#nico is absolutely down bad for will

[your-local-depressed-fangirl]

dearest followers

feast your eyes on some old solangelo fanfiction i’m re writing for valentines

Will had dragged Nico out of his dark cabin into the sunny strawberry fields of Camp Half-Blood. 

They were picking strawberries as a favor for Mr. D.

Nico wouldn't admit it but he was actually enjoying Spending time out in the sun with his boyfriend. They'd been dating for 1.5 months but Nico still hadn't told Will he loved him or kissed him on the lips. Nico was still trying to get over his internal homophobia he gained from his childhood in fascist Italy. What better way to finally be free from his past then to finally accept himself and the fact he is attracted to men by admitting to Will Solace that he was in love with him? Nico swallowed and spoke...

"Hey Will...?" Nico prompted.

"Mhm? Yes Nico?" Will asked smiling and wiping sweat off of his brow.

"Ti amo..." Nico whispered a slight light blush brushing his face. Y'know what? Nico thought to himself close enough.

Will smiled a little brighter and chuckled. "What does it mean? 'Ti amo'?" Will asked.

Nico blushed a little bit more. "Ehmmmm... um... Nothing Will." Nico said getting cold feet and not wanting to repeat himself.

Will looked down and continued picking strawberries. "Nico darlin'?" Will asked.

"Mhm Sunshine...?" Nico asked blushing at Will calling him 'Darlin''. 

Will smiled still picking strawberries and not making eye contact with Nico. "Ti amo anch'io." Will said looking up with dilated blue eyes, filled with love, at Nico.

Nico's knees buckled suddenly becoming weak almost causing Nico to fall over. Nico's face became as red as a Roma tomato with blush. "Parli italiano...?" Nico questioned.

"Si amore..." Will said, setting down the partially full basket of strawberries on the ground and grabbing a hold of Nico's hand, the BIGGEST smile on his face. 

Will gently pulled Nico into his embrace and Nico simply melted into Will's arms.

The two boys were basking in each other's embrace when suddenly Will seemed a bit sad.

"What's wrong Will." Nico asked.

"You said I love you first... I wanted to say it..." Will murmured.

Nico smiled a faint smile. "Well..." Nico swallowed and grabbed Will by the collar of his shirt yanking Will down to his level and kissing him to make Will feel a bit better.

Will melted into the kiss for a few seconds before they pulled apart, "Okay don't get me wrong I love you but I wanted to give the first kiss..." 

"Sounds like a you problem..."  Nico said smirking.

Will bent down and grabbed a strawberry and threw it a Nico's face and smushed a strawberry on Nico's mouth.

"What the hell?!" Nico questioned his lips now covered in strawberry juice.

"Sounds like a you problem..." Will said smirking. 

Nico glared at an unfazed Will.

Will kissed the strawberry juice off Nico's lips, "Yum." Will said casually before continuing to pick strawberries.

*END FIC*

I think I could make it fluffier…

And longer as well

[kastalani123]

Consider:

Leo Valdez was not born. Instead, two pairs of hands form him from bronze and steel and gold. His hair is copper wires so thin they bounce like natural curls, and his eyes glimmer with silver flakes. The joints of his body are plated so delicately, so perfectly, the segments are near indiscernible, smoothly gliding over each other. Faint traces of fingerprints and flecks of impurity are deliberately left behind for their uniqueness, a form of impossible signature of his creators.

Most importantly, gilded bars curl around each other in his chest, protecting the red-red-red flame that pushes his eyes open everyday, that beats in tune with his thoughts, that heats his body to expand and grow.

A metal child is not so different from a human one, and yet is so far from it at the same time. He is curious, about the world, about himself, and he picks apart toys and TV remotes and his arms, spilling their secrets before his constantly shifting eyes. He does not cry from fatigue or thirst or hunger, but a bump, a dent, a scratch never fail to draw tears. He splashes in the rain and snow, carefully bundled in waterproof coats and jackets, and runs from baths like he's possessed, fire flickering in fear.

The first time he meets someone like him, an endeavour he had long thought hopeless, it is a malfunctioning dragon others call for the death of; he is too unpredictable, too dangerous, too broken. Leo looks him in ever-shifting eyes glimmering with silver and sees himself if the cage in his chest ever bends, cracks, shatters, if the gears beneath his skin ever jam and stick and wear down irreversibly.

It is not golden flowers and godly aid that preserve him; just as he'd done for his twin-in-all-but-appearance, he creates a new body, with new fingerprints and impurities mapping his design. His hair is more bronze than copper, now, and his eyes more gold than brass. The plates of his joints scrape against each other faintly, and the gears of his bones grind together uncomfortably — he only had so much time, so much material to use, he could not polish every element of himself in the way he wished, but it holds together.

Most importantly, he reinforces the cage in his chest, coats it in layers upon layers of metal, to ensure his flame will not go out in the explosion, that Festus will be able to salvage it and lay it gently in the chest cavity carefully carved in his new body, bringing it to life.

He returns to Camp, movements more clunky and mechanical than should be, and his siblings finally pin down his segmented limbs, his shifting eyes, his clicking fidgeting. They are ecstatic, just as fascinated with him as they had been with Festus, and he lets them. He lets them take him apart, piece by piece, clean out the sand of Ogygia from his organs, polish and oil his gears until they glide against each other, press new fingerprints, new signatures of belonging, against his skin.

Most importantly, they craft him a secure, intricate cage, with golden flames licking up the bars, with delicate chains shielding it from the elements, and his flame settles inside it, flickering happily, finally truly, truly comfortable in the cage of his body.

Leo Valdez may not have been born, but he was crafted with the most loving hands imaginable, and is that not so much better, for a son of the Craftsman?

[rosesradio]

.

[formulawolff]

“well that’s too bad” — k.r.

pairing -> kimi räikkönen x dcc!reader

word count -> {typed this one on my phone}

warnings -> banter, lots of flirting, some sexual innuendos, kimi being protective, the grid being a bunch of goofballs/down bad, some cursing, light pda

a/n -> this is a request based off of this ask! anon, i love you and thank you for sending in an ask so that i could write about one of my favorite drivers (can we also talk about long hair kimi like…) i hope y’all enjoy!

"who is that?"

a blonde peers around the garage, cocking his head as the figure strolls toward the row of paddocks. licking his lips, he folds his arms across his chest.

"i don't know, but whoever she is, she's gorgeous. absolutely stunning."

the object of sebastian vettel’s desire brings a phone to her ear, her plush lips parting, brow furrowing. whatever she was doing, she was deeply invested, as she stopped dead in her tracks to make the call.

the fellow drivers gather around the blonde, almost gawking. there was no doubt this woman was absolutely ethereal, the gentle rays of the morning sun accentuating her features. a pair of low rise jeans hung from her hips, a white long sleeve clinging to her torso. a luxurious purse hung from her shoulder, the bag accessorized with all sorts of trinkets and a bow.

the most striking aspect of her outfit was the pair of cowboy boots on her feet, the black leather worn from years of wear.

an interesting choice, especially in monaco, but it suited her.

she was regal, carrying herself with an aura that exuded dominance and grace. and to sebastian’s delight, she started to make her way in the direction of the red bull garage.

was she single? there sure wasn’t a ring on that left hand. but she could have opted to leave it at home, where it was protected from the public eye.

it was a gamble really.

and sebastian was more than willing to take his chances.

"do you think i could get her number?"

"you? please. you wouldn't stand a chance."

"come on nico," lewis hamilton, british driver for mercedes scoffs, rolling his eyes, "and you think you could?"

“well, i guess we could ask her if she’s ever been to paris—“

"you guys really know how to make me chuckle," another voice cuts in, his spanish accent seeping into every word, "a woman of that caliber? she probably wouldn't even look in your direction—"

"hi boys!" a chirp rings out through the red bull garage, "i'm looking for my husband. i tried calling his cell but i couldn't reach him. do y’all know where he is?"

her voice was sickeningly sweet, thick with the twang of an accent.

not just any ordinary accent.

an american accent, a drawl that sebastian only heard from one region of that country.

the south.

clearing your throat, you survey the array of men milling about in the garage. you recognize them all in an instant, as your husband had dotingly shown you photos over the years. before you stood fernando alonso, sebastian vettel, lewis hamilton, nico rosberg, and daniel ricciardo. an elite group of drivers, but they did not compare to the man you were searching for.

it wasn't even close.

you were looking for a finnish man, fair in complexion with fluffy, golden locks of hair. a hue that reminded you of sunlight pouring through the leaves of a forest. he was shorter in stature, but muscular, with piercing, icy blue eyes.

well, piercing to some, but to you, they were beautiful, brimmed with nothing but adoration and joy. often, you would gush to him about how his eyes were like the summer sky. he detested this, grumbling how they weren’t that special, but you could always make out a boyish grin, his dimples making an appearance.

taking a step back, sebastian studies you, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. as you give your name to nico, a bell rings in his head. he couldn’t quite place a finger on it, but it sounded familiar.

almost like he had heard it before. mentioned a few times, actually.

“who’s your husband?” fernando puckers his lips, placing his hands on his hips, “is he an engineer? a mechanic? part of the media?”

“he’s a driver.”

“a driver?” lewis’ eyes widen, “are you sure? we would remember one of our own bringing a woman like you around the—“

“will you all stop pestering my wife?”

a rumble from behind you earns a flinch from the drivers. swiveling on your heel, you feel your mouth curl into a dazzling grin.

“sugar! i’ve been looking all over for you! this place is a maze.”

sebastian can’t help but feel his mouth fall open as kimi räikkönen scoops you up into his embrace, squeezing you tightly against his chest. giggles erupt, bouncing off the walls as he peppers your face with kisses, a giddy squeal rising in your throat as he murmurs sweet nothings into your ear.

shaking his head, lewis almost can’t believe what he’s seeing, “you have got to be shitting me.”

“you’re telling me!” nico mutters, glaring at sebastian, he arches a brow, “is this the woman he’s been rambling about for months on end?”

“she is,” daniel clears his throat, finally finding his voice, “you guys didn’t put that together the second she started to speak? you can tell that woman has lived in texas all of her life. she’s wearing cowboy boots for fuck’s sake. you guys really amaze me sometimes.”

“well sorry we’re not all detectives like you!” fernando pouts, throwing his hands in the air, “we were all under the impression that—“

“the impression that i was just some helpless little bunny makin’ her way through?”

your snarky words cut through, sending a ripple of shock throughout the boys. their heads turn, pairs of eyes falling on you.

clicking your tongue, you raise a hand, pointing at sebastian, “y’all know it’s rude to stare, right? i could feel you watching me from a mile away.”

kimi wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, “why didn’t any of you let me know she was here?”

“they thought i was single,” you can’t help but feel a smirk begin to grow as the boys stutter, scrambling to find some sort of response that wouldn’t set kimi off any further.

“well that’s too bad,” finding your hand, kimi intertwines your fingers together, “because you’re my wife. you guys hear that? she’s mine. off. limits.”

“heard you loud and clear,” fernando flashes the finnish driver a thumbs up, “my apologies, kimi.”

“don’t apologize to me,” kimi snorts, “apologize to her.”

as the boys hang their heads, you can’t help but feel a chuckle tumble out as they start speaking in unison, like some schoolboys being chastised.

“we’re sorry.”

