyBae: DID YOU JUST CRACK ROMAN ON LIVE TV?! To JeyBae: Yes. Yes, I did. Tell your baby brother I expect all my WWE shirts within the month. He'll know what I'm talking about.

Jey sends back laughing emojis and you send him the video of Roman when he reads your sign and cracks.

And when you get home later that night, you have a text from Roman promising to get you back for that.

You don't believe Roman until that same weekend, everyone's winding down at your house again after hours of shooting promos and having their pictures taken to refresh the web page. This time the guys are cooking, so you're free to lounge around and sunbathe with Rhea off to the side. However, just as you get comfortable, Solo and Roman take it upon themselves to grab you by the wrists and ankles. You scream as you hang between them, eyeing the pool with trepidation. Both men are laughing, bringing up how you made them crack on live tv, and no matter how much you say that it was all Solo's idea, the two Samoans swing you and then launch you into the pool.

Monday night has you attending Raw, ringside yet again, this time reppin' Jey with a Yeet sign and wearing his merch. You cheer and boo along with the crowd, surprising those around you when Dominik and Rey both break character when they spot you at different times. Dominik fist bumps you as he passes by, but your tio Rey takes a moment to pause and hug you before getting back into character. A few people around you ask why the Mysterio's are friendly with you, so you throw them a bone and admit that Rey's your uncle and Dominik your cousin. After that, they decide to leave you alone when they realize you're invested in the story telling going on in front of you.

When you get home, you're in high spirits. But then you realize that when Damian, Jey, and Rhea get back to your place, they'll have to pack and get some sleep before they have to wake up at four in the morning so you can drive them to the airport, and your mood plummets. And since you had eaten after leaving the arena, and the others had eaten at the arena, you decide to take a shower and crawl into bed.

Close to midnight, you feel yourself being moved and your eyes flutter open. You're curled on your side, and you see Damian and Rhea crawling into bed in front of you.

Rhea smiles, voice quiet. "One last sleepover."

A hand slides over your stomach, and you slide your own hand over it, sliding your fingers between Jey's. He's held you like this a few times, but you never touched his hand. Tonight, however, you'll allow yourself this moment. "I'm gonna really miss you guys."

"We're gonna miss you too," Damian says.

"Get some sleep, baby girl." A kiss is pressed to the back of your shoulder. "We still have a few hours before we gotta be on the road."

Though you're sad, you still manage to fall asleep while being cuddled by Jey.

Later, when their alarms go off, everyone's dragging their feet downstairs. You take the Range Rover, letting Damian drive. Rhea sits up front with him, and you sit in the back with Jey who refuses to let you sit far from him.

Damian parks at the airport so you can get off with them, and you help Rhea carry her bags inside.

When everyone gets to the point where you'll have to stay behind, they each take a moment to thank you.

Rhea goes first, dropping her bags and pulling you into a hug. "Thank you for this week. I didn't expect to find another family member when Dom suggested we stay at your house."

"You will always be welcomed here. Always." As you pull out of the hug, you wrinkle your nose when you feel your eyes stinging with tears already. Rhea laughs, her own eyes glassy as she steps back.

Damian steps up next, and you wetly laugh when your head barely meets the middle of his chest. "See you around, hermana."

"Don't be a stranger, Priest. You guys all have my number. Use it."

"I will." He squeezes you one last time before stepping back, he and Rhea starting to walk off. "We'll give you guys a moment."

As you turn, you're immediately engulfed by Jey. This hug is different than every one he's bestowed upon you since meeting you and you can't help but melt into him.

As your arms wrap tightly around his waist, you hide your face against the side of his neck and the two of you just stay there like that, not speaking. Then after a moment passes, you say, "This isn't fair."

"Right guy, wrong time, right?"

You huff a laugh. "Your brothers and cousin gossip too much."

"Nah. They just want to see us happy. You make me happy."

His words make your heart ache and your throat swell with emotion. "You make me happy too, but-"

"I know, baby girl. I know. It's like you said, this isn't fair." When you and Jey finally pull free from the hug, you can't meet his gaze. Not until he gently cups your face and makes you look up, pressing his forehead against yours. "We'll figure it out, yeah? It's only been a week, but already I know that whatever this is, it's different."

You sigh. "I can't do long distance."

"You will." Jey presses a kiss to your forehead and then steps back, smirking. "I'm not letting you go, baby. We're gonna text and Facetime so much that you're gonna be sick of me."

"You're ridiculous."

"And you're mine. Remember that."

You gulp, his possessive words stirring something within you, but you manage to squash it less he notices. Jey continues to walk backwards with his bag, smirking, and then turns to head to his gate.

As you walk out of the airport, you're filled with sadness and loneliness, but also hope for the future.

You've never had an issue sleeping alone, in fact you preferred it, but you have trouble getting used to an empty bed this time around. You manage to cope though, especially when your new friends keep their promise to check in with you every other day. And not to mention that you get to see their alter egos appear on Monday Night Raw and Friday Night Smackdown which gives you a reason to text them, making fun of their storylines.

In between of keeping in touch with Jey, you manage to focus on yourself and grow your business of IT work, having enough resources to hire a few individuals and purchase a few work vehicles so no one had to drive their personal vehicles to any locations. And though you hadn't realized it at the time, spreading out the work actually lifted the weight that had been on your shoulders.

On Raw, you can say your favorite storylines are the Terror Twins beating the shit out of Judgement Day any chance they get, and Jey stepping up to protect Damian and Rhea when they need it. You don't really have a favorite storyline on Smackdown, but you do watch for Roman and Solo, and their ongoing battle for Tribal Chief. You get annoyed with the Bloodline when they accept Nia Jax into their ranks, making their faction even stronger. And then during one brutal beatdown on Roman, Jimmy finally makes his grand return to the ring. Roman and Jimmy aren't enough to take on the Bloodline, so Jey surprises everyone by rushing to their rescue. It's a mini reunion of the old Bloodline, and the new Bloodline seems to think twice about attacking them before retreating.

It's when you're Facetiming with Jey, teasing him about when the Creative team is finally going to give every fan what they want- his date with Rhea to Waffle House- that you get a call from your Tio Rey. You make up an excuse to hang up with Jey, not wanting to clue him in about Rey randomly calling you, and then call your Tio back.

"Hey, Tio," you greet when Rey picks up. "What's going on?"

"Mija, how are you?"

"I'm good. Work is keeping me busy."

"That's good, that's good." Rey falls quiet for a moment before saying, "Listen, I know I spoke about you possibly joining the business, but I need to know how serious you are about it."

"I mean, I wouldn't mind," you say. "I miss it. Miss the training and everything, but let's be serious for a second, Tio. I'm in no shape to suddenly get into a ring."

"You're in great shape, mija. It wouldn't take much to get you fit for the ring."

You chuckle. "If only, huh." Rey says nothing. "Tio?"

"What if I told you I got you a zoom meeting with Paul? Would you listen to what he has to say?"

"Shit. Are you serious?" Your heart starts to beat double.

"Yes." He chuckles. "I remember how much you loved wrestling and since you've made so many new friends within the business…"

"I'll do it." The words are out before you can second guess yourself. "But I have conditions of my own, Tio. The storyline has to be pretty decent if I'm to agree."

"I'd expect nothing less. I'll text you the details."

"Alright, Tio. Thank you. I love you."

"Love you too, mija. I hope your meeting goes well."

You're a ball of nerves and anxiety when Rey texts you the information about your video call meeting with Paul "Triple H" Levesque, the meeting only being in a few days.

You keep the meeting a secret from your friends and tell your Tio not to tell Dominik because your cousin wouldn't be able to keep it from Rhea. And to distract yourself, you keep busy with work.

