#needs to learn stranger danger
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Dont take creepy dolls from strangers kids
#murdoch mysteries halloween special#murdoch mysteries#mm spoilers#susannah murdoch#needs to learn stranger danger
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The way Rio showed herself not as the creepy form of deaht, but rather the kind one. And told him to say goodbye to his mom- it was so sweet, she really didn't want to make it hurt more than it had to
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let's do the time warp thing 2 (whoops accidentally a followup)
@flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt for this week is "Take My Hand" -- which gave me more than a few ideas, but this is the one I decided to go with. Because reasons.
This ficprompt follows directly on from my fill for FFF prompt #217 (Portal Fiction), in which Link finds a mysterious stone in a secret chamber at the forgotten temple... and hits it with a sword, like you do.
If I get to the point of a part three, I'll have to find a title for this and port it to ao3. whoops.
--
"–Who are you," the kid demands again, trying to sound authoritative and failing, "and what were you doing down there?"
Link can do nothing but stare. The head of his drillshaft drops to the temple floor. The Rito child looks and sounds so much like the ghost of Champion Revali, but that can't be right. It has to be impossible. Or perhaps there's a simpler explanation. He doesn't know whether Champion Revali had any descendants, but –
"Are you listening to me?"
"Listening," Link murmurs, distracted. In the secret chamber below, the stone still hums – but he doesn't know how long it will stay active. The Slate isn't showing him the right time, even though he's back on the surface again. That rules out interference from the Sheikah tech as the reason why it failed. So why has it failed? What's up with this place? It's the same temple as the one he'd been exploring. But it doesn't look right. Apart from the missing Guardians – and that, at least, isn't something he's sorry about at all – there's altogether too much rubble around, and...
At the foot of one of the giant columns, Link spots the remains of a heaping midden. A monster camp had been here, if not terribly recently. Abandoned long enough that the stink has dissipated, but the ruins are hot and dry enough that the bones remain. Mushrooms have tried to sprout from the rot. They don't look safe to eat.
There wasn't any sign of a monster camp before. The haywire Guardians would have shot down a bokoblin party just as readily they fire on Link.
Same temple. Somehow different. How? How can this place be so different to the temple he was exploring not even a few hours ago, and yet look so similar?
He hefts the drillshaft and makes as if to step out into the cavernous temple; the kid snaps at him, "Hold it!"
Ah.
"Haven't your teachers told you not to aim where you don't intend to shoot?"
The kid bristles. "Who says I don't intend to shoot?"
Bluster, rather than a threat. The kid isn't quite old enough to appreciate quite what a statement like that needs to back it up. Revali would have shot him by now, questions be damned. Link's sure of that much.
And sure enough, the kid lets the bowstring go slack, replacing the arrow in its quiver, though not without aiming a thunderous glare at Link in its place.
"You're not a spy, are you?"
Why is that the first thing this kid thinks of...? Link shakes his head. The kid eyes him mistrustfully.
"Shake on it."
...Huh?
"That's what you Hylians do, right? If you won't shake, then you really are a spy."
What kind of twisted-up logic is that? More to the point, if the kid does suspect him of being some sort of enemy, why insist on a – handshake? Bringing a potentially dangerous person even closer to you is the furthest thing from sensible.
Except the kid's already got a wing outstretched. Left wing, naturally, because the right wing's grip on the bow hasn't slackened off at all. (Probably, Link thinks, in case he does turn out to be a spy.) Almost lethally overconfident, but...
Link lifts his left hand and takes the kid's wing with solemn ceremony. Even so, he can only really wrap his hand around the first pair of fingers, given the difference in their body shapes. It's enough to satisfy honour: the kid finally puts the bow away, and even makes a little half-hopping motion in place, like all previous suspicion has melted like a thaw.
...It's cute. And also a little worrying how quickly the kid went from clumsily threatening violence to making equally clumsy overtures of friendship. Link doesn't get it at all.
He doesn't have much opportunity to think about it. Now that he's deemed trustworthy enough to be allowed out of the tunnel entrance, Link can see far more of the temple. A piece of cloth catches his eye. It's a tarpaulin, Sheikah tan and red. Another thing different. He moves towards it. The kid follows him like a little shadow; the tallest tuft of feathers in that bright-blue crest barely reaches Link's shoulder.
Link has to put the drillshaft down to be able to navigate the ropes. He pulls the tarp away; what's underneath has him immediately reaching for a sword he isn't carrying. His heartbeat spikes. Swordless and not thinking clearly, he puts his arm in front of the kid like a futile shield --
"It's just a Guardian," the kid says, tugging Link's arm down. "Look, it's not even awake. They've been digging them up all over the place. Even here."
...Excavating Guardians. Yes, people used to do that, didn't they? But Link is used to the Guardians being dangerous. A horrible thought occurs to him and he blurts out, without thinking, "Have they dug up Vah Medoh?"
"...What's a medoh?" the kid asks, a note of confusion entering his voice, and Link has just enough time to think, 'oh', before –
– chime –
The first thing he registers is that Revali – the far too young Revali, who didn't know what Vah Medoh was – is gone.
So is the tarp, and the second thing he registers is the beeping, and the bright red target fixed on his chest.
Link grabs his shield and deflects the now-active Guardian's beam. The parried blast is enough to destroy it, though Link doesn't dare hang around to scavenge the pieces from the husk, because the noise has brought a half-dozen more eyes swivelling in search of him, bright blue cutting through the smoke and dust.
He grabs the drillshaft he'd dropped an eternity and scrambles for the Sheikah Slate, making a hasty retreat.
Later, as he makes camp half a continent away, he takes note of the drillshaft's condition: it's rusty, like it had lain abandoned in the temple for over a century.
It strikes Link that it has.
#flash fiction friday#fff238#botw fic#sksw inspired#timeshift stones#in which Link is still catching up#and his new friend really needs to learn some stranger danger#revalink#(more vibes than ship atm)#(but this def. wants to be pre-revalink at the minimum)
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i mean it's all because of WHY i'm in the woods in the first place. if i'm walking poppy in the woods then i'd rather run into a man than a bear. maybe the man is also walking a dog. a man taking a walk in the local woods is not something to be afraid of
HOWEVER. if i am magically portalled into a dark forest with no reason or explanation i would rather there be a bear than a man because i have just been deposited in a horror story and human depravity is far different from bear depravity
#helen stfu#okay so at one point i was in a situation where i was alone with two men who work for a local taxi company#they'd recently messed up and i was left on the minibus for an hour or two while they dropped everyone else off#and then they realised that they were closer to the offices than to my flat#the driver asked if i'd be comfortable with him driving me back in his own car but i wasn't#and it was chill. he drove me back. and i told my mother later#and when she was at a meeting discussing my needs she relayed that story and said i thought 'rape'#and. i was kind of deeply offended?#i didn't think 'rape'. i thought 'stranger danger'. i was tired and my brain went to the basics of what you learn as a child#i don't know. man vs bear has got me thinking about terf rhetoric
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when you're out and about by yourself and a stranger starts talking to you and you have no desire to do this but your brain just starts whirring and you get anxiety sweaty and feel like you just slammed a redbull and you can't stop oversharing, and they're just encouraging it, and you finally make up an excuse to leave the conversation and you're so exhausted and wired from unexpected interaction that you feel like you might die
#don't let this happen to you lol#i try not to but wow it's rly hard for some reason#need a lot of practice w boundaries and overcoming my learned/natural responses#introvert#ADHD + autism#oversharing#talking to strangers#stranger danger#someone help me i need an adult#oh god i am the adult#i need to help myself#tell that person you gotta go#and then walk 10 ft away and go right back to your solo time (:#you owe strangers nothing
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Oh yeah so they are! I was mostly thinking about exotic pet care guides, which (due to reptile YouTubers) I suspect may be the primary way people find out about snakes and other less-appreciated species. They do have a tendency to blur the lines between “common, not endangered, native to [local region]” and “uncommon, at risk from poaching, native to [far away region]”? At least, the guides I’ve seen usually only mention foods other than rodents if the snake might have difficulty recognizing frozen/thawed rodents as food.
The conflict between “reptile YouTube spreads awareness and appreciation for species people typically consider to be distasteful” and “yeah but their information is often inaccurate and the husbandry is poor 90% of the time so is the appreciation worth it”, I guess
….though now I’m wondering if my ball python would like an egg as a treat, they eat a lot of birds in the wild and I’d be surprised if they didn’t eat the eggs too. guess I’ll do some research lol, chicken eggs *are* pretty big so they might not be safe, but maybe quail…
This is a gentle reminder to those who keep poultry to PLEASE keep in mind wild snakes if you are using fake eggs in your chicken coop. Snakes are incapable of digesting the wooden/plastic/ceramic fake eggs that are commonly placed in chicken coops to train hens. Snakes (like this little ratsnake here) can and often do eat these fake eggs and suffer life-threatening obstruction as a result!
If you need to use fake eggs in your coop please strive to ensure that the enclosure is snake-proof (difficult) or superglue 3 or more eggs together so that snakes cannot consume them and become obstructed.
#snakes are really cool you guys#but also maybe double check the regions#and also animals in the wild invariably have behaviour a thousand times more varied than those in captivity#imo it’s the responsibility of any pet owner to provide an environment where the animal can do as many of those behaviours as possible#and also make sure the animal is being sourced in a way that doesn’t hurt the wild population#bc like. I actually think many good things come out of the exotic pet trade?#having thousands of eyes on a species means we’re going to learn things that would never have been possible to discover otherwise#and also let’s be real here habitat loss and climate change hurts the wild populations a thousand times more than the pet trade#so live capturing is more the icing on the cake/another small stressor on top of all the ones they’re already having a hard time with#rather than THE one danger to wild species#(live capture for the pet trade that is)#but still like. pets should be a two way street.#trade offer: you get [enjoyment of animal]: animal receives [safe environment with no predators and consistent access to food]#if the animal is gonna be stuck in a drawer and doesn’t have opportunity to perform natural behaviours and not all of it’s daily needs met#then it isn’t getting anything from the bargain and that’s just like. unfair.#which is why I generally advocate for keeping species that (in the wild) are already frequently found around human habitation#(like my mourning geckos which have a really wide range and are frequently just straight-up found in houses)#or that you can be absolutely positive you’re able to keep in a situation that’s a close enough facsimile to wild#that they can perform the vast majority of their natural behaviours#(which should also be a goal for the common species)#….and like. I’m including cats/Guinea pigs/rabbits/dogs in this#bc they ALSO have a lot of care requirements that are often not met even though they’re domesticated#….and for that matter humans too actually#humans in ‘the wild’ are highly social tenacious semi-arboreal problem solvers that alter their landscapes heavily to suit their needs#the current trend of keeping them in 10x10x8 boxes and making them interact with hundreds of strangers every day#and not letting them manipulate their environment unless they ‘own it’#is just straight-up inhumane! they should have everyday climbing opportunities and more predictable social structures and more enrichment#how do you know they wouldn’t use it if you don’t give them the OPPORTUNITY to use it#…..anyway yeah#……I may have opinions on this
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✎. he’s nice. well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you.
tags. fem!reader, mild dubcon, possessive and obsessive behavior, simon is an excon, non-linear narrative for future chapters [18+ only]
part one | part two
He’s always been a little obsessed with pretty things, even as a child.
It only makes sense that the habit would follow him into adulthood.
He sees you once while he’s walking by the bus stop. A timid thing wrapped up in an oversized sweater and parka coat, not looking up from the little book in your lap until the bus stops before you and takes you away.
The next time he sees you, he makes sure to come a few minutes earlier, lighting a cigarette and keeping his distance while he watches you read the same book from the day before. Simon knows it’s you, the girl from the letters, even if it’s a big city. It has to be—his pretty, lonely, silly girl.
He thinks about walking up to you just to make sure, but he doesn’t really need to. The address on the envelope brought him here, and you’re the only one he’s seen wearing a university sweater in this neighborhood.
But when he hesitates too long, a boy starts talking to you, and he watches you smile at somebody else.
Simon runs his thumb over his bottom lip and takes a deep breath to fill his chest with the soothing feeling of menthol and the burning taste of nicotine, trying to relax his white-knuckle grip on his steering wheel.
You’ll learn, he thinks, when the bus drives off, and the boy doesn’t follow you on. He’s a patient man—it’s possibly one of his finer qualities.
He lets his car idle as he climbs out before crushing his cigarette bud underneath his shoe, straightening his black tie, and crossing the street. The boy sees him and freezes, but Simon can only laugh, wiping blood off his cheek several seconds later.
You’ll learn.
He’s nice.
Well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you. But nice, you've learned, can mean any number of things: a nice laugh, a nice house, a nice job, et cetera.
But how he holds himself—tall, broad, and dangerous—hardly screams nice.
It’s funny because you don’t remember seeing him around the office before—the company, including IT, occupies only four floors in the building.
Someone tells you he’s a friend of a friend. This initially sounds odd until Rose, the office gossip, says he’s someone rich who helps fund the company's social events. Hence, the crisp suit and the wide berth of space you’d give someone who wields their smile like a weapon.
You quickly look away twice when you find that smile aimed at you, heat traveling up to your hairline at an alarming rate.
It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not your type.
“Enjoying the party?”
You nearly jump out of your skin at the deep voice so close to your ear. Careful not to spill your drink, you turn your head to find him smiling down at you with a sharp curl of his mouth.
Then he’s in front of you, eyes dark and crinkling in the corners.
“Uh, yeah. It’s not bad, though,” you squeak nervously when you realize you haven’t answered him. “It’s different from what I’m used to.”
He raises an amused brow. “Oh? And what might that be?”
He’s intimidating up close, and you take a small sip of your drink to ease your nerves. “Well, no kegs or trashy music playing, and boys with egos bigger than the room.”
The man lets out a low chuckle as he considers your honest reply, and you swear you see something ripple across his features, but when you blink, it’s gone. “I suppose that differs from top-shelf liquor and live bands, huh? Which is better?”
You shrug. “Well, it depends on who you ask.”
“I’m asking you.”
“Honest answer?”
He nods.
“Neither. I don’t really care for parties.”
“Then it’s quite unfortunate that you found yourself at one tonight.” He seems privately amused, in on a joke you have no part of. Then he says, “You want to get out of here?”
“I probably shouldn’t follow a stranger home,” you tell him bashfully.
“That’s very responsible of you. Then how about I get you a drink? There’s a hotel across the street, and the bar’s not shit.”
You bite your lip, and his big, warm hand is on the small of your back before you say anything. It must’ve been written all over your face like he knew you would say yes.
He’s ever the gentleman, unlike most boys your age. Though, perhaps that’s the difference. He isn’t a boy—nothing about him can hardly be described as such. This fact becomes a bit overwhelming and more evident once he has you on your back, thighs nearly up to your ears, and held in place by a firm, intricately tattooed forearm.
His smile—almost too sharp to be nice—makes your chest do this silly thing when he says, “Let’s play a game.”
You whisper into the night air. “What kind of game?”
“It’s simple. You tell me yes or no.”
Your brows furrow, unsure of the rules of the game. “But—”
The slap against your cunt isn’t harsh, but it’s the suddenness of it, how no one has ever thought to touch you like that, is what makes you squeak and tremble underneath him—the rings on his fingers sharpening the sting—trying to scurry up the bed, but hindered by his iron grip.
“Yes or no?”
“Y-yes.”
“There’s a girl,” and then his fingertips drop down to where you're slippery-wet and sensitive, moving in hard, tight circles until you're clenching down on a curse between your teeth. "Messy little cunt."
It's too much, you think when he plugs two fingers (feeling like three of your own) into your pussy. The muscles in his shoulders roll as he shoves his fingers in and out, batting your hands away when you try to get him to slow down. Too much, too—
“It’s not. I want you to cum like this,” he says, teasing, nudging your clit with his thumb and swirling it in tight spit-slick circles; you have no choice but to chase that bright light feeling until you cum, sticky and sweaty.
Just like he promised you would, your orgasm is a shivery thing, molten heat, incandescent, settling in your veins until it pours out of you like liquid wax against the scratchy hotel sheets, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, his fingers curl up and press into where you’re soft and tender.
He smiles. “This is fun, isn’t it, love?”
“I can’t,” you whimper, not exactly answering him. “No more, please.”
His eyes, already pupil-fat, go dark at hearing you beg, nostrils flaring. Please, the key for the small amount of mercy he grants you as he replaces his fingers with his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to your clit and lightly sucking it into his mouth. His lips are just there, and then they’re gone.
“Say it again.”
Your response is a wet little hiccup at the back of your throat. “W-what?”
“Beg me.”
“Please.”
“Again,” he says one more time.
“Please, please, please…”
It’s all you can think to say, strung between that dreamy space and reality, that you don’t even notice him flipping you onto your tummy with ease, not until the light in the room is blotted out as he leans over you. He wraps a hand into the scruff of your neck and presses your face into the bed, the other tucked under your hips to keep them at the right angle—held down with nowhere to go.
He leaves biting open-mouthed kisses across your shoulders and the back of your neck—Simon—he manages to tell you his name from one little bruise to the next. Somewhere between the buzz in your ears, you hear him telling you that he wants you to moan it for him, nice and loud.
The haze clears a little, however, at the metal clink of a belt and the sound of a zipper coming undone before you feel his cock prodding you open—raw, without a condom.
“There you go. Lay there, and just—just give me what I fucking want,” Simon rasps as if you could actually move with his hands pinning you in place.
There are many things you should feel: scared of his words, trapped by the rings digging into tender flesh, by his thighs forcefully pushing yours apart. The red flags look more like flashing lights at this point.
Instead, you feel wanted—your walls tighten around his cock, fluttering, pulling him deeper inside, letting him turn you inside out. A small smile buried into the pillow.
#simon ghost x reader#simon riley smut#simon riley imagine#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x you#ghost x reader#ghost imagine#ghost smut#cod smut#cod imagine#cod fic#cod x reader#mw2 smut#mw2 x reader#mw2 imagine#.things i write
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Concrete Jungle: King of the beasts
Summary: Buying a hybrid was not what you had in mind when you asked for independence. Sylus didn’t like humans but his owner was the exception.
Subjects: Albino lion Hybrid!Sylus x F!Reader
Word count: 4.1k+
Content Warnings: Hybrid AU, smut, owner reader, kissing, cunnilingus, P in V, breeding, cnc if u squint really hard, biting, textured tongue. Use of words like predator/prey, cunt, pussy, kitten. Not edited and no beta.
A.N: I learned that big cats can’t purr and I was so disappointed. Oh, well….ah! I might do one for each li. k bye 💋
“Are you sure, I need one?” You’ve asked your parents that question for the umpteenth time.
“Yes, a hybrid is a good caretaker and it would make us feel better knowing one is protecting you.” Your father answered with a tired smile, understanding your uneasiness but they weren’t going to change their mind.
Moving out and finally becoming independent was just one step away from happening. Your parents were against it at first. Coming from money means someone will always be after your trail, danger and they had overprotected you, their only daughter since… well, even before you were born. They weren’t able to have natural children so you were conceived through artificial methods. Which, according to your parents, was a whole ordeal and suffering. Details that you rather not know.
It was time, though, to deep your toes into a world of your own. You wanted freedom for once. No dozens of bodyguards, no tracking devices and no fear of the unknown.
The part of convincing your parents was hard. No, after no, after no. Until, the head of security, taking pity on you, suggested buying a hybrid for you. Not just any hybrid; one specially made to protect and serve.
Now it was your turn to profoundly refuse. Everyone had one and those who didn’t, desired one… like some kind of accessory. It sickened you and besides, you didn’t want another responsibility. You wanted your own life! Not taking care of some… dog? Cat? Fish?
In the end, you had no other choice but to agree and here you were, in some facility. Breeding facility? Training? You didn’t care enough to pay attention, honestly.
Walking behind your parents in an all-white hall, smelling like antiseptic and gagging at the chemical sensation in your throat, you started to notice how the white walls began to turn into cages. Placards hung in the walls near the tinted glass and steel bars of the cages with descriptions of the… hybrids?
Looking up from the labels, you finally realized you no longer were alone. Each cell was occupied by humanoid-shaped shadows. The tint of the reinforced glass obstructed your vision but it was clear they were there.
So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize a couple of strangers had joined your family. Paying a bit more attention to their chatter, you concluded they were doctors or scientists from this facility. They were explaining something about their products and that it was the best the market could offer. You frowned at their words. It was like you were buying a car… they even explained the insurance policy.
“And this specimen, right here, is our finest hybrid!” One of the men talking to your parents loudly explained.
You stepped closer to the placard and read the few words it contained. ‘Albino Lion Hybrid (Panthera leo Hybrid, large cat family Felidae). Apex predator (no natural enemy known). Renowned king of the beasts. More active at night. Preferable habitats: grassland, dense scrub, savanna, and open woodland. Nomadic male.’
Your eyes widened once your brain processed the information. This was no guard dog or house cat. Before you could utter a complaint about how obnoxious this all was, the tinted glass cleared and you were looking straight into a pair of scarlet eyes.