“that’s better,” tugging on your hand, kimi motions his head in the direction of his own garage, “come on, my love. let’s go.”

peering over your shoulder, you shoot the group one last wink, scrunching your nose slightly. giving them all a wave, you blow a kiss.

“it was nice to meet y’all! but if you’ll excuse me, i would like to be with my husband. hopefully you’ll all fare better on the track than how you court women. bye now!”

and as you walk away, kimi brings your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the gentle skin.

“i love you.”

linking your elbow with his, you lay your head on his shoulder, your heart cozy with bliss.

“and i love you, ice man.”

and for the rest of the day, the ice man would bear a radiant smile.

a sort of grin the rest of the grid had never seen before.

and that was all thanks to his cheerleader.

his wonderful, talented, smoke show of a cheerleader.

the one who happened to be not just any cheerleader, but his wife as well.

and if anyone wanted you?

well, that was too damn bad.

[rcmclachlan]

He shoves his feet into his sneakers and then double checks that he has everything: keys, wallet, an old Trader Joe's bag filled with a lemon-blueberry pie, two almond-cranberry loaves, a bunch of cream puffs, ice cream bread, a fruitcake, and a cheese danish almost as big as the circumference of the bag opening, plus the stupid cue cards he spent an hour writing out.

Exhaling, Buck glances at his watch. 11:09pm. That gives him about 35 minutes to get to South Robertson, 10 minutes to hyperventilate in the Jeep, three minutes to do the most humiliating thing he's ever dreamed of doing, and one minute to hopefully ring in the new year before it officially starts.

The plan is foolproof, it's Chimney approved, and it's the only one he's got. He can't spend another two months baking and staring at his phone hoping to see bubbles dancing. And not just because none of the grocery stores within a ten mile radius of the loft will sell him small batch vanilla extract anymore.

He can't spend another two months feeling like he's suffering from something that Hen would normally use the LifePak to fix. Which is why this is going to work. It has to. Because he can't think about what the next year is going to be like if it doesn't.

"Okay," Buck murmurs, nodding to himself. "It's go time."

Slipping the bag handles over his wrist and tucking the cards under his arm, he pulls the door open and walks right into a brick wall.

"Shit, I'm sorry," the wall says, steadying Buck with big, familiar hands, then bends down to pick up the cards that had spilled to the floor. "I wouldn't have been standing there if I'd known you were gonna fly out like the place was on fire."

It's been a while since Buck's felt this wrong-footed—two months, to be exact—and that's the only reason why he opens his mouth and "You ruined my plan!" falls out.

Tommy looks up from the cue cards with a disbelieving smile. It's the same one that had spread across his face after bad coffee and a plea for a second chance. You already know I'm interested. "Were you going to Love, Actually me?"

He turns the cards in his hands and shows the top one to Buck. It says To me, you are perfect an asshole (but I want you anyway).

Buck puts down the Trader Joe's bag and gives himself a minute to drink Tommy in. He looks good, if wan. The bags under his eyes are new, but the way he curls his shoulders in, like he's trying to make himself smaller, turn himself into a smaller target, takes Buck right back to the last time Tommy was here.

"I-In my defense, Chimney thought it was a stroke of genius," Buck grouses. "Although I'm starting to suspect that he was just giving me shit."

Genuine amusement makes hills and valleys out of the corners of Tommy's eyes, and the way the sight of them makes something unknot inside of Buck feels like muscle memory. He used to wish that his own crow's feet were that pronounced; it always seemed like Tommy's were a mark of a life spent smiling. But even the knowledge that many of those smiles weren't real can't stop Buck from being charmed.

With shaking hands, Buck takes the cue cards from Tommy, who seems a little reluctant to let them go, and absolutely doesn't clutch them to his chest like a shield.

"What are you doing here?"

Tommy scratches at his forearm, a little tic that draws Buck's eye, and because of it he almost doesn't see the tremor in Tommy's bottom lip when he breathes out shakily and says, "I was on shift today, and Nico asked everyone what their New Year's resolutions were. I didn't have one. I never do. It's not something I ever—just getting through the year intact has always been my goal. You really can't call that a resolution."

Buck can't help but give a mystified nod, because he has no idea where this is going, but he honestly doesn't care. Tommy's here. He's here.

"But I couldn't stop thinking about it," Tommy continues, and the laugh he chokes out sounds like it scores the inside of his throat on its way out. "Tonight I had a little kid code in the back of my bird on the way to First Pres, and all I could think about was what my resolution would be if I had one."

"D-Did the kid make it?"

"No," Tommy sighs. "No, he didn't. And I sat on the roof of the hospital for, like, twenty minutes sobbing like a baby, because all I wanted was to hear the sound of your voice. I just wanted to call you and I wouldn't let myself."

The image of Tommy crying alone in a cockpit and denying himself even a little bit of comfort hits Buck like a sucker punch. "W-Why didn't you?"

"I was scared," Tommy admits with a smile that hurts to look at. The corners of his eyes crease anyway. "I was shit scared that I'd call and you'd, I don't know, tell me to go fuck myself, or tell me that I did you a favor by breaking things off. Or worse: the call wouldn't go through at all, because you'd blocked me. You had every right to do any of those things, but... I was too afraid to find out what it'd be. So I didn't."

The prickling heat in the corners of Buck's eyes and in his sinuses feels like a warning. He clears his throat, trying to head it off at the pass, but his eyes feel too wet to safely blink.

"But then why are you—"

"I was on my way home when it hit me out of nowhere: my resolution. Forty-something years and I finally had one."

Heart pounding, Buck takes a step forward and ventures, breathless, "Which was...?"

"My resolution was to be brave for once in my life." Tommy's nose scrunches like he's holding in a laugh, but his eyes look suspiciously glassy. "And suddenly I was parked outside your building."

"Y-You got a space?"

Tommy laughs wetly. "Believe it or not, it was the same one I got that night. And as I pulled in, I thought, 'See that, Kinard? Even the universe is telling you to stop being such a fucking coward.'"

"Your resolution is to be brave," Buck echoes, and just saying it feels like standing at the edge of a canyon and being unable to judge the distance from one side to the other because of the sun in his eyes. "T-That's a good one. We could all stand to be a bit braver this year."

Swallowing, Tommy shakes his head, but before Buck can flirt with the notion of a breakdown, he steps closer. Enough that Buck can count his individual lashes; enough to see the fear in his eyes, as well as the determination holding it at bay.

"I'm no expert, but I hear the best resolutions are the ones where there's someone to hold you to them." He stares into Buck's eyes as he talks but, with every other word, his gaze dips lower.

"I've made and broken a million resolutions in my life. I think that makes me an expert," Buck murmurs. "And yeah, having someone hold you accountable is the key to keeping them."

"I've still got—" Tommy glances down at his watch. "—forty-one minutes. Maybe I should wait until midnight, make it a clean start. What's your expert opinion on—"

Whatever he's about to say gets cut off when Buck drops the cue cards to the floor and presses his entire body into Tommy's. He hopes Tommy can feel every single vibration coming from his bones.

Whether or not he does is anyone's guess, but Tommy doesn't hesitate in wrapping his arms around Buck, sliding a hand up his back to cup the base of his skull, gasping a little in the space between their mouths when Buck rests his forehead against Tommy's. He's shaking even harder than Buck, but his hold is steadfast.

"I'm going to nail your ass to the wall if you break this resolution," Buck whispers.

"I'm counting on it," Tommy whispers back. "In the meantime, you should show me the cue cards. This is literally a fantasy of mine."

Snorting, Buck bites playfully at the bolt of his jaw, and tries not to go completely boneless in relief. "I'm so glad you fucked up my plan. That movie is so bad, Tommy, and I had to re-watch that stupid scene a hundred times to get the cue cards right. You don't deserve them."

"Say 'it's carol singers,'" Tommy nuzzles at his cheek. "Just once. I've been incredibly brave tonight and I deserve something."

"Suffer," Buck laughs, and kisses him into next year.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

always a good morning - nh13

summary: (nh13 x f!reader) a snapshot into a morning at the swiss alps with our favourite devils captain! inspired by headband nico!

warnings: suggestive content, fluff, not checked! 2.4k words

< a/n: i've hit such bad writer's block i literally can't even tell you so i went back to my roots: brunettes with big brown eyes!! >

You inhaled at the feel of your heart rate quickening, something having thrown your mind from its restful slumber to suddenly being conscious of your surroundings. 

It was freezing, that was the first thing you noticed. You could feel the duvet cover draped across your shoulders but it was cold to touch, like a window had been left open during the night and cooled the one thing that was supposed to keep you warm. There was a draft somewhere down your back, the chilly air swirling up your sleep shirt and down your bare legs, and without thinking much of it, you pulled the duvet higher, nuzzling back down into your pillow.

Maybe if you stayed still enough and tried not to focus on the pounding of your heart, which was clearly telling you to get up for whatever reason, you’d be able to trick yourself into falling back to sleep. Maybe.

You were certainly still tired enough: your eyes felt dry and your bones felt heavy, your entire body and mind fully sinking into the mattress and pillows gladly and with a sigh of relief. You could feel your hair smeared across your forehead at an unnatural angle, and your top was twisted uncomfortably, but the mere thought of reaching around to move it was exhausting to even entertain.

You sighed, breathing into your pillow, feeling the last dregs of sleep begin to wither away. Your heart rate wasn’t slowing and you could feel yourself fight the urge to open your eyes. Suddenly the idea of burrowing back under the covers only awakened the desire to sit up straight and take in the view – when had you become a morning person?

The sigh turned into an impatient huff of resignation, your previous thoughts of sleep abandoned completely, and you slowly peeled your eyes open, peering out from under the covers. 

The foot of the bed was a heavy mess of blankets strewn around, clearly having been kicked off at some point in the night, and your eyes jumped over the chair filled with clothes and bags before settling on the open window to your left. For the sake of the view of the cloudy mountains and the utterly breathtaking green outside, you ignored the sleeping hunk of a back also on your left.

Though it could barely have been five seconds before you turned your attention back to him. That always seemed to happen, no matter where you were or what you were doing – Nico was much too magnetic for his own good.

You were still curled up where you’d woken initially, one arm tucked underneath your pillow, the other resting comfortably on top of the sheets. It was the space between you both that gave you the answer as to why you’d woken up cold: you were perched on one side of the bed, and Nico on the edge of his. The reason? You’d both seemingly drank enough the night before to not take any notice of the sides you’d fallen into, because he was on your side and you were on his. 

You blinked slowly, poking some sleep out of the corner of your eyes before glancing back at him quickly. His back was facing you, broad shoulders blocking some of the light from the window you’d obviously forgotten to cover with curtains the night before. His skin had a brownish glow to it, evidence from the dream-like string of vacations he’d taken this summer, and you restrained the urge to reach out and press your palm against the skin there, knowing with absolute certainty he’d feel like he’d just crawled out of the sun. 

You were so cold because he wasn’t near enough to act as a human hot water bottle, keeping everything just the right temperature.

You weren’t even sure how he did it, not in the early morning breeze, because he’d shuffled the duvet down to his waist and you could see he’d untucked one leg from underneath to come to rest on top of the covers.

It seemed your mind had made up the solution to your little problem before you’d even managed to comprehend it because you’d suddenly pulled the duvet into your fist taut enough to shuffle subtly closer, just enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin, but not close enough to touch him.