The video call with Paul comes and goes, and you end the call feeling like you're on cloud nine. The storyline they're looking to drop a newcomer into is that of a female presence alongside Roman Reigns, of all people. They want someone who can be serious, but also a little goofy since they're looking to tone down Roman's alter ego since he's become very likable once again.

You had explained to Paul that you would love to work with Roman as a female ready to kick any other female's ass who dares to lay a hand on him, but you're not looking for a romantic storyline. Against your better judgment, you admit to having a very personal relationship with Jey Uso, and you rather not make things weird by your alter ego getting it on with Roman's alter ego. Paul chuckled away your worry, especially when you went on to playfully ask when Jey and Rhea were going to get that Waffle House date because you were waiting for it just like every other fan.

Paul talks a bit more about how Roman will be treating this newcomer like a little sister and be protective of her as she will be of him, and you're liking the idea more and more. And when he sees your very obvious interest in wanting to be that person, he slyly admits that Raw and Smackdown wrestlers will be making appearances on each other's shows, so it'll be likely that you see Jey Uso more frequently.

When you finally admit you're seriously interested, Paul tells you that there will be more phone calls and a meeting in person to be had in the near future. Since this isn't the normal way to bring in a new wrestler, the higher ups will want to see you in action.

"Noted, sir. If I'm to wrestle in person so you can see my skills, there's only one female I want to go against, but she needs to swear to secrecy about not letting it slip that it's me she's meeting with."

"Who do you got in mind, kid?" He had asked.

"Ripley," you mused. "Her technique is right up my alley. Plus, she's a friend."

"Jesus. Don't tell me I'm gonna have two brutal forces on my hand."

You smirked at him through the camera. "Can you imagine a team-up with us? We'd tear your female roster up."

Paul had chuckled. "How are your mic skills?"

You shrugged. "Not sure, but I don't have stage fright. I'm good at talking shit, but I will have to remember to censor myself. I have a potty mouth when I'm pissed off."

"That's what the production team is for. They'll bleep if necessary."

"That's going to be a lot of bleeping."

"I'm sure it can be handled." There was a moment of silence as Paul looked at something off screen. "Well, so far I like what I see. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders," he'd admitted. "Why don't we exchange numbers, so we don't have to go through the hassle of emailing. Then when I get everything set up for our face to face, we'll fly you out so we can see you in action."

"Yes, sir. Thank you so much for this opportunity."

And after a quick exchange of numbers, the video call was ended, and you texted your Tio the good news.

Over the next few weeks, you change up your routine to make more time to work out and even change your eating habits. You even call a mandatory meeting with your employees, telling them that you're taking on a second job that's unrelated to what you're currently doing. If they wish to walk away, they're more than welcome to do it with no bad blood between you, but if they wish to stick around then they'll be getting a pay raise since they'll also be taking on a fair bit more of the work. Your new hires have no problem with a pay raise and decide to stick around, learning their new schedule for when you'll be out of town.

When you finally fly out to meet with Paul, your Tio Rey, Rhea, and the higher ups, you're driven to a random gym to keep your presence a secret. You walk in with the hood of your hoodie pulled up and you watch Rhea warm up in the ring. For a moment you just watch her and then you head in.

As you approach the ring, Rhea takes notice of you. Smirking, you pull down your hood and her eyes widen in delight.

"Shut the fuck up!" She practically yells in elation. "You?! You're the new blood?"

Laughing, you hop onto the side of the ring and step through the ropes. "Hopefully."

Rhea embraces you with more laughter, squeezing you tight.

"Good. You've met already," Paul suddenly says. Stepping up to the side of the ring and looking up at the two of you. "So, here's how this is going to go.."

As Paul tells you what he and the other higher ups expect to see, you strip out of your hoodie and toss it aside. You pull your shirt off, leaving you in a sports bra and your leggings that are more than acceptable to fight in. You take the time to stretch, asking questions here and there to make sure you're on the same page of what they want to see. And when you begin, you and Rhea take the time to warm-up by running back and forth across the ring, bouncing off the ropes and dropping to the mat so the other could hop over whoever was down on the mat at the time.

Then when Paul tells you to fight, to feed off one another's energy and read each other's body language, you and Rhea lock in the middle. Each of you takes hits and kicks from the other, acting as if it were a real match and you were seriously injuring one another. You take turns climbing onto the ropes, but never properly get a moonsault in. You surprise everyone when you 6-1-9 Rhea, but Rhea ends your little session when she gives you the Riptide and pins you with her provocative pin.

Panting and heaving, you lay there on the mat as Rhea falls onto her own back, catching her breath as well.

There's a silence that follows before several rounds of applause break out.

"Atta girl, mija!" Rey cheers.

"That.. was impressive work for being rusty," Paul says. "How do you feel?"

"Honest answer?" You ask, breathing heavily.

"Yes."

"Rhea's pin kinda turned me on a little bit." Rhea and Paul bark out a laugh, and your Tio shakes his head in amusement at you. "But in all seriousness, I feel great. I haven't done that since I was a teenager and it.. it felt like coming home."

"I'm glad to hear that," Paul says. "We're all impressed, especially since you kept up with Rhea so well. You weren't joking that your technique was right up alley. I think with a few months of training, you'll be good enough to be introduced."

"Really?" You slowly smile, eyes turning misty.

"Yes. In the meantime, you need to make your presence known on social media. You have the option of keeping your private life private while making a new profile that's just for your public life as a wrestler, or you can start integrating your wrestling life into the profiles you currently have."

"Uh, I think I'll make some new profiles. I'll post some private life moments for the fans so they can get a peek behind the curtain in my life, but nothing too personal that they can track down where I live."

Paul nods, knocking his knuckles onto the mat. "Sounds good. And good work in the ring. I'm glad your uncle just wasn't all talk."

You grin. "Thank you for taking a chance on me, sir."

"Thank you for being an asskicker. Now, I'll be in contact. I'll get you a contract soon and we'll talk some more."

"Yes, sir. Thank you again."

Paul and the others take their leave, leaving Rey and Rhea with you. As they disappear, you can't help but burst into tears. Rhea laughs, rolling over on top of you and straddling your hips as she grabs your wrists and squeals. Rey joins the two of you in the ring, and you end up laughing as Rhea can't stop cursing and just being excited about you possibly working with her.

"So, what's this about a faction I've been hearing about? Do you already know where you're going?"

As you wipe away your tears, you sniffle. "Yeah. There's a storyline that requires a female companion and Tio Rey told them I could possibly be a good fit."

"And I was right. You were magnificent, mija."

"But it's all still a secret, so Rhea, you can't say anything!"

"Got it, got it. My lips are sealed." She crawls off of you and you sit up, laughing at her smile. "This is awesome. I hope you come to Raw. You can be our tiny terror triplet."

You huff a laugh, shoulder checking her. "I thought Uso was the triplet?" She snorts. "Seriously, I'm banking on you and Jey finally getting to go to a Waffle House, only for Damian to obliviously be third wheeling. You should become a throuple. I'd ship it if no one else does."

Rhea laughs. "Shut up. Don't give them any ideas."

Rey finally helps you to your feet, making sure you're alright and that there are no injuries that need to be looked over. You want to spend more time with Rhea, but she's got to get back to the arena before anyone becomes suspicious. But before she leaves, she tells you to keep her in the loop about what you can and when you'll possibly be making your debut. You assure her you will and to keep a lookout for your new public social pages where you'll start off as inconspicuous as you can by posting about how you want to get back into shape and what not.

When it's just you and your Tio Rey left, you hang out in the ring to listen to all the pointers he has to offer. He works with you for a couple of hours before he buys you dinner and sends you back to your hotel.

For your contract signing, your Tio Rey sits in on the meeting with you to explain a few things here and there. You're aware that your public socials will mostly need to be posts as if your alter ego was posting or anything related to fan interactions/charities/upcoming shows, but that you can also have personal pics/videos so long as you explain you're posting as your real self and not your wrestling self. However, since your impending appearance on the show is being kept on the down low, you're only to post work out videos or get ready with me videos and show no inkling of you getting into the business.