Sylus almost laughed at the face of the female standing outside his cell. The little mouse seemed in shock to see him there. What was she expecting? Where else would he be? If not caged and on display here— absurd, he thought. All humans that came here, came for one thing and one thing only; to purchase a wild species, a unique breed to flaunt to their peers. Sylus continuously thought about how weird these humans behaved in society. Their hierarchy dynamics were messed up and he despised that.
You felt his eyes mocking you, such deep red and the only thing you could feel was irritation. Frowning, you turned your head and left him. See how he likes grouching on his own.
Once you were a few steps away, the scientists or doctors stared at the red-eyed big cat hybrid with wonder and… respect? This place was bonkers, you thought to yourself.
“So this is the one?” Your mother asked and marveled at the sight of the lion hybrid. White-silver hair, large, powerful presence, and sharp features.
“Yes, ma’am. Our best subject. Well trained in all the aspects you requested and fairly knowledgeable which is hard to come by with these beats.”
Hearing all that gave you stomach reflux, the acidity burning your esophagus. Your dam was about to break and all your pent-up feelings would end up costing you your freedom if it wasn’t for the red-eyed hybrid. He knocked on the glass and you jumped, startled. You were surprised, he even beckoned you with a finger and again, surprised now with yourself, you automatically obeyed.
It was like a trance. A hypnotic daze of sorts. Both met face to face once again, only separated by the reinforced glass. For a moment you were distracted, the outburst you were about to have laid dormant in the back of your head.
What is this…? Sylus couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity. That’s why he was so close to the glass earlier too. He couldn’t see the other side a while ago but something was pulling him there. The whole day he felt restless and on guard as if something resonated within him.
Could this be—
“Ah! Marvelous! Look! They are already interested in each other! Sylus is not showing any signs of hostility or repulsion…” a different scientist exclaimed with eagerness, interrupting whatever connection you had with Sylus at that moment.
Not many words were needed to convince your parents after that show you and Sylus put up. Papers were signed, money transferred and a very confused Sylus was sedated and prepared for shipment.
The big city. Polluted air, noisy streets twenty-four hours a day, and hybrids everywhere. Most people carried one; a human with some animal characteristics, and now you were one of them too. Sylus was scheduled to arrive in a few minutes. All the things you would need to care for him were already in your apartment and even his paperwork. Name, birth, permits and you; listed as his owner.
The melodic tune of your ring bell announced the dreaded moment. You knew Sylus would be escorted here and that most of the traveling time he would have been sedated, but still the long distance between your new home and the facility he was kept in was almost six hours away. You feared a big grumpy cat.
Oh boy… grumpy was an understatement. He didn’t look happy. The moment he stepped foot in and all the straps holding him were taken off, he waited for the delivery people to disappear and he pounced. Surprisingly not on you. He went through all your stuff. According to the guide you received he was scenting. He went through your whole house; rubbing, scratching and overall making a mess.
“Stop! Hey, hmm… Sylus? You don’t have to scent my clothes.” You tried talking to him but he was not interested in your opinion, apparently. He just glanced at you and kept doing whatever he was doing before, like you were the one, not understanding. You had to snatch your underwear from his closed fist in a panic.
He went nonverbal for a week. A week! You were going insane. Yes, he obeyed. Yes, he was extremely independent and didn’t cause any more commotion besides the panty situation on the first day. But God… he was extremely quiet. It wasn’t until you commanded him to that you realized you should have read the manual until the last page; not only the summary.
“Sylus! Say something!” You demanded; going insane was not in your plans for the foreseeable future. They never told you he was mute or anything of that nature.
“Is there anything you need from me, my lady?” His deep and slow voice had your heart leaping out from your chest.
You just stood there, gaping and looking at him like you couldn’t believe he was able to make a sound. Yeah, not even his steps produced sounds. Sylus examined his human with a gleam of humor in his sapphire eyes. This face was a common one for her and he found it… almost endearing. It reminded him of the first time you two met.
“You can talk…” you whispered low and saw how his fluffy round, and white ears twitched. “You can talk!” Again, you exclaimed, pointing a finger at him in disbelief. “Why haven’t you said anything before?!”
“I wasn’t allowed to,” he calmly explained. That mischievous twinkle in his eyes never left, “my owner never requested me to do so until now.”
And that’s how you spend almost three days reading the darn manuals with a now very talkative feline.
You found that Sylus was more than just a pet. He could cook, clean and even force you to exercise which ended up backfiring. You couldn’t keep up with his supposedly healthy routine. A healthy lifestyle means a happy owner, and you would curse under your breath every time he repeated it.
In general, you were happy, he seemed happy and living with him was easier than you thought. Quickly, you two began to build a bond and it was a matter of time before he began to realize why it had been so easy to adapt to this human. His human which is how he referred to you.
Following the manual, you always made sure to have everything Sylus would need. Even his heats. At first, you tried to get him a heat partner and it was a mess. More like you were a mess. Even Sylus was surprised at how you ended up kicking out the poor rental gazelle hybrid in less than five minutes. You didn’t understand what took over you to be so… overprotective.
Oh, but Sylus was not complaining. Watching you almost declare war in his name gave him a deep satisfaction. So much so that he accepted to take suppressants for the time being.
After that incident, things began to change drastically. Sylus in return became a bit more aggressive towards any living creature that was in less than a mile radius of you. Growling, pushing, and even wrapping you with his tail and pulling you towards his body anytime he felt you were in danger. Yeah, you were in so much danger from the tube man… that air dancing balloon from the car wash a couple of blocks away.
“It can be that bad…” you took hold of his arm around your waist in a reassuring manner.
He’s been walking with you in his hold since you crossed paths with the inflatable dancing man.
“It has erratic movements. You never know what he might do next.”
Yeah, it was a recurring situation.
Yeah, he was prepared for everything and anything. Well, except one morning when his nose woke him up.
A sweet intoxicating scent traveled through his nostrils and shook him awake. He felt his mouth water, his canines aching, and his eyes turning into thin lines. The predator in him had been disturbed and its awakening meant trouble.
In all his years in captivity, he had never felt such hunger. Something was clawing in his chest, desperate to come out, each intake of air was pulling his sanity deeper and deeper while the monster surfaced.
Like any good hunter, he let his nose guide him through the house. Following such an intoxicating aroma took him to your door. There he stood—elaborated breathing, sharp fingers encrusted on his palms searching for restrain. You were inside; sleeping soundly in the early hours of the morning. He could hear your soft breathing mixing with his wildly beating heart. Knowing you weren’t aware of the predator outside your door sent a jolt of excitement through his body. Easy prey.
Was it you? Were you the one producing such… inebriant aroma? Why?
He took the handle with a death grip, his rational side fighting against instinct. He felt the urge to hunt, pursue, chase… this… this aroma and make it his own. With an internal battle raging inside him, Sylus felt the door weighed heavy on his palm, the handle burned, but he still stepped in.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room, it made no difference to him that you slept in complete darkness; his ruby-red eyes could see just fine. Then, his gaze focused on your sleeping form, little movement from your steady breathing and you had no idea that a hungry predator stood at the foot of your bed.
But Sylus didn’t move, didn’t pounce on you like he wanted. Torn between instinct and duty, he was frozen in place, sweating and overwhelmed with indecision. Your scent was clouding his every sense, making it even more difficult to do the right thing. It was like time had stopped and the only thing on his mind was the palpitations in his groin for even letting his skin touch the hair surrounding you.
What was the right thing? He asked himself. Neck—cracking as his body suddenly shuddered in pain, Sylus was holding himself back by a fine thread.
He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. You were not like his kind who would accept mating just because of a sudden heat. You were human and he had that fact ingrained into his mind. With a whimper of pain and trepidation, Sylus walked over to the side of your bed; every step was excruciating for the hybrid. Once he reached the edge, he did like every other night shared with you. Sylus, silently whining, laid beside you and wrapped his arms tightly, but this time he kept a generous distance between his hips and your back.
He was not a mindless beast. Not to you.
“Sylus… I can’t breathe…” you don’t know when, you don’t know how, but Sylus always ended up sleeping on top of you like a weighted blanket. “Sylus!”
“You don’t wanna know what I did to the last person who woke me up.” Each word came with a little slur at the end, he was barely waking up. No a second goes by and you felt his spiked tongue grooming the nape of your neck and soft growls shaking your whole body.
“Someone’s happy today, hmmm?” You asked in a short breath, reaching for his round and fluffy ear. As you scratched, you heard the deep grumbles of satisfaction increasing.
“Smells good…”
You felt him sniffing all over your chest, deeply inhaling, moving his head downwards. Sylus pulled your covers in a hasty manner and kept descending. Your eyes widened as you realized where he was going and your feet quickly stopped him; placing them on his shoulder and chest.
“Sy-Sylus! S-stop!” Your hands joined your legs and feet, placing your palms on his mouth and the rest of his face. “What do you—“
You stopped mid question as you felt a bit of moisture in between your legs. In a panic, your mind counted the weeks since you moved in and you have forgotten to make an appointment for your birth control replacement… which meant you must be ovulating. How could you forget? It’s been weeks! With everything happening after moving, getting Sylus and adapting to the new city. You had completely forgotten…
A muffled sound came from behind your palm and then a rough tongue pushed against your skin. You slowly retracted your arm, looking at him with apologetic eyes. It was your fault, after all.
“I was saying that you seem to be in need of assistance,” he uttered, arching an eyebrow at your saddened face.
His heavy body was pressing against the sole of your feet, your legs kept him at bay and it surprised you how… physically insistent he was being.
“What do you mean?” You quickly replied, feigning ignorance and he seemed to know your every trick because his first reaction was to give you one of those salacious smiles of his.
“You can’t exactly lie to my nose, kitten.” He almost growled every word, sending shivers through your body. “You’re fertile.”
Before you could even utter a word to contradict his truth, his hands brushed the back of your raised legs for then his fingers gently tapped your skin. You let out a squeak of surprise and swiftly moved your legs, thus giving him an opportunity to nestle in between your thighs.
“If you’re making fun of me, it’s not funny,” you rebuked, but even as you said that the pressure and sudden ache in your lower regions began to increase with the proximity and weight of Sylus.
“I’m not.” He chuckled and it reverberated down your tummy, sending deep palpitations through your core, “you didn’t read the whole manual yet, now did you?” His finger gently tugged your chin, making you stare right into his crimson orbs.
“No…” you sheepishly mumbled, embarrassed of being found again and your lack of knowledge about some stuff still in the encyclopedia-like book you were given.
“Give me the order and I will deliver, Kitten.” He whispered, eyes calling for your surrender. Sylus was pushing the right buttons by being so close, touching you, and having you cornered right where he wanted you.
“You mean…” voicing your hesitation didn’t deter him from destroying your inhibitions, brick by brick. His eyes were hypnotizing, he would give you anything you wanted and you knew you would be safe, right?
He had you caged between his body and the bed, your mind going a mile per second and your heart racing just as fast. No, he wasn’t moving an inch more and you knew he wouldn’t unless you said so.
“Okay…” you sighed finally removing a burden from your shoulders, “h-help me.” You wanted him to alleviate your aching.
“As you wish, Kitten.”
Not soon had those words left his lips, he was on you. You felt the heaviness of the impact of his lips on you. He had seemed calm while talking but his actions spoke differently. Sylus’ kiss was demanding, fiery even. His tongue took no time to slip in between your abused lips, delivering tentative licks to yours; as if tasting and enjoying you.
He kept his low throaty snarls flowing over your body, crushing you against the sheets. You could taste him too, wild, intense, so Sylus. Two bodies lay in the bed, limbs intertwined. Sylus hands traveled up your body, fingers gripping at anything he could find, your moans being greedily swallowed.
His tail kept a steady thumping behind him, lulling you deeper into his embrace. You would let him do anything, be anything if it meant this fire ignited in your chest would never cease to exist.
Sylus grasped the back of your head, fisting strands of your hair for him to pull back and expose your neck to his aching teeth. He felt euphoria ran through his veins as soon as his pearl whites connected with your tender skin. A growl and the stinging stab on your neck made you gasp, hands gripping his collar to bring him even closer as if that was possible.
In a hurry, his other hand began to tear away your pajamas as his teeth continued to gnaw almost painfully at your throat.
In a blink of an eye, you were lifted and bent. Your face harshly met the warmth of pillows. Gone were your clothes. In what moment exactly? You don’t recall and you didn’t really care at that moment.
“I knew it– fuck– the moment I saw you, I knew it.” Sylus rasped out, breath suddenly hitting your nude backside. “This was mine before you even knew it.”
He suddenly lifted your hips, exposing your dripping core to his crimson gaze. You whimpered as the cold hair hit you, hands gripping the bedsheets, and that’s all you could see. Your own fist and abundant white.
“Sy-Sylus!” You shrieked.
Your exposed pussy was invaded by his mouth, and a low vibrating sound joined. His bumpy tongue lapped eagerly, the texture making you mewl and tremble as you unconsciously tried to pull away. Now the chuffing sound changed to a growl of displeasure, his hands quickly moved to your lower tummy and pressed you back against his awaiting lips.
A mess, a wet and sloppy mess. That’s what Sylus was, still holding your body against his face. He couldn’t care less about anything other than your flavor and sounds overtaking his entire being. He slurped, nipped and spit back in just to repeat it all over again.
It took no time to have you trashing and shaking on his grip, cuming on his face, the chuffing sounds intensifying with your moaning.
Skin on skin, no clothes separating him from you, you didn’t register when he freed his body of them. Too lost to care, too much at once to have a sense of anything other than Sylus.
“You take me so well… My kitten—made for me…” he growled as he slipped every inch of him. Your warm walls protested at the intrusion as he mounted you.
Pinning you down, chest pressed against your back and your face shoved into your drool-stained pillows.
“If you keep struggling, kitten… I– fuck, fuck– you’re making it really hard to hold back” he groaned as his eyes zoomed in on your head trashing and shaking. The predator in him just looming around the corner, his female ready for the taking.
“It’s too big!” Your scream was muffled by the pillow. As your wailing reached his ears, his cock throbbed and released a few ropes of white.
“You’re being so good, kitten. Just a… bit longer…” Sylus sighed with pleasure as the creaminess made it easier to thrust into you. Incessantly, hitting that spongy spot, making you cry out as you felt more burning cum filling you up. Both breathless, both panting and an arrange of noises filled the room.
“I feel so full! Sylus! I can’t!” Tears streamed down your face at how bloated you felt, but he kept pushing and bursting inside you. One after the other; face down you had no other option but to take it.
“Not full enough— you need more…” hips slamming into you, the squelching sound of your insides consuming the silence— him bottoming out again and again. “My cunt… will only have my cubs…”
You’re not sure how long it was, you were in and out. Lost a daze, being shoved, pressed and pounded mercilessly… Sylus voice swirled through your mushy brain— satisfaction, and ecstasy running wild through both of your bodies.
Blinking once, twice. You felt heavy and your foggy vision wasn’t helping. You still felt the aftermath of it all. Legs sporadically spamming, lower tummy so heavy and sore.
“You… came so much…” you whispered in between breaths. His cum was dripping from your tender hole, rapidly pooling on the bed. “Why?”
He shrugged, as he caressed your cheek.
“A lion’s thing,” he mumbled softly, pulling you closer and gently holding you.
The rest of the day you were spent. Too exhausted to do anything else. Sylus bathed you, changed the bedding, brought you drinks and food, and gave you the darn manual to finish it for once.
“Sylus!” You slapped his naked chest with indignation. “Here,” you pointed to an article you highlighted, “it says that lion hybrids can copulate for two to three days? Two hundred times in succession? Are you insane?” That explains a lot.
“I am just waiting for you to rest, humans are more delicate than I thought. We’re not moving from this room.” He deadpanned.
Your expression fell as his eyes seemed to show how serious he was being.
“I read that lionesses bite the male’s ballsack when they are upset or something,” you grinned wickedly. “I will do that if you don’t behave!”
“I wouldn’t oppose, sweetie.” He goaded. Your smile slowly faded as your threat was not working as planned. “So… I see you are feeling more… energetic.”
You threw a pillow at him before he pounced on you.
Ah, yes… a gentle protector a trusted guardian, but a beast on the sheets.
#omificstags#hybrid!sylus#lads hybrid au#hybrid au#tw hybrids#lads sylus x reader#sylus x y/n#sylus x you#sylus x reader#lads smut#sylus x reader smut#sylus smut#love and deepspace#love & deepspace#lads sylus#lads#sylus qin#qin che#l&ds#love and deepspace hybrid au#love and deepspace smut#omi.thirst
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Milk and Sugar
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Not edited, cursing maybe, the ex gf isn’t anyone specific don’t @ me
Summary: Max is tired of his persistent ex girlfriend and friends that are maybe a little too empathetic about his breakup. What better way to scare them off than getting a new girlfriend? But he doesn’t actually want a new relationship. Enter: you. The perfect (fake) new girlfriend.
Word Count: 9.6k
Authors Note: this fic was kicking my ass im gonna be so fr. It took forever and I just couldn’t write the ending for some reason. Hopefully now that this is up, I can do something else lmfao
You were just doing a favor for a friend.
Or that’s what you had told yourself when Max had originally asked you to go along with his stupid idea. You hadn’t even really wanted to agree, by the way. He had just needed your help so badly and that’s what friends are for, right?
So that’s how you’d ended up in his garage, Red Bull hat pulled tightly over your head as you watched his car sail around the track in Brazil, the season well under way.
You’d met Max a few years back. You’d moved into the apartment next to his, not even blinking as your eyes scanned over the future world champion, too focused on your dog trying his best to distract you from the heavy box in your hands.
“Apollo! Stop!” You sighed at the dog as he jumped at your legs, trying his hardest to knock the box full of dog food and treats out of your arms. The dog, not knowing English, didn’t listen, of course, continuing his assault on your calves.
The box tilts in your grasp, coming dangerously close to falling out of your arms. But suddenly, the weight is lifted away and Apollo seems to turn his attention to whatever had relieved you from your struggle, giving you the opportunity to pull the small dog into your grasp, trying your best to calm his rowdiness down.
Once you’ve gotten the dog to calm down a significant amount, you look up to see who’d saved you from hours of cleaning loose dog food off the floor during your first day in your new apartment. You’re met with bright blue eyes staring back at you, a concerned look on the strangers face.
You’re too worried about the pretty man in front of you to even worry about Apollo as he starts to nibble lightly on your jacket.
“Are you okay?” And then he speaks for the first time and you’re captivated. Not in a love-at-first-sight way, of course. More of a this-guy-might-be-perfect kind of way.
You nod, gently separating your dogs mouth off your hoodie string, petting his, most-likely, empty head warmly, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. This little guy just really wanted that food, I guess.”
The stranger laughs, moving the box in his arms to rest against his hip, “I’m more of a cat person, anyway.”
You fake a wince, shaking your head with a frown, “Ahh, guess we can’t be friends then, mysterious stranger. Im a dog person all the way.”
He laughs again, grinning warmly, “Any way I could help you with this? Can’t imagine it’s easy moving in with a dog running around.”
Your eyes widen at his words, your hand fumbling to fish the key to your new apartment out of your pocket, “Only if you’re free! I wouldn’t want to bother my new neighbor on my first day.”
Your neighbor shakes his head, light brown hair falling down on his forehead, “It’s no big deal, I’m surprisingly free today.”
You smile, pushing the door to your apartment open, setting Apollo down as you enter. The dog immediately starts to scope out the area, bounding up and down the halls, his collar jangling loudly as he does. You hear the man enter behind you, watching as he walks over and places the box of dog food on the counter in the kitchen.
“Usually I learn a man’s name before I invite him into my apartment,” you smirk, laughing as a blush coats your neighbors face. He takes the few steps back over to close the gap between you, sticking out a calloused hand toward you.
“I’m Max.”
You smile, repeating his name before reciting your own, clasping your hand in his much rougher one, tilting your head up at him as you shake, letting go after a few moments.
“It’s nice to meet you max,” you say, smiling as you see Max’s face light up happily, “How inclined would you be to helping me get the rest of my boxes?”
Max laughs as he sees the sweet grin on your face, shaking his head as he moves toward the door, “I’d love to help, y/n. Can’t have my new favorite neighbor moving in alone, can I?”
Your face splits into a grin as you follow him toward the exit, turning to make sure Apollo was comfortably inside the apartment so he wouldn’t try and run away before closing the door behind you.
Max did help you that day, the moving in process going substantially quicker with the help of the athlete. He even invited you over to his place for dinner, explaining that it’d be too much of a hassle for you to make dinner after moving in all day. You didn’t bring up the fact he’d been moving all day as well, simply following him next door instead.
That had been three years ago and you’d been friends ever since. It was a casual friendship, more moved by the proximity than anything else.
He’d had to explain f1 to you, you being completely unfamiliar with the sport despite having moved to Monaco, probably the place with the most connection to it. Now, you’d casually watch his races as you worked or ate dinner, not entirely sure what was going on but supporting your friend anyway.
He’d also eventually asked you to watch his cats for him, Jimmy and Sassy being surprisingly friendly with your puppy. Max had been scared about introducing them, prefacing with many statements about how much the cats hated dogs and that it really wouldnt be a problem if you couldn’t watch them if they hated each other.
All that talk went out the window when the first thing the pets did when they met each other was take a nap.