You thought about pressing your feet into the backs of his calves, but judging from the sun just peaking round the mountains it can’t have been any later than six in the morning–

The bed shook violently, almost reminiscent of how someone would jump in their skin after falling down the stairs in a dream, and the sudden jolt had your eyes flying open, mind a complete jumble as you blinked the remnants of sleep away.

When did you fall back to sleep?

There was a groan of “woah” from the body in front of you, deep and gravelly, both hinting at the alcohol consumption last night and the early morning disruption of…whatever had happened there.

Your brows furrowed at the intense light streaming through the window, and you could barely open your eyes from squinting hard against it. Yet, you could still make out the silhouette of a shoulder moving in front of you, and still make out the thick head of hair combed back with the sudden appearance of a hand you knew all too well.

“What the fuck?” Nico grumbled, and the mattress bobbled again, prompting you to pull yourself into a sitting position, hair falling into your face before you managed to push it all back.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you’d slept but it must have been at least two hours later: the sun was beaming pretty intensely through the window, no tells of that early-morning breeze left to suffer through.

You were too busy trying to get your eyes to adjust to the light to notice Nico reach an unsteady hand out to the bedside table, fumbling with the phone lobbed on the wood. You blinked once, twice, before placing a delicate hand on his shoulder.

The involuntary shudder that immediately followed had both of you freezing. Right under your palm his skin seemed to transform, now littered with goosebumps. You frowned, slowly removing your hand.

He’d been as warm as you’d predicted, but his temperature was the last thing on your mind, especially when he almost instantaneously started to shiver, his phone long forgotten on the bedside table as he blearily rolled over onto his back, pushing away your hair that had fallen in a curtain around your face, blocking his eyesight.

You took that momentary pause where he couldn’t see you, eyes trailing greedily down his chest before looking up to meet his gaze. It was painfully clear he’d only just woken up: his eyes were still blinking quickly, trying to adjust to the light as well, and one side of his face was lined red from where his cheek had been smushed against the pillow.

There was something so adorably irresistible about Nico in the morning; he never quite ceased to amaze you, not with those big doe eyes blinking wearily up at you, and certainly not with the way he’d curled his arm to rest behind his head, bicep purposefully on show.

“What were you doing?” You croaked, eyeing the rather befuddled crease between his brows as his mouth formed an ‘o’, his attention darting to your pillow next to his head.

His face crumpled at your words, and you held back an amused snort of laughter at his clearly hungover state, instead moving to lay back down in your previous position, head perched on the corner of your own pillow.

“Sorry.” You whispered, unable to help a small smile at the way his nearest eye to you peeked open, immediately followed by a cheeky dimpled smile.

He hummed, shaking his head, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he fought to stay awake, “My fault.” He breathed, before snapping his eyes open, “I went to check you were still in bed and almost fell out instead. Why are we on the wrong side?”

You shrugged, yawning, “No clue.”

His face broke into a kind of smirk, and he rolled onto his shoulder, breath tickling your face, eliciting an amused scrunch of your nose, “We must have been pretty distracted, then.” He muttered, and you rolled your eyes fondly.

“Morning breath.” You mumbled, budging your cold foot against his shin. He didn’t recoil at your freezing touch, but rather helped trap your foot between his leg, sandwiched by heat on all sides.

“You don’t care about my morning breath.” He said knowingly, nudging his nose against yours and draping a bare arm across your shoulders to pull you impossibly closer.

He was boiling. The sudden change in temperature had you shivering, now enveloped completely in a bubble of warmth, your forehead pressed snugly against the crease of his shoulder. You found yourself humming, “No I don’t.”

There was a rumble in his chest, a soft, lazy laugh, as his hand dragged through your hair, gently untangling any knots and brushing it off your face to press a sweet kiss to your temple. Your heart had been beating pretty quickly from when he’d almost launched himself off the bed – from sheer shock – but now it was racing for a whole different reason.

It was still for a while, and you were vaguely aware of the pounding in his own chest and the constant shuffling, so when he wrapped both arms underneath you it didn’t come as a complete shock. There was a brief moment you were airborne, a new rush of cold air blowing through the sheets before the mattress was back on your side, and when you peeled your eyes open once more you were facing a now wide-awake Nico, whose cheeks were a significant tinge of pink, evidence of his previous warmth.

He’d spun you around so you were both back in your normal sides of the bed, but he’d also placed you on his hot spot. 

“That’s better.” He grinned, running a hand through his hair.

He’d not had it trimmed in so long it was difficult to keep it all from falling into his face, and for the last few days of vacation it had been driving him crazy. A hair tie didn’t work, it was far too comical for him to even walk out of the door with a sad excuse of a ponytail, let alone enough to face his family. It was only yesterday that you’d managed to wear him down to wear one of your headbands, and he hadn’t once moved to take it off throughout the entire day.

Clearly he was missing it already.

You pushed yourself up onto one elbow and he tilted his head quizzically, “What do you wanna do for breakfast?”

His face brightened, mouth twisting in thought, “We could go to that cafe and pick up some pastries and eat them on the dock?”

As if by command, your stomach growled in agreement, and both yours and Nico’s faces crumpled with amusement, before Nico took initiative and threw back the covers, that single action both the best and worst thing in the world: on one hand you were smacked with the one thing you’d been trying to avoid, but on the other? There was nothing quite as mouth-wateringly picturesque as watching Nico kneel on the bed, back muscles rippling as he stretched.

Your lip caught in your teeth, and he turned around after a moment, not having heard you even attempt to move even despite the goosebumps trailing across your skin, and you blushed, smiling unabashedly as he raised an accusatory brow in your direction. He tried to hide the fact that he was smiling as well, his mouth fighting to keep a straight line, but the dimple in his cheek gave him away. The dimples always gave him away.

He looked right at you, trailing his eyes across your splayed figure still unmoving from your previous position, and you collapsed your arm, head hitting the pillow with a soft thump.

“Good morning.” He mumbled, voice suddenly quite gruff. You reached a hand out to poke him in his lower back, just above the elastic band of his shorts, and he spun quickly, arms instantly bracketing your head in. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you found you were hungry for a whole different reason. The house was empty – everyone else had made plans to hike for sunrise – and Nico was slowly lowering himself closer to your face, his hair tickling your forehead.

You reached a hand out automatically, fingers catching and pushing his hair away from his face, just right at the same moment he pressed an urgent kiss to your lips, lingering for a few seconds longer than he usually would have.

But…you had an empty house and no reason not to kiss him back as fiercely as you wanted. There were no consequences, after all.

“It is, yeah.” You whispered, pulling back slightly. Through the gaps in your hands a stubborn lock of hair flopped onto his forehead, and he looked at it, contemplating something for a moment.

You did the acting for him, quickly twisting your hands out of his hair and avoiding his arm bracketing you in for the sake of pulling a headband out of the bedside drawer and sliding it around his neck before pulling it back up, the thoughtful task made all the more difficult by the hot, open-mouthed kisses he was leaving across the column of your neck.

“Always is a good morning when it’s with you, y’know?” He breathed between kisses, and you couldn’t help a breathy laugh, mind not completely focused on his hair when he was melting you to the mattress.

“As much as I love what you’re doing, I literally can’t–Oh, thank you.” You grinned as his face reappeared, his cheeks flushed and lips bitten pink as he waited patiently for you to slide the headband into place, just the way you knew he liked it.

You patted the top of his head and he flopped onto the mattress next to you, one arm somehow already wound around your waist, pulling you closer as he continued his path, “I thought you were hungry?” 

“The cafe’s not going anywhere any time soon.” You reasoned, pulling back enough to look him in the eyes – dazed and glossy, “You should wear headbands more often.”

“I know, right? They’re so useful.”

You frowned, “That’s now what I was going for.”

“I know.” He grinned.

[theemporium]

violet fluff, luke! “this is my girlfriend everyone!” and “i think my family/friends really liked you. maybe more than they liked me.” 😋😋

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

55. “This is my girlfriend everyone!”

.

“Luke—” 

“I need to tell everyone!”

“Please, get down from there.” 

“M’not high enough!” 

“You’re drunk!” 

“Am not!” 

You let out a heavy sigh, stuck between wanting to look away from the train wreck in front of you and terrified that if you even blinked, something bad would happen to the boy. Because, unfortunately for you, drunk Luke Hughes was a bit of an adventurer when he was the right level of drunk and his current goal was trying to climb onto the makeshift bar. 

It had been one last party to close off the season before everyone headed their own ways for the off season. They were ending the season far earlier than they would have liked, but Nico was determined to have a happy send off before everyone ran off to hide away and lick their wounds over the summer. He wanted them to have one last moment as the team they were before it inevitably changed next season. 

It was supposed to be chill until Jack and Dawson started handing out their homemade jello shots—and then everything went to shit. 

And somewhere along five tester jello shots and a handful of some crazy strong Czech beer that Palat had brought with him, Luke was far too gone to really understand or care about logic or reasoning—like climbing a makeshift bar half-naked was not the way to go. 

“Help me,” you pleaded with the older Hughes but Jack only cackled, shaking his head and already reaching for his phone. 

“Absolutely fucking not,” he grinned. 

You glared at the boy before turning to your boyfriend atop of the bar, attempting your best puppy dog eyes. “Luke, baby, please get down before you hurt yourself.” 

But Luke stubbornly shook his head. “I need to tell everyone something very important.” 

“Curtis is never letting him live this down,” Jack murmured with a snort.

Luke cleared his throat until all eyes were on him. 

“Oh god,” you heard Nico mutter from somewhere behind you.

“This is my girlfriend everyone!” Luke announced as he pointed towards you with a sappy grin on his face. “And I love her very much and I want to marry her. Right now.” 

“You aren’t in Vegas, buddy,” John called out to him.

Luke paused before he spoke again. “I am booking tickets to Vegas right now to marry my pretty girlfriend!” 

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, stuck somewhere between a laugh and a groan as you felt your whole face heat up.

“Mom is gonna be so pissed this is how he proposed,” Jack commented, turning the camera to you and giggling when you tried to smack it out of his hands.

“He’s not serious,” you said, though that didn’t help the fact your face was still burning up.

“I am so serious!” Luke called out.

“Yeah, well, get down and then we will see because I am not interested in a fiancé with broken limbs,” you retorted, letting out a sigh of relief as he began to climb down from the bar. 

“So, Vegas?”

“Shut up, Jack.” 

“There goes my offer to be your maid of honour.”

.

[peanutbubba]

Strawhats with a physically affectionate reader

Gn!reader, drabble, pretty short, separate char x reader, fluffy, kinda shitty ngl

———————————————————————

Monkey D. Luffy

Luffy, who really likes it when he is touching, or his partner is touching him. He doesn’t care in what way it is, hand holding, piggybacking, so long as you both have physical contact.

Though his favorite affection by far is when you change his expressions, putting your hands on his face and making new silly looks for him. He adores the way you laugh while messing with his rubber face, everytime you smile or look concentrated while working on changing it he just gets mesmerized. He’s completely in love with you, please never leave him, he wants to become king of the pirates with you by his side.

Roranora Zoro

Zoro, who isn’t really bothered by physical affection. Like, he actively doesn’t care if you cling to him, so long as it’s not when he’s training, but at the same time he finds it so adorable.

You want to cling to him? Sure, just know he’s now going to fall asleep with you tight in his arms. There is no escaping, just fall asleep with him. You make his naps a million times better, your body pressed against his, sharing each other’s warmth. Definitely his favorite part of you loving to touch him.