The topic of body art comes up because when you're under contract, any tattoos need to be approved beforehand. You assure Paul that there's not really anything you plan to get at the moment and understand you need to run any future ideas by the higher ups.

When Paul and some of the Creative team spitball ideas about how to start showing your face associated with the business, you have an idea. They hear you out, and though the dynamic between Dom and Rey is overused, you ask them to bring it up again. You can start flying out to shows to watch your family do work, but then get upset one night when Judgement Day starts beating down on Rey. It'll give you the opportunity to jump the barricade and shield your Tio, only to get into an argument with Dominik in the ring, tearing down those he now calls his family. You suggest Liv and JD attacking you, and Finn and Carlito attacking Rey while Dom stands back, unsure of what to do.

As you were talking, you hadn't seen the team taking notes. Only when Paul chuckled and joked that you should take up a part time job as a writer, did you finally sign the contract. Rey was ecstatic and Paul welcomed you aboard, telling you to go home and continue doing what you were doing. They'd bring you in soon.

. . . .

When you get back home, you don't change anything in your routine. The only thing that changes is that you start posting videos on your breaks, videos that Rhea immediately starts following and hyping you up for.

It takes a few days, but eventually you notice an uptick of followers from those you made friends with within the WWE community. Your comment section is full of encouragement and playful flirtation, but it isn't long until the trolls find your page. Some shower you with compliments because of your affiliation with certain wrestlers while others troll you. But since you're under contract, you can't lash out at their pathetic criticism less you want to be reprimanded by the higher ups at WWE.

One day, you're really feeling yourself and decide to do a pole workout. You wear a pair of cheeky workout shorts and a very pretty workout bralette, and get to work. There are no provocative dance moves, instead you decide to show off the strength of your arms and legs by climbing, twirling, and going upside down on the pole. You even show off your flexibility, and when it's all over you post the video with the song Play Hard by David Guetta, Ne-Yo and Akon. Immediately, the likes and comments roll in. And ten minutes later, Jey has you on Facetime.

"Yessss," you drawl as you answer the video call with a grin.

"You really gonna do me like that, baby?" As you stare at Jey, you see he's in a locker room, towel draped over his shoulder. You chuckle at his pout. "I know you danced in the past, but I didn't know you were still able to do all that."

"Of course I can still do it. Pole dancing is quite the workout. And it's fun when the person you want to see sees it." You wink and Jey squints his eyes at you.

"You still in them little ass shorts?"

"What is it with you and my ass?" You laugh, heading towards the body length mirror you have in the hallway of your home. Standing in front of the mirror, you angle your body so your ass can be seen as you twist, aiming the camera over your shoulder. When you see the screen white out for a second, you freeze. "Did you- did you just take a screenshot?"

Jey smirks. "Yes, and? I miss my girl. I need this."

You blush, heading shaking in amusement before heading to your living room and falling onto your couch to relax. "You're ridiculous."

"You know it! But as much as I've missed seeing your face and booty, there's actually a reason I called. Big Uce needs a favor."

You roll your eyes. "How many times have I told you and everyone else that my house is your house? If someone needs a place to crash, my house is open."

"See! Told you, man. You could have just showed up and she'd let you right in." Jey is talking to someone off camera and then he's scooting over, making room for another person. Roman enters half the screen. "Hey YN, how are you?"

"I'm good, Rome," you say. "How are things with you?"

He shrugs. "Could be better. My shoulder's been acting up, so the boss wants me to take a month off to heal and prepare myself for some storyline they wanna start me in."

"And you wanna spend that month here?"

You chuckle as Roman turns sheepish. "If you don't mind? It's just at your place, I know I won't be bothered if I go for a swim or soak in the hot tub."

"Come on down, Rome. It'll be nice to have some noise back in this house."

"Thank you. Do you think you can pick me up from the airport or should I get a rental?"

"Send me the details of when you'll be landing, and I'll be there."

"Alright. I'll go book the flight right now and text you right after." Jey takes over the call once more, grinning.

"What's got you cheesin'?"

"You. It makes me happy to see you treat my family like your family."

"Yeah, well they make it easy."

Jey continues to smile before it turns rather wistful. "The next time I ain't booked for anythin', I'm coming down. We have a lot of time to make up for."

"I'll probably see you before you see me," you muse. At his arched eyebrow, you say, "Dom and Tio Rey want me to start coming to shows. I'll probably wait until Roman leaves so I don't leave him alone here, but I should be coming to a Raw show at least once a month from now on."

"When you do, don't book a hotel room. You can bunk with me."

"Sure thing, Uso. Now get back to work. I wanna see you yeet that lame ass Judgement Day soon."

He laughs. "Your cuz is in that lame ass Judgement Day."

"I said what I said."

He shakes his head in amusement. "I'll see what I can do. Talk to you later, baby girl."

"Bye, Jey."

When Roman gets to your house, you help him get situated in the room that he'll be taking over for the month. You hand him the keys to your Range Rover to use while he stays and tell him you have a friend that works at the local gym who can get him some private hours should he want it. He agrees to the private hours so long as you join him which ends up being the perfect excuse to work out alongside Roman and post those pictures and videos. After all, you'll be part of his faction when you start at WWE, so it'll be nice to have those pictures on standby after your affiliation is known.

You and Roman post serious pics of working out side by side, encouraging one another. Some videos are silly, though, especially the one Roman posts where he mentions that having a workout partner is actually fun. But when he pans to you, you're laid out on the floor, panting for breath, and giving him a shaky thumbs up that he laughs at. While you had a decent routine, Roman's was intense, and you cursed him the entire time he pushed you to your limit.

Monday and Friday nights are reserved for watching wrestling on your flatscreen, and Roman can't help but tease you when you get into it, especially where it concerns his cousins.

"When are you going to make it official?" Roman asks as he watches you watch Jey's match on screen.

"When I can travel along with you guys for a couple months at a time," you answer without missing a beat.

"What about your job?"

You wince as Jey is tossed from the top rope. "I can work from the road," you admit. "I have employees now that can do the house calls and I'll be available Monday through Friday, nine to five over the phone. The only thing keeping me from flying out is that I've yet to find a trustworthy house sitter for when I'm away."

The only sound that can be heard is the commentators announcing Jey's win before, "You really love him, don't you?"

You freeze and turn towards Roman. "Love is a.. strong word."

He rolls his eyes. "If you didn't love him, you wouldn't be finding a way to travel on the road with us. It's okay to have strong feelings for him. You can't help who you love, when or how it happens."

You turn sheepish, not wanting to talk about it anymore with Jey's cousin. Your feelings for Jey were strong and they had caught you off guard. You figured they'd diminish when he left, but you only missed him more, and those feelings grew every time you spoke on the phone. It also didn't help that all your mutual friends were rooting for the two of you to work things out.

Roman lets the conversation drop and the two of you continue cohabitating like normal, treating one another like the world's most annoying brother/sister.

When it's time for Roman to get back to work, you fly out with him to attend a showing of Smackdown. You wear his merch, even carrying a sign that proclaims Roman as THE tribal chief. Unknowingly, Solo and Nia add beef to your future interactions with them when Nia rips the sign from your hands and tears it in half. You merely smirk at her, however, earning a nod of approval from Roman and a few secret texts from Paul who's giddy that his wrestlers are unknowingly setting themselves up for your explosive introduction.

But before you can get to your introduction on Smackdown, you need to make appearances on Raw as the distraught family member who's tired of your Tio and cousin beating each other down.

. . . .