It was January when it happened. You had been sitting calmly in your apartment, watching Bridgerton and eating pasta, your work computer abandoned to the side of the couch. You had a blanket pulled over your lap, a hot mug of tea sitting on the coffee table in front of you. Rare snow fell softly outside your window, albeit not very much snow but snow nonetheless.
You were very content.
This, of course, all came crashing down when you heard the sound of your apartment door banging open, heavy footsteps signaling the arrival of your neighbor. You’d given him a key for emergencies, although you couldn’t possibly imagine what could warrant an emergency at this time.
You roll your eyes as you hear him approach, setting your pasta down on the table and grabbing the remote to pause your show, turning as Max throws himself down on the couch next to you.
“Hello, Max. Can I help you?” You sigh, trying to force a smile onto your face. Max seems to catch your discontent and grimaces, wincing away slightly.
“Bad time?”
You let out a breath, not able to stay mad at the Dutch man for very long, “Maybe a little, but it’s fine, really. Did you need something?”
Max nods, sitting up straighter, “I may or may not have a formal request. Neighbor to neighbor.”
You furrow your eyebrows at his response, noting his slightly nervous behavior, “Okay?”
He takes a deep breath before speaking, his eyes trailing over toward where your tv was currently paused, “You know how I just went through that breakup, right?”
You hum, all too familiar with the aforementioned breakup, having had Max barge into your apartment for comfort food and movie marathons more than a few nights in the wake of his, now ex, girlfriends departure.
“Well,” Max starts and you can sense the hesitation in his tone but considering he had interrupted your night, you opted to let him flounder, “It’s been weird on the grid since then.”
“Okay,” you hum, eyes glancing over his face and catching the way he grimaces.
“Ever since the break-up, all the guys have been looking at me like I’m a child, you know? Like I might fall apart any second. Even though I’m completely fine!”
You stare, knowing more than anyone else, that he wasn’t very fine for a while, although he’d miraculously recovered over the past few months. You also stared in hopes he’d soon get to the point of the conversation.
“They also keep trying to set me up with their friends as if I need a rebound when I would really rather stay single,” Max groans, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. Your furrow your eyebrows, wondering where this could be going.
Max glances up, eyes avoiding yours at all costs, “I was wondering if you could, maybe..”
Max trails off, wincing slightly. You stare straight ahead at him blankly, waiting for him to finish his request. He does eventually mumble something under his breath and you lean forward, eyebrows raised.
“Sorry?”
Max grumbles, annoyed and you roll your eyes at the attitude of the man disrupting your own night.
“Could you pretend to be my girlfriend for a while?” Max rushes out, hands carding through his hair nervously, “Just long enough for the guys to leave me alone, you don’t even have to do anything, maybe just come to Brazil and Monaco-“
Max continues to ramble on for a few seconds, words seeming to fall out of his mouth unceremoniously before he’s cut off by you interrupting him.
“Max!” You raise your voice slightly in an attempt to talk to over him. Max freezes, looking at your face for the first time since he’s crashed through your front door, “I’ll do it.”
He stares at you blankly for a few moments, trying to process your words, “Really?”
You shrug, teeth digging into your lip as you turn your head toward the large window across the room that overlooked the darkened city of Monte Carlo, “Why not? You’re my friend. Plus I work remotely and who doesn’t want to travel around the world to all those different cities?”
Max’s face lights up at your response, his lips forming a huge grin. He rolls over into a lying position, practically star-fishing on your couch, “Thank you so much! I owe you one.”
You hum, fighting the smile on your lips as you watch him close his eyes calmly. You slip up from the couch quietly, padding over to the kitchen to grab something.
“Where are you going? Did I scare you off already?” You hear Max call as you walk away. As you walk back over, his eyes are still closed though, signaling that he didn’t really think he’d scared you off.
He does open his eyes as you set the bowl of leftover pasta and a fork on his chest before grabbing your own and sitting down, grabbing the remote to press play. He glances over as you settle into the couch and move your blanket over your lap before he sits up. You take a bite of your pasta as you continue to watch your show. Max takes a second but he eventually digs in as well, sitting up in order to grasp the bowl better.
Even after the pastas finished, you both sit back on the couch in order to finish the show. You glance over at Max, his eyes still locked onto the screen.
What had you gotten yourself into?
————
“Are you ready?”
You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you sit in the passengers seat of Max’s car, the hoards outside having no idea what was waiting for them inside. You slide your sunglasses onto your nose, hoping they’d hide at least a little bit of the anxiety flowing through you.
You nod, turning your head toward Max in the drivers seat, “Yeah, I’m good.”
Max hums, not entirely convinced but also aware he had no other option but to believe you considering he’s the one who’d asked you to do this. He opens his door, stepping out and sliding his own sunglasses on. You watch as he walks around the front of the car before stopping in front of your door and pulling it open. You pause for a moment but eventually step out, trying not to wince as the bright sun hits you.
You immediately step into his path, falling into stride next to him as you both walk toward the entrance. You hear the car lock behind you and watch Max pocket the keys.
The bright Miami sun beats down on your skin, causing you to wish you’d opted for a thinner shirt. Max had originally proposed for your first race to be Monaco but you had decided it was better to appear earlier than later for his sake. Plus, you’d always enjoyed Miami and were up for the idea of traveling there. You’d also originally planned to buy your own plane tickets but Max was quick to shut that one down.
As you both approached the turnstiles, Max pulls his lanyard out of his pocket. You don’t even notice as he pulls you inside the paddock, too busy trying not to notice the cameras surrounding you. Flashes come from all around you, the incessant clicks echoing through your head.
You finally do notice that Max hasn’t let go of your hand after he pulled you into the paddock. You grasp his hand a little tighter and he pulls you closer into his side as a response. When heat starts to rise to your face, you decide to blame it on the Miami sun.
As you both walk toward the Red Bull hospitality, heads turn to watch you walk by. You can feel people’s eyes trailing after you, locked on your unfamiliar form. Everything new in the paddock very quickly became a spectacle. Especially when it involved the current world champion.
You’re sure you’ll see pictures of yourself splashed all across the internet when you wake up in Max’s hotel room the next day. You’re sure your mom will send you whatever article they’ll attach your name to, no doubt hounding you for information about your new celebrity “boyfriend”.
You’d been curled up in Max’s hotel room the whole weekend, occasionally dipping out to get food with him between events. He’d wanted you to come to the track since Thursday but you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to step out as “Max Verstappens new girlfriend” until you’d woken up Sunday morning.
You’d woken up before Max, somehow. As you laid in your plush hotel room bed, you could hear Max’s soft breathing from the other bed filtering through the silence of the morning. Just outside the window, the city of Miami was waking up. At least, the early birds were.
You and Max had slept in the same room enough over the years, Max randomly crashing at your place pretty often, that when he suggested you getting a different room, you’d immediately turned him down. You were telling yourself it was just because it was nice to have the comfort of a friend but something deep down knew that that wasn’t the only reason.
You let the only sounds be his breathing and the light hum of the air on unit for a few more minutes while you woke up. You slid out of the bed as silently as possible, your feet padding quietly against the carpeted floor. You pull the door open to the balcony slowly, stepping out before closing it behind you. The sun is still pretty low in the sky but it still makes you flinch as it seeps into your eyes.
You sink into one of the two chairs out on the balcony, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on top, letting your thoughts run wild.
You watch Miami move below you, the sun slowly shining down brighter and brighter, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
You weren’t entirely sure why you’d agreed to this idea so quickly. With every day that passed, you wished more and more that you hadn’t. Doubt seeped through you with every second you watched Max from the hotel television. He was just so good at his job and such a cool, wonderful person and athlete. How could you keep up with him? The press would be insistent and non-stop invasive. Fans would, no doubt, dogpile on you as well, both warning to know everything about you as well as rip you apart. You start to wonder if there was a single positive of this for you.
The door slides open behind you and you can hear Max moving onto the balcony beside you. You don’t glance over, only moving your gaze away from the skyline as a mug is held in front of your face. You glance down at it, spotting the coffee inside before you grasp the mug out of his hands gently. The ceramic warms your hands, the steam from the liquid splaying across your face.
“There was only those little creamer pods,” Max hums as he takes a sip of his own mug, leaning against the bannister in front of you, “Hope that’s okay.”
You chew at your lip, taking a sip of your own mug, humming lightly as your gaze locks on his back, “That’s fine, thanks.”
You’d usually take your coffee with milk and a spoonful of sugar but you’d had enough gas station or hotel room coffee that you’d be able to survive with just the creamer pods.
You watch Max’s side profile as he stares out at the city, the sun bouncing off the edges and planes of his face and perfectly lighting up his eyes. You bask in quiet that settles between you, sipping at your coffee periodically. You don’t quickly forget the kindness of his gesture. Actually, the action stays in your head for longer than it probably should, mind running wild as you think about his motives.
You dismiss it, though, not wanting to linger on something that probably meant nothing.
“You coming to the race today?” Max turns around to face you, his back leaning against the rail he’d just been looking out over.
Your eyes trace him as he turns, evaluating his early morning form. As you look at this man, your friend, you think about the coffee in your hands. You think about the times he’d dogsat Apollo despite hating dogs, the days he’d come over just to keep you company when you were homesick, when he’d attempted to cook you soup when you’d been sick despite his complete inability to cook soup, you even think back to the first day you’d met when he’d helped you move in despite having known you for all of thirty seconds.
As all those memories passed through your mind, you suddenly remember why you’d agreed to do this in the first place.
“Yeah, I am,” you reply, taking a long sip of your coffee and hiding your grin as one of his own makes its way onto his lips.
————
That had been earlier that morning and know you were sat in Red Bull, watching as Max’s car passes the finish line in second. You’d been biting your nails the whole time, worry seeping through you. You weren’t the biggest formula 1 nerd but Max had forced you to watch enough old races for you to get what was going on. You’d even started watching his races when he was gone, something that had taken you months to admit.
Because of Max’s insistence, you knew enough to grimace as the safety car came out. You were right to grimace, of course, as Lando was quick to pass your friend, taking the lead and the win. Max, for what it’s worth, didn’t seem too angry about the result. You were aware of Landos lack of wins, seeing why his winning would make everyone happy, even the losers. Not that you were too happy, you’d only ever and only ever would cheer for Max, even if Lando was deserving of a win of his own.
Max doesn’t get asked about you during interviews. At least, not directly. He gets asked how life had been and he answers with a vague answer about love and how great life has been. You know he’s talking out of his ass but you’re grinning anyway, not able to hold back you mind from thinking about a world where everything he was saying was true.
“Landos gonna have a big celebration,” Max starts as he gets back to you after the podium, walking you both back toward his room so he can change, “He’ll probably be awake for the next 72 hours.”
You smile lightly, resting a tired head against his sweaty shoulder, “Good for him, seems like he really deserves it.”
Max nods with a pleasant look on his face, “Yeah, I’m not even that mad about losing. Nothing I could’ve done really. Im just glad he got his win.”
You nod, taking a breath in order to hold back the yawn threatening to leave your mouth, “You should go to his party, I’ll just go grab some dinner and head back to get some sleep.”
You both stop as you reach his room, Max facing you as he leans back against the door to open it. You notice the deep furrow in his eyebrows as he locks eyes with you, “What are you talking about?”
You furrow your own eyebrows as a response, tilting your head to the side, “You should go celebrate with your friend? Go have fun, Max!”
He shakes his head as he enters the room, quickly gathering his things to go take a quick shower, “Why would I celebrate a loss with a coworker when I can get some quality time with a friend instead? I’d rather celebrate a win with you instead of a loss without you. Trust me, you’ll be there to see me win.”
You’re already at a loss for words at his response but your rendered speechless as Max pulls his fireproofs off, tossing the shirt to the side passively. He turns away from you and you watch his muscles ripple under his skin, your face hearing greatly. His arms flex as he reaches for something and you have to bite your lip to keep your mouth closed. Your eyes are wide as he turns to glance over his shoulder at you, “That okay?”
At the risk of sounding like an idiot if you attempt to respond with words, you simply nod, eyes moving toward the floor. You don’t notice the smirk that forms on his lips as he catches your stare.
“I’m gonna shower and then we can leave,” he calls out over his shoulder as he walks into his bathroom. Your eyes are still locked onto the floor. You hear the sound of water pattering against the floor just after the door shuts.
You take a large sip of your water bottle, trying to wet your drying throat and keep the heat in your face at bay. You feel like you might be going crazy, the image of Max’s shirtless back etched into your mind.
Jesus Christ.
————
“What do you wanna watch?” Max mumbles through a mouth full of pizza, his hand coming up to covering it as he speaks.
You shrug, “I don’t know.”
Max shrugs as well, grabbing the remote off the nightstand and passively flickering through the channels as he swallows his bite of pizza, “Come get some food.”
He gestures toward the box of pizza on the edge of his bed with the remote, glancing toward you sitting in your own bed, watching him instead of the tv. You slide off the bed, taking the few steps it takes to get to his own and gently settling on the side he wasn’t currently sitting on.
Max watches you move, humming as you grasp a piece from the pizza box before he turns his attention back to the screen. You don’t notice as he settles on a movie, too busy trying not to absolutely scarf down the food in your hand.
Your eyes do leave the slice to glance over at Max, legs outstretched with his back firmly against the headboard. He’s wearing a Red Bull hoodie, even managing to wear team merch in his own bedroom. He’s also got some old basketball shorts, a faded logo sitting on the upper thigh that, no matter how much you try, you can’t understand.
You look away when you hear the familiar sound of Lightning McQueen echoing out of the television speakers. You quickly catch sight of the Italian formula car, deducing that Max has chosen Cars 2, of all movies.
You try your best not to laugh but a giggle escapes you anyway, causing you to bury your head in your shoulder to try and hide your grin.
“What?” Max asks you and you look forward again, eyes locked onto the movie, “What’s so funny?”
Your head turns toward the driver who’s grin is now matching your own, “You chose probably the only movie on here that uses the words “Grand Prix” can’t even get away from racing in your hotel room.”
He feigns offense for a few moments before reaching forward to grab another piece of pizza and sliding down into more of a lying position, “It’s a good movie.”
You both turn to the screen for a few moments but the second Lewis Hamilton’s voice rings out in the silence, you laugh loudly, Max groaning beside you.
You quickly dissolve into giggles, trying your hardest to reign it in but when you look over and see the amused frown on Max’s face, you’re right back into it again, Max laughing in response.
You both do eventually settle down, watching the movie and eating your food together. Even after the pizza box is empty and max moves to set it on the table, you don’t move from your spot, using the reasoning that it’s just easier to see the screen from his bed.
You try not to notice the proximity between you. You’d been holding hands all day and you’d pressed several kisses to his cheeks and forehead, being near him shouldn’t bother you. But when you shift slightly closer just to get more comfortable and Max’s arm falls down over your shoulder, you freeze, keeping as still as you can.
He doesn’t move his arm through the rest of the movie. Not that you’d know, considering you drift off with about half an hour to go. But Max doesn’t notice that either, considering how he fell asleep just after.
You wake up before him again the next morning, don’t the same thing you’d done the day before and walking out to the balcony. Max does the same thing he did as well, walking out with two mugs grasped gently in his grip.
When you take the mug from him, you try not to think about the fact you’d woken up limbs tangled with his and your face pressed into his chest.
————
The São Paulo Grand Prix.
It had been 6 months of this charade with Max. That’s right, you’d managed to suffer through 6 whole months of pretending to be his girlfriend. There’s been countless headlines from various news sites, trying their best to figure out every single detail about your life and relationship with Max.
The only thing keeping your mind together was the root of the problem himself and your prolonged roommate, Max.
He was actually really lovely. Every time you suggested a different room for his sake, you’d end up right where you were the week before, in a bed across from his. You’d also kept the same morning routine every day, waking up before Max and sitting out on the balcony until he brought coffee out for both of you.
He’d eventually gotten to a point where he sat in the chair next to you as opposed to standing up and leaning against the railing. There was still little conversation, though, you both enjoying the silence of an early morning instead.
This specific morning, you were watching the city of São Paulo move along below you. Goosebumps raised slightly as the wind-chilled November air nipped at the skin on your arms. The sun hadn’t completely rose yet and the previous nights rain had left the air colder than it should’ve been. You found yourself rubbing your hands over your arms and wishing you’d worn something other than a t-shirt.
The door slides open behind you and you take the mug as it’s placed in your eye line, grateful for the heat of the mug to warm up your cold hands. You lower your face toward the mug, letting the steam warm up your wind-chilled skin. You go to take a sip but it burns at your lips when you tilt the mug, causing you to set it down on the small table in order for it to cool for a few moments.
After you set it down, something lands in your lap. You look down, holding the item up and quickly recognizing it as one of Max’s Red Bull hoodies. You glance over at him but he’s still looking out over the city below, sipping passively at his mug of black coffee.
You look back down at the item of clothing, glancing between it and the owner for a few seconds before deciding to slip it on, your cold skin winning out over any reasonable thought that would tell you not to wear it.
The hoodies too big for you and it smells like Max but you don’t really seem to mind either of those things. Especially as your skin heats as the fabric passes over it.
Once you’ve got the hoodie on, you pick up your coffee again, blowing on it slightly to cool it down. You raise the cup to your lips, letting the warm liquid flow into your mouth.
You hum at the taste, quickly noticing that it tastes different than usual. You furrow your eyebrows, taking another sip. The oh-so wonderful taste that you’d missed so dearly over the past 6 months takes over your tastebuds. The taste of real milk and sugar.
You hum pleasantly, grasping the cup tightly. You glance over toward the man who’d handed you the drink, “Is this milk and sugar?”
Max glances toward you for a split-second before he looks back over the city, taking a sip of his own coffee, “Yeah, that’s how you like it, right? You always drink it like that back home.”
You ignore the jolt in your stomach when Max refers to the Monaco apartments as a shared home. You bite your lip with an affirmative hum, “Where’d you get milk and sugar?”
“Couldn’t sleep last night, went for a walk. There’s a corner store down the block and I picked some up,” Max says it casually, like it’s not the most considerate anyone had been of you, maybe ever.
You stare at him for a few moments, trying to ignore the warm feeling in your chest as you imagine him thinking about you enough to buy coffee ingredients the way you liked them.
As you sat outside, in his hoodie, sipping on the coffee he had made and handed to you, you finally accept what you’d been trying to deny for six months, if not longer.
You were in love with Max Verstappen.
You longed for the domesticity that was so present on mornings like these. You wanted to live this life with him all the time. You didn’t just want to fall asleep beside him after a race but you wanted to be able to press your lips against his when he won instead of the light touches you’d flutter against his cheek. You wanted to wear his hoodies all the time, not just when you were cold and forgot one of your own. You wanted to stop pretending in front of his friends. You wanted the hushed whispers to be sweet nothings instead of scheming and planning.
You wanted this life with him. All the time.
“Max-” you start but you’re quickly cut off by Max as he speaks instead.
“My ex is going to be at this race,” he states and you close your mouth, deflating slightly as you look away, “Just wanted to prepare you in case we run into her. You could also, um, probably stop coming once you scare her off.”
You nod meekly, taking a sip of your coffee. What had once been your idea of a sanctuary with the silence of the morning is now too quiet, allowing your thoughts to be the only noise in your head, images of Max’s ex rolling around aimlessly.
You stand up quickly, taking rushed steps back into the room. You down the last sips of your coffee and slide it onto the table, moving hurriedly around the room to gather your things for a shower. You vaguely notice Max walking back into the room with a confused look but you don’t even look up as you rush into the bathroom, “I’m taking a shower.”
“Okay?” Max says as you close the door behind you. You don’t notice the frown on his face as he disappears from view.
You’re too busy throwing off his hoodie and turning the shower to practically scalding heat, trying your hardest to rid yourself of thoughts about a life with Max, thoughts of his ex-girlfriend or thoughts about the stupid coffee he’d handed you and how stupid you were to be reading so much into it.
For a moment there, you’d thought that Max was enjoying this as much as you were. But his words were quick to remind you that you were only there to do a favour for him. He is only there to get his friends and his ex off his back. After that, you were free to go. It even vaguely sounded like Max didn’t want you to come back around the next weekend.
Why else would he have said that? Why else would he have suggested you stop coming? Especially just after talking about his ex. It was a stark reminder that you were only a tool for him to mess with his ex. She was the one he’d loved, you were just a girl he knew.
You stay under the scalding water long enough for the mirrors to fog and your fingertips to prune. Your cuticles sting from where the hot water had made its way into the raw skin, the cuts still fresh from where you’d been anxiously picking at them.
You only pull yourself from the water when you start to sway from the heat, your head going light and an ache echoing through your skull.
————
A few hours later, you’re by Max’s side again, although there’s a slightly larger distance between you than usual.
That would change soon, no doubt, when Max spotted his ex, pulling you close to attempt to show his devotion to your fake relationship.
But for now, you're an arms-length away, hoping that pushing him away would also push away your own feelings.
Max can't grasp even an idea as to why you were acting like this. Did you really want this to be over that badly? He knew he'd mentioned the idea of your… situation ending but he didn't think you'd be this eager to get away from him.
At the first camera flash, you take a step closer to Max, knowing how even the smallest hint of discontent between you would be twisted for headlines and it would end with your concerned mother calling you fifty times to check on your relationship after seeing an article on Facebook.