Sanji Vinsmoke

Sanji, who absolutely LOVES the fact that you want to touch him of all people. Holding hands, using each other as pillows, him carrying you like you’re royalty, the whole 9 yards. He gets so upset when you have to let go of him because he has to cook, or you have to help one of the other crew members, always promises/makes you promise you’ll be right back.

His favorite affection of yours however is when you softly play with his hair, or gently hold/caress his face. It makes him feel so safe and loved, like he’s the specialist boy in the world to deserve someone like you. It’s also a pretty good way to get him to relax after a stressful night, or calm down when bad thoughts cloud his mind.

Nami

Nami, who is and isn’t bothered by it. A lot of the time she likes her personal space, but she also doesn’t mind that you’re in it too, depending on her mood.

If she’s too busy mapping or navigating then she’ll politely tell you that she doesn’t want you on her at the moment, but you can stick next to her. However, during nights you’re like her personal pillow, or when she’s really happy and excited she’s always throwing her hands over your shoulders.

Ussop

Ussop, who gets really flustered at the fact that you’re in his personal bubble, but he loves it.

Don't get the wrong idea when he suddenly goes quiet after feeling your hands wrap around him, he’s just trying to boot his brain back up. So long as you cling to him in a safe place, or while he’s not working on new projects then you’re both good. Please hang on to him, he loves the attention, he just doesn’t know how to react.

Nico Robin

Robin, who enjoys it most of the time, but also likes her personal space.

Go ahead and lay your head on her lap while she reads, she'll gently run one hand through your hair, or scratch your scalp. Go and place a hand on top of hers while chatting, she’ll thread your fingers together. So long as your affection doesn’t get in the way of anything, and is safe then she enjoys it.

Franky

Franky, who also loves physical touch, perhaps just a little less than words of affirmation.

Though, he knows it’s not very fun to cuddle a cyborg, so it’s mostly hand holding, or rides on his shoulders and back to make you feel tall. Overall, he tries to be very accommodating to your comfort while you touch him.

Brook

Brook, who is a sucker for touching you. All day everyday, 24/7, just perhaps when he’s not playing his instruments.

But, he very much likes to hug/hold you, it reminds him that you’re alive and in fact here. You warm flesh against his cool bones, it brings out a nervous beat in his heart. Though… he doesn’t really have a heart being a skeleton. Anyways, also tries to be accommodating because cuddling a literal skeleton is not the most comfortable thing in the world.

Jinbe

Jinbe, who likes it, but also thinks it’s kind of unconventional. You’re obviously much smaller than him, so it’s kind of hard to making things like physical affection work, but if there’s a will there’s a way.

Hold on to his clothes while he’s tending to the helm, he finds it very pleasing, and it relaxes him a lot. Or, hold his webbed hand in your smaller one, he adores it. Alternatively, sleep on top of him at night, it’s a great comfort to him, and probably one of the only times he can give you the most affection.

—

Hope you enjoyed, Peas out!

[mediumgayitalian]

He hears him four cabins away. At minimum.

The thing about Will is that he is not a sneaky person. He tries to be — gods does he ever try — but it is so antithetical to who he is as a person that it never works out. He breaks out into hives if he lies, for Hades’ sake. Sometimes even when he withholds the truth. It’s hilarious.

Anyways, he wakes Nico up.

He hears the cream of the opening window and shoved his face into a pillow. There’s a way to open them without so much as a peep — Piper knows how, and Percy, and probably ninety-two percent of the rest of camp — but Will, in all honesty, probably can’t even hear it, as high-pitched as it is. The scuffle of his shoes on the smooth obsidian walls are equally as loud, somehow, and the oof he lets out as he lands on the marble floors face-first echo all the way to the lake.

It’s a wonder the harpies haven’t come squawking, honestly. Or maybe good karma.

“Psst,” Will actually, genuinely hisses. “Psst, Nico. You up?”

“No,” Nico lies. “I am sleeping ever so peacefully and ignoring the obnoxious intruder of my space.”

“Well, get up.” His feet have started to tap. Nico smothers his stupid widening grin into his hand — it’s not cute, it’s not. It’s dumb and embarrassing and ridiculous. Gods. What a freaking theatre kid.

Nico peeks one eye open, and Will is standing, shirt on backwards, scratching his calf, staring at the faintly-glowing altar in the back corner. His pupils are dilated.

“I want ice cream.”

Nico does not, technically, have much to do tomorrow.

There’s training. But there’s always training, really, and also he went to Tartarus, so how much worse can it get, really? What else is he training for? Tartarus Two: The Torture Trudges On? And there’s of course his afternoon class, but he can definitely sleep-walk his way through that one. He’ll wear sunglasses and tell the kids he’s evaluating them based on the level of maliciousness he feels in their energy. It has worked for him before.

He can go out for three in the morning ice cream.

But the principle of the thing.

“It’s witching hour, William.”

“You like witching hour.” 

Fair. 

“Plus! Ice cream.” He turns to face Nico, and he still can’t see, that at least Nico knows for sure, but he tilts his head and cocks his hip like he can. “Ice cream, Death Boy. Three a.m. bad decisions. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not frothing at the mouth.”

Nico makes a show of patting down his dry face, just to bother him, except he realises he was in fact drooling in his sleep and has to then resist the urge to throw himself off a building. Gods. Will is lucky it's blacker than actual night in here or Nico would genuinely have to kill him and then himself. 

"Fine," he says hastily, rolling off his bed and slamming onto the floor. "Begone. I will meet you outside."

“You have two minutes,” Will warns, tapping at his watch. He turns resolutely around. He pauses. He turns again, sighs, then turns, or at least tries to, back to Nico’s general direction, but where he is actually staring, hands on his hips, is the wall, this time Nico does not even bother to hide his smile in his hands. “Could you maybe point me in the direction of the door, Mr. Vampire Freak?”

Nico puts gentle hands on Will’s shoulders, guiding him towards the ornate doorway. He offers absolutely no resistance, leaning into the pressure of Nico’s palms as he stumbles forward.

“Calling me a freak is going to restart my trauma,” Nico says loftily.

“Shut up.” A beat. “Sorry.”

“I’m teasing, you doofus.”

“Still. That was uncalled for.” He nearly brains himself on the doorway trying to turn around to face him. Nico darts out and tucks a protective hand over his forehead, just in time. Will butts his head into the hold affectionately. “You are not a freak.”

Something gross and gooey and soft melts in Nico’s sternum, and his lips twitch, and his chest warms, and fondness bleeds from him, from his pores, wrapping Will’s shoulders like shadow and blinking like gentle flame.

“I know that,” Nico says, shaking his head. “You are so strange. Get out of here. I need to put pants on.”

Will blinks. Nico counts four seconds. Will glances down, and his face heats something awful.

“You!!!” he whisper-shouts, over Nico’s snickering. “I’m going to!!!” He waves a hand. He waves again, ending in somewhat of an accusing point. “Ah!!!”

He rushes out the barely-open door, tripping over the front step and sprawling on his ass on the porch. Nico leans against the doorway, grin widening, arms crossed over his chest. Will stays curled on the floor, face in his hands, muttering to himself. It is so loud it — echoes. Right across the common. Two separate lights turn on.

He does not notice.

Nico loves him so much he envisions grabbing his pillow and beating him to a coma with the force of it. Instead, he rushes inside and pulls on the first pair of jeans he sees.

“Okay,” he yawns, nudging Will’s prone form with the toe of his shoe. “Let’s go.”

“Finally,” Will mumbles. He stays in his ball of misery for five seconds. He gets up. He pauses, breathing in, breathing out. He, realisinf Nico has left him behind, scrambles to catch up, tripping over a rock and very nearly pitching right down Half-Blood Hill. “I want — soft serve.”

“No,” Nico says easily.

“It’s better! It’s — smooth!”

They reach the road. Nico raises a hand as if summoning a taxi, barely managing to grab Will’s collar and yank him back from the road before a shiny, shadow-black SUV melts into existence at the speed of Fast and kills him dead.

“It’s a disgrace, William. It is an abomination of modern hubris.”

“You’re — you’re just like your father, you know that, you —”

Nico’s jaw drops.

“That’s is an evil fucking thing to say to me —”

Will is so loud, he can’t help it, everywhere he goes, he stumbles through doorways and trips over air and whistles as he walks and tap tap taps his ever-moving fingers. Will is loud, he is lively, Will is life, personified, every inch of him glows golden.

The issue is that Nico is loud when he’s around him, too. Like he forgets to keep quiet.

“—that’s that, Solace.” He yanks the sliding door open, hovering in the frame. “Hard ice cream or no ice cream for you. That’s that.”

Will huffs. It’s just barely bright enough outside — there’s moonlight — for him to be facing the right direction, this time, back to Thalia’s tree, as he crosses his arms and taps his foot and pouts like that will get him anywhere.

Nico stares right back, back to the SUV, ignoring Jules-Albert’s grumbling.

He will not give in this time. 

He will not.

“I really just think soft ice cream will help the homesick,” Will mumbles. He kicks at the too-long grass. “It’s — tour season. Mama and I always went to DQ during tour season.”

“Oh —Jesus fucking Christ.”

Will has won and he knows he has, because he can muffle a smile but he’s never been able to fight back that victorious little giggle, because he is loud, and Nico hates him.

Toujours il te déjoue, et toujours, tu lui permets.

Nico scowls.

“Your job is to drive, Jules-Albert; if I wanted a critic I would have summered Ebert.”

Jules-Albert smiles at him. Due to the rotting flesh and tooth decay, it is horrifying, but unfortunately not horrifying enough to distract him from Will’s smug lean, his bright smile.

“If you don’t stop humming We Are The Champions I’m going to fucking gut you,” Nico threatens.

“Mhm. Perhaps. But then you would have no one to bully you, and you will be miserable.”

Jules-Albert barks a laugh, and offers Will a high-five.

“I will crack a chasm open onto this road! I swear to the gods! I will blow up this car!”

———

It takes twenty-two minutes to get to the nearest Dairy Queen.

Nico practically flees out of the car.

“I thought you were too tired for ice cream,” Will teases, jogging after him.

Nico scowls at him. “I am never doing anything with you ever again as long we both shall live.”

“Sure thing,” says Will absentmindedly. He links their arms together, humming at the menu. Nico’s lungs shrivel up and retire. “I’m only friends with you for the infinite credit card, anyway.”

“Oh, shut up.”

The Dairy Queen is silent at nearly four in the morning. Even the machines hold their breath, sole employee communicating entirely in nods and slow blinks.

Will’s laugh is like rolling summer thunder.

Nico feels like he is suffocating, like the humidity of the air churns solid in his chest.

———

In the cold of the late-night DQ air, table sticking to his elbows, a flip-flopped foot kicks his ankle.

“Hey.”

“What,” Nico grumps, shoving a spoonful of Oreo Blizzard Extreme into his mouth. It is mediocre.

There is a dot of ice cream on Will’s nose. Unrelated, there has been an endless loop of anguished screaming yearning in the back of Nico’s mind for the past seven minutes.

“Thank you.”

“Hmph.”

Will smiles. His nose scrunches with it, and the ice cream smears across his freckles. Nico’s heart explodes, just like that. Probably due to the ice cream. Sugar clogs arteries, or something like that.