Paul gives you a total of three appearances on Raw, sitting ringside and shouting at your cousin when he takes things too far with his dad. Some fans start to suspect that you might join WWE, however briefly, since WWE usually pulls in a non-wrestling family members every now and then to spice things up. Unfortunately for those who don't know, you're very much into wrestling and know how to hold your own.

On the night of your so-called debut, you're sitting ringside yet again.

(Live on Raw)

Rey Mysterio walks out to an amped up crowd and when he spots you, he takes a moment to hug you and greet you with a kiss to your temple. As he slides into the ring to start warming up, the Judgement Day theme goes off. Dominik swaggers out with Liv hanging off his arm and your nose wrinkles as Liv openly laughs at you, mockingly wiggling her fingers in a wave when you try calling out to Dominik to stop this feud already.

He doesn't, and father and son go toe to toe.

Rey and Dominik trade blows back and forth, and even with the help of Liv… Dominik still loses the match. This enrages Judgement Day, and it isn't long until Finn, JD, and Carlito are running down the ramp to beat up on Rey.

From your side of the barrier, you're screaming at Dom to stop it. You ignore the camera crew when they film your reaction and when you see Finn pull out a chair to wrap around Rey's neck, you hop the barrier. The crowd cheers as you slide into the ring like it's something you've done all your life and you cover Rey's body, holding your arms out as you stare up at your cousin who's standing on the top rope, ready to jump on the chair around his dad's neck.

A microphone is slid to you, and you pick it up, pleading with Dom as you stand up. "Stop! Stop it, Dom. That's enough." Your voice cracks and you sniffle. "It's enough."

As Dom stares at you in shock, he slowly climbs down the rope and requests a mic as you remove the chair from Rey's neck and slide it behind you, glaring at Judgement Day surrounding you. "Prima, what the hell are you doin' in here?"

"What am I doing? What are you doing?" You ask in return. "This is your dad, Dom. Your blood! Cut the crap already and come home."

He's stunned silent before huffs, a cruel smile taking over. "Home? What home? And blood doesn't define family, cuz. You should know that. When was the last time you spoke to your old man, huh?"

Oof. Low blow, but part of the script. Paul did tell you to ad-lib the fight to get under each other's skin. Slowly, you stand, turning around in a circle and putting your back to the ropes rather than having someone stand behind you.

"Of course, I know blood doesn't define family, pendejo. But I seriously hope you don't mean to call this rag-tag team of cowards your family." The crowd laughs as those of the Judgement Day take offense to that. "You really think Judgement Day 2.0 cares about you?" You huff out a laugh. "You're delusional. The only one who cared about you in their own weird way was Rhea. She brought you in. She gave you a family. She kept you safe," you seethe at him as the crowd agrees with you. "Believe it or not, Rhea and Damian were the only loyal ones of Judgement Day, and you ruined a good thing when you betrayed them all for a Harley Quinn reject that has eyes for Finn when you're not paying attention."

The crowd ooh's.

"No! No that's not true," Liv screams when she rips the mic from Dom, shouldering her women's title as if it proves that she's the best. "I love my daddy Dom and he loves me. Rhea was toxic!"

"Toxic or not, she's clearly the better choice." The crowd cheers as you look Liv up and down, disgust evident in your features. "Have fun with Rhea's sloppy seconds."

You drop the mic, turning to help Rey up. However, Liv's scream of rage makes you pause, and you feel the weight of her championship belt connect with the back of your head. You fall forward and the crowd goes into an uproar. When kicks start connecting with your back, you curl up on your side and curl your arms around your head.

Liv gets in a few kicks before you take charge. Between one kick and the next, you roll onto your back and sweep Liv's legs out from beneath her. When she falls, you scramble onto your hands and knees and straddle the women's champion before grasping her hair in one hand and delivering blow after blow with the other.

The arena fills with screams and cheers, and then you're dragged off of Liv. As your arms are held behind you by JD, Finn and Carlito help Liv up. She attacks you with hits and kicks while Dominik watches from the corner, hands in his hair as he's torn between stopping the attack or not.

THIS IS MY BRUTALITY!

Rhea's theme song goes off, purple lights flashing, and the crowd is deafening as Rhea and Damian rush the ring. Judgement Day quickly abandons ship, and the Terror Twins stalk the ring back and forth, pointing and threatening the cowards as they run away.

You stand back, glancing warily between the Terror Twins and your Tio who's still laid out on the mat.

When they turn towards you, Rhea and Damian watch you with unsurety in their gazes. You're holding onto your stomach where Liv landed kick after kick, and when your Tio groans, you rush to help him to his feet. Damian beats you to it, however, and offers Rey a hand up much to the crowd's surprise.

There's another stare off before you say, "Thank you."

Damian's expression is kept neutral, but Rhea slowly smirks, licking her bottom lip in a rather seductive manner. You can feel your cheeks heating against your will, and she laughs before her and Damian are rolling out of the ring with a mock salute towards you and Rey.

After a moment, Rey heads for the stairs and you follow after him, the two of you leaning on one another as you make your way backstage.

(End of broadcast segment.)

The moment you make it behind the curtains and filming is cut, you're engulfed in a hug by Dominik.

"Prima, that was so good!"

Liv walks up beside you, squealing. "That was awesome. I hope I didn't hurt you. I felt a few of those kicks connect."

"Nah, girl, you're good." As you pull out of the hug with Dominik, you high five the blonde. "The more believable it is, the more people will wanna watch you."

She laughs, calls you crazy, and then steps aside. The rest of Judgement Day congratulate you on a great intro, and then Rhea and Damian are there putting you in the middle of their group hug.

"Mate, that was awesome. I'm so glad I don't have to keep this secret anymore!"

"What? You knew?!" Damian demands. Both you and Rhea laugh.

"Where do you think I was sneaking off to?" Rhea muses. "Paul wanted to see what YN was capable of, so I was her opponent for the trial matches. Needless to say, everyone was impressed."

"Damn. I wish I could have been there," he says.

"And ruin the surprise? Never."

After your friends release you, your Tio hugs you. "I'm proud of you, mija. You were meant for this life and I'm glad to be a part of it."

Rey's words make you a little emotional and you have to laugh less you start ugly crying. "Thank you, Tio. I'm looking forward to what's to come."

As soon as your Tio releases you, you're spun around and yanked into yet another hug. "Damn, baby girl. No head's up?" You laugh as you hug Jey, this hug being long overdue. "Does this mean you're going to be on Raw?"

You shrug as you step back, but Jey keeps you close by tucking you under his arm. "A contract is still in the works," you say, reluctantly lying to your friends. Your contract was already locked in, but they didn't know that. "At first I didn't want to fight, I just wanted to be what essentially is a hype man on the sidelines, but Paul thinks I'm destined for more. I was scared to step on the toes of the females still waiting to be called up to the main roster, but Paul says he saw something in me worth taking the risk."

"Damn right he did," Jey says. "You're ballsy."

You smile up at him, letting him press a kiss to your forehead. "But anyway, for now I'll be stuck in the middle of my cousin and Tio, playing the distraught family member. They wanna gauge everyone's reaction to me and if I'm liked enough, they'll plant me into a storyline either on Raw or Smackdown."

"Yeet," Jey says, clearly excited. "Everything's coming together, baby. Now let's go check that phone of yours. I'm sure Jimmy and Roman are blowing it up as we speak."

Author's Note: Reader is a little ass kicker. This is very self-indulgent, so don't just me haha. Let me have this.

Spanish translations: Hermana - Sister. Mija - Darling (term of endearment family mostly uses for younger girl). Prima/Primo - Cousin. Pendenja/Pendejo - Stupid girl/stupid boy.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine helping Crocodile discover a new way to use his devil fruit, part 2

I've decided that I'm going to do a fic for this, instead of an imagine. I don't know about this one, but I'm posting it anyway.

Also, this an afab reader fic, sorry.