So you step closer, reaching over to intertwine your hands. Max doesn't resist and you try not to read into the gentle squeeze he replies with.
Brazils nice. Or at least, you assume. You'd been too distracted to take much notice. But you do notice the fans yelling from all around. Lively crowds sway and shout in the distance, hues of blue and black and orange all represented amongst the groups.
Max leads you through the paddock, determination clear in his steps. It was most likely just his own determination not to talk to anyone, especially a certain ex-girlfriend.
You both get to Red Bull without an unwanted interaction and the second you're out of the public eye, you're dropping his hand, none the wiser to the confused look on the driver's face.
The tension's palpable in his small room. Awkward conversation flows, your words biting and curt. Neither of you wants to address the obvious undertones your words contain. One of hostility and unshared secrets. But you manage to survive until Max has to leave to get ready for the race and you follow just a few minutes later, making your way to watch said race.
The race is fine. Max wins, but you were never in doubt about that. He was starting from pole, it'd be pretty hard for him to lose. Lando finished just a few seconds behind him, having closed the gap a bit after getting past George.
As the team starts to leave to go greet Max, Christian Horner pulls you along, saying something about Max wanting you at the barrier after the race. You're sure its just so he can put on a show for his ex.
But you follow along anyway, trying not to stumble in your heels as Christian walks along a lot faster than you'd want to.
You pass through other teams and friends and guests or the drivers, waving slightly at people you’d gotten to know over the past six months. The thought of not seeing any of these people again after you and Max faked a breakup made your stomach hurt but you ignore it, trying to tell yourself it was for the better.
When Christian reaches the team, he guides you both through the crowd, smiling politely at the engineers as he slides by.
It seems you both reach the barrier just in time, as Max is parking when you come to a stop. You watch as he pulls himself out of the car, cheering a bit to the fans around as he stands atop it. When he pulls off his helmet and balaclava, you try your hardest not to smile at the pure joy on his face.
He glances over his shoulder at something you can't see before he turns and catches your eye, quickly moving in your direction. Before you can even say a word, he's set his helmet down and wrapped both his hands around the sides of your face, pulling it toward his own. His lips are warm, the heat of the race still emanating off of him. You dismiss the sweat in his hair as you wrap a hand softly around the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his locks. Your other hand rests on the side of his face, your thumb tracing the marks his helmet had left around his eyes.
You pull away first, glancing up into his eyes with a gentle smile, “Good job, you did amazing Max.”
His face heats and he glances away with a light chuckle, “Thank you, baby. I'm glad you're here.”
You wish he'd stop calling you that. At least for the sake of your heart jumping in your chest every time he does.
He looks away but your eyes are still firmly locked on the side of his face, tracing the familiar path around his features that they'd forged over the past six months. The same path they took every morning when you watched him look out over whatever city you were in that weekend. The same path they took when he fell asleep first during a movie in hopes of memorizing every detail before you slunk back into your own bed to fall asleep, the image of his face still etched into your mind.
But as you stare up at Max, trying to memorize the puzzle pieces of his face while he talks to Christian, you realize how futile of an endeavour it is. Not matter how hard you try, you'll never get the slope of his nose just right in your memories. You'll never get the right shade of turquoise for his eyes. The sandy-dark-blond of his hair will fade away until it was nothing in your mind but the shade of your coffee in the morning instead of the colour of his hair.
Maybe you should find a different apartment. Surely, Monaco had a different apartment complex that was far enough away from Max to rid yourself of the incessant thoughts of him that constantly plagued your love-adled brain.
Throughout all of that, you’d almost forgotten you were in love with him.
But when Max turns back to you, a glint in his eyes and a bright smile gracing his lips, you're suddenly all too aware of that fact.
“I’ll see you in a minute, yeah?”
You nod, smile slowly drifting as he walks away to get weighed and do all the usual post-race theatrics.
Christian pats his hand on your shoulder firmly, smiling as you turn around, “Let’s get to the podium, kid.”
You let Christian lead you away, yet again making his way through the crowd to get you both to the front.
The podium celebration is cute, Max’s happiness practically contagious. Lando and George are enthralled as well, the Brits both happy to back on the podium once again.
But when Max leans over to spray the champagne on the team, you put your hands over your face as Christian laughs beside you, both of you trying to avoid the sticky liquid as much as possible.
You peel away from the crowd after Max walks off, trying to find your way to wherever Max had gone.
As you'd left, you'd wandered away from Christian, who knew the paddock much better than you did. This was your first time here and you found yourself looking around for any sign of the Red Bull driver or, at least, a familiar face who could point you in the right direction.
It takes you a few minutes to gain your bearings but when you hear the familiar sound of Max’s voice, you go that direction, turning a corner to see his face.
And you do see him, post-race glow and all. But it's not just him you find. Standing entirely too close to him with her hand resting on his shoulder, is Max’s ex-girlfriend. She's smiling warmly, nodding animatedly at whatever it is Max is saying. Which, from constantly talking to him, you know is not worth the reaction she's giving him.
He's glancing around, clearly not comfortable with the situation. You huff, looking around before conceding and walking over to the pair. Were you maybe taking your time a little bit? Yeah, but you really didn't want to do this.
You roll your eyes when you catch Max’s eye and a relieved look rolls over his face, “Hey, baby.”
Max uses your arrival as an excuse to take a step back, swinging his arm around your shoulder. He's still covered in champagne and sweat but you ignore it, “Hey, Max.”
You finally glance up to meet the eye of the woman in front of you, her eyes narrowed as she looks between you, “Oh my god, hi! You must be Max’s ex!”
She rolls her eyes before smiling tightly with a nod of her head, “Yeah, I am. You must be his new girlfriend.”
You hum affirmatively, smiling wide as you glance over to the man beside you, “I am, yeah. He's just so perfect. We’re so happy together!”
She narrows her eyes again, glancing you up and down before her eyes stop on your face. You roll your head to the side to rest your temple on his shoulder, resting one of your hands against his chest.
“Well, I’m happy you moved on, Max,” She says, turning her entire attention to the man in question, “You seem… perfect together.”
Max gleams, nodding as he leans in to kiss your cheek, “Yeah, I’m really happy.”
His ex chews on her bottom lip for a few moments before huffing and moving away, turning to shout over her shoulder as she walks away, “Have a great life, Max!”
“Thanks, I guess!” Max replies, laughing as soon as the woman is out of earshot. He pulls away from your side, turning to fully face you.
“Thank you!” Max cheers, grasping your shoulders with his hands, “Did you see her face? She was so pissed that I'd moved on.”
You hum, letting him be happy by himself while you stood quietly, “Yeah, you're welcome.”
You peel away from Max, turning to go back to the car park so you can leave. You don't say anything to Max before you walk away, leaving him to jog to catch up to you.
“You okay?” He asks once he's by your side again. You glance over, catching the concerned look on his face.
“Yeah,” you nod curtly, looking back ahead, “Yeah, I'm fine.”
He doesn't seem convinced but he leaves it be, turning away as well.
He pretends not to notice when you coincidentally step away after he tries to grab your hand.
While Max debriefs, you text one of your friends to ask if you could stay with her for a few days when you got back to Monaco. After this fake relationship was over, you needed to get away from Max for a while just to try and push away the growing feelings you have for the Dutch man.
And with the departure of Max’s ex, you'd served your purpose and you could finally get out of Max’s life and give him the solitude he so longed for.
The ride back to the hotel is quiet, the only noise being the sound of your nails tapping against the screen of your phone. Max glances over periodically but you eventually set your phone down, choosing to stare out the window as the dark streets of Brazil pass by quickly.
When you get back to the hotel, you open the car door before Max can get it for you like he usually does. He sends you another glance, trailing passively behind as you walk in front of him. You both pass through the lobby and the elevator, your steps determined and much quicker than Max really wanted to be walking.
He's still riding the high of his win and the defeat of his ex-girlfriend but you're in your own mind, too sick to your stomach to be happy for him.
You pull out the spare room key when you arrive at the room, pressing it against the sensor before shoving the door open roughly, letting it fall against Max behind you who catches it.
You toss the key on the table by the door and set your phone down beside it. You still don't turn around as you throw the jacket he had let you borrow down on his bed.
"What is your problem?" You hear Max’s voice ring out in the otherwise quiet room. Annoyance paints his words, causing you to pause for a split-second.
"I don't have a problem." You say, cringing when you catch how much of a lie it sounds. You move on, though, pulling your suitcase out from under the bed and unzipping it.
Max scoffs, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, "Are you sure? Because it really feels like you do."
"It's nothing, Max." You reply sharply, walking into the attached bathroom, grateful to get away from his gaze for a second.
You come back out, your toiletry bag in hand. You set it down in your suitcase and stand up, walking over to the closet and pulling your clothes off the rack. The sound of the hangers hitting together echoes through your head, only contributing to the headache that had been growing since your revelation that morning.
Max finally catches onto what you're doing and speaks, his voice almost panicked, "What are you doing?"
"Leaving."
"What, already? Why?" You try not to be swayed by the hurt in his voice, turning around and walking past him to set your clothes down in your case.
He follows you over, stepping closer as you stand up. You try and step past him but he puts his arm out, stopping you in your tracks. You concede with a sigh, finally looking him in his eyes.
"It doesn't matter, Max.”
"But it does! What's wrong?" You finally step past him, on your way to go gather the rest of your things but his question makes you turn your head as you walk away.
"Max! It doesn't matter!" You immediately regret how loud your voice is but this wasn't exactly the time to be thinking about the people next door.
Max shakes his head, following you as you walk toward the doot in order to grab your shoes, "No, no, no. You've been like this all day and I can't think of a reason why. Do you really want to get away from me that badly?"
Your face twists, causing you to shake your head as you walk away, praying he wont follow you this time, "No, Max, that's not-"
He doesn't completely follow you but he does step a bit closer, shaking his head with a loud groan, "Then enlighten me! What could possibly happened in the past day that's making you act like this? Why are you leaving? Why won't you tell me? I thought we were supposed to be in this together! Why are you-"
"Because I'm in love with you, Max!" You shout, finally turning to face him as you say it, making eye contact with him for the first time since you'd walked in.
Silence falls between you and you toss your shoes down, covering your face with one of your hands. For a second, you think that Max might never respond, your stomach turning at the thought.
How hard could it be to find a different apartment in Monaco?
"What?" Max’s voice is soft and you look back to him, trying to will your frustrated tears not to fall.
"I'm in love with you! I fell in love with you and I know you don't feel the same. You only wanted me to do this to placate your friends and scare away your ex and now im getting out of your hair. I'm leaving you alone like you wanted in the first place,” Tears finally drip down your face and you don't bother to wipe them away, knowing there was only more where they came from. You look away as you explain, eyes locked onto the carpet beneath you, not wanting to face your embarrassment head-on.
"What are you talking about?" At Max’s purely confused tone, you look back to his face, teeth digging sharply into your bottom lip.
His face is soft, confusion etched into the furrow between his brows. Your stomach flips and you swallow, trying to rebuild the confidence you’d had at the start of your outburst.
The hotel room suddenly feels too cold, the air causing you to rub your hands over your shoulders in order to suppress the goosebumps that had started to rise. When you do speak again, your voice is soft, volume just above a whisper.
"This morning. You said I could stop coming after this race. And I did my job, I scared away your ex. You don't need me,” you trail off at the end of your statement, your voice breaking slightly as you shake your head, tears streaming out of your closed eyes and down your cheeks.
You expect Max to agree, to send you away, to end your friendship out of pure embarrassment after your decleration.
But he doesn't.
His voice is soft, just as yours was. His words are hushed but the emotion behind them seeps through every single word.
"I do, though. I do need you."
You look up, eyes widening at his statement. You can do nothing but stare as he steps closer, his hands grasping the sides of your face. Your own hands reach up to hold his wrists, just wanting to hold him someway.
He raises an eyebrow gently, quirking his head to ask for silent permission. You nod and its only a split-second before he's leaning down, pressing his lips against yours.
His hands cradle the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, his kiss causing your brain to practically melt. You mold together, leaning as close to him as you can as your hold conveys months and months of pent-up and hidden emotions.
As he pulls away, your lips want to chase his but you hold back, your eyes flickering open as he leans his forehead against yours. Neither of your speak for a few moments, silence settling between the two of you ask you bask in the adoration between you.
Max’s hand drifts back to your jaw, his thumb drifting across your cheekbone passively. You see his eyes look up and you glance up as well, catching his sparkling gaze in yours.
“I love you,” the words tumble out of his mouth, falling smoothly out of the lips you oh-so wished he would press against your own once again, “I'm in love with you. I fell for you during this whole thing, everything about you.”
You go to respond but he cuts you off, shaking his head lightly.
“I only told you that you could stop coming because I thought you'd grown tired of all this,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, leaning slightly into your hand that had drifted into his hair, “But I'm kind of glad I did.”
You furrow your eyebrows, quirking your head. Max pauses, allowing you the chance to admire every feature of his face, turning his freckles into constellations that you'd willingly stargaze in for hours. His hair is tousled from where your fingers had tangled in it and his lips are red from being pressed against yours. His teeth dig into said lip as he thinks before responding. You'd honestly be fine if he never finished his thought and you got to just look at him forever.
But he does finish his thought, the look in his eyes making your heart jump, "Because I don't want to pretend anymore."
You wait a moment, giving him the chance to take it back in case this was a joke, in case he didn't really mean it. But he doesn't take it back, he doesn't laugh.
And so you nod, "I want to do this with you for real, Max. I don't want to lie to anyone anymore, I want to celebrate with you after a race, not because people expect me to, but because I love you."
Max lights up, his face splitting into a wide grin at your words. Before you can react, his arms are around you and your feet are lifted off the ground as Max basically throws you onto the bed beside you.
Your laugh echoes through the hotel room, punctuated by the sound of Max flopping down next to you. You continue to giggle, glancing down to meet Max’s eyes, a special glint shining through.
You calm down after a few seconds as Max continures to gaze at you. When silence finally comes over you, Max leans up to rest on his elbows as you sit up slightly to look down at him.
“I love you too, by the way,” He says softly, “Dont know if you noticed.”
You hum, biting your lip to hold back your laugh, “I assumed so, yeah.”
You laugh as Max huffs, reaching a hand up to pull you down beside him, “Shut up.”
And you do, going quiet as your lips meet his. Later that night, as your both lying in bed, together this time, you fall asleep with your head against his chest, basking in the long-lastint but newly-confessed love between you.
The next morning, you wake up before Max, as you'd done so often. You slip out of his hold and pad over softly to the balcony, sliding on one of his hoodies before you open the sliding door.
You sink into one of the two chairs, looking out over the city of Sao Paulo as it slowly wakes up. The sun peeks out over the horizon, adding light to the previously dark morning.
Eventually, the door slides open behind you and you don’t even have to look to know it’s Max. But you look anyway, happy to take any chance to observe the man.
You take the mug from his offering hand, grasping the warm ceramic tightly. Max doesn’t walk over to the railing, instead moving toward the chair next to you. Before he sits down, he slides it over, pushing it as close to your chair as it could go. He sits down and you twist to sit sideways, leaning your legs over the arm of the chair. Max gently pulls your ankles over his chair to rest in his lap before he takes a long sip of his coffee.
You take a long sip of your own mug as well, letting the taste of the coffee coat your throat and warm your heart.
Milk and sugar, just the way you like it.
——————
Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej
#scheduled#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#formula 1#max verstappen x fem!reader#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen x reader
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I think you're right that it's significant, and I think Mori is clever to recognize that Akutagawa is a rook.
Like a rook, Akutagawa is powerful, but generally contained and often undercut by his predictability. However, because he's keenly aware of his own constraints, and because others often aren't (especially regarding variables they've internalized as known), he's able to play into and against his own predictability to paradoxically surprise them.
He moves within the confines of his rigidity to shape outcomes, sometimes more effectively than his more dynamic opponents and peers. Rooks do that too, if you let them.
Me, knowing nothing about chess, probably overthinking the significance of referencing akutagawa in this scene, but is going to look it up later anyways
#i have very specific chess feelings and thoughts re: rooks (which is what that piece is)#because in elementary school i was in a program for intellectually gifted students - by which i do NOT mean an honors program#i mean i displayed several specific neuro characteristics and struggled in a classroom environment such that i was referred for screening#the results of the screening flagged me for several additional tests and my results on those tests then prompted a comprehensive assessment#which was conducted by a licensed examiner who additionally administered another test chosen specifically based on my prior data#the report from which triggered a review of all of the above data by a panel of specialists who determined that I was wired so atypically#that I required specifically designed support services to avoid an adverse impact my access to education#ie I was not considered academically gifted which is what people are usually thinking of when they talk about giftedness (esp on tumblr)#i prefaced with all of that to counter misconceptions and emphasize that i was not in a program for smart and highly successful students#i was in a program for students with distinct cognitive processing needs that could not be met without specialized intervention#but inanely and entirely b/c of misconceptions the administrators at my school forcibly registered us in an annual chess tournament#which they wouldn't let us opt out of b/c there was a funding incentive for the school if we advanced far enough#ironically chess is a bad fit for this type of giftedness b/c it's rote + relies on bounded conventions instead of creative problem solving#but anyway i did not want to fucking play chess especially not competitively - it's boring and gets redundant#so i intentionally threw all of my games to remove myself from the tournament early#except my fellow indentured chess competitors noticed i was doing that and they were also bored and didn't care for the tournament#and so several of them made a game out of forcibly advancing me as far as they could by outmaneuvering my attempts to lose#horrifically they managed to corner me into winning enough that i was in serious danger of advancing#and so i started AGGRESSIVELY practicing chess in my spare time to learn how to shape the board and get confident in my ability to do so#i played against computers and then strangers online for hours a day and i studied checkmate patterns and how to subvert + reconfigure them#all so i could play well enough to ensure i'd lose even when being actively sabotaged#it worked - i narrowly escaped advancing that year and I don't think they were able to lose to me again after that#they kept trying - even playing me outside of tournaments to try and figure out how i was consistently losing#it's b/c i layered multiple strategies that involved breaking select conventions + manipulating their focus and psychology#BUT the fulcrum of my approach relied heavily on my rooks and select pawns as my most valuable pieces#i got very good at using rooks to shape the board without placing them in a position to be captured until i wanted them to be#once i had a few pawns close to promotion i would shift my rooks into bait b/c once one was taken i could just promote a pawn into a rook#and because absent a potential stalemate people almost always promote pawns into queens#my opponent would forget my additional rooks and would make choices based on the implicit assumptions that my deputized pawns were queens#rooks are treasures
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Safety in Your Arms
Logan Howlett x Female!Reader Rating: M (Mature but as always-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) Warnings: Cursing, threats of violence, stranger danger i.e. stalking but don't worry Logan saves the day Word count: A bit over 2k Synopsis: Logan protects you from the unwanted advances of another man and shows protectiveness and care you didn't know he had for you. Author’s note: I'm thinking this might need a part two, let me know what y'all think- I hope you enjoy! P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Logan Howlett Masterlist Main Masterlist
There was a cold panic that shot down your spine. Fight or flight, you’d learned the technical term, but now experienced it for yourself.
The five minute walk between your work and your apartment had never felt so long. It all started with a creepy customer- which was a regular occurrence at your job- but this customer took it far beyond creepy.
He tried to make too much small talk, stared too much, made a few too many over the line comments, and was entirely too pushy when asking for your phone number. Your one male coworker escorted him out and you thought that was the end of it.
Hours went by, you assured your coworkers multiple times that you were fine and you were safe, and eventually you were the last one left to close and lock up.
But only one block away from your workplace, you had the feeling of being watched- of being followed. And it was just your luck that your phone was dead and you’d forgotten your charger at home.
You changed your route, taking one that was a bit longer but also more well lit and populated. With a glance back you confirmed your worry, that it was in fact the same creepy guy from hours before.
Your heart pounded with terror as you contemplated every option for safety. Your apartment building required a code to enter, so you sped your walk, hoping if you slipped into the building and shut the door behind you that it would be enough.
“Hey,” the man’s voice called out, but you refused to look back.
Your apartment building was within sight, but the man’s catcalls and jeers were also getting louder and closer.
“Hey, c’mere pretty lady! I’ve got somethin’ for ya!”
Your whole body shuddered in fear. Your next door neighbor stepped outside of the front door of the apartment building and you nearly sobbed in relief.
“Logan!” you called out.
He looked up in surprise, but his expression quickly turned to concern as he saw the stress in your entire demeanor.
You practically ran to him and threw your arms around his torso in a hug he clearly did not expect. He hugged you back, but you felt him stiffen as he looked behind you.
That was one thing about Logan, he was extremely perceptive and quick to notice any form of danger.
“Hey bub, what can I do for you?” he said to the man behind you in a gruff tone that was not at all welcoming as he gently maneuvered you so that you stood safely behind him.
You gripped Logan’s strong bicep as you peered around his shoulder at the stalker.
“I was just-”
“Just nothin’. You better leave her alone,” Logan interrupted.
“C’mon, I was just inviting the pretty lady to have a good time. Does he speak for you?” the creep asked as he made eye contact with you. The malice in his eyes made your heartbeat spike again.