“I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you need a ride home. And because I paid, you broke pain in the ass.”

He smiles wider. His blue eyes shine darker than midnight, darker than Oreos, and for a desperate breathless moment Nico drowns in his pupils.

“True. But also.”

He kicks Nico’s ankles again.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

The half-frozen brownie lodges in his throat, and Nico swallows, and swallows, and swallows. Will’s eyes ger brighter, and brighter, and brighter.

“Yeah,” he says, reedy. He swallows. Will ducks his head. “Anytime.”

[puckinghischier]

Can you do a little blurb of Nico asking you to be his valentine 🥺

he’d been a little off all day, but not in a bad way. he just seemed…sneaky. and nervous. two adjectives you’d never normally use to describe nico, but here you are, sitting on the couch watching an early 2000’s rom com while he sends nervous glances your way every few seconds.

he keeps looking at the door, too, making you suspicious as to what (or who) is going to be coming through it.

about halfway through the movie you hear several quick knocks on the door, the sound making nico jump up like the apartment was on fire.

“i’ll go get it! stay here, it might be a stranger,” is what he rushes out, his accent thick and jumbling his words a bit. he all but runs to the door, only cracking it to whisper at whoever is on the other side.

your interest is very obviously piqued, and you’re extra tuned in to what’s happening in the small entry way, despite trying to pretend it’s not.

“y/n, i need you to close your eyes,” you hear nico ring out to you, a hint of nerves and stress in his tone.

you sit up straight from your lounged position, confusion taking over.

“neeks, why do i need to close my eyes? who’s out there? what’s going on?”

“please, just close your eyes,” he basically whines, not wanting you to ruin the surprise before it’s even in the apartment.

with an amused sigh, you comply. “okay, they’re closed. tell me when i can open them again.”

you hear hushed voices, two of them. very familiar voices.

“jack? luke? is that you?” you ask, hands still over your eyes to block your vision.

“hey y/n!” luke’s cheery voice fills the space, followed by a thud, a grunt, and jack’s voice whisper shouting “dude, you were told to be quiet. shut up!”

nico groans lowly, knowing he shouldn’t have recruited them for help.

you hear shuffling and clanking before the footsteps and noises stop, almost making you nervous for what scene you can’t see is unfolding.

“okay, before you open your eyes, i need you to know that only one of these things was my idea and the other was unknown to me until i opened the door. so, just be prepared. you’ll know which one was my idea. i hope,” nico’s nervous voice moves closer to you, until you feel his hands close around your wrists from behind.

he’s leaning over the back of the couch you’re sitting on, his heat radiating off his chest onto your back.

“alright, on the count of three,” nico whispers into your ear, letting his lips brush against the skin.

“one,” you hear a snicker from jack or luke, you can’t really tell.

“two,” you notice nico’s hands are oddly sweaty.

“three,” his hands tremble only slightly as he moves your own away from your face, not knowing what sight awaits you as your eyes adjust from the darkness you were just in.

when you can see more than just stars again, you’re met with an image you never, in your life, thought you’d see.

blocking the tv you were just watching, was a massive floral arrangement. it was in the shape of a heart, with bright red roses in the outline of the heart, followed by soft pink roses a little further inward, and white roses filling out the center.

in the middle of the foliage was a “be my valentine?” spelled out in a mixture of black roses and some other flower you couldn’t name. it was beautiful, really. a little eccentric, but absolutely gorgeous.

the flowers weren’t even what grabbed your attention, though.

what you were focused on, was the two characters stood on either side of the arrangement.

luke and jack stood on either side of the large display, in skin colored body suits, headbands with slinky antenna hearts on their heads, sporting adult diapers, fake bows and heart shaped arrows in hand, and wearing costume angel wings on their backs.

“you’ve been love bombed!!” luke shouts before they both take the heart shaped arrows and twist the base, setting off an explosion of red, pink, and white confetti to reign down on you and all of the furniture in the room.

it all happened so fast you truly didn’t know how to react, mouth dropping open in surprise.

nico mumbled what you assumed were curse words in swiss-german before standing straight up to brush the confetti out of his hair.

“for fucks sake you two, you never told me you were going to cover the whole living room in confetti you asshats.”

“well you never told us we couldn’t,” jack shrugs at nico’s words, clearly very proud of their small contribution to nico’s romantic gesture.

the three start bickering back and forth, arguing over who’s going to clean the living room up and if jack or luke has to pay for the cleaners to come in and remove the million pieces of paper.

still trying to process if what you just witnessed really happened, you come back to your sense a bit and interrupt the argument.

“wait, wait wait wait,” you gain their attention, standing up as the three men in front of you fall silent, watching you dust off all the confetti that landed on you. “nico…we’ve been dating for two years…why are you asking me to be your valentine?”

nico stares at you through the silence, his face void of any previous emotion.

“you know, it’s so funny you ask him that, because i said the same thing when he ordered this ridiculous thing the other day after practice,” jack is the one to break the silence, causing nico to turn and give him a glare that could kill.

“cap, it’s a valid question. i mean, wouldn’t this kind of be pre-dating stuff? not ‘already living together and sleeping together every night’ stuff?” luke chimes in, his comment earning a slight growl from nico before the scene erupts into chaos once again.

nico lunges towards luke, luke screams and runs behind the couch, jack is laughing so hard he’s bent over, nico is having a stand off with luke trying to gauge which direction he’s going to run, and you’re standing there, in the middle of it all.

once luke makes a run for it, nico started chasing him throughout the apartment, managing to get just within reach enough to rip the diaper off of his body, a now naked-looking luke streaking through the space.

“good lord what did i sign myself up for?” you ask jack, who’s just now coming down from his fit of giggles and laughter.

“happy valentine’s day, mrs. cap. you’re stuck with us.” jack answers, wiping at his eyes.

“well, i didn’t technically say yes before all hell broke loose,” you point out, hearing a squeal, letting you know nico caught up to luke.

“pshhh, as if you’d say no and deny yourself of all this fun.”

nico comes around the corner, pulling luke by his ear and handful of curls, mumbling to him about how he needs to apologize to you for making an inappropriate comment involving your sex life with nico, even though it wasn’t even the worst that’s ever been said to you.

“nah, you’re right, i couldn’t ever say no. i’d miss you all too much,” you think about how comical the whole thing has really been, the entertainment way better than the long forgotten movie still playing on the tv behind you.

[bewaryofpity]

you couldn’t wait for the day to end. not that you weren’t happy, it was quite the opposite actually, but after being awake since way too early in the morning, the ceremony, the dinner, and the afterparty, you wanted to hit the hay as soon as possible. which would’ve been great if it wasn’t for the fact that both you and your now-husband were absolutely shit faced drunk and somehow full of energy. 

the party has long ended but the alcohol was still in your system and nico has never looked this good. his jacket still missing, shirt slightly unbuttoned at the top, bottom out of his dress pants, tie sitting around his neck untied, hair a complete mess. but the best part of him was that gold band shining on his ring finger under the elevator light.

your daydreaming was interrupted as he hooked a finger to the fallen strap of your party dress, bringing it back onto your shoulder. his head rested on the elevator wall and with a loving gaze matching yours, his eyes travelled down to your neck, smirk turning from love to lust.

he tested the waters, not that this was new in your relationship, and slowly moved his hand to wrap around your neck, calloused fingers rough against your hot skin. and after he squeezed just enough to get your core warm, already ruining the white lingerie you put on just for him, he brought you closer to devour at your lips.

it was sloppy, hot, wet, and charged with the teasing game you decided to start playing earlier; tongues fighting for dominance and teeth clashing, his hand kept squeezing at your throat with the right pressure to make your knees buckle. he tasted so sweet, almost saccharine, that you couldn’t stop kissing him, and you whined when he pulled away to lead you out of the elevator and into your room. thank god it wasn’t far.

your hands roamed his body, feeling hazy as you dug your nails into the skin of his shoulders to bring him impossibly closer to you. a small fuck left his lips before resuming on biting into the side of your neck, leaving red marks behind.

lost in the moment, you gasped at the unexpected change of pace when he grabbed at your arm and threw you on the bed with force. you tried to turn around and face him, be more comfortable to undress yourself, but he pushed you back down onto the mattress with his large hand covering almost the whole small of your back.

“god, you’re so fucking hot like this” he said as you heard him get closer to you. you giggled, teasing him by wiggling your ass in the air knowing your tight short dress was now exposing your white thong. but your snicker didn't last long. one of his hands came into contact with your ass, a harsh slap echoing through the room, sure of the red print left behind.

“my wife,” he said placing one knee onto the mattress, “my beautiful fucking wife” as his other knee followed. the surface dipped slightly under his weight, feeling his body against your back when he shifted forward, his hands coming to rest by your head.

you arched your back as much as you could, bare ass making contact with the hard on in his pants and grinding. the sensation paired with the comforting weight of his body on top of yours was driving you insane and you started to beg him desperately to touch you, alcohol enhancing your lewd thoughts. and though your pleas fell on deaf ears, his carnal desire matched your desperation and he couldn’t hold himself from taking you just like this. 

nico removed himself from atop of you to unzip his pants, fumbling slightly with his belt for the alcohol put him in a dazed state. he didn’t think he could ever crave you this bad, but you’re his wife now and you looked divine, goddess-like, fully dressed in white, symbol of the pure mind you didn’t have because you liked when he fucked you like a whore. and it was turning him on even more.

pants and boxers lowered enough to free his aching cock, he brought two fingers to your core, spreading your wetness around before moving aside your thong string to tease your entrance. your moans were muffled by the duvet underneath you, but that didn’t stop them from making his cock twitch in anticipation and push his fingers further in you.

you called out his name in pleasure, in plea, to stop teasing you and just stuff you full of his cock, but your cunt was squeezing his fingers tight and he couldn’t stop looking at the effect he had on you.

“nico, please i need you”

and he slowly pulled his fingers out, getting a taste of you before stroking his cock, tip red and leaking. he rubbed himself through your wet slit and your mouth stayed open in a silent moan as he slowly slid himself inside your dripping wet cunt until he bottomed out. but you screamed when he held you in place, your ass in midair, and fucked you like you were his own personal toy, slamming into your pussy with deep, rough strokes. you felt too fucking good he could cum inside you right now, yet your screams had him going harder, enjoying this feeling for as long as possible. 

you cried out against the bedding, the rapid slapping noise of his body dominating yours. he palmed you softly before smacking the round of your ass. and you moaned and sucked in a deep breath as he leaned down to put his lips next to your ear. "lucky woman you are. you’ll get fucked like this for the rest of your life." 

he pumped his hips hard, grabbing at your thighs and your backside. and how he had the perfect view of your body as you took him, cunt squeezing him with each stroke, making him wither.

you cried as he filled you up with his cum, yours coming not long after as he pushed his load deeper and deeper in you until he guided you down flat on your belly with his hand gripping at your ass. you were half crushed under his body weight, but you couldn’t care less, you were on cloud nine.

as he kissed along the back of your neck and ran his fingers softly up your arm, he removed himself from you and you hissed at the empty feeling. you turned around and plopped yourself back on the mattress, admiring the man in front of you, sweaty and panting.

“you ready for round two? because we’re gonna go all night”

and you knew he really meant it when he picked up the discarded tie from the floor to wrap at your wrists.

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter eight:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ warnings: none!!