It was late when you left Buggy's party to head home. So late, in fact, that the city had turned off most of the streetlamps. With only every third lamp lit on the main streets, one of Crocodile's brilliant budget cuts left you blindly scurrying between lamps to stay where you could see, cursing as you went. When you finally reached your street you encountered an expanse of broken streetlights leaving you with little choice, but to fumble blindly down the road, with only starlight to guide you. You paused, to give your eyes a moment to adjust and to put on your shoes, before heading off into the darkness.

Only a few steps in, you heard what sounded like sand moving. Without thinking, you called out, "hello?" Your jaw snapped shut when you realized you had just given away your position.

A deep chuckle broke the tense air, it was familiar, "It's quite late for little deers to be out, all by themselves." Suddenly, a bright ember lit up in your periphery, giving you a glance at the man in the dark. A dark cigar with a predatory grin at the other end of the ember, there was no mistaking it.

Crocodile murmured, "I've been looking for you all night."

"Why me?" You asked, taking a step back, even though you knew there was no escaping from him if he really wanted you

"I want to know what else that fucked up little head of yours can come up with." He purred. You flinch as his hand engulfed your neck. The feeling of his sand skittering along your skin made you instinctively go up on your tippy-toes to get away. Sensing your discomfort, his thumb gently caresses your cheek to soothe you. "Easy there, I'm not going to hurt you, yet." Crocodile takes a slow drag off his cigar, the ember glittering in his eyes. He was clearly enjoying the power trip he was getting off on your fear.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and started to ramble off anything you could use sand for. "Water filtration."

"Water is a no-go."

"You could use the technique I previously suggested to make glass. It would be useful for barriers against biochemical attacks, or for stopping up hinges. "

Crocodile hummed, "That would be useful, I'll have to try that later... But ultimately not the thing I'm looking for. "

"What sort of things are you implying?"

"Telling you would deprive me of the pleasure of watching you squirm, so keep trying." He said, tightening his hand around your neck, just enough to make your head spin.

You gasped, "Sand has silica in it, which is bad to breathe in. Uh... I can be used for skin!"

His grip loosened, as he echoed, "for skin?"

"It's used as an exfoliant." You stammered, trying to remain balanced.

"I recall having skinned my knee falling on the beach before I ate my devil fruit." He grumbled.

"You're supposed to add it to lotion or oil. "

"I can use lotion and oil," he chuckled, "I finally have the inspiration I needed. Thank you, little deer, why don't we go try it out." Crocodile released your neck, slid his arm around your shoulders, and guided you down the street.

"What are you doing." You asked, "Where are you taking me?"

The large man pulled you into his side, bemused by your size difference, as he asked, "did I misinterpret the way you look at me when you think I can see you?"

Your eyes flicked up to his, suddenly feeling very embarrassed because you've always taken every opportunity to ogle him in that slutty lil waistcoat of his.

He gave you a feline grin and mused, "I have not misinterpreted anything, have it. I know a hungry look when I see one. So where I'm taking you is to feast at my residence."

Sir Crocodile wasted no time bringing you to his estate, you crossed the threshold, and his grip on you slid from your shoulder to your waist. His hand groped the fat of your hip through the thin material of your shirt, as he led you to his room.

As soon as his bedroom door shut behind him, he removed his coat and gently pushed you face down on the large, plush sheets of his bed. He ordered you not to move a muscle, and you waited patiently, happily taking in the heavy scent of his sheets. You remained there for two minutes, listening to him remove his coat and shoes, he moved to another room for a minute, before coming back and setting several bottles and a large box on the nightstand.

"Up, sit up." He asserted, sliding onto the bed behind you. When you sat up on your knees, one of his large hands pulled you back into his lap. With another hoist and a gasp from you, he had you perched upon the rather prominent bulge in his pants. He had evidently removed his belt and vest well, he sat there in only a crisp button-up shirt and starched slacks.

"Now, why don't we get started with the foreplay?" He chuckled, swapping out his hook for some sort of mobility attachment that allowed him to unbutton his shirt. You leaned against his chest, and looked up at him. The black haired man grinned at the submissive look on your face, and used his now free hand to remove his hook. You watched as his nub and his hand turned into lumps of sand.

"I think the lotion would work quite nicely, don't you?" Crocodile rumbled, depositing several pumps of lotion onto the sand and rubbing them together until it was mixed evenly. The anticipation had caused an ache to grow between your legs. An ache that only grew larger when he shoved his hands under your shirt. You gasped when his fingers pushed up your breasts. The sand was cool at first, but it warmed up the rotation picked up speed.

You reached back and locked hands around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the strands of hair there, as you arched into his touch. Crocodile let you bask in his touch for only a brief moment, before nudging your head in his direction and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His scent, taste, and touch filled your senses. He smelled like whiskey, smoke, honey, and a natural musk, which left you dizzy. A high-pitched sigh left you, reveling in the moment, completely missing that the noise that had left you a moment ago had made the man under you feel absolutely feral. He let you distract yourself by grinding down on him, and nipping at his lips and tongue, while he gathered more sand. He opened the lotion bottle and mixed its contents with his sand before forming several new arms.

Three large hands pried apart your legs, as two hands of swirling sand massaged the meat of your thighs and calves. Two hands gripped your hips, rocking your clothes slit over his bulge, as two more hands groped at your chest. You cried out, only for Crocodile to use a column of sand to pull you back into a kiss. While his hand, of flesh and bone, made its way between your legs.

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[urhoneycombwitch]

#17 from that prompt list about seeing the marks left on their partner and getting turned on has got me all kinds of 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 It feels roommate-eddie coded 👀 especially if they have their no-marks rule, but he just kinda loses control one night.

Then we torture him, walking around showing it off, telling him he can’t touch until he learns some self-control…okay, I’m gonna see myself out…

(most assuredly not @rebelfell sending two asks in a row)

foreword: Sarah I’m being so fr how are you literally in my brain… I had a blurb on this very topic set on the back burner bc I couldn’t find a place for it so here it is spruced up!!! (prompt 17 from this list)

cw: Reader has breasts, visible marks, no skin tone/color mentioned, a wee bit of choking kink, not full smut but mdni as always. oh yeah and biting 😈

___

You can feel the weight of Eddie’s eyes on your form, even as you pretend to be oblivious, leaning into the reflection of the standing mirror in the corner of his bedroom.

A few swipes of your pointer finger and your lipgloss is perfect; with a smack of your lips, you straighten up again, tugging the hem of your tee down to meet the band of your jeans. “Almost ready?”

The friendly smile you turn to give Eddie is met with a glower, his dark brows slanted, a death-grip on both knees where he sits simmering on his bed.

“Did you come in here solely to torture me, or do you have other plans up your vixen sleeves?”

Briefly, your eyes flick to the ceiling as you turn back to your reflection, fussing with your hair to keep your hands busy. “Only plan I got is attending our beloved friend’s barbecue. Which we should’ve left for, like, five minutes ago.”

Eddie huffs. In response, you sigh, landing just-left of condescending. “Not my fault you want to fuck me regardless of what I’m wearing. It’s jeans and a t-shirt, Eddie, I’m basically fit for a nunnery-”

There’s a whoosh of spiced air that wafts over first, chills cascading down your spine made worse as Eddie moves in. His left hand lands on your hip, rooting you to the carpet, while the other tracks up, skirting between the valley of your clothed breasts, your collarbone, your neck…

He takes your chin between thumb and forefinger, silver rings biting cold against your skin as your neck goes lax, baring a long, tantalizing stretch of it as Eddie tilts your face up and to the side.

His lips press to the sweet spot behind your ear, then follows the slope of your neck down, stopping at your shirt’s collar that hides the rest of your skin. From your hip, his hand lifts to pull the fabric aside, revealing a scattered canvas of suck marks and teeth imprints that grace the top of your shoulder.