“Yeah, he’s my boyfriend,” you said nervously.
He glanced between you and Logan as if uncertain.
“She just told you, she’s mine- so fuck off,” Logan growled. A different kind of shiver went down your spine.
“You live here?” the man asked.
“No,” Logan growled before you could even open your mouth. “But I do, and if I see you around here again it’ll be a problem.”
The man looked at Logan and finally seemed to take in the gravity of the situation, the danger that the large muscled man protecting you could pose.
He gulped and nodded, yielded a step back as Logan took a step forward- muscles tense and fist clenched.
The man turned and scurried away. You took your first full deep breath in several long minutes.
Logan watched the man until he was completely out of view before he turned to you. He placed a large comforting hand on your shoulder and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes.
“Princess,” he said in a gentle voice.
He pulled you into a hug as a tear fell from your eye and made its way down your cheek. You were enveloped in his warmth and woodsy masculine scent and finally felt safe.
“Thanks for pretending to be my boyfriend,” you said as you pulled back and wiped the tears from your eyes.
“Anytime,” he said with a smirk. Your breath caught and you bit your lip as you looked up at him and saw such care and concern on his handsome face.
“Who was that guy?” he asked.
You shrugged, “Some crazy customer from earlier today, my coworker made him leave, but I guess he came back and waited until I was leaving alone….”
Logan’s brow furrowed and he gritted his teeth. “That motherfucker,” he growled, “I’m walking you to and from work tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to-”
“No, I do. And I’ll do it until I’m sure he isn’t gonna bother you anymore. And if he shows up again…” he trailed off as his claws extended from his fist in an action that seemed involuntary due to his rage.
A shiver ran down your spine. You had no idea Logan felt so protective over you.
“Thank you,” you said in a soft voice, “I appreciate it.”
This was not helping your ridiculous crush on your neighbor. From the minute he moved in with your friend Wade, you had heart eyes for him.
The Wolverine, he took your breath away without even trying. With his large stature, huge muscles, and handsome face- you were a goner. It didn’t matter that he was older, way out of your league, and generally altogether grumpy. You were head over heels for him, and you were certain he had never noticed you before, that he merely thought you were Wade’s annoying friend.
But you adored him, you adored the gentle heart you knew he buried under that gruff exterior, and displays of protectiveness such as this only proved what an amazing person you already knew he was.
“I’m headed to meet Wade at the bar, d’you wanna come?” he offered.
You nodded eagerly, not wanting to be alone after the stress of the day.
“Lead the way,” you said with a smile.
—--------
“Look who I brought,” Logan said as you walked behind him into the bar and approached a booth in the back corner.
He stepped to the side so your friends could see you. Wade, Vanessa, and Dopinder sat at the table, already laughing and drinking beer.
Wade gasped dramatically and exclaimed, “Princess Cupcake!”
You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your lips betrayed you and showed your amusement.
“Hey Wade,” you replied then greeted the others.
“What? No comeback? I’m hurt! What’s wrong?” he asked, speaking in that way too fast pattern that was his norm.
Logan placed a hand on your back and leaned down closer to your ear as he asked quietly, “You wanna sit down? I can get you a drink- what do you want?”
You smiled and sat down as you were told and told him your drink order.
Wade wiggled his non-existent eyebrows at you in a rather suggestive manner.
“What’s up between you and peanut? Did you finally fu-”
“No,” you interjected quickly.
“Wade, she’s clearly upset and Logan is helping her,” Vanessa said as she elbowed her boyfriend.
You sighed and explained the events of your afternoon. During your explanation Logan came back to the table with two drinks and sat next to you. His large form crowded you into the corner of the booth, but you didn’t mind.
“That motherfucker,” Wade said in anger at the end of your story. Vanessa gave you a look of solidarity, you knew she had experienced plenty of creepy men in her life.
“That’s what I said,” Logan replied, clearly somewhat amused.
“We should kill him,” Dopinder said.
“Calm down wannabe-vigilante,” you muttered which caused everyone to chuckle.
“Don’t worry cupcake, ole honey badger and I will make sure you’re safe,” Wade reassured.
You nodded and said, “I appreciate it, but I don’t think he’ll return. Logan can be pretty intimidating, it was amazing - I’m sure he scared him off.”
Logan grunted in agreement, although when you looked at him you could’ve sworn there was a tint of pink on his cheeks and the tops of his ears.
As the evening stretched on, you were thoroughly distracted from your troubles and amused by Wade’s antics and Dopinder’s stories.
“So, Princess Cupcake, any luck on the dating front?” Wade asked.
You tugged at the sleeves of your shirt- a nervous habit, and without looking up from the table said, “Nope.”
Logan let out a soft sigh of what your aching heart could only hope was relief.
“I’ve never asked, what’s with the nickname?” Dopinder asked.
You shrugged and gestured to Wade.
“When Blind Al and I moved into our apartment this sweetie pie here brought us cupcakes!” Wade explained.
“Good thing it was cupcakes instead of a pie because being constantly called sweetie pie would make me want to die,” you muttered and everyone laughed.
“What about the princess part though?” Dopinder asked.
“Just look at her,” Logan mumbled and you and everyone at the table looked over at him in surprise.
“She’s got that innocent sort of pretty you only see in big bright eyed animated Disney princesses,” Wade said.
Embarrassed at the attention you changed the subject immediately. Your constant filthy thoughts about Logan proved you were anything but innocent.
“But why is Logan’s nickname peanut?” you asked quickly.
Wade shrugged, “Just fits.”
Logan rolled his eyes.
You smirked and said, “I bet we could come up with a hundred nicknames for him that would fit better.”
“Like what?” Wade challenged.
You glanced over at the large handsome man sitting next to you as your face warmed.
Daddy was the first word that came to mind. Wade chuckled in a way that made you momentarily worried that mind reading was one of his mutant abilities.
The silence at the table stretched on, becoming a tad awkward, before you said, “Nevermind I’m not very good with nicknames anyways.”
“Yeah, it’s probably best to leave choosing nicknames to the professional,” Vanessa said in a joking tone to ease the tension. You shot her a look of gratitude and she winked at you before she effectively changed the subject all together.
Eventually, after enough drinks and conversation, you declared that it was time for you to go home.
“C’mon!” Wade protested. “The night has just begun!”
“I wish I could stay but I’ve got work in the morning.”
“I’ll walk you home,” Logan said in a soft but firm tone that left no room for argument as he stood and took a step back to give you room to get out of the booth.
You nodded in agreement and smiled in pleasant surprise as he offered you his arm. You wrapped your arm around his large bicep and linked your elbows as you followed him out into the cold winter air.
The city glowed in warm orange light that reflected on the wet pavement. Your breath was visible in frostbitten wind, and you shivered slightly which caused you to burrow further into your coat and move closer to Logan and the heat his body provided.
He then pulled his arm from yours, causing you to momentarily panic, but just as swiftly he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.
You smiled and filled the short walk with endless chatter, you used to worry that your yapping irritated him, but the small uptick of his lips- the ghost of a smile- showed fond amusement and filled you with warmth enough to make you forget about the cold.
“What time do you leave for work in the morning?” Logan asked as you reached the door of your apartment- his apartment door only a few steps away.
“Eight o’clock,” you replied as you unlocked the door.
“But really, you don’t have to-”
“I’ll see you then,” he interrupted in a tone that indicated you would not win this argument.
Then he did something you didn’t expect at all, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to your forehead.
You grinned, your smile wider than probably ever before as you said, “Goodnight Logan, see you bright and bleary eyed tomorrow.”
He chuckled as he bid you goodnight and you walked into your apartment and shut the door only after he smiled at you again before disappearing behind his own door.
You shut your door and locked it before leaning against it. You muffled your squeal of excitement with your hand- all too aware how thin the walls are. The stressful events of the day completely forgotten.
#logan howlett#wolverine#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett x you#wolverine x you#logan wolverine#logan x reader
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Trial and Error (3)
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"
Word count: 2k
Warnings: Very small mention of blood
a/n: I am lovinggg writing this and I can't stop so don't ask me to 🏃♀️
Read part one | part two | part four
Main Masterlist ♡
~~
Azriel had been by the apothecary four times since his first visit. That wasn’t an unusual number by any means, but it was alarming that he was supposedly going through his headache tonic so quickly. You would give him a week’s worth and he would return for more within three days.
Melanie had begun to expect him and had taken to examining his wings each time he walked through the door. She would run and stand atop the counter—much to your dismay—and Azriel would unfurl them from his back just a hair so she could get a better look. Her comfortability with him scared you. You’d spoken to your daughter about stranger danger and had emphasized it a million times, but with Azriel, she held no reproach.
Azriel didn’t seem to mind. You had apologized countless times for Melanie’s staring and her invasive questions, but Azriel would only wave you off with a glint in his eye. He always chalked it up to being an uncle, but you’d had an uncle and he was nothing like Azriel.
None of your family was like anyone you’d met in Velaris.
Still, there was a lingering pit in your stomach each time Azriel would ask you a question about yourself or smile at your daughter. It didn’t feel safe to make too many friends, and Azriel was a particularly unsafe friend to have.
The Shadowsinger.
You’d learned of his position within the Night Court’s inner circle after Melanie had asked yet another question about Azriel and his shadows.
“I’m a Shadowsinger,” he had explained, your daughter spinning in circles around him, tugging his shadows along with her. A small smile graced his face as he spoke. “My shadows tell me secrets so I can ensure everything is going okay in Velaris.”
A cold sweat broke out along your skin as he spoke the words, but you only continued to smile and focused on keeping your breath even.
He would be the one to find you out—there was no doubt about it.
But something told you the closeness could be a good thing. Perhaps, if he knew you, he would take pity on you when he found out. Perhaps, if he knew you, he wouldn’t feel the need to dig into your history and ask questions.
At least, that’s what you were hoping for because Azriel didn’t show any sign of staying away from you or Melanie—a truth made even more apparent at Melanie’s open house.
“Melanie does so wonderfully in all her subjects,” her teacher gushed, a clipboard held tightly at her chest. “She especially loved our cooking unit. She loved the burners and heating things up.”
You raised your brows and grinned. “I’m so happy to hear that. She talks about school so often. I’m glad her enthusiasm is reflected in her work.”
An obvious avoidance—an attempt to curtail the subject away from your daughter’s affinity for flames.
Her teacher did not seem put off. “It is! I know she began in the middle of the school year, but she has caught on so quickly. I can tell she has a lot of support at home. Big family?”
Perhaps her teacher wasn’t as oblivious as you had hoped. You fought the twitch in your eye, dreading that this woman would know more about you. Five years of careful isolation and suddenly you were thrust into the public eye.
“No, just the two of us. But my work is quite flexible so she’s never alone. I always have time to help her with school.”
“That’s so great to hear. I have to ask, just for the sake of my student, her father—”
“Hello, Ms. Fern.”
Azriel’s voice startled you out of the panic rising in your chest. You turned to find him rooted in his spot behind you, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze flicked down to you for a brief moment before settling back on the teacher.
“Azriel!” Ms. Fern delighted. “I didn’t expect you today. I saw the High Lord and Lady earlier so I assumed it would just be the parents.”
Azriel hummed. “I wanted to come by and see Nyx’s art. You mentioned he painted the family.”
“You didn’t need to do that! I know you’re so busy. What a wonderful—“
Azriel slowly edged in front of you, hiding you from Ms. Fern’s watchful eye. You felt a slight push against your hip and held in a laugh as Azriel reached behind him and ushered you off without ever looking away from the teacher. You quickly scampered away and made yourself busy examining the art around the room. Upon closer inspection, Nyx had painted a troll—not his family.
It took about 10 minutes of lingering before Azriel joined you, his shadows giving him away. They slinked around your wrists and traveled up to caress your neck.
“Apologies for their familiarity,” Azriel said in place of a greeting. “They seem to have grown comfortable with you.”
“And Melanie,” you added. You rounded a table and meandered out to the hall. Azriel followed. “They love to chase her around the apothecary. Sometimes I wonder if you keep coming by because they’re making you.”
Azriel bit back a smile but it still formed into a bashful expression. “Perhaps that’s why.”
In the hall, you found yourself alone with Azriel—utterly and completely alone. Melanie was with one of your neighbors as the teacher made it clear no students were allowed at the open house, and no one else occupied the space. You leaned your back against the wall and looked up at Azriel, a shyness overtaking you.
You were never really alone with him—Melanie was always right around the corner.
“That was some maneuver earlier,” you commented, fidgeting with your fingers at your waist.
“She was prying,” Azriel replied. You watched the way he carefully trailed his gaze down to your fingers. “I certainly wasn’t going to let her know more about you than I do. Not when I’ve put in far more effort.”
“I thought your shadows were the reason you came,” you teased.
“Right, my shadows.”
You pressed your mouth into a line, feeling small under Azriel’s never-ending gaze. His eyes never left yours as silence blanketed the hall. It was as if he saw through you, understood you in a way that didn’t make sense.
Maybe you could tell him.
No, that was ridiculous.
Was it?
“Where’s Mel?” Azriel asked, startling you out of your internal strife.
The words didn’t comprehend, the jumbled mess of your mind intensifying as the Shadowsinger knocked his head to the side and asked you questions.
“What?”
“Melanie,” he clarified, brows bunching. “I was going to offer to watch her for this but I didn’t want to impose. I know I’m still mostly a stranger, but I don’t know if you have family in the area and I just…”
He trailed off. You never mentioned any family because that was one of the topics you strayed from each time it was broached. Family, your origins, Melanie’s father; he never brought any of it up directly, but he’d hint at it. And you always changed the subject.
“I—I don’t,” you revealed. You broke his gaze and stared down at your fingers, picking at the skin around your nails. “Have family here, I mean. But I have neighbors that Melanie likes. They’re watching her.”
“Do you trust them?” Azriel asked, an edge to his tone.
“Of course I do. I wouldn’t leave her with anyone I didn’t.”
“Good,” he grunted out.
“And I would never ask you to watch Mel. That—I know you’re probably busy and she's kind of a handful..”
Azriel started speaking before the last word left your mouth. “She’s not. And I would never be too busy for that.”
Another silence fell. You picked harder at your nails.
“Azriel, I—“
“I want you to feel safe with me. To trust me.”
His admittance shocked you into silence. You weren’t actually sure what you were going to say to him, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Everything you had ever thought exited your brain.
You opened your mouth to speak but no sound escaped.
“I mean—I just mean that I want to be a person you can trust Melanie with. That you can trust to… to share more with. I don’t know what you’ve been though, or how you ended up here in Velaris, but I want to be something safe for you.”
It felt as if something was pressing against your chest. When Melanie was around, he never looked at you with such intensity—he never said these things with so much devotion to back his words.
A sharp, hot feeling pricked your fingers. Azriel’s hand immediately covered both of your own, his warm touch pulling your fingers away from each other. You’d drawn blood—a terrible nervous habit.
With all of the shock you missed the fact that this was the first time Azriel had touched you with such intentionality.
“It’s like you’re living in survival mode—you and Melanie. I want you both to feel like there’s someone looking out for you.”
“Why?” you whispered, the word still sounding entirely too loud. “Why us? Why me?”
Azriel hadn’t removed his hands from yours. He offered a small squeeze to your fingers. “Why not you?”
Something broke in you. Something pulled.
You wanted nothing more than to open your mouth and let everything out. You wanted to trust him—to be able to trust anyone—but there was so much danger to that.
You could be forced back home. You could be forced to marry that man. You could lose Melanie.
But Azriel was looking at you as if he’d place his life before any of those possibilities. His gaze was beseeching, almost desperate, and something was urging you to trust him. Something intrinsic. Something that felt right.
Your lips parted.
“Rhys, I told you, Azriel isn’t here.”
“I saw him leave just after us, darling. He came.”
“He came to Nyx’s open house? What could he possibly have to gain?”
The conversation down the hall startled you. You yanked your hands from Azriel’s grip and whipped your head to the side in anticipation.
Rhys, Azriel, Nyx; you knew who was about to enter the hall, and reality came crashing down on you as soon as you made the connection.
“I have to go,” you rushed out, eyes widening. “I—Thank you, Azriel, but this isn’t—this isn’t safe for Melanie. Not… all of this. I have to—”
You left, and Azriel stayed.
You heard your name as you went, heard it echo down the hall, but you still left.
And Azriel still stayed.
part four
#azriel x reader#azriel x female!reader#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel acotar#acotar#acotar fanfiction
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Only a fool would bargain with the leader of Onychinus
Word Count: 5,8k
tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, first time sex (not virginity loss) alterations to the main story, dr/y humping, thigh riding, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, creampies, squirting, dirty talking, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie, baby), violence, mentions of injuries.
Notes:Some of you may have already read my fic, The Price of Desire, in which the reader’s evol is mentioned. If you have, you’ll notice that the evol is the same in this story; however, there is no connection between the two. The concept of a reader with this ability was too appealing for me to resist, and since it was briefly mentioned in the previous fic, I decided to explore it further in this one. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! All likes and reblogs are appreciated. :3
Going on missions for Sylus was nothing new to you by now. You had spent years by his side since he first found you, a wild creature desperate for survival. Sometimes, you could still recall how close you had come to killing each other back then. You had been hunted by nearly every illegal underground group, all seeking your evol, and while on the run, you stumbled upon him like a scared and feral animal.
You had instinctively tried to attack him on sight; it was all you knew how to do, having fought for your freedom for as long as you could remember. You were no stranger to the danger he represented—the bloodthirsty leader of Onychinus. If other groups sought you as a mere experiment for your power, you could only imagine what Onychinus would do if they got their hands on you.
The moment you realized the person you had fallen headfirst into was the white-haired menace himself, you had attempted to fight him with everything you had. Sylus, of course, dodged every single one of your attacks effortlessly, but he was merely toying with you, for he possessed something you were unaware of; he could not be killed.
You had always been feared for your lethal evol—one touch from your bare fingers could send someone halfway to the other world. You were an extraordinary weapon, yet Sylus was not deterred; he was intrigued, even enamored by you.
With his energy manipulation, it was impossible for you to harm him, particularly when he thrived on high levels of adrenaline and excitement.
So, even as you forced yourself to keep trying to touch him, desperate to end the chaos, he reveled in your fierce determination. He loved witnessing the fire in your eyes as you believed you could take him down. When he finally grew tired of your little game and decided to put an end to it, he was blindsided by a fact he had overlooked.
While he had learned nearly everything there was to know about your evol and your abilities, he did not realize one important thing; you were immune to his mist.
No matter how fiercely the red and black tendrils curled around you, the moment your flesh made contact with them, they vanished into thin air.
Sylus had nearly salivated when he realized the challenge you presented. It had been far too long since he had encountered someone so intriguing, and he was determined that you wouldn’t walk out of that valley without becoming his.
That’s how you found yourself in his group now. Unlike everyone else, Sylus had made a promise that night: if you went home with him willingly, he would never force you to use your abilities for his research or personal gain. He needed you to choose to be there if you were going to help him.
His condition was simple: think of aiding him, and in return, you would gain his protection, a life free from fear and the constant need to run for your freedom.
You had taken a significant risk when you decided to go with him, but the white-haired man kept his word. It took you months to contemplate helping him instead of merely enjoying the luxury of his lifestyle, but he was patient. In time, you became not only his most valuable asset but also his right hand. Whenever he was out of town for deals or missions, you handled matters back home on his behalf.
Deep down, back then you knew he wasn’t just a kind-hearted man simply looking to help a struggling girl off the street. What he truly sought to protect was your evol because he believed you would eventually come around to assist him when he needed it most. So when you finally did, it was no surprise to him. He had merely given you a subtle nod and handed you the first files.
Now, two years later, you stood beside him at one of the many auctions taking place in the N109 Zone. He was after a particularly important and valuable protocore—one he had pursued for years—and today presented his chance to possess it.
Being next to him not only amplified his chances of leaving unscathed without extensive negotiation—after all, who was crazy enough to challenge the leader of Onychinus and his lethal right-hand woman?—but it also made it easier for him to operate, as you inevitably drew attention and distraction from other bidders.
His hand curled possessively around your waist as he proudly showcased you to the crowd. The dress you wore was as red as his eyes, hugging your every curve and accentuating your figure. Your hair was styled in a simple updo, revealing your back to the admiring gazes around you.
The less fabric you wore, the more difficult it was for his mist to approach you, and that was one thing you clung to. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you—he had come to not only depend on you but to trust you as well. Still, you maintained a small resistance, a defiance that you weren’t ready to surrender, no matter how much it irritated him.
Your gloves were snugly in place, allowing you to interact with him without draining his energy, thus enabling you to warn others of the imminent danger your touch posed. One slip of fabric, and whoever you touched would be lost forever.
“Mr. Sylus, I didn’t think you’d make it tonight,” a distant voice interrupted your thoughts, drawing both of your attention. A young man addressed your boss, his tone a mix of surprise and formality.
“Not happy to see me?” Sylus replied, his voice smooth as silk and sweet as honey, the smugness evident in his expression as he arched a white brow at the man.
“Of course, sir! I’m sorry, sir. I just thought you’d be out of town—”
“Change of plans." Sylus muttered, cutting him off with a tight smile before guiding you forward, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back.