➴ word count: 3.6k

➴ author’s note: don’t you guys love when people kiss and make up?

liked by jennaortega, arianagrande, elblue6 and 1,698,928 others

sophiamontenegro thanks for having me, new york 🎅🏻

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mtv JAW IS ON THE FLOOR

trevorzegras you should’ve come to anaheim

sophiamontenegro trevorzegras and u should fuck off

user1 sophiamontenegro trevorzegras I wanna know the beef between them so bad someone put me in soph’s close friends list

user2 user1 im pretty sure its just Trevor who doesn’t know how to take a hint…

arianagrande i love you

morgan.grace you’re so fucking hot Sophia the hell

user4 PROUD TO SAY THAT I WAS IN THAT CROWD

user5 damn how did Jack fumble this 😂

— ♡

DECEMBER always brought more work than you’d like to have but for the first time since you started working as a singer, you were grateful for it.

You had so many appearances, so many fans to see, so many concerts to do. You were grateful singing was your favorite thing to do because time passed and you didn’t even notice it.

But, now some of the fuss calmed down and you were able to spend time doing things that weren’t related to your career, like;

“Sophia, come on, you’re gonna be late!” Grace shouted from the living room and you laughed, pouring the butter flavored popcorn into a bowl. “Sophia!”

“Jesus, Grace, calm down,” you shouted back, looking for napkins. “It’s not like we have to be there or whatever.”

Today the Devils were playing against the Blackhawks and Grace asked you if you both could watch it at your house.

“We don’t have to if you think it will make you sad, but i really wanted to watch Nico tonight.” Grace smiled, not even trying to hide how she was head over heels for him.

“It’s okay, Grace, I swear. I want to see Nico too,” you smiled, trying to hide the fact that you’d secretly been watching all of their games, desperate to catch a glimpse of Jack’s blue eyes. “We can do a girls night.”

“But you’re losing all the good shit,” she whined. “The Blackhawks players are fine, too. That Bedard kid is a cute, little honeybun.”

You chuckled, walking away from the kitchen and sitting on the couch beside her, putting the bowl on the table.

“He has a girlfriend, y’know. He dates his teammate’s sister, Ellie I think.”

“Oh, I think I saw a picture of them together at a party last month,” she tapped her chin with her index finger. “They do look cute together.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, watching as the commentator introduced the players. “Who do you think is going to win?”

“Girl, I don’t like to tell anyone my predictions because what if I jinx it?” She stared at you, like you were crazy just for asking.

You rolled your eyes. “Ever since you and Nico started fucking you became awfully surpersticious.”

“Sophia Montenegro!” She raised her arms, kicking you with her feet. “You can’t talk to me like that! I’m your sister.”

“Which gives me permission to say that you and Nico are fucking. Who cares?” You kicked her back, starting a kicking fight.

You both just stopped when you were both out of breath and the game was starting. The first period was going surprisingly smooth for the Blackhawks, which made you— secretly— worry.

Jack has probably seen better days. You would always say that he’s the number one player in the team because for you he absolutely is, but even someone who didn’t know anything about Hockey could tell that he was lacking.

You bit your lips and squeezed your thighs because, even after everything, Jack looked so fucking good. Especially with the black Devils uniform. He looked handsome and you knew that he was all of that, and he’d always be.

Sometimes you’d think about how good the sex between the two of you was, and you’d wonder if you’d find anything like that ever again.

At the end of the first period, the scoreboard read 2-1, the Blackhawks winning. You and Grace were in the middle of a discussion about how her ex looked like Shaggy from Scooby Doo when the commentator started showing the celebrities who showed up to the game.

“Who even cares about the celebrities who showed up?” You threw popcorn at the screen. “Or even better, since when do they show celebrities? Aren’t they supposed to be interviewing the players or whatever?”

“You know a lot for someone who doesn’t watch the games,” Grace teased you, and you just pushed a handful of popcorn inside your mouth. “And sorry to say this, sweetie, but if people didn’t care about celebrities, you and I wouldn’t have a job.”

You rolled your eyes, paying attention to the TV again.

“So, tell me, Nat, I’ve heard that we have some pretty famous people here today.” The announcer talked to the reporter who was standing in some kind of expensive room Sophia didn’t know the name of.

The black woman just smiled, nodding her head and bringing the microphone closer to her face.

“That’s right, Shaan. Some well known people blessed us with their presence here today…”

“I hope it's Ariana Grande or some shit like that.” Grace muttered beside you.

“Oh remind me to call her later, I need to visit her next time I’m in LA,” you replied mindlessly, still watching the sports channel.

“…And among all of these people, we have the one and only, Harris Dickinson and his girlfriend, Chloe McGill!”

“What?!” You heard Grace yelling beside you, which confirmed that what you were seeing wasn’t just your head trying to play games with you.

There he stood, in all his glory, with the cocky smirk that once gave you butterflies and was now making you sick, with his arm wrapped around a girl’s waist.

“Am I tripping or that girl looks awfully like you?”

You looked at the scene in front of you, where the reporter was now interviewing Harris with an enthusiastic smile. The girl beside him, Chloe you think, indeed looked a lot like you.

“She… she looks just like how I did when I started dating him,” you concluded, feeling sick all over again. “Even the fucking bangs, Grace.”

She put her hand on your left arm, caressing you. “I’m so sorry, bubba. Do you want me to turn it off?”

“No, ‘course not,” you reassured her, trying to smile. “I’m fine, I was just caught off guard, that’s all.”

“Okay,” Grace whispered. “Okay.”

“…I’m just happy to be here, y’know?” Harris stated, still showing his pearly white teeth. “I’m a huge Devils fan, just like my girl here.”

“That’s the biggest lie he’s ever said,” you laughed, feeling sorry for how pathetic he is. “He deadass couldn’t even stand the thought of Hockey, or any sport for that matter. What the hell is he even saying?”

“Well, apparently that little girlfriend of his, is the daughter of one of the Devils’ coaches,” Grace promptly replied, and you looked at her, ready to ask how the hell she knew that, but seeing the phone in her hand. “They’re like, rich as fuck.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Harris’ type to me.” You mumbled, praying that the second period would come faster.

And maybe God did hear your prayers because not even five minutes later, the Devils and the Blackhawks were back on the ice. The game was nerve wracking, your nails and eardrums long gone from how much you’d bitten them and how loud Grace screamed during the game.

Jack was smooth on ice, the best you’ve seen him playing all season, even before you and him fought. It was satisfying to watch him doing what he loved and you were happy that he was finally getting back on track.

Two hours later, the game ended; the Devils won. Grace cheered and jumped around while you laughed at her, happy to see her happy. Even if you didn’t understand much of hockey and even if you didn’t care about it, you were also thrilled, because you knew Jack would be happy.

You kinda hated your mind for always thinking about him but you couldn’t help it. Not when you saw how handsome he looked and not when you still loved him. A lot.

The same reporter from before, Nat, continued to talk, interviewing some of the players from the team. Grace whined about being hungry and you rolled your eyes, getting up to cook for her.

“What do you want?” You asked, opening your cabinets. “I can make pasta for us.”

“Ugh, yes, please,” she fake-moaned and you laughed. “If I’m going to fuck Nico tonight, Imma need all the carbs in the world,”

“You’re disgusting. I hope you know that,” you answered back, putting the water to boil.

“For Nico Hischier? Hell yes I am!”

You cut the onions and garlic, before putting olive oil on a separate pan and adding them. Grace continued to yap about the game, pointing out all the best players and who she liked best, while you just nodded and cooked.

“Ooh, they’re having a fancy celebrating party tonight!” She yelled from the living room, even if you could still see her and the TV because you had an open kitchen, grabbing your attention. “Is it a gala? I hope it is, Hockey players look so fucking good in suits.”

“And they say I’m the horny one…” you mumbled, putting the tomato sauce inside the pan.

“Can this woman give us some information we actually want to hear? I don’t care if they have points or not, I just want to see them in suits!”

“She’s just doing her job, Grace, stop being a whore.”

Moving around the kitchen, you finished Grace’s dinner, and grabbed a plate for her, not after filling up a glass of cold water and grating some cheese.

You went back to the living room, placing everything in front of her, while she hugged you from behind, giving you neck kisses.

“I am going to wife you up, baby!”

You giggled. “Shut up and eat, weirdo,”

She just let you go and sat on the floor, swallowing the pasta like it was her last meal.

You both watched as they showed the party, all of the players there, people laughing and smiling for pictures. Jack wasn’t interacting with the reporters, and you thought it was weird, even if you knew he low-key hated them.

“…so, yeah, I’m definitely happy we won tonight but we still have to work hard—” Mercer suddenly stopped himself mid-sentence, leaving the woman— Nat— beside him confused. He covered his mouth with his hand and laughed. “Is that Jack fighting someone? That’s sick! Film that, baldy!” He asked the cameraman.

You and Grace stopped talking and stared at each other. The camera suddenly changed angles and showed a body you knew way too well on top of another body you, unfortunately, also knew well.

“Jesus, Jack is punching Harris in the face!” Grace announced, like you weren’t watching it yourself.

The angles weren’t good because you’d bet money the cameraman wasn’t expecting to record a fight tonight, but it was still pretty damn clear that Jack was punching Harris’ face repeatedly, while his girlfriend screamed and cried and the other players tried to get him off Harris’ face.

Harris fought back, but even though he tried, he wasn’t used to fighting. Unlike Jack, who threw every punch with force and precision.

“It seems like our number eighty-six, Jack Hughes, is having a fist fight with the actor Harris Dickinson!”

“Stop trying to state the obvious, bitch, film the fucking fight!” Grace yelled.

“Grace, calm down.” you whispered, watching as the camera focused on Jack again, this time him being dragged by Nico and Nathan while he shouted at them to let him go.

This was bad. Like, bad, truly bad. They focused on Harris’ face for just a second, and it was enough— his face was all bloody and he was probably going to have a black eye for a week, with how swollen his eye was. Jack had most likely broken his nose and shit wasn’t looking good.

“Oh my God, why did he do this!” You got up from the couch, pacing around the room. “Fuck, does he know what this is going to do to him? Harris is dating the Coach’s daughter, what the hell!”

Grace was also too stunned to speak, something that did not happen often. You could tell she was just as distressed as you.

“Harris Dickinson is going to the hospital with his girlfriend Chloe and his father-in-law, Coach Ryan McGill.”

“What the fuck, this is bad,” you put your hands on your head, trying to figure out what to do. “I need to do something.”

Grace sighed, loudly. “I should be the brain in our friendship but… yeah. I mean, I know you guys are out of contact right now but this… he definitely did this for you…”

“Yeah, Grace, make me feel worse, go ahead.” You hissed.

“I’m not trying to make you feel worse, baby, you know why he did that!” She raised her arms. “You should talk to him. This obviously isn’t working for any of you.”

“Grace—”

“No, you will hear me now!” She talked on top of you, also getting up. “I’ve watched you put on a fake smile and pretend you’re fine and I didn’t say anything because I knew you had to figure it out yourself, but I can’t do this anymore. You’re drowning yourself in work, you spend half of your time at your studio and the other half at John’s studio. You don’t go out, you don’t live.”

“Grace.” You tried again.

“And usually I’d say something like: ‘get over that fucking asshole’ or ‘he isn’t worth it’!” She walked back and forth. “But the worst part is that Nico told me Jack is just like you!”