“You really gonna show up with these? Make all our friends wonder who’s been marking you up?”

Eddie’s voice is low, but you’d be a fool to mistake it for softness.

Another shiver licks along the length of your body, and this time Eddie feels it; he presses in closer, hand sliding from your chin to hold just under your jaw as he meets your fluttering eyes in the mirror.

“What’re you gonna say, hm? If Robin asks where they came from? If Steve makes a jock-y comment? If you get teased?”

It’s not like you haven’t been in this situation before- attending events with mutual friends, having to act like your roommate hasn’t been the one checking all your boxes, making up excuses for being late or looking like someone had been using your body as their personal chew toy.

You’ve always made excuses- pretty seamless ones, if anyone’s counting. You don’t even try to squirm away when you respond, swallowing around the light pressure at your throat- “I’ll tell them what I always do. Blind date hookup, one night stand, my dentist’s cousin’s friend that I’ll never see again-”

Eddie bites into the soft flesh of your upper shoulder, hard, free arm wrapping around your midsection like a seatbelt while his other elbow digs into your chest, hand still wrapped around the column of your throat.

The air leaves your lungs in a rush, white-hot adrenaline surging with the sting of the bite, body stiffening against the restraints of Eddie’s arms as you grit out, “Asshole!”

It sounds too whiny and pleasure-soaked to cause any real alarm, Eddie grinning into the curve of your skin (bastard) before tsking, kissing over the thumping mark in partial apology. “Mm. I think you like it. I think you get off on parading our little secret around the poor folks who don’t know any better-”

“As if you don’t.” Eddie may be the one doing most of the biting but you’ve got the bark to match, glaring furiously at the reflection of his maddeningly-cool black-caramel gaze, even as the pressure on your windpipe increases with a minute flex of his palm.

“Yeah. Y’got me there, princess.” His eyes flit across your exposed skin, like he’s trying to memorize all the shades and colors of you combined with the wreckage of his handiwork. “Maybe you should cover up some more. So it’s just you ‘n me who knows what’s under here.”

The cotton collar snaps back into place, covering almost all the evidence (save for the tail end of a day-old scraped hickey). Eddie releases your jaw and takes a step back, the warmth leaving your body all at once, frozen where you stand until sense returns.

You clear your throat before speaking, irritation prickling as you set to fixing your hair again from where Eddie’s interruption had stalled. “Whatever. Fine. But I’m only changing because it’s gonna be cold later, and a long sleeve will be better- not because you told me to.”

“Fine.” Eddie adopts a neutral tone as he settles back onto the mattress with a bounce, tugging absently at the inseam of his dark jeans to relieve some of the mounting tightness. “Have it your way.”

“I will,” you snap back, turning from the mirror on a socked heel, pointing an accusatory finger at the boy on the bed. “And you better have your boots on by the time I’m changed.”

With that, you flounce from Eddie’s room in search of a more conservative neckline, while Eddie pouts and pretends to have the will to disobey you for all of five seconds.

And then he’s up, trudging to the bureau reluctantly to source a pair of socks while scheming for the perfect excuse to take you both on the extra-long route to the barbecue.

[yoursdeadlynightshade]

Under the stars | Words 1.4k

The night air is cool against Regulus's skin, biting into his exposed cheeks and neck though it isn’t cold enough to drive him back indoors.

The silence between them is comfortable, easy, broken only by occasional rustling of grass as James shifts beside him, lying flat on his back, eyes heavily focused on the endless night sky.

The stars above twinkle lazily, making the dark sky seem like a blanket full of shiny things. Instead of their usual place—the Astronomy tower—James has insisted they come out here—has dragged Regulus by the arm wearing the same maddening grin. 

There’s something magnetic about James, something that makes it hard to say no, even when Regulus wants to.

Now they lay side by side, arms touching gently, stretched out on the damp grass right in the middle of the quidditch pitch. 

But for once, James is unbelievably quiet. 

And Regulus likes him this way. Not that James’s talking was entirely unbearable—no, that isn’t it. But there is something about the silence that makes Regulus feel… less alone.

“There.” James breaks the stillness, lifting an arm to point toward the sky, his voice barely above a whisper. “That one. It looks like a broomstick, doesn’t it?”

Regulus follows the direction of James’s outstretched hand, squinting at the constellation James is referring to. He tilts his head, trying to make sense of it, but all he sees is a jumble of stars.

He snorts. “That’s not even close to a broomstick, James.” 

James laughs softly, not the loud, boisterous sound Regulus is used to hearing, but a quieter, more intimate chuckle. “Yeah, well… maybe I just see things differently.”

There’s something in his tone that makes Regulus pause, something beneath the usual playful teasing. He turns his head slightly to glance at James, but James is still looking up, his expression softer than Regulus has ever seen it.

“You know,” James continues, voice lower now, like he’s confessing something he isn’t meaning to. “Every time I look up at the stars… I think of you.”

Regulus’s heart dances in his chest. “What?”

“Yeah.” James finally turns his head to meet Regulus’s gaze, brown eyes shining with something soft. “You’re like that, you know? Always there. Quiet. Distant. But… kind of beautiful.”

The words hit Regulus like a punch to the chest. Beautiful. No one has ever called him that, not in a way that feels real, not in a way that matters. And yet, hearing it from James Potter of all people makes something inside him break loose.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but the words stick in his throat.

“You’re messing with me,” he finally chokes out, voice full of accusation. 

James’s smile doesn’t falter. “I don’t lie when it comes to you, Regulus.’’

There’s a sincerity in his voice that makes Regulus’s heart race, a sincerity that terrifies him. He’s used to people wanting things from him—affection, loyalty, obedience—but James doesn’t seem to want anything. Just this moment. Just the stars and the quiet and Regulus by his side.

“Are you alright?’’

“Why wouldn’t I be?’’

“James,’’ Regulus murmurs, his fingers gently covering James’ hand. “Please, just tell me.”

“I think… I think—I’m not in love with Evans anymore.’’

Regulus’ mouth hangs agape at the same time his heart skips a beat. He’s ready to embrace hurt. Of course, James might be hurt over it. 

“Oh,’’ he whispers, barely audible. “You… wanna talk about it?’’

“I don’t know. Not really. I feel like,’’ James chokes, eyes squeezing shut. “I feel like I’ve been chasing an idea not a— not a person. And I hate myself for it.”

“James. James, don’t be. It’s alright to mess up our lives a bit you know?’’ Regulus mutters, “No one hands us a guideline to live our lives. It’s in our hands to do so. It’s normal and accepted to be flawed and to be filled with some mistakes.”

“I know. That’s not all to it either.”

“Oh.”

James hesitates, his breath hitching like he’s on the verge of death. “I’m in love with this person,” he whispers, his voice shaking but determined. “I’m so in love with them. When they smile—god, when they smile, I can’t breathe. It’s like everything in me stops. And when their eyes catch the light, when they look at me and there’s that spark…” He lets out a strangled laugh. “It’s everything. They’re everything. I want to hold them, protect them, and love them. And it’s driving me mad because I don’t know what to do with it.”

Regulus feels his stomach drop, the words sinking in with the force of a tidal wave. His mind spins with the realisation, with the crushing weight of what James is saying. James is in love. Deeply, irrevocably in love with someone else.

Not him, again. But with someone else, again.

“So… does she not feel the same way? Is that why you’re upset?” 

James blinks, his brow furrowing. “She?”

“Huh?” 

“Not a she,” James murmurs quietly, as if the truth is finally slipping from his grasp.

Oh, a boy then. 

Regulus swallows hard. “That’s alright, too. I mean, I’m literally gay, James. I—”

“I’m in love with you,” James interrupts, his voice trembling but unyielding, “It’s you, Reg. You are the person I’m in love with”

The world falls silent.