As you walked toward the room where his meeting would take place, you tilted your face up to catch a glimpse of his profile. “He’s right, you know,” you began, curiosity lacing your words. “Weren’t you supposed to return next Tuesday?”
Sylus’s smirk deepened at your question. “If I had known you’d be so disappointed by my early arrival, sweetie, I would have made sure to come back yesterday.”
You scoffed at his remark, subtly flexing your back to shake his arm off, but his grip only tightened, keeping you glued to his side. “Be good now. You know how important tonight is,” He leaned in closer, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it tickled your ear. “Don’t screw this up.”
You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that crawled up your spine from the subtle threat lacing his tone. Sylus had been under immense pressure lately, but you refused to let him take it out on you.
“Sylus.”
He let out an impatient huff as you halted him just outside the door of your final destination, but he turned his body to face you fully, his expression a mix of frustration and intensity.
“I’m not your enemy,” you asserted, holding his gaze with unwavering resolve. “Many people work for you, but aside from Luke and Kieran, no one stands by your side with the same loyalty I do. I know you’ve been struggling, but I’m the last person you want against you right now.”
“Oh, is that right, kitten?” His brows furrowed, drawing closer until your chests nearly touched. To an outsider, you might have appeared to be lovers, but the tension between you was palpable and lethal. “And why is that? Because you’re oh-so-dangerous?”
His provoking smirk ignited your anger, and while you couldn’t fathom what was going through his mind, you chose to avoid making a scene. Stepping away from him, you tried to regain your composure. “They’re waiting for us.”
Before you could take another step toward the door, you were abruptly lifted off the ground, hanging upside down over Sylus’s shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered-yelled, frantically scanning for prying eyes. Your surprise deepened when, from the shadows, Luke and Kieran rushed toward you, effortlessly pulling you from Sylus’s grip. “What—”
“Take her to the car and wait for me,” Sylus commanded sharply, his tone clipped and leaving no room for negotiation. As you were carried away from him and the room, you felt a pang of frustration.
“Let me down!” you practically shouted as the twins put distance between you and the auction building.
“Sorry, ma’am, no can do.”
“Yeah, ma’am, we’re sorry, but no one bypasses the boss's orders!”
Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as the events unfolded, anger and frustration boiling within you at how Sylus had treated you. It was the first time since you started working for him that he had dismissed you so callously, and you couldn’t ignore the pang of hurt that coiled deep in your stomach.
You sat in the backseat of the car while the twins chatted and bantered in the front, oblivious to your turmoil. It felt surreal, as if they were living in a different world. Maybe you were overthinking it—after all, you hadn’t expected him to disregard you like that, especially during an auction so crucial to him. You were valuable to him, weren’t you? He needed you by his side, didn’t he?
Your thoughts spiraled until they were abruptly shattered by a loud bang. Before you could process the sound, part of the building in front of you exploded in a fiery eruption. Wait—was that the floor where the auction was being held? The very floor Sylus was on?
Without a second thought, you threw open the car door, sprinting toward the burning building despite the twins’ frantic shouts urging you to stop. Your mind was consumed by one thought: Sylus. He couldn’t be hurt. He couldn’t die. Foolish girl, not even his evol could save him from an explosion of that magnitude.
Your breaths came in ragged gasps, sweat clung to your skin as you pushed your limits, charging up the stairs to the floor where you had been just forty minutes earlier. You stumbled multiple times, falling to your knees, but the thought of Sylus pushed you onward.
When you finally reached the floor, it was a scene of devastation. The area lay in ruins, engulfed in smoke and chaos, with scattered survivors struggling to breathe amidst the wreckage. You focused your eyes and ears, straining to find Sylus amidst the agonizing cries of others. Time blurred as you searched, exhaustion creeping in and threatening to overwhelm you.
Just when you thought you might pass out, you spotted it—silver locks, now dirty and disheveled, just a few feet away. Panic surged through you as you fell to your knees and crawled with the last remnants of strength you had left. When you finally reached him, your heart stopped. You had never seen Sylus so vulnerable, so exposed.
You reached out to touch his face, your irritation intensifying at the realization that you still had to keep your gloves on, unable to feel his soft, dirt-streaked skin. With the last remnants of your strength, you shook him gently, your voice coming out hoarse as you tried to call his name.
Slowly, his eyes peeled open, and you let out the breath you had been holding. Unfortunately, you had inhaled too much smoke, resulting in a violent cough that wracked your body.
Clutching your chest, you hunched over, trying to cough out the smoke while moving away from him. Just then, you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you down to him. You attempted to focus on his face, searching for any injuries, but your eyes were tearing up, and your vision was blurred from the smoke-filled atmosphere.
Just as you thought you might lose consciousness, his voice broke through, shaky and hoarse but still as sharp as a knife. “What are you doing in here, kitten?” His eyes were half-lidded, and he groaned as he struggled to sit up. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me outside?”
You tried to help him rise, but his heavy body only dragged you down, sending you sprawling onto the floor. As he noticed your condition, his eyes sharpened with concern, and his features turned serious. He began removing his coat, which was now dirty and full of holes.
“Sylus—you need to get out of here,” you urged, trying to push him away as he attempted to cover you completely with his coat.
“Don’t talk right now, sweetie.” His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as he made sure no part of your upper body was exposed. Your hands were now firmly pinned to your torso beneath his coat. “And don’t fight me.”
His fingers came to your face, squeezing gently until your lips formed a pout and your attention was solely on him. “Stubborn little kitten,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and affection.
Just before you slipped into unconsciousness, you felt the tendrils of his red-black mist enveloping you, pushing through your evol’s resistance and carrying you away from the chaos.
When you finally opened your eyes, it took a moment for your surroundings to come into focus. The unmistakable scent of Sylus’s mattress enveloped you, grounding you in reality. You were back at the mansion.
Your limbs felt heavy, and a dull ache throbbed in your head. Every part of your body screamed for you to stay in bed, to drift back into sleep and forget everything that had happened before you lost consciousness. But your mind was fixated on one thing: Sylus.
With a groan, you attempted to sit up, quickly glancing over your body. To your relief, you realized you were freshly cleaned and dressed in one of your nightgowns, with no significant injuries aside from a few scratches on your skin.
You took a moment to steady yourself, ensuring your vision wouldn’t fade to black before you attempted to walk across the room toward the door. Sylus’s office was just down the hallway, and as you stepped outside, you could faintly hear Luke and Kieran’s voices drifting from inside. You paused, heart pounding, and when you heard Sylus’s gruff tone, a wave of relief washed over you. He was okay.
After a brief moment, you knocked once before turning the doorknob and peeking through the small opening. Sylus’s gaze met yours immediately, and the twins turned to regard you with their rare smiles. It wasn’t often they dropped their masks, even in the mansion, but now their boyish features shone through. Their red hair was pulled back into matching messy ponytails, and a hint of blush colored their cheeks as they took in your appearance in the gown.
Sylus coughed discreetly, and the twins exchanged glances before standing up to give you two some privacy.
As they made their way to the door, Kieran paused to ruffle your hair playfully, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “You gave us a scare there, little crow.”
You regarded both twins with a small, apologetic smile before turning your full attention to the white-haired man seated behind his desk. He still wore his torn shirt, which left his muscular frame fully exposed. With a languid movement, he rolled his chair away from the desk and beckoned you with a finger.
Taking slow, deliberate steps toward him, you felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you as his intense gaze roamed over your form. Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you approached and stood before him, his legs slightly apart, causing your knees to brush against the inside of his thighs as he looked up at you.
Your eyes fell to his toned chest, now marred with scratches and bruises—evidence the damage inflicted, perhaps a sign that he was running low on evol energy and unable to heal completely.
“Are you okay?” Your voice emerged as a barely audible whisper, still tinged with hoarseness. You clasped your hands behind your back, fidgeting awkwardly.
You weren’t quite sure what had come over you; you had never before found yourself in a situation where you needed to actively express your concern for Sylus until tonight, and you hoped he wouldn’t recall too much of what had transpired in that building.
“Worried, kitten?” he asked, a small smirk curling at the corners of his lips as his gaze swept over your body. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch you, yet he seemed equally torn, grappling with the worry that had gripped him when you had passed out in his arms.
You sniffled softly, your eyes darting anywhere but to him, your body tense and rigid as if your bones were locking into place. Instead of answering his question, you opted to redirect the conversation. “Do we know what caused the explosion?”
His expression was unreadable, and you noticed his jaw tick slightly as he processed your words. After a moment, he exhaled slowly, raising his hand to brush his knuckles gently across your arm. A shiver coursed through you at the contact, and you could see the corners of his lips curl slightly at your reaction. This time, he didn’t bother to hide himself from you.
“I did.”
“What?” Your voice came out louder than intended, earning a deep, rumbling chuckle from Sylus. He relaxed further into his chair, locking his carmine eyes onto yours with an intensity that sent your heart racing.
“What are you talking about, Sylus? When I came in there…” It was becoming increasingly difficult to mask the emotion in your voice. “When I came in, you had fainted. What would have happened to you if I hadn’t found you in time?”
Amusement danced freely in his eyes at your small outburst. You truly were exquisite in your concern. “You underestimate me too much, sweetie.”
“You’re the one underestimating your enemies, Sylus!” You raised your voice, your hands gesturing in disbelief. “Just because you’re the leader of Onychinus doesn’t mean they can’t get to you if you’re unconscious.”
“Burnt men can’t walk, kitten.”
A small gasp escaped your lips at the speed and bluntness of his response. His smugness only fueled your anger at his reckless behavior. Leaning down, you gripped the arms of his chair, effectively caging him in. You were about to respond when you suddenly realized the position you had put yourself in. It gave him a full view of your breasts, the fabric of your nightgown flowing away from your skin and leaving little to the imagination.
Your ears and cheeks burned a deep crimson as you tried to pull away just as quickly as you'd leaned down. However, Sylus’s arm had already wrapped around your waist, anchoring you in place and pulling you impossibly closer. Your breath hitched when you noticed the way his pupils had dilated, his lips parting slightly as he fixated on your slowly hardening nipples.
“Sylus…” Your voice was barely a whisper now, heat pooling in your core under his intense gaze.
Finally, Sylus’s eyes met yours, and he began to stroke your back slowly, his tone low as if he feared shattering the delicate bubble that enveloped you both. “The explosion; It was my plan all along. Why else would I want you out and away from the building, sweetie?”
A frown crossed your face at his admission. Despite your initial shock, your body grew more compliant under his gentle strokes as he pulled you in, guiding you to straddle his thigh. His red irises darkened just a bit when your pulsing core made contact with his jeans and you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks at the realization that he could probably feel just how wet you were.
Yet, he continued speaking, his voice smooth and steady. “Tonight had no other way of going. It was necessary and inevitable.”
“But why?” Your eyes had softened since you’d first entered his room, and you found yourself relaxing more beneath his touch as he explained the events of the night.
“Because, kitten, tonight’s transaction was off the table the moment it was proposed by the other side, a few days back when I was still away."
By now, confusion began to cloud your understanding of Sylus’s motives. “But…” Your gaze drifted to his desk, where numerous files lay scattered. “Is this why you came back earlier? Tonight’s transaction was for that protocore you needed, Sylus. I thought nothing could screw this up for you. Weren’t you after it for years?”
Sylus let out a small scoff, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied your face intently. “You never asked me what the price of that protocore was, kitten.”
Curiosity piqued, you looked up at him again, instinctively leaning closer. Your breasts brushed against his chest, heightening the tension between you as if his answer were a secret he needed to share. “And what was the price?”
“You.”
Your eyes widened in shock, and a dark cloud crossed his features as he spoke. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, causing you to squirm on his thigh, which elicited a low grunt from him.
Your emotions were a chaotic mess, thoughts swirling together and leaving you breathless as you tried to process what he was implying. “So what you’re saying is…”
“The deal was off the table the moment they thought you were for sale.” Sylus’s leg bounced suddenly, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. Your hands instinctively flew out to clutch the fabric of his open shirt for stability. “I came back because I had to send a message.”
His voice dripped with malice as he continued to move his leg, sending shockwaves of sensation through your core as it ground against his thigh.
The pleasure mixed with confusion made you feel light-headed; even if you wanted to resist, your body had already betrayed you. There was no stopping your hips from chasing the friction, no way to quell the whimpers that escaped your lips. Sylus’s fingers curled tighter around the fabric of your nightgown at the sound.
As you continued to grind against him, he spoke with a dark intensity. “They had to know, kitten; Nobody lives to say they tried to bargain with what belongs to me.”
“I—I don’t belong to you,” you breathed out, unsure whether you were trying to lie to him or to yourself.
“Is this why you’re drenching my thigh, sweetie?” As if to emphasize his point, he bounced his knee again, causing it to press against your sensitive nerves with a force that made you moan involuntarily, your head falling to rest on his shoulder.
“You poor thing,” he cooed in your ear, his hand sliding to your lower back, urging you to grind down against him.
“Tonight—you put yourself in danger, Sylus.” You struggled to form coherent thoughts as you chased your orgasm on his thigh, your mind slowly turning to mush. “That was so stupid, even for you.” You finished your sentence with a moan, and Sylus groaned, instinctively moving his hips upward, his own hard-on seeking friction.
“Were you worried about me, kitten?” He dipped his head to your neck, his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses as he awaited your response, which never came. Sensing your hesitation to voice your concern, his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingertip pressing onto your throbbing clit, making you cry out. “Answer me.”
“I—yes. Yes, I was s'worried.” Your head fell back in bliss, granting him access to suck and nibble on your throat as your hips moved faster and harder. The tight coil in your belly was only a few movements away from bursting. “I thought I’d—”
“Go on.” Sylus urged, his fingers dancing over your clit as he bounced his knee in sync with your movements, relishing the way you were making a mess on him, your whole body heating under his touch.
“I thought I’d lost you.” The words escaped your lips just as your orgasm washed over you, making your vision go black and your entire body shake with its intensity. Sylus’s arms wrapped around you, caging you against his chest as he let you ride it out, offering the small comfort you sought after your confession.
When you finally came down from your high, you were breathless, panting, and a few tears had escaped your eyes. But he was there, holding you gently and running his fingers through your hair. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, sweetie.”
You pushed your head off his chest, your eyes meeting his soft red ones. Without thinking clearly, you reached out to cradle his face. The moment your fingertips made contact with his skin, his whole body visibly flinched, and just like his heartbeat, it felt like time had stopped.
Horrified and regretful, you realized you had let your emotions get the best of you and forgotten about your evol. You stood up from his lap, pressing your hands tightly against your chest, the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.
Just a few seconds. Just a few seconds, and he’ll wake up, like he always does, right? Doubts gnawed at you; he was so weak after tonight, but his evol would heal him. It had to.
Just when you were about to scream for help, Sylus’s chest began to rise and fall again. His eyes fluttered open, and relief flooded your entire being. Your shoulders slumped, and your body shook, even though he was alright. How could you have been so careless?
“Sweetie.” His voice was soft as he stood from his chair, towering over you. “Look at me.”
You tilted your head up hesitantly, your regrets gnawing at you for what you had just done. You tried to open your mouth to apologize, but no words came out; instead, his lips found yours, silencing any sound you might have made. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling gently to angle your head to the side and deepen the kiss until you thought you might faint from lack of breath.
This time, you made sure to keep your hands glued to your sides, not daring to touch him again. When he finally pulled away, you were both panting. He rested his forehead against yours and moved his hand to the back pocket of his pants, retrieving something.
You tilted your head to watch him unfold two pieces of leather gloves. He carefully took your wrist, drawing it toward him before placing the glove on your hand, then moved to the other to do the same. It was a temporary solution, one that frustrated you to no end, but you wouldn’t jeopardize his life just for a touch of his soft skin.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your thoughts crashing over you like a tsunami of negativity at the prospect of harming him. Your frustration only fueled your desperation, and you found yourself clawing at the remnants of his shirt, trying to pull him closer. “I need you, please, Sylus, ’m so sorry.”
Sylus groaned as he felt you tugging him nearer, his own hands finding refuge on your body, touching and caressing anywhere he could reach. “Are you sure, kitten? Once we start, I don’t know if I can hold back.” His voice was low and controlled, while your legs trembled with desire and need.
“Then don’t hold back. Give me everything you have. I can take it, Sylus.” You pressed kisses all over his exposed chest, making him gasp and thin his patience. In one swift motion, you found yourself lifted off the floor, your body cradled in one of his arms as he carried you toward his desk.
“You really know how to bring a man to his knees, sweetie.” He placed you gently on top of the desk, taking his position between your legs. Your lips connected again as his hands deftly worked to rid you of your clothes.
Once you were bare before him, he stepped back, his gaze roaming over your body like a starving man taking in a feast. “Breathtaking.”
He fell to his knees in front of you, throwing your legs over his shoulders with a force that sent you backward, your elbows bracing against the desk for balance. He was too impatient to tease; he dived right in, his tongue lapping at your folds with urgent fervor.
Your back arched immediately, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips as he worked his mouth on your cunt, devouring you as if you were his last meal. Your legs tightened around his head, the pleasure overwhelming, which only made him groan and feast on you harder.
His tongue plunged into your tight hole, sending shockwaves of sensation coursing through your body. You thought you could hold on a little longer, but when his large hand spread across your tummy, pressing down, you exploded in his mouth. Your vision went white as you drenched him, your thighs shaking violently around his head.
The realization of what you had done hit you when he pulled away, his chin and exposed chest glistening with droplets of your release. You shot your gloved hand to cover your mouth, your legs instinctively closing in embarrassment.
Yet, he looked even more exhilarated, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them apart as he positioned himself between them, his lips finding yours once more. “You’re going to do this again. And this time, you’re going to do it on my cock.”
He pushed you back, a firm hand on your chest as you lay spread out on top of his desk. Your eyes focused on his hands as they deftly undid his pants, pushing them down along with his briefs. The moment you saw his girthy cock—veiny and the tip angry and red for you—your mouth went dry.
You craved to satisfy him as he had satisfied you, but when you tried to sit up, his hand pressed you back down against the desk.
“Not tonight, sweetie. Right now, I just need to be inside you.”
Even though he spoke, he made no move to get on you, waiting for your consent first. You nodded, your eyes clouded with lust.
“Use your words, kitten. I need to hear you.” He was pumping his cock with his hand, his fingers barely wrapping around it. Standing before you in all his naked glory, he resembled a Greek statue, and your chest tightened at how wickedly beautiful he looked.
“Yes. Please, Sy, need you inside me.” Your voice came out breathless, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He wrapped an arm around your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the desk and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder to spread you open exactly as he desired.
He pushed the tip in at first, making you clench around him instinctively, as if trying to suck him deeper. An unsteady breath escaped him, and his body stuttered momentarily. You were killing him in the sweetest way. “So goddamn tight.”
Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he pushed further inside you, his grip on your thigh tightening the moment he was fully buried in you, his pelvis pressing against yours. You could feel him all the way up into your stomach, and your legs began to shake, even though he remained still.
His breathing had turned erratic, and the moment your hips squirmed forward, his other hand came down to keep you in place. “Shit, baby, don’t move. Give me a moment.”
You were a whimpering mess, sweat beading on your forehead from the anticipation. But the instant he started moving, your whole body unlocked, turning to pudding under his thrusts. He began with a slow, deliberate pace, his lips parting as small grunts escaped him, each thrust igniting the fire building within you.
The more you clenched down on his cock, the faster he moved, until the desk scraped against the marble floor. “Fuck, kitten. You’re squeezing me so tightly.” His voice was thick with lust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin only intensified the fire burning deep in your core. “Do you love my cock that much?”
Your mind had turned to mush, thoughts consumed by how he stretched you and filled you to the brim. You nodded uncontrollably, crying out every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Yes! I love it so much, Sy.”
“Good girl.” Sylus’s thrusts quickened as he heard your pretty sounds, the way your walls sucked him in making his thighs tremble slightly as he felt his release drawing near. “Such a good girl, so cock-hungry for me.”
“Ah— fuck.” Stars began to form behind your eyelids, your whole body rocking on the desk. If it weren’t for Sylus’s hands gripping your thighs, you would have slid right off and ended up on the floor from his relentless force. The desk shook violently from his pounding, and you were certain the whole house could hear you.
Sylus’s hand reached for your face, his thumb brushing against your lower lip before slipping past it to press down on your tongue, making you clench around his cock instinctively. “That’s it, sweetie,” he breathed, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in pleasure as your cunt hugged him tightly. “Give it to me; I can feel how close you are.”
You were indeed on the brink, your whole body burning and trembling under Sylus’s powerful thrusts. But what sent you over the edge was a sudden knock on the door, followed by Luke’s voice calling out to see if everything was alright.
The moment you realized you had been caught, and Luke could turn the doorknob at any second to find you spread for Sylus, his cock pressing against your cervix, you exploded. Your loud moans were partly muffled by the white-haired man's finger in your mouth. The pressure you applied around his cock as you climaxed made Sylus falter, his own orgasm crashing over him with a force he hadn’t anticipated.
His hot seed coated your walls, filling you to the brim and spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs as he continued to thrust, ensuring every last drop found its way inside. You were a crying, spent mess on his desk, while he tried to catch his breath, slowly lowering your leg back down from his shoulder.