That made you stop. “What?”

“He’s not at parties, he’s not hanging out with the team, he’s not goofing around. All he does is sleep, eat and go to practice. And, fuck, Nico doesn’t know what to do because Jack never acted like this before.”

“Grace, what…” you breathed, almost yanking your hoodie with how much force you were holding it. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s so fucking obvious you both love each other yet you won’t do anything!” She lamented, staring at your eyes. “I can’t watch you fall apart like this. You have to tell him that you want to be with him.”

“Grace, I can’t— I can’t do that.” You stuttered, trying your hardest not to cry.

“Sophia,” she whispered, grabbing your hands. “That man loves you. He just punched your ex-boyfriend on national television, with everyone watching. I stand with what I said back at that dreadful Halloween party, I’ve seen how he looks at you. And he loves you. Jack Hughes loves you, Sophia.”

You let her words sink in, nodding once. Grace was bossy, delusional and a bit insane too but she was right. You needed to do something.

“Okay,” you agreed, holding her against your body. “What do I do?”

“Shit, I didn’t think you’d agree with what I was saying… I don’t know?”

“You’re such a dumbass sometimes,” you laughed and she pinched your butt. “I think… I think I’m going to his house.”

“That’s a bald ass move and so right. Want me to go with you?”

“No, I’m good. I don’t even know if he’ll hear me out but I’ll try?” You stepped back, grabbing your car keys and purse.

“Call me if anything goes wrong,” she blinked, going back to the couch. “If you don’t, I’ll call you and risk interrupting your fuck.”

“Like I’d ever pick up,” you joked, leaving the house.

Jack lived thirty minutes away from you, and alongside with that, it was a Friday night in Newark— of course the streets were filled with cars. It took you an hour to get there but even so, Jack’s car wasn’t parked in front of his garage like it used to.

You turned your car off, and waited. You could wait outside but with how cold it was, it was safer for you to wait inside. You couldn’t risk getting sick.

Seconds turned into minutes and when the one hour mark came, you sighed.

“Maybe he isn’t coming home tonight,” you said to no one, tired of waiting. You knew you could call him, but you weren't entirely sure he’d pick up. “Maybe it’s just traffic.”

You decided to wait a little bit more, half an hour. If Jack wasn’t there by the end of it, you’d just come back tomorrow. Fortunately, shortly after that, Jack’s car was parked outside of his house.

You watched as he got out of it, opened the back door and grabbed his duffel bag. Taking a deep breath, you left your car and closed the door silently.

Walking to his porch with fast steps, you called him. “Jack!”

He stopped immediately, turning around to face you. He had a bandage on his eyebrow and one on his cheek. Your heart tugged on your chest.

“Soph?” He asked, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him.

You stepped closer, smiling awkwardly.

“Hi,” you said, softly, putting your hands inside your pockets. “Can we… hum… talk?”

He stared at you for a second, before nodding and turning around again, opening his door and letting you inside the house first. You thanked him and stepped inside, taking in the sight you missed so much, his home.

You both stayed quiet for a while; he put his things away and you stood there, weirdly. You didn’t know how to start the conversation, so you just stared at him. He looked tired, dark circles adorning his face, hair messy and face a bit swollen. Even if he looked hurt, he looked ten thousand times better than Harris, who was probably in the emergency room at the local hospital.

“Jack,” you started, noticing how his body went stiff and he stopped moving. “Why did you do it?”

You didn’t give him a chance to reply, stepping closer and putting your hand on his face, feeling the hotness of it, and realizing you missed him more than you knew.

“Jesus, Jack, do you even realize what you did?” You whispered, moving your thumb up and down. “He’s dating your coach’s daughter. He’s a powerful man, baby.” The pet name slipped out of your tongue, but you didn’t want to take it back.

“Fuck,” he breathed, grabbing your wrist and kissing it. “Say it again, Soph.”

Maybe someone else would need him to clarify it better, explain further. But not you. Not when the love you felt for him ran deep inside your soul.

“Baby,” you whispered again, watching as he closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Sophia, fuck, what did you do to me?” His voice sounded so tender, you could feel your body wanting nothing more than to melt inside his arms. “I can’t— Fuck.”

“Jack, you need to understand that what you did, baby, it could cost you a lot—”

“I know. Soph, I know that. And I still would break his asshole’s nose again and again.”

“Why did you do it?”

He stepped away, and you immediately wanted him to come back. “Why did I do it? Isn’t it obvious?” He laughed, humorlessly. “Sophia, I am in love with you. I love you.”

You felt your cheeks getting wet, and only then did you realize you were crying.

“I didn’t understand it sooner because, hell, I have never loved a woman before that wasn’t my mom, and even then, it’s not even close to what I feel towards you,” he ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t think being in a relationship was for me, I didn’t even want it. But now I look at you and—” he looked at you, blue eyes brighter than you’d ever seen. “I look at you and I realize you’re all I want.”

You were fully crying now, the tears running down your face like models on a runway. Your hands were shaking, and you wanted to scream at him.

“You’re it for me, baby,” he stepped closer, gently putting his hands on your waist, letting you rest your head on his chest. “I know that you’re upset, and I know this isn’t easy for you. We all got bags full of shit that we don’t want, but I will unpack them for you, baby. Just… just let me.”

“Jack,” you sniffled, trying to stop crying. “I need you to know that I love you, too. But,” you pressed your lips together, organising your thoughts. “You need to know that sometimes it’s going to be hard for me. I don’t trust so easily anymore and I’m sorry for it but that’s just who I am.”

You could swear you could feel his smile, while he held you tighter. “It’s okay, Soph. When I tell you that I want you, I don’t mean only the good parts. I want you whole. I want the bad, the good and the in-between,”

“What if,” you hold him impossibly closer. “I don’t want you to get tired of me.”

“Tired of you?” He chuckled. “I want to marry you.”

You stepped away from his like he was on fire. Frowning, you raised your finger.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Hughes. Besides that, you’re literally twenty-two.”

“I don’t mind you being my old sugar mommy,” he shrugged, smiling.

“Call me old again, Jack Hughes, and I promise you will never hear from me again.” You smiled too, and for the first time in probably two months, it felt real.

“Yes, ma’am,” he stopped smiling, stepping closer to you again. Holding your wrists to his mouth, he kissed the right first before moving onto the next. After he was done, he placed them on his neck, grabbing your waist.

You stood on your toes, trying to stay face to face with him.

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

You smiled. “I guess you can.”

“You guess?” He bickered back, plastering his white teeth for you. “Can I kiss you, baby?” He whispered, kissing your cheeks. Then your nose, then your forehead. Always gentle and steady. “Soph, sweetheart, can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, you just glued your lips together, moaning because you had missed this so much. His lips felt like the sweetest thing in the world and when he touched your tongue with his, you were sure you had turned into butter and was now melting.

Maybe your forever wasn’t so distant at all.

[earl-grey-teacake]

There is a rumor that with Domenicali stepping down as F1 CEO, Nico Rosberg could be a potential replacement.

*I have a fanfic idea for this.

Hear me out, Nico Rosberg gets CEO position for 1 reason and 1 reason only, and that is to win Lewis back but also be petty with him at the same time.

Helmet Mario makes his regular racist comments? BANNED. Security is going to throw that old man in a ravine.

Need to represent the teams during a penalty disputes with the FIA? Lewis is absolutely at fault unless he accept my invite to dinner, then he’s never done anything wrong and I’m offended that we’re even having this meeting.

Mandatory meeting with drivers? Lewis has one scheduled every other week.

Interviews with the media?

Nico: Yeah, I mean that was an impeccable drive from Lewis. It’s nice to see him wrong out every ounce of potential from that car. He could absolutely be WDC this year. That overtake was classic Lewis, executed flawlessly.

Sky Sports: and his teammate?

Nico: Charles is fine, he’s there. Bad strategy call.

Is this a healthy work environment? Absolutely not. HR should probably be involved.

Is Lewis aware of what’s going on? 50/50

Does Nico fill his office fridge with only vegan food for their mandatory meetings? Yes, yes he does

Are other teams going to get involved? And get caught in the crossfire of Brocedes? No.

(I should note that I only have a very vague sense of what the F1 CEO does.)

*this is a fanfic idea. I have too many WIP to start something new. If anyone wants to write this, feel free to. But tag me since I want to read this.

[formulawolff]

"you belong here" - s.v.

pairing: gf!reader x aston martin!sebastian vettel

word count: 1.5k

warnings: (slight) age gap relationship, a little bit of cursing here and there, seb being absolutely down bad for the reader, some (slight) angst, the general public being judgmental, (slight) slut shaming, the drivers being little shits (as always), yadayadayada

a/n: i am a perfectionist when it comes to writing personalities, mannerisms, cadences of words, etc. so if i happened to not do the best job with this fic, please be patient with me!!! this is my first time writing for seb!!! i am open to feedback!!! <3

"okay, from the top. how many drivers are there?"

"twenty."

"nope!" he shakes his head, his lips curling into a smug smirk, "there are nineteen drivers. sorry love, but you were incorrect."

"sebastian," you scoff, rolling your eyes, "you needed to specify if you were included. because if you weren't included, there would be nineteen other drivers. if you were, there would be twenty."

"that's why it's called a trick question," his hand squeezes yours, "your hands are clammy, by the way."

"maybe because i'm nervous?" you counter, "this is my first time tagging along to a grand prix, you know."

"i know," he brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it tenderly, "i'm sorry for being a little pest."

"you're not a pest," your heart swells at the gesture, "i'm just anxious to meet everyone, that's all."

"oh they'll love you," confidence oozes out of his words, "i have no doubts about that."

sebastian vettel, four time world drivers' champion, was your boyfriend of the last year or so. the two of you met online, as you had slid into his dms on instagram after a very intoxicated evening out with friends.

since you had a love for formula one since you were a teenager, you admired drivers such as lewis hamilton, nico rosberg, daniel ricciardo, and well, sebastian.

you weren't quite sure where the love for the sport came from, but you could remember the sleepless nights you spent on youtube, eagerly clicking through racing highlights through various grand prixes. the sleepovers where your friends would be doing makeovers on you or painting your nails as you chattered about all of the driver drama and lore.

so, when you learned that mr. vettel was very single, and very open to the world of dating, you decided to shoot your shot. it took about six or seven drinks, but you mustered the courage to type out those fateful words.

i heard your single. we should change that.

shockingly, you received a response not too long after sending the message.

i believe it's *you're and not your. why should i take you up on your offer? you're a very beautiful woman but i need a little more information before i take you out on a date. ;)

from that message, the two of you chatted constantly, getting to know one another in-between shifts at your job, and his free time between races, press conferences, and training sessions.

eventually, he asked for your number, requesting a facetime call. you obliged, the two of you talking for hours upon hours that night. only a week or so later, he flew you out to his place in switzerland, requesting that you spend the weekend with him.

you did, falling for him the moment you met him in person. well, not like it was difficult by any means. with his charming aura and goofy persona, you felt comfortable almost immediately, letting your walls come crashing down.

nothing was too much or too out-of-pocket. you could make all of the vulgar jokes you wished, and he would laugh right along, only escalating the joke further. you could cry on his shoulder about anything, and he would happily rub your back, wiping away the tears that fell. he would hold you every night you slept together, not letting go until you wriggled away in the mornings.

and now, here you were, hand-in-hand as you entered the paddock. your heart skips a beat as your gaze falls on lance stroll, sebastian's fellow driver and teammate.

upon seeing you, his mouth curves into a bright smile, "look who it is!"

"i know you're not that excited to see me," sebastian pouts, "or did you really miss me that much?"

lance rolls his eyes at sebastian, sticking out his right hand, "good morning! i'm lance. i'm the other aston martin driver. well, you probably already know that."

"it's nice to meet you," you suppress a giggle, "i've heard a lot about you!"

"oh have you?" lance arches a brow, turning to sebastian, "have you been talking shit?"

"always pooks," sebastian chuckles, "not really. i just happen to talk a lot about racing. i'm sure she's tired of it by now."

"oh never," you flash sebastian a radiant grin, "i never get tired of all of the racing talk. i've loved formula one since i was about thirteen or so."

"that's awesome!" lance gushes, "you have yourself a keeper then, seb."

"i know i do," you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder, "should we go meet some fans? i promise they won't bite."

"fans?" you echo, a shiver running down your spine.

"well yeah," lance nods, "we have some time before we need to meet up with everyone. we usually chat with some fans, hand out some autographs. nothing too serious or glamorous."

"if you say so," you mumble, the words so quiet you were shocked you heard them.

it wasn't like you were dreading interacting with fans, it was just that you were a bit daunted by the idea.

ever since sebastian went public with you about a month ago, the reaction from the public was mixed. one half was adamant that you were too young for the driver, as there was an almost fifteen year age gap between the two of you. the plethora of negative comments that flooded the comment section of your instagram posts was almost too much to bear.

the other half, however, was very supportive, voicing that they "shipped" the two of you or that you were good for the driver. some comments even went as far to say that you were "a breath of fresh air", and that sebastian needed someone like you in his life.

yet, as the three of you stroll out of the paddock, you hoped for the latter. that the fans would be kind, welcoming you with open arms.

you could only dream, right?

"sebastian!"

"sebastian over here!"

voices flurry about, calling from all directions. everywhere all around, it was almost a sea of green, fans donning aston martin gear from head to toe. people of all ages flooded your field of vision, children hoisted on their parents shoulders to men and women in their seventies, maybe even their eighties.

"baby, can i see your purse?" his breath fans against your ear, snapping out of your trance.

"yeah," you nod, fumbling with your bag, "y-you need your sharpie, right?"

"hey," fingers find yours, intertwining them together, "it's just you and i. forget everyone else. just think about you and i."

"it's hard to-" you protest, yet you're swiftly cut off by a voice rising above the midst of the crowd.

"who invited the slut?"

sebastian's brows furrow, his eyes narrowing into slits, "what the fuck?"

more voices cut in, jeering.

"put her back in her crib! where she belongs!"

"you heard what i said! who invited that slut beside you?"

"goddamn," lance mutters under his breath, "what the fuck are they on right now?"

tears well up, threatening to spill over as you duck your head, lower lip trembling. sebastian senses your energy shift, wrapping a protective arm around your waist. he pulls you in close, pressing gentle kisses along your temple.

"come on, let's go back to the paddock. you don't deserve this."

lance flashes you a sympathetic glance before raising a hand, giving the crowd the finger, "whoever said that, this is for you!"

every aspect of the walk back is blurred as the tears fall. your lips are sealed tightly shut, suppressing the sobs rising in your chest.

you were barely here an hour and fans were already heckling you.

could you even last the weekend here?

did you even belong here?

"hey," his voice is soft, "come here."

blinking, you realize that he had taken you back to his motorhome, a private space for just the two of you. his arms are open, inviting you in. you nearly collapse into his chest, burying your head in it as he rubs your back.

"i'm so sorry."

"you don't have to be sorry," you shrug, swallowing the lump in your throat, "they're right. i don't belong here."

"stop that," fingers grasp your chin, tilting your head up, "you do belong here. you belong here just as much as anyone else does. i need you here."

"you promise?"

"i promise baby," sebastian tucks a few wisps of hair behind your ear, "you're irreplaceable. who cares what they think? just focus on me. it's just you and i this weekend, okay?"

"okay," you nod, sniffling slightly.

"you know what i think?" he leans in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

"what?" you inquire, the tears dissipating as he brings you in closer.

"they're just jealous that i have the most breathtaking, stunning, kindest, funniest girlfriend in the whole wide world. and no one, i mean no one, can take that away from me. you're mine baby. and nothing is ever going to change that."

you find yourself nearly crumbling into his chest once again, "you mean that?"

"of course i do. now, let's go try this again. if anyone is rude or hateful, i'll just spit on them, okay?"

[menagerofmischief]

nsfw alphabet -> nr6

masterlist

nsfw alphabet (a-z) / 18+

nico rosberg x fem!reader

an: this one was a requested a while ago, I never pass up a chance to write for my favorite diva.

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

Nico is someone who values intimacy a lot and he takes aftercare absolutely seriously, he's doing the full experience every time. Bringing you water, snacks, drawing you a bath or taking a shower together and ending up wrapped in blankets with your favorite show playing.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

His favorite body part of yours are absolutely your thighs, no matter the size he adores them. Will be touching, gripping or stroking at any opportunity, even during public dinners.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Like I said, he values intimacy a lot so he absolutely goes feral for coming in you. It's the best for him, no need to pull out and it makes him feel even closer to you so it's his go to. If you ask him to cum on any part of your body, boobs, face, ass, back, you name it he'll do it but if you leave it up to him, it's going inside.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

He knows you'd never let him live it down so he doesn't mention it but he has a very secret very special sex playlist of Britney Spears songs which he'd love to play while fucking you.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

He has enough experience to know what he's doing and is down for learning about every little thing that feels good for you. Hasn't been around plenty but he's a good learner.

F= Favorite position

He mostly prefers positions where he can look at your face because he loves the look on your face when you're close to orgasm. Also likes doggy in front of a mirror.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

He can go either way depending on the mood. Sometimes it's all very lighthearted and you're both giggling other times it's full on deep in the moment and passionate.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

For himself, he keeps it neatly trimmed because he finds that's what works best for him - for you, he's fine with whatever you're the most comfortable with.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

Most of the time he's really romantic and into it, gazing into your eyes and everything. But he can absolutely go filthy and rough if he's has a bad day or something (Lewis) annoyed him much.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

Does it occasionally, especially if he's really pent up but doesn't like doing it alone. If he's away and you couldn't come he's video call you so you can both get off together.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

He likes mirror sex, and is a fan of foreplay. Otherwise he isn't really specific about his kinks and is open to trying pretty much anything at least once.

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

He prefers the bedroom but as long as it's a closed space with walls and not too public, he's down to go.

M= Motivation (what gets them going)

He doesn't need a lot to be able to go really, and anything you do that's even remotely suggestive had him ready and needy.

N= No (something they won't do)

Anything that actually hurts you in a definite no. Some roughness is okay to a certain extent but when it feels more like pain and less like pleasure it's an absolute no go for him.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

Lives for giving you head, and has worked hard to perfect his technique, finding all your sensitive spots and trying to see how fast he can make you fall apart. Really does it for his own enjoyment, seeing as he gets completely lost in it. Would be happy to drown in your pussy.

P= Pace (do they prefer it slow or fast)

Somewhere in the middle. He's not exactly going slow but neither is he going that fast. Will listen to what you tell him you want in the moment, increasing the rhythm of his thrusts as soon as you moan out a "Nico, please faster, baby please!"

Q= Quickie (do they prefer quickies or taking their time)

He prefers to take his time and make you fall apart multiple times, first on his fingers and tongue and then on his cock. But he can absolutely go for quickies as long as it's somewhere private.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

He's down for experiment and trying new things with you. He's happy to try anything you bring up, and if you like it great, if you don't at least you tried.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go)

It depends on how exhausting the day was but he can usually go multiple rounds with little to no breaks in between.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

He's okay with toys, it wasn't something he thought about it at first but after you tried it once he discovered his love for them and all the ways he can use them on you.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

Mostly he does it unintentionally at first, but once he notices there's a glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips, will tease you for as long as possible.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

He moans and grunts, sometimes if you're teasing him he'll whine. Overall he makes really pretty sounds. Also very good at dirty talk but his voice will sometimes crack as a moan slips past.

W= Wild card (random headcannon of any sort)

During the big Brocedes fall out era he has fucked you rough, purposefully trying to make you be loud, all against the wall separating his driver's room from Lewis's.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in those pants)

He's a bit above average for length and around average girth, also has a pretty pink tip, always sensitive and leaking.

Y= Yearning (sex drive)

He's not fully sex crazed but is quiet needy. Ideally 3-4 times a week.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

Nico will wait for you to fall asleep first, holding you close, his hands stroking your skin, the movement slowing down and coming to a stop once he can no longer fight off sleep, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

[raphael-angele]

Nico Protection Squad

WARNING: Use of hateful slur

Nico, coming home from school with Percy: Hey, Reyna. Hey, Jason.

Reyna: Hey, Nico.

Jason: Hey, Buddy

Percy: Hey, guys. Uh, Nico, why don't you go to your room and rest. We need to talk.

Nico: Mkay. *leaves*

Percy: Make sure to do your homework, alright?

Nici: Uh huh!

Reyna: What happened?

Jason: Is he okay?

Percy: ...we need to call the team

---Later---

At one of their rooms:

Percy: Good day, everyone. I know it's late and it's unusual for me to call a meeting at this time but this is an emergency

Annabeth: But first, an attendance check. Annabeth? Here. Bianca?

Hazel: Oh, she comes back next week

Annabeth: Ok. Jason? Here. Thalia? Here. Percy? Here. Hazel? Here. Piper? Here. Reyna? Here. Will? Here. Grover? Here. Leo? Here. Frank? Here. And Mr. D? Present! Ok, that should be everyone. Take it away Percy

Percy, clearing his throat: Okay, I need you guys to swear that you will not go berserk right after this and you will remain seated until we have a plan.

Everyone:

Percy: So, I was picking up Nico from class. On the drive back, he...

Hazel: He what?

Percy: He...asked me what a faggot was.

Everyone:

Thalia: WHAT THE FUCK?!?!

Will: Is he okay?!

Hazel: Where did he even learn that from?!

Jason: Did someone call him that?!?!?

Reyna: WHO THE HELL WOULD CALL HIM THAT?!?!?

Leo: Every single douchebag in school, of course!

Piper: You think they'd learn their lesson after the first time

Percy: *gavels* Order! Order!

Grover: I think we're all missing the point here. How's Nico doing?

Percy: He's fine. I asked him where he knew the word from. He said someone was calling him that, a couple of students a year above him apparently.

Frank: What happened then?

Percy: I asked him if he knew their names. He didn't and he asked me again what it meant.

Will: What did you say?

Percy: I didn't answer. There was a McDonalds right there and I went for it. He took the bait and has been quiet for the whole car ride.

Grover: So...what do we do?

Leo: OH! *raises his hand* WE'LL SET THEIR LOCKERS ON FIRE!

Thalia: I think what Grover meant was what do we do for now? We don't know these guys, and we don't know how much it's affecting Nico.

Reyna: Thalia's right. We need to have a plan to protect Nico and catch these bastards.

Annabeth: Percy and I already thought about it.

Percy: Introducing the Pick up/Drop off Nico Chart. We each get a schedule of when to pick him up, and when to drop him