Regulus’s mouth hangs open, his mind struggling to catch up with what he has just heard. His heart pounds  so loudly in his ears that it drowns out the rest of the world, leaving nothing but the echo of James’s words. 

“What?” 

James’s eyes are desperate now, searching Regulus’s face for any sign.

“It’s you, Regulus,” he repeats, his voice softer, more vulnerable. “You make me feel all those things. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

James Potter is in love with him. Not with someone else this time.

He tries to process it, trying to make sense of the rapid, frantic beating of his heart, the way his chest aches with the force of it all. 

James’s face is pale, his eyes wide and filled with something raw—fear, maybe, or hope. “I’m sorry,” James whispers, the words trembling in the night air. “I didn’t mean to— I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. I had to tell you.”

Regulus’s breath hitches, his throat tight with the overwhelming wave of emotions crashing through him. He wants to speak, wants to say something—anything—that’ll make this easier, but the words were stuck, lodged somewhere deep in his chest.

“James…” His voice is barely audible, a whisper in the wind.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just… I needed you to know.” 

Suddenly, everything clicks into place. The late nights spent together, the way James’s smile always seemed softer when it was just the two of them, the way his eyes lingered on Regulus a little too long, the way his jokes had always seemed a little more tender, a little more meaningful.

Regulus’s hands tremble as he moves, his fingers brushing against James’s arm, tentative, unsure. James’s head snaps up, his wide eyes locking onto Regulus’s, and for a moment, they just stare at each other, the world around them fading away.

“You love me?” Regulus asks, his voice barely more than a breath.

James swallows hard, his gaze unwavering. “Yeah, Reg. I love you.”

And at that moment, Regulus knew. He knew because his heart feels lighter, like it’s finally free after being caged for so long. He knows because he wants to reach out and pull James into his arms, to feel the warmth of him, the solidity of him, and never let go.

“I think…” Regulus’s voice cracks, and he takes a shaky breath, “I think I might love you, too.”

James eyes go wide, breath catching. “You think?’’

“No, I—” Regulus shakes his head. Not think, no. He knows. “I know.”

Before Regulus can second-guess himself, he closes the distance between them, his lips crashing against James’s in a kiss that was all at once fierce and tender, desperate and gentle.

James kisses him back with the same intensity, his hands finding their way to Regulus’s face, holding him like he was something precious, something he can’t bear to lose. 

And in that moment, under the stars and the cool night breeze, everything finally made sense.

James pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against Regulus’s, his breath coming in short, shaky bursts. “You really mean it?” he asks, his voice full of hope and disbelief.

Regulus smiles, something soft and real. “Yeah, I really mean it.”

And for the first time in quite a long time, James Potter looks like he isn’t lost anymore. He looks like he’s home.

[seisrkvs]

RULES (ARE MEANT TO BE BROKEN) — C. KAMO

gn reader i think, suggestive, not specifically angst or fluff idk, brother's best friend trope, mentions of fighting/bruises, alcohol consumption, age gap (2yrs) but both are adults. implied smashing. ahaha.

english is not my first language, so there may be grammatical mistakes. i don't care enough to fix them lol

WC 2.6k.

ten rules to follow when your best friend has a cool older brother.

AUTHOR'S NOTE :: this was so draining; never writing again

RULE NUMBER 01: NEVER FALL FOR YOUR BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER.

your best friend's brother, choso. two, years older than you but he's always seemed oh-so-mature with his serious, unsmiling face. (he makes an exception for you and yuji, though, and you think he's so, so sweet and so, so perfect.) a scar across it, over the bridge of his nose — in your opinion, it makes him ten times more attractive.

you start liking him aged twelve or thirteen, you're not sure, really. he wears cute sweaters and buttonups and doesn't really hang out with the boys in his class. he's shy and introverted and he's like fifteen and you just want him to be your boyfriend. oh, well, nothing ever works out the way you want it to, and he leaves for college when you're seventeen.

RULE NUMBER 02: NEVER ASK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED AT COLLEGE.

he never really mentions what happens in college, but choso is an entirely different person when he comes back. gone are the soft schoolboy clothes; now he's really in his element. the choso you know now is loose band tees and baggy jeans, rings stacked on his hands and nails painted black. and the best/worst part is that he looks good in it, and he knows he looks good in it.

nowadays, there are rumors about him. about how he drinks and smokes and gets into fights. but surely that's all just talk, right? besides, he says it's not true, so you don't believe them.

still, his taped up, bruised knuckles and bandaged hands still nag at the back of your mind.

RULE NUMBER 03: NEVER AGREE TO GOING TO HIS POOL PARTY.

why are you here? no, really, why are you here? this is way out of your comfort zone, and you know like, one person here. two, including choso. so where are you, exactly? well...

choso'd never been the type to host parties before he left for college. now is a different story, though. and a pool part at his place right at the apex of summer seems too good of an opportunity to refuse. especially when he lives next door and personally invites you over.

thick muscular arms hang over your side of the fence as he stares at you, chin propped up on top of it. "so 's that a yes or no?"

you shrug again, shrivelling inwardly under the overwhelming pressure of his gaze. and then his lips curl up into a slow, self-satisfied smile, as if he knows what you're thinking, and it almost has your knees buckling. heat spreads across your face, pools in your cheeks. you hope the blinding glare of the sun makes it difficult to see.

"ah, well, see ya then," he says with a chuckle when there's no sign of a response from you. it simultaneously irks and pleases you to know that he knows you well enough to know your answer. when you're sure he's gone, you rush to your room and scream into the pillow.

RULE NUMBER 04: NEVER SHOW UP TO HIS POOL PARTY.

the air is hot, humid and permeated with sweat and human activity. a concerningly high number of people are stuffed into choso and yuji's home, and you can't even hear yourself think over the bass of the music.

navigating through the mass of sweaty dancing people is humiliatingly nerve-wracking, not to mention annoying. you somehow manage to get lost in a house you've known all your life, and it takes you a quarter of an hour to venture out into the backyard. when you finally find it, that is.

and as if he's somehow aware of your presence, choso picks that exact moment to — very slowly — pull off the skintight black t-shirt that's clinging to his sculpted body. time moves in slow motion for you; your eyes drag over the expanse of his infuriatingly divine torse, unable to look away. and then he turns around, looks straight at you, and smirks. your stomach physical twists and you don't even know how you're alive right now, if you're being honest.

you don't even notice how close you've moved to him until he whistles in your direction and tosses the t-shirt into your hands. you're left holding it awkwardly as he dives into the pool, leaving you alone amidst the crowds all over again. he resurfaces a moment later, and over the din of the speakers and people you hear him yell something out to you.

"keep it if you want!"

fucking mind reader.

RULE NUMBER 05: NEVER HANG OUT WITH HIM WHEN HIS BROTHER'S NOT AROUND.

you are sprawled out on your lawn with a book in hand, not-so-discreetly staring at choso on the other side of the fence when you lock eyes with him. your first instinct is to look away, but then he flashes you a knowing grin and holds out his beer towards you. "want a drink?"

it's barely four in the afternoon. who even drinks at this time? other than choso, apparently. you don't want to seem too eager, so you sit up and pretend to think. "but i'm reading."

he leans back on his deckchair, yawning. "no one says you can't read here."

"okay," you huff, getting up and brushing off your shorts with one hand. your other hand's thumb is tucked into the book to mark your page — not that you've gotten very far today, courtesy of him.

there's a cooler beside him that you hadn't noticed before; if you're being honest you hadn't even thought of the drinks beforehand, just choso. he hands you a bottle, laughing when you almost drop it because of the cold surface, and your fingers brush when you finally take it from him. it's nothing that significant, but it's akso enough to set butterflies free inside your stomach.

choso's dark hair is tied up today, spiky twin buns on either side of his head. you're not sure how he pulls it off, but he does. he's wearing a loose tank top and shorts, and he looks even better up close. maybe this was a bad idea; now he'll definitely notice if you dare to look.