Luke was long gone from outside the door, having heard enough to realize what was happening between you and Sylus.
You could only look up at him with a small shared chuckle before he leaned down to kiss your lips, his newfound gentleness contrasting sharply with the intensity of the moment. “I believe they received a lesson about eavesdropping now,” he murmured, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
#lnds#lnds sylus#love and deepspace#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#love and deep space#love and deepspace x reader#loveanddeepspace#lnds smut#love and deepspace mc#lads smut#sylus smut#sylus x reader#lads x reader#lads x you#lads x y/n#lads x mc#lnds x reader#love and deepspace smut#l&ds sylus#sylus#sylus fanfic
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Ghost Driver Chapter One
masterpost
Four hours passed with no news or contact: it was time to see what had happened to his date. Danny sighed and tried to be philosophical about it. “Starting shit with Gotham PD and Batman is sort of a step up from fighting with the US government,” he told himself. “That’s just one city and one guy.” He jammed his feet into sneakers, grimly determined to find Jay. “And I’m a sneaky dude,” he pumped himself up. “They might never know I exist!”
At least Batman didn’t kill guys, so Danny didn’t have to check the morgue. Not like that would get Jay out of a date! He had kissed the back of Danny’s hand. They absolutely had to meet up again.
So, yeah. He had to find the bastard. Presumably Batman had arrested him. He was going to give Jay shit for that.
His first tactic paid off: there was clearly a ton of stuff going on at the main police headquarters, including a prison transport van with a frankly ludicrous amount of armed guards on it. Danny squinted at it. “...Alla that, for Jason?” He cocked his head to the side. “Am I impressed, or…” He screwed his face up into a frown. He didn’t know how else to feel about it. Impressed it was.
He was actually sort of grateful for his timing. Danny hunkered down and avoided being sighted by any cops or Batman. The prison van took off, escorted by a convoy of four flashing police cars. Danny felt his eyebrows crawl up his face.
What the fuck, Jay. What did you do, Jay. This sucks, Jay.
There wasn’t any rush to follow it, given that it had the name of the prison written on it. Danny googled “arhham”, “arhham prison,” and learned that he had misread it and that also, it was not a prison.
“They need to invest in a graphic designer,” Danny kvetched. He went back to the car that Jay had said he could use. He continued not thinking about the registration and how it was probably stolen or something. “H and K don’t have to look alike. We could live in a better world.” He turned the engine on aggressively and smacked the wheel for emphasis. He put on directions to the asylum and some top 40s pop music channel. Charli XXL burst into the night air cheerfully.
He hit the gas.
He drove too fast. He would admit it. Danny indulged a bit on the way to the militarized treatment facility. It soothed his nerves to hook sharp corners and drift a bit, to go intangible and invisible for a couple of blocks to subtly blast though a red light at 120 mph.
“Cool,” Danny muttered. He dropped the invisibility and watched a driver startle. He snickered as he passed them on the left. Maybe it was a little mean, but it was harmless and frankly, it was important ghostly enrichment to give a little spook now and then. Speaking of which, he let blinding rings of light travel up and down his body to switch to Phantom. Danny Fenton definitely couldn’t get caught breaking into a building.
Arkham was extremely inconvenient. He left his car in the employee parking lot and floated around until he found the loading bay where the police transport van was currently unloading one dumbass.
Ugh. The shit he put up with. Danny groused to himself and bobbed in the air outside the building as he waited, watching through windows. Mist welled up in his lungs as he got close. Danny felt himself wake up, looking out for danger. Figures that a place like this was haunted.
They wheeled a stretcher into a cell. Danny kicked his feet and waited. People went in and out. Then the stretcher came out, empty. Everyone but Jay left.
He waited a while longer before slipping down the hallway and into the cell. He ghosted directly through the door to avoid any issues with locks or alarms and then stopped dead in his tracks.
“Oh,” Danny said, openly disappointed.
“Who is this?” purred the stranger. He had a weird habit of holding his eyes just a little too open. Looked like they were getting dry and itchy, they were red. To be fair, maybe they were irritated by the makeup the guy had on.
“Nothing, sorry for barging in,” Danny sighed. He raked his hand through his hair. “Sorry to bother you, dude.” He indicated the whole set up going on with a straightjacket and a chair with leather straps. “Seems like you are already busy. I thought you were my date.”
“I could be.”
Danny laughed. Then he blinked. “Oh, you’re serious. Sorry, you’re too old for me.” Now that he was really paying attention to the guy, there was something wrong about him. Not just the eye thing— something about the way he moved registered him as a possible threat. He wasn’t a ghost. Right? There was something about him that was familiar…
“Oh, I don’t suppose you were looking for Batsy.” The stranger came off weirdly coy. “No, no, he’s old too, to a whippersnapper like you. Oh.” He sounded delighted. “I know! I know!” He burst out into laughter.
“Uh…” Danny tried not to let how weirded out he was onto his face. “You alright, my guy?”
“Joker,” he said, suddenly serious. “I’m not your guy, boyo. Why, if my hands were free I would teach you some respect for your elders. Take you over my knee for a spanking like I gave your pretty boy date!” He laughed again, pitch getting higher and higher with each ha, ha, ha.
“...I don’t think you could do that.” Danny snorted. His hackles were up. He inserted a little more disdain into his tone. Man, what a creep. “He’s twice your size.” He started trying to rationalize this bizarro conversation away.
‘He’s probably lying, right? Or imagining things. He’s in that restraint for a reason. On the other hand… he’s probably genuinely dangerous to the average human. He wouldn’t be locked up like this if he wasn’t violent.’
“Oh, he grew up big,” Joker agreed. “Which is a shocker, after the spanking I gave him when he was this high!” He jerked as if he was trying to indicate a height with an arm. He was still bound. It could have been funny, but something was starting to read as seriously malicious.
“...Are you seriously telling me right now that you predated on my date when he was a kid?” Danny asked. It… Well, fuck, it was motivation for Jay to do something that involved this guy and Batman. Danny didn’t know Jay that well, but he could identify a motherfucker who liked tragic irony at a dozen paces.
‘I think this might be real. And I’m not imagining this: I think this motherfucker is in my jurisdiction. I don’t know what he is, but he is undeathly as hell.’
Joker blew a raspberry. “Poor dead little Jason Wayne,” he crooned. The hairs stood up on the back of Danny’s neck. He didn’t know that last name, but the first one matched. “All he wants is Daddy to love him, you know?” The sugary tone he used was outright gross. “If Daddy Bats really cared, surely he’d get rid of the things that go bump in the night!” He let his expression drop, blank. Then slowly a rictus smile spread over his face. “But he won’t.”
“...Right.” Danny stared. “And you don’t know where he went, right?” He checked.
‘He’s a creep for sure. I don’t like him being this close to Jason. Why was he out today? And why is he on full name terms before me? I don’t think Jason like, told him that personal information.’
Joker giggled. “No, I’m afraid I don’t know what hole he crawled into”, he crooned. “But when I get out of here again- and I will, I always do!— I’ll be sure to toss a nice little grenade into it.”
“Huh.” Danny frowned. Not very helpful. But the bragging that he always got out…. It didn’t sit well with him. And no wonder. If Joker was some flavor of undead, a regular human facility might never be able to hold him long term.
After a moment’s deliberation Danny dug his phone out of his pocket and turned away for some privacy.
“Excuse me?” said the Joker.
Danny did the ‘quiet’ gesture with a finger to his lips. “Shh.” He hit two on his speed dial and kicked his toes against the floor as he waited for the call to connect.
“Hi, sweetie!” Mom gushed as soon as sound came across. “How are you, everything ok?”
“Yeah, hi Mom.” Danny went up onto his toes and bounced a few times. “Could you turn the portal on and poke your head in? I need to talk to Wulf.”
“Oh- yes, of course. Just a minute,” she sang out. Machinery roared so loudly that he winced and pulled the phone away from his face.
“Is that really your Mummy?” said the Joker loudly, because he was rude and couldn’t tolerate ceding conversational ground for a minute, jeeze.
Danny ignored him. “Actually if you could tell him that I’m hoping he could help me take… take out a…” he glanced at Joker. “A themed villain, I guess. He needs to go somewhere safer than the locals can manage.”
“Oh, that would be good enrichment for Mr. Walker,” Mom said generously. The sound quality changed as she put him on speakerphone.
“Fuck the police,” Danny said reflexively. “But I was thinking, like…” He frowned.
There were a lot of options. He could literally just toss the dude into the Ghost Zone and come back for him later without fear he would keep getting out. But it might be really annoying to hunt him down if he like, wandered around.
Oh. Hunt.
“Skulker!” Danny said brightly. “This would be really good enrichment for Skulker.” He could take the guy over to Skulker’s lair and let him play catch and release. Skulker loved those games.
“I’ll pass on the message.” The portal unlocked on the other end of the call, an unmistakable sound. “Bye, honey!”
Danny hung up and put the phone back in his pocket. He turned around to see the Joker was trying to wriggle out of his restraints. Was that possible? Probably, he decided. The guy kept getting out of here. He pursed his lips. “You’re safer from me if you stay in there,” he decided to warn.
Joker let out a hysterical cackle.
It went on too long.
Like, it went on and on. Danny crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, lifting his eyebrows as he waited for it to end. Jeeze.
“You’re funny,” Joker said. He licked his lips. It was uncomfortably loud in the cell. “A real jokester. A guy could get a little offended, you know? You’re stealing my schtick. Just like your little sweetie, come to think of it. I didn’t bring you together, did I?”
Danny rolled his eyes. “No, you gigantic loser. I’ve never even heard of you.” He ignored the affronted silence that garnered and opened up a gaming app to kill time.
‘I need to get Wulf a phone somehow,’ Danny thought idly. He matched two chocolate donuts and they disappeared in a cloud of sprinkles.
“Hey. I am talking to you.”
Danny gave Joker a thumbs down without bothering to look at him.
He stepped to the left. Then he shoved his phone back in his pocket and looked up in time for the ripple of interdimensional energy to coalescence into a vivid tear in the fabric of the universe.
Wulf bounded into sight and snatched him up in a hug. “Mia amiko!” (My friend!)
Danny hugged back hard enough to crack Wulf’s back and picked him up off the floor. “Amikinoooo,” he crooned. (Bestieeeeee)
Wulf kicked playfully at him. He caught himself with a scuttle of claws on the floor when Danny let go. “Mia panjo diris nenion embarasan, ĉu ne?” (My Mom didn't say anything embarrassing, did she?) It was mostly a formality. Of course Mom had done something embarrassing.
“ŝi montris al mi la bildojn, kiuj pruvas, ke vi rifuzis blovi vian nazon ĉe Disneyland kiam vi estis sep, ĉar vi sentis, ke ĝi estas embarasa.” Wulf grinned back. (“She showed me the pictures that prove you refused to blow your nose at Disneyland when you were seven because you felt it was embarrassing.”)
Danny sighed. “Why does she take those photos everywhere she goes?” He groused. Then he pushed his hair back off of his face and decided to ask if Wulf wanted a phone, before he forgot about it. “ĉu vi ŝatus havi poŝtelefonon?” (Do you want a phone?)
Wulf brightened. “Jes.” He shook out his ruff. “mi uzus ĝin por verki retmesaĝojn kaj fari Linkedin-konton.” (Yes, I would use it to write emails and create a Linkedin account.)
Danny opened his mouth to ask why Wulf wanted to have a Linked -In account. Then he shut it and nodded. Great. He’d try to get Wulf a phone, then. For his emails. Were you supposed to email on a phone? Was Danny using his phone wrong?
“Či tiu viro estas tre malbonodora.” Wulf gestured at Joker. (This man is very smelly.)
“Hey!” Joker said loudly. “I resent that remark, you know. I do not smell of anything except flowers. Daisies. Roses.”
“Jes, malbonodora,” Danny agreed. (Yeah, stinky.) He didn’t smell whatever Wulf did, but he was willing to assume the other guy was right. “Li estas fripono. Mi pensas, ke li vundis mian amikon.” ("He's a creep. I think he hurt my friend.")
Wulf growled.
Joker shut up for once. Danny shot him a little smirk. Wulf had no chill. He was a good bro like that. If Joker really had hurt one of Danny’s friends, then Wulf was gonna be his opp for life.
“Kion ni faru? eble ni povus peti Desiree certigi ke li neniam vundas mortonton denove.” Wulf struck a contemplative pose, claws stroking at his jawline. ("What should we do? Maybe we could ask Desiree to make sure he never hurts a mortal again.")
Danny nearly choked. Get help from Desiree? Like, make a wish that Joker would be incapable of hurting people again? Danny burst out into giggles. It seemed a little extreme. “Ne, ne,” he demurred. “Mi pensis doni lin al Skulker.” (No, no. I was thinking about giving him to Skulker.)
Wulf laughed. “Jes,” he agreed. “Tio estos amuza.” (Yes, that is funny.)
Danny gave him double thumbs up. “Mi vere dankus helpon pri transportado. Mi nuntempe rompas kaj eniras.” ("I would really appreciate some help with transportation. I'm currently breaking and entering.") He tried not to look too sheepish at that last bit, but it was relevant. Since he wasn’t supposed to be here, he really should keep a hustle on.
His friend tossed off a crisp salute. Wulf picked Joker up with one hand and leapt back through the portal while Joker was still saying, “What?”
“Neat,” Danny said, alone in a mental health treatment cell that looked a lot like a high security prison. He glanced up at the camera that had probably recorded his whole visit. Had there been enough ecto to ruin the feed? He didn’t know, and it was too late now. “Hmm.” He let his eyes glow green. They’d reflect light like a cat’s would. Then he went invisible.
If his ecto hadn’t shifted out the camera, that would at least give anyone who saw it the creeps. Danny snickered to himself as he tiptoed out of the not-prison to regroup.
That had been a total deadend. But it meant that Jay probably hadn’t gotten arrested.
Optimistically, he got out his phone to check if Jay had responded to his “You alive?” message. No dice. Blegh.
So. Batman. Danny grimaced. He had to talk to Batman. Right? Was there anything else? Not that Danny could think of.
Danny shuddered, feeling a bad case of the creepy eepies walking up his back. He still wanted to avoid Batman like he avoided parvo. But that ship had sailed, right? Batman knew who he was and where he lived. So he might as well meet the guy to get his information. “He’s probably chill,” Danny lied to himself. “And hey, he might be happy that I helped him out with Joker. Maybe he’ll be in a good mood.”
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Letters in Green Ink: Phantom's Footsteps on Gotham's Rooftops
Tim Drake was no stranger to paranoia. It was practically a job requirement in Gotham. But this? This was getting weird.
It started small: the feeling of being watched on rooftops, a shadow a little too close. Harmless, at first. But then the sticky notes began.
Random, anonymous sticky notes. Clues he’d missed. Addresses for gang hideouts. Details on corrupt businessmen.
He found one on his motorcycle seat. Another on the Batcomputer. A bright green note scrawled with:
“Check the docks. Midnight.”
Tim had learned to trust his gut, and his gut was screaming: This is not normal.
---------------
Meanwhile, in another corner of Gotham:
Danny Fenton was hovering invisibly above a warehouse, nervously biting his lip. He was shaking. Not because he was scared of Gotham’s criminals. Nope. The real danger? Red Robin’s eyes.
Danny: internal screaming 'Why did I think this was a good idea?'
Also Danny: hovering invisibly above Tim, whispering to himself: “Okay, Danny. You’re helping. You’re useful. He doesn’t need to know you’re a stalker. A cool stalker. Like a… guardian angel! Yes. Totally fine. Not creepy at all.”
---------------
Tim, mid-stakeout, could feel the eyes. Again. He spun around, batarang ready. Nothing. Just empty shadows. The wind.
He scowled. “Alright, whoever you are. You’re getting annoying.”
---------------
Danny floated a few rooftops away, clutching his chest. “Oh my god, he spoke. And he’s mad. Why is that hot?”
He watched as Red Robin took down three thugs single-handedly. His fighting was brutal, efficient. Danny, invisible and swooning, whispered: “He’s so cool.”
---------------
The next night: a bust gone sideways. Tim found himself cornered by more goons than expected, already calculating the least-bad injury. Then, out of nowhere, a ghostly chill swept through the alley.
Blowtorch thug? Frozen solid.
Gunman? Knocked out cold.
And there, floating in the moonlight, glowing white hair and intense green eyes: Phantom.
Tim’s eyes narrowed. “You. You’re the one who’s been—”
Phantom blinked, stammered, “Uh, gotta go!” and vanished like a startled deer.
---------------
Back in his lair (aka an abandoned Gotham clocktower because aesthetic™️), Danny spiraled. “He saw me. He saw me! Oh god, why did I freeze that guy? Cool guys don’t freeze goons.”
Jazz’s voice in his head: “Danny, you have to stop.”
Danny: “I CAN’T, JAZZ. HE’S TOO PRETTY.”
---------------
Tim was in full detective mode. Batman-level scowling. “Phantom. Ghost powers. Clearly interested in my cases. Why?”
He scanned the city. Ran searches. No results.
But the sticky notes kept coming.
“Check the East End warehouse. 10pm.”
“Watch out for the armored guy. He has backup.”
Tim didn’t know what was more frustrating: the lack of information, or the fact that Phantom was always right.
---------------
Finally, one night, Tim cornered him. Literally. Phantom turned a corner and smacked into Red Robin. Hard.
Tim crossed his arms. “Alright. Talk.”
Danny, blushing so hard his glow flickered. “Uh… hi.”
Tim narrowed his eyes. “Why are you following me?”
Danny, brain short-circuiting: “I LIKE YOUR… uh, CAPE.”
Tim blinked. “My cape.”
Danny nodded furiously. “It’s… cool. Flowy.”
Tim stared. Silence stretched. Then: “You’re helping me.”
Danny swallowed. “Um. Yeah?”
Tim’s voice softened. “Why?”
Danny, panicking, blurted: “Because I like you!”
---------------
Silence.
Tim’s brain: Error 404.
Danny: contemplating phasing into the floor.
Finally, Tim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You… are the most chaotic stalker I’ve ever had.”
Danny, grinning nervously: “So, um. Friends?”
Tim raised an eyebrow. “We’ll start with coworkers.”
---------------
Danny, flying away, fist-pumping in the air: “He didn’t say no!”
Tim, watching him go, muttering: “I need coffee. And maybe an exorcist.”
#tim drake#danny phantom#brain dead#dead tired#danny fenton#dc x dp#Danny has a crush on red robin and the only way he can express it is by taking care of him#this means he stalks red robin on all his patroles and makes sure he's always safe#tim is extremely paranoid at first but then he meets phantom and fuck is he pretty#how could such a pretty boy like him? phantom looks like he was sculpted by the gods and he cares so much for tim and looks out for him and#fuck he's already crushing on the guy isn't he? oh well#can you really blame him?
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stuck with you
Bucky x Reader au
Run-through: Alone, cold, and stranded in the middle of a small town on top of a mountain. Not the most ideal situation to be in when the weather starts getting bad. No motels or inns have room for you so the locals suggest you reach out to a man named Bucky Barnes for shelter. Apparently, Bucky is known to always help stranded people, or lost hikers. No matter how weird it feels to drive up to a stranger’s house and ask for help, you have on other choice but to do just that. The plan was simple: stay with the strange, kind man for a couple of days until the snowstorm passes. But then you meet him and you find yourself unable to stick to the plan.
Themes: age gap (reader is in her twenties, Bucky is in his early forties), strangers-to-lovers ish, smut, slight degrading kink, fluff
It felt like the start of a horror movie.
Unknown town, unknown people. You cursed yourself as you walked out of yet another motel who had no room left for you.
What the hell were you thinking? After uni, you thought travelling the world on your own would help you with learning the right lessons, having the right experiences, and all that before you joined the family business and began working with your parents for the rest of your life.
Instead of having fun though, here you were. Stuck on top of an icy mountain, in a small town, and nowhere to sleep for the night. With the snowstorm approaching, you had to find shelter quickly. But none of these motels or inns were free. Every hiker, skier, and tourist had already booked ahead of you apparently.
“Uh, miss?” A voice called from behind you right as you were about to step outside into the cold evening.
You turned to look and it was the owner of the motel. The same man who had just turned you down because he had no space left to accommodate you. He looked apologetic as he approached you.
“Hi.” You said, then patted your pockets quickly, “Did I forget anything on the counter?”
“No.” The man smiled and shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry you can’t stay. But snowstorms in this area can be dangerous and deadly, and you wouldn’t survive the night if you slept in your car.” He pointed at the rented jeep you had parked right outside the motel. “But there’s a man who can help. His name’s Bucky. Bucky Barnes. He often helps out stranded hikers and stuff, and I already called him and asked if he had room and he said yes.”
The motel owner proceeded to give you details about Bucky and how to get to his house. From what you’d just learnt, Bucky Barnes was a business mogul who preferred seclusion. He was wealthy, and lived alone in his luxurious cabin that, rumour has it, he built himself. He was in his early forties and had people running his businesses for him all over the world. He moved to this small town after living in lavish cities his entire life. He owned acres upon acres of land, so he was also the local lumberjack and spent his time manually taking down trees whenever anyone needed wood.