"something wrong?" his low voice startles you out of your panic-slash-daydream, and you turn to look at him awkwardly from where you're sat on the second deckchair by the pool.

"it's just warm outside, i guess." it's the first reply that comes to mind; a flimsy excuse, considering you'd been doing just fine in your own lawn. he hums in acknowledgement, taking a final swig of his drink before tossing it expertly into the trashcan at the other end of the yard.

"inside's always an option." he rubs his jaw, arm flexing involuntarily. you are graced with a concerning amount of inappropriate, unholy thoughts.

"sure."

RULE NUMBER 06: NEVER GO INSIDE WITH HIM.

stupid, stupid, stupid. you are extremely, undeniably stupid. you must be, because no normal, sane, self-respecting person should ever be finding themself in this position. specifically, half-drunk on your best friend's couch (while he's not at home) and staring shamelessly at his older brother's lips (he is in turn staring at yours).

okay, wait, rewind. let's review: half past four, he's leading you in through the back door. by six the beer is almost finished and you're half-drunk and giggling and reminiscing about past memories.

i had the biggest crush on you when i was little, you laugh. you're not sure why you say it; you regret it immediately — this was truly stupid — but there's nothing that can be done about this except to try and keep it in the past tense now. he laughs with you. then: i know, me too. still do.

at first you laugh again, a little awkwardly because you'd thought you'd been discreet this whole time. then the second part of his sentence finally registers. "wait, what?"

he smiles lazily, swirling what's left at the bottom of his bottle. "didn't stutter now, did i?"

you shake your head, then proceed to be even more stupid than before.

"me too," you blurt out. "i still like you too."

"i know," he repeats, and nothing comes of it... in the next hour or so, at least. but now you're much closer to each other than you were before, and he's all but giving you unabashed bedroom eyes at fucking eight pm. you want to kiss him.

"oh, really?" an unfamiliar cheshire-cat smile is shot at you, and you realise with rising horror that you've said it out loud.

"on a scale of one to ten..." he trails off, and a thumb barely grazes your lower lip. "on a scale of one to ten, how bad do you want to kiss me?"

your answer is immediate and reckless. "like a twelve?"

the answer seems to satisfy him well enough, and one of his large hands cups your face. you instinctively lean into his touch as he leans in towards you. his rings are cold metal against your cheek; you suck in a breath nervously, simultaneously excited, and scared of what's to come.

"sweetheart," choso breathes against your lips, and you think you might spontaneously combust on the spot. "sweetheart, i'd love to indulge you, but neither of us are sober right now."

and he pulls away. you're definitely going to cry about this when you get home.

"i think there's been enough drinking, i'll walk you to your door." there's a small smile on his face, albeit a sad one as he helps you stand up. "but if you're really serious about it, you'll come back tomorrow and we can have a repeat of this conversation while not drunk."

he presses a soft kiss your forehead at the door; suddenly, you see the choso you'd liked when you were younger. the one who'd looked out for you over everything else, always. not that this version is any less attractive, but sometimes it feels like you don't really know the

"you don't have to do anything you're not okay with," he tells you. "you are always the first priority. if you don't feel like coming back tomorrow, don't. i'll be here for the rest of the summer anyways. and if you don't feel like coming back at all—" he cuts himself off with a short laugh. "then don't, i'll respect your decision."

RULE NUMBER 07: NEVER COME BACK THE NEXT DAY.

you're nervous as fuck the next day; this presents itself in your actions. from almost brushing your teeth with hand soap to eating acrylic paint, you've done it all. you pull out the first presentable pieces of clothing — a black shirt, somewhat unfamiliar, which is weird — and jean shorts to wear. by noon you're all but vibrating with anxiety, waiting for an okay time to go over to his place. wait, what is an okay time to go visit, anyways?

oh well, now's as good a time as any, you decide.

"you're wearing my shirt," he tells you as soon as he opens the door. there is an amused lilt to his voice and you just want to sink down into the ground and die of mortification.

"shit, sorry," you begin, but he waves your concerns away with a laugh.

"calm down, it's okay." choso steps away from the door to let you walk in, gently closing it behind you. "besides, you look good in it, so i'm not complaining."

the undisguised flirting, the way he compliments you so easily throws you off, twists around your lungs and wrings the breath out of them. you clear your throat uncomfortably. "so, about last night."

"yeah?"

"what do you want, exactly?"

he hums, a low, noncommittal sound. "you're a clever girl, i'm sure you can guess."

oh god. holy fuck. your hands ball into tight fists at your sides and your stare burns holes into the carpet. you don't respond.

"surely you didn't forget what we mentioned last night?"

you shake your head silently. of course not— how could you? he laughs, but you know he's nervous too. "cute. well, all i have to say is that i've wanted you for a long while now, and if you reciprocate—"

cute. cute, he thinks you're cute. holy fuck, he likes you back. you haven't thought about what to do this far out; you didn't even think it'd happen. your brain is running on overdrive, and you don't even realise you're standing up until everything comes back into focus and you blurt out, "i do! reciprocate, i mean."

the bemusement on his face morphs into a broad grin. "yeah?"

"uh... yeah."

he stands up too, comes closer. "we should do something about that, shouldn't we?"

"we should."

RULE NUMBER 08: NEVER LET HIM KISS YOU.

"pretty girl." choso brushes some of your hair away from your face gently; his gaze is so lovesick it leaves you speechless. the most surprising part of this is that it hasn't changed one bit from before — it's just that you're only starting to notice it now. but his fingers encircle your wrist softly, and his eyes flick down to your lips, then back up. his other hand runs nervously through his hair, now let down.

"so what now?"

"what now?" you echo.

the corners of his lips tilt up. i could kiss you, if you want?"

oh, holy shit. you hadn't expected that one. it's a split second decision, no hesitation as you nod.

it's everything you've expected and yearned for and imagined and more. you're flying, you're floating, you're falling, and choso catches you and it's the most intoxicating thing you've ever experienced. you are drunk off the way he kisses you, almost animalistic, like he's waited for this his entire life. maybe he has.

his hand slips under your shirt — "this okay?" you say yes, of course you do — and you're pushed up against the wall of his living room, broad daylight where anyone could walk in. you don't really care, though.

leg hooked over his hip, fingers tangled into his hair, you really can't care less right now. he lets out a breathy, appreciative moan when you tug lightly; he kisses you harder & as if his life depends on it.

this is worrying, he is addicted. addicted enough that he finds himself craving your lips, your touch, you every conscious second. even in the half-minute spent rushing to his room, even though you're going hand-in-hand, he still wants more, craves for more.

RULE NUMBER 09: NEVER STAY THE NIGHT.

he pulls away to look at you, splayed out so prettily on his sheets, breathless, just long enough to pant out three small words. "stay the night?"

"mm, yeah," you respond, equally out of breath, gazing up at him with stars in your eyes.

your lips are swollen, hair unkempt. his shirt is a bit too big for you, revealing your collarbones — and the bruises littered across it. you are so fucking beautiful, and it makes him grin down at you wildly before he drops his head down to kiss you again.

RULE NUMBER 10: NEVER DATE YOUR BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND.

"go out with me." large hands skim over your body, as if memorising every part of you. choso's lithe fingers trace lightly down your ribs to your stomach, and then they drop, fitting into place like puzzle pieces and leaving you wrapped loosely in his embrace.

"little too late for that," you laugh hoarsely, leaning back into his touch. you can still feel his warmth through the shirt — his shirt, again, as the first rays of light begin to filter through the blinds.

he laughs with you, nuzzling into your hair. his words come out muffled when he finally speaks. "so we're dating."

"yeah, we are."

© seisrkvs 2024 do not repost translate or plagiarise.