“Don’t worry, miss,” The motel owner reassured you, with a kind smile. “Mr. Barnes is a nice guy. Everyone around here knows him. Just follow the directions I gave you and you’ll find his house not too far from here. It’s a wooden behemoth right on the edge of the forest.”
When you got back in your car, the first thing you did was google the man really quickly. And the headlines, as you scrolled and read them, made your eyes widen a little each time. They were all basically just about what the motel owner already told you. But you needed to make sure it was all real.
It was. Bucky Barnes was indeed a filthy rich business mogul who chose to come live all the way up here to get away from busy cities and journalists who always followed him around for quotes to put into their articles.
And then, you began searching for pictures of this man. Your heart skipped a beat upon finding them. Pictures of him at fancy dinner parties, galas, charity events. Pictures of him shaking hands and clinking glasses with famous faces. Pictures of him on business magazine covers.
Pretty blue eyes, handsome face, and a kind smile. You noted the crinkles by his eyes whenever he smiled or laughed in pictures. Whenever he was photographed with a group of people, everyone seemed charmed by him. He seemed tall too. Oh well, safe to say the man was drop dead gorgeous.
What if he was a serial killer and the people in this town directed victims to his house like he was some kind of twisted leader of this town?
You cringed at the exaggerated thought, shaking your head.
Usually you weren’t one to trust strangers quickly but it was getting darker, the wind was beginning to howl and the cold was making you shiver even beneath all the layers you were wearing. The snowstorm was expected to last at least three days, so it was either trust a stranger for a few days or die.
—
You stopped your car in front of what the motel owner called a ‘wooden behemoth right on the edge of the forest’. And he was right.
The luxurious log home was situated higher up on the mountain, looking over the small town. Surrounded by towering trees, mainly pine, and the area around the house was foggier than the rest of the town. It would’ve seemed eerie if it weren’t for the warm, golden lights coming from inside the house.
The house was indeed massive, with intricate carvings on the huge front doors. The roof was covered with dark, polished slate, and what gave the home a more contemporary touch were the large, floor-to-ceiling windows. It looked like the perfect place for someone who sought seclusion and comfort.
Or a murderer, your brain added. You hissed at the thought, shoving it away as you got out of your jeep. It was beginning to drizzle, the wind howling louder than earlier. You walked up the front porch and knocked on the large doors.
Before you could check out the porch, you heard loud footsteps approaching. Then, the front door opened. And on the other side stood a handsome man, slightly different from how he looked in the photographs you’d found online, but just as gorgeous. Well, the photographs were all taken from years ago so it made sense that he looked different. Bucky Barnes hadn’t been photographed ever since he moved here, according to the articles, and it was a shame because he was truly a work of art.
“Hey,” He said with a deep, confident voice. “You must be the girl I just received a call about from the motel.” He opened the door wider. And for a couple of seconds, you didn’t move.
You were frozen in place. He was… too pretty. That same handsome face as in the photographs, except he had more facial hair now. And longer hair. So long in fact that he had to put it all up in a messy bun on top of his head. A few strands escaped the bun and fell on either side of his face, making him look beautiful in a rugged way.
You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander for just a second. He was just as tall as you imagine, but slightly more muscular than he seemed in the pictures. The white t-shirt he was wearing clung to him like a second skin, the jeans clung to his thighs in a way that should be illegal.
You quickly looked up and cleared your throat before you got caught ogling. “Um, hi Mr. Barnes. I’m sorry for–,”
He cut you off politely, “There’s no need to apologise,” He signalled for you to come in. And as you walked into his home he said, “And please, call me Bucky.”
You smiled at him as you stood near the entrance, waiting for him to shut the door. When he turned to you, he asked for your name and asked what you were doing here. While you answered, he led you further into the magnificent house.
If you thought it was beautiful from the outside, the interior was absolutely breathtaking. Spacious, with high ceilings. Most things inside were wooden, except for the rugs and the plush sofas. It was an open concept, and you could see the more farm-style kitchen from the living room area and it was just as pretty as the rest of the house. The more you looked around, the more you fell in love with the interior. Elegant curved staircase which led upstairs, massive fireplace, accents of stone and metals everywhere. It looked like a lot of thought went into building this home.
“This looks like a dream.” You commented, standing in the middle of the living room and taking it all in. The owner looks like a dream too. You sighed at the sound of your inner thoughts. It was true.
Bucky smiled, looking proud. “It took some years to build but…” He sighed, “It’s worth it.”
You smiled at him, noticing the crinkles by his eyes as he smiled. Fuck, this man was beautiful.
“Give me your keys, I’ll bring your bags in, then I can show you to your room.” He extended his hand out, waiting for you to drop your keys into his palm.
“Oh.” Your face got all hot when you realised you’d just walked into his home empty handed. You’d forgotten your bags in the jeep. “I can go get it, it’s–,”
“No, I’ll get it,” He cut you off again, stepped closer and took the keys from your hand. “It’s getting bad out there.” Then he walked away.
And you shamelessly watched him leave. His back muscles moved and shifted under the tight shirt as he walked and you felt a shiver travel down your spine. Think about how those warm, hard muscles would feel under your fingertips…
Shit. This man was being kind to you and here you were being a pervert.
–
Bucky brought your bags in, all four of them. Carried them through the front door like they weren’t heavy at all. Well, he cuts down trees for fun so maybe he’s used to carrying heavier things.
He showed you to one of the many guest bedrooms he had. And the room was just as beautiful and perfect as the rest of the home. King-sized bed, large chest drawer, private bathroom which was fully stocked with toiletries. Large windows, and a small balcony which overlooked the dense forest outside.
“Well then, I’ll leave you to unpack and make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so. See you downstairs.” He left with yet another smile which made your heart skip a beat.
–
You found yourself making your way downstairs after a long, warm shower. You wanted to unpack after your shower but then the smell of dinner cooking forced you out of the room. You followed the delicious scent of what seemed like pasta sauce, sniffing the air quietly until you made your way into the gorgeous kitchen. With an even more gorgeous man in it.
“There you are,” Bucky smiled at you as you approached the large kitchen island which was also the dining table. “Everything okay with your room?” He asked, stirring some kind of sauce in a pan before resuming chopping some other thing. He looked so comfortable in his kitchen, it was endearing.
“Yeah, everything’s good.” You answered, lingering by the kitchen counter awkwardly, “You need help with something?”
“Sure, if you want.” Bucky nodded and pointed at the other side of the kitchen with his knife, and said, “Can you be a doll and grab us a red wine from the cellar?”
You froze for a quick second at the sound of ‘doll’. It was sweet, but the way it sounded from his deep, smooth voice… you cleared your throat again before your thoughts got inappropriate, turning around and heading for the cellar because of course he had a wine cellar.
After grabbing what you hoped was a nice wine, you made your way back to the kitchen and found Bucky plating pasta into two plates. He had a slight frown on his face as he focused on the plates. If there was anything you had noticed about Bucky it was that he was very detail oriented.
Bucky’s frown disappeared the moment he looked up from the plates and saw you standing there. “Hope you like pasta and cheese.” He winked with a maddeningly handsome smile.
“I do.” You smiled back, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as you handed him the wax sealed bottle of wine. For a brief moment, his hand brushed against yours and you could’ve sworn it felt like you’d been electrocuted.
A strange shiver danced down your spine as you took a seat at the table and watched Bucky break the seal, uncork the bottle and pour it into two glasses before pouring the rest into a large decanter.
All that wood chopping did him good. The man was muscular in all the right places. But his hands… oh his hands. Large, veiny. Imagine those hands all over–
“So, tell me about yourself.” He said, taking a seat across from you. “And what are you doing on this icy mountain?”
The conversation flowed perfectly. You told Bucky about how you were travelling to all the places you wanted to see before you moved back home, and he told you all about his life here. He said he liked the peace and quiet. Even the snowstorms, he grew to love them.
By the time your plates and the decanter were empty, the two of you were laughing and exchanging life stories like you were old friends catching up.
“So wait,” You chuckled, “You built this entire place out of spite?”
Bucky nodded, laughing as well. “Well, I guess. My friend Sam came to visit when I told him I bought some land out here and he said ‘Well what are you gonna do here, Buck? You can’t just build a house in the middle of nowhere and become a lumberjack providing wood to the locals.’ and I thought, ‘Wait, that’s not a bad idea’, then I did exactly what Sam said.”
You laughed, the wine made everything funnier. Bucky’s cheeks were now pink, his lips stained due to the wine and you couldn’t look away from him. Fuck, he really was gorgeous. He must have changed before dinner because he was no longer wearing that tight white shirt. He was wearing loose, beige coloured loungewear and looked just as mouth-watering. His hair was just as messy, but made him look effortlessly handsome.
You eye-fucked him so more before realising that he was checking you out too, and neither of you had said a word for the past minute or two. But it wasn’t awkward. His blue eyes stared into yours and you were suddenly too aware of the thick tension in the air.
The way he licked his lips, the way he toyed with the stem of his wine glass, the way his hand–
Bucky cleared his throat and looked away first. You tried to blink away the tension too but it remained. Then Bucky asked, “So, you have a boyfriend or something waiting for you at home?” He gave you a playful smirk.
Oh?
You shook your head, “Nope. What about you? You came all the way here to live in seclusion, are you running from an ex or something?”
Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that.”
That tension came back again, filling the air like smoke. You couldn’t ignore it. Neither could he, given how he fidgeted in his seat.
This is wrong. Isn’t it?
He was being kind enough to offer you shelter and you were being inappropriate. So before you did something you might regret, you said, “It’s late. I should head to bed. I drove all day and…” You trailed off, looking away and avoiding his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah of course.” He said quickly, getting up from his seat. He went to reach for your plate but you grabbed it first.
“Oh I’ll load up the dishwasher, don’t worry.” You moved before he could stop you, grabbing your plate and then his. Then the wine glasses and everything else.
You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you carefully arranged everything in the rack before turning it on. You washed your hands, and wiped it on a tea towel while turning to leave but Bucky’s heated stare stopped you.
There he was, leaning against the kitchen island and looking even more yummy than the dinner he made. You were glad you had the tea towel in your hands otherwise you wouldn’t know what to do.
Luckily Bucky spoke up first, “If I had known you were coming I would’ve made dessert.”
Such a simple sentence yet it sounded like he’d whispered some dirty, filthy secret in your ear the way your body came alive. You refrained from clenching your thighs together. His voice was lower, deeper but just as smooth and it was driving you crazy just imagining how this man must sound in bed.
And now you were jealous of all the people who had had the chance of hearing what he sounded like, moaning and grunting, whispering out of breath… fuck.
“Uh…” You struggled to find your words, now that the image of him naked in bed wouldn’t leave your head, “That’s alright. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth anyway.”
You didn’t know when you moved, but you found yourself standing closer to Bucky now. He turned to face you completely and there were mere inches between your bodies. You felt… hot. Maybe it was the wine, but you were almost certain it was because of the way Bucky looked at you. Like he’d devour you if he could. You had sensed tension between you and other people before, but it had never been this strong.
“Shame,” He muttered under his breath, his hand coming up to gently touch your face. “I happen to like something sweet before bed.” His voice dropped to a whisper.
All you could focus on was the way he was touching your face. Gently, like you were made of glass. His hand was warm, but rough. You let out a shaky breath as you wondered how his rough hands would feel all over you–
“Go to bed.” He said in a voice that made you tingle all over. He didn’t let go of your face. His thumb caressing your cheek, and his eyes staring into your soul.
You blinked, wondering if you misheard. “What?” You asked softly, leaning into his touch subtly, obviously not wanting to move.
“Go to bed, doll.” He repeated, still not letting go of your face.
You frowned slightly, “But–,”
He cut you off by placing a gentle finger over your lips. His eyes couldn’t look away from where his finger touched your mouth. He leaned in a little, then said, “We shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” You asked, lips brushing against his finger as you spoke.
He gave you a soft smile and said, “I should be a good host, not seduce you.”
You shrugged, “Well I’m nice and seduced, now what do we do?”
He chuckled, leaning in until his nose brushed against the side of your neck. His simple touches were driving you crazy.
“You know what happens when there’s a snowstorm in this town, doll? It lasts for days,” He whispered, lazily kissing your neck. “And by the time that’s over, the roads are completely blocked. And this is a small town so it takes a while before the roads are functional again.”
Your heart fluttered, your body felt too hot and yet you shivered. You gently pulled away to look at him. “So you’re saying I’m stuck with you here for days?” You couldn’t help the smirk on your face.
He caught the hopeful tone in your voice. Bucky nodded. “And if I touch you right now,” He whispered, cupping your face in his large, rough hands, “I’m not sure I’ll let you leave my bed at all for the next coming days.”
It was risky because as beautiful as he was, you didn’t know Bucky. But you had never wanted someone this much before. This felt like a new kind of longing and need. You didn’t care what was right, ethical, or risky. “Then don’t.”
That did it.
Bucky stopped thinking why he shouldn’t and instead pressed his lips to yours, kissing you like he was tasting his favourite dessert. His tongue easing your own as he tasted you leisurely. “We’re sure about this?” He asked, breathlessly.
“Yes,” You whispered against his mouth, gasping as his hands trailed up and down your body, sliding under your sweater and fondling your breasts. “We are.”
Bucky smiled into the kiss, then spoke again. “Aren’t I too old for you, doll?”
You chuckled, your own hands wandering and sliding up and down his muscular back. You wanted nothing more than to just take off that comfy hoodie he was wearing. “Oh, what’s a decade or two?” You murmured.
Bucky’s hands dropped down to your waist, caressing your skin, fingers threatening to slip past the waistband of your sweatpants. You had to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loudly. The storm was picking up outside and it would surely drown out all your cries, not that there were any neighbours to hear to begin with.
“Will you be good for me?” He whispered, kissing down your face as his fingers slowly dipped into your sweatpants. One hand held you at the waist while the other inched dangerously close to where you craved him the most.
His touch, his words, it was all too much. “I’ll be good,” You replied, your hands sliding under his hoodie to finally touch him, exploring and curious. His body was incredible to the touch, hard muscles and warm skin.
He finally slipped his hand into your underwear, hissing as he found you dripping wet. He chuckled against your skin as he kissed and licked your throat, “How long have you been this wet, doll?” He asked, sounding cocky.
You gasped when you felt him sliding a finger inside you, gently. “Since you opened the front door.” You answered honestly.
Bucky laughed, his warm breath tickling your ear. “That long, huh? I’m sorry.” He cooed, “Let me take care of it for you.”
You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your mouth when you felt him slide another finger inside you, fucking you slowly with both now. Bucky kissed your neck, your face, your mouth. Licking and biting your skin as he pleased while he finger-fucked you until you were right on the edge.
“Get up here.” He murmured, pulling his fingers and hand away and pointed at the kitchen island.
You didn’t move immediately. Probably because your brain was all foggy from his kisses and his touch that it took a second for you to register and process his words.
Bucky smirked and repeated. “Come on. Take your clothes off and get up here.”
You did as he asked. Taking off your sweater and sweatpants, followed by your underwear and revealing your bare body. Bucky took a second, letting his fingers trail up and down your stomach and chest before he pointed at the island again.
“Up.”
You hopped on the edge with a giggle, hissing upon feeling the cold surface against your warm skin. Once sat on the edge, you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. Bucky smiled as he placed his hands on you again, your arms wrapping around his neck as you stared into his ocean blue eyes.
“Such a pretty doll,” He whispered, placing his hands on your thighs and spreading them further apart. He looked down at your wet folds, mindlessly dragging a finger up and down your slit, making you shiver all over again. “Now, lie down.” He said.
You wasted no time. You unwrapped your arms from around him and carefully laid down flat on your back, hissing at the cold again.
Bucky’s eyes trailed up and down your body, his hands caressing your skin. From your thighs, to your hips, to your breasts where he pinched your nipples, making you cry out again.
“Can I taste you, doll?” He asked, pulling your legs up to the edge and spreading your thighs as far apart as they would go. The island was high enough where he only had to bend down for his mouth to touch your heated skin. Lips brushing against your lower abdomen, he asked again, “Can I?”
Your brain was a mess. Yet you managed to mumble a firm, “Yes…”
With his mouth mere inches away from your throbbing clit, he said, “Keep your legs up just like that for me, okay?”
You nodded, looking down in between your legs as he leaned in and pressed his mouth against your wetness. He looked up immediately, holding your stare as he slid his tongue against, the roughness of his beard against your softness was driving you insane.
You held yourself up on your elbows as you watched him eat you out. The warmth of his mouth, the slow caress of his hands against your inner thighs, the intense look in his eyes as he tasted you. It made you feel like you were floating.
It was too much, it was not enough. You wanted him, you wanted more.
“You taste sweeter than any dessert, doll.” He whispered, kissing around your wet clit before sucking on it hard enough to make you come, your back arched off the surface, riding his face as you cried out in pleasure. “But it’s not enough.” He admitted, pulling away and kissing his way up your body. “Is it?”
You barely caught your breath, your heart racing as you laid there in front of him.
“Get down, and bend over for me.” He spoke in that enchanting voice of his which put you under his spell so easily.
You moved immediately this time. He was still fully dressed and you didn’t have a single article of clothing on and somehow that made you feel hotter.
You bent over the island in front of him, your front pressed against the edge. You placed your hands down and turned to look at him over your shoulder. You watched how he grabbed your hips and spread your legs, leaning closer to kiss up your spine.
“So beautiful,” He whispered against the back of your neck. “Now, are you gonna let me fuck you? Hmm? Are you gonna let me put both of us out of our misery, doll?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He pulled his hands away from you for a moment, lowering his trousers enough to free his cock. You wished you could see it properly. You wished you could kneel down in front of him and take him into your mouth and–
You gasped out loud when you felt the tip of his hard, warm cock pressing against you. Nothing mattered in that moment, not when he was gently rubbing his cock up and down your wet slit, parting your folds.
You squirmed against the hard surface under you, pushing back into him in need. “Please…” You whispered, desperate for him. You had never been this needy for a man before.
You braced yourself for his thrust, knowing it was coming.
Slowly, Bucky slid inside you, filling you up and stretching you out as he did. He let out a sigh of pleasure once he was seated deep inside you, gripping on your hips tightly as he gave you both a moment to get used to it.
You felt so full, like you’ve never been before. So full, you could barely form a coherent thought. All you knew was you wanted more.
You let out a quiet moan as he started fucking you gently.
“You feel so fucking good,” He hissed, “So warm and tight for me.” Bucky whispered, fucking into you with a pace that made you want to scream and shout because it felt so good.
Each time he filled you up, the tip of his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot and you moaned as your walls clenched around him.
“Poor little doll,” He cooed, “This will be your new routine for the next few days now. Just getting fucked, and caressed all the time while the storm rages on outside.”
His thrusts got harder. Your moans got louder. His words made you clench around him even more.
“Look at you,” He growled. “Pretty girl letting a older man she barely knows fuck her like she’s a needy little whore.” His voice was deeper, and as menacing as his words were his touch was just as soft and careful. His fingers circled your clit gently while he pounded into you from behind. “Would you bend over for any man, doll? Hmm? Whoever offered you shelter from the storm, is this how you’d repay him? By letting him fuck your needy little cunt?”
You couldn’t help but cry out, moaning in pleasure as his words took you higher. You did have a little bit of a degrading kink, who didn’t? But never had anyone ever hit the spot like Bucky did. And given how your wetness dripped down his fingers, he could tell.
Bucky chuckled darkly. “Does that turn you on, doll? Knowing that I can selfishly take from you now that you’re stuck here with me?” His other hand came up to grab you by the back of your neck as he whispered into your ear, fucking into you hard enough that your body slammed into the kitchen island with each thrust. “Does it turn you on knowing you’ll have to be my little slut for the next few days? That you’ll have to spread those legs for me and let me fuck you whenever I want to?”
“Yes…” You whimpered as he pounded deeper into you. You didn’t want him to stop. Ever.
He hissed into your ear, “Is that what you are now? My little slut?” He chuckled, rolling his hips in a way that had you whimpering and squirming in pleasure beneath him. “Well, what a perfect way of repaying me for my kindness, hmm?”
“Please, Bucky…” You whimpered.
Bucky hummed, kissing your warm skin, “I know, pretty girl. I know, it feels good, doesn’t it?”
His words made you feel feverish, and wild. Lust-drunk more than ever. You moaned as he sped up again, a familiar warmth taking over you, and a pressure building in between your hips.
You whined, “I’m gonna come.” You cried, and you were pretty sure you had tears streaming down your face.
“Come for me, then. Come all over my cock, doll.”
Your brain was a foggy mess after that. You came hard though, clenching around him violently as you did.
“Fuck… look at you,” He whispered, his cock pounding harder into you until he came as well, spilling all over your lower back as he panted in exhaustion. “You okay, doll?”
You nodded slowly, pressing your forehead down against the cool surface and catching your breath.
“Come on,” His voice was softer now as he pulled you up and held you against him. Your back to his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling your neck and leaving soft kisses all over your neck and the side of your face. “Let’s get you in bed, yeah?”
You asked in a shaky voice, “And then can we fuck again?”
Bucky chuckled, hugging you tightly before saying, “Yes we can, pretty girl.”
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes au#bucky x reader#bucky barnes imagine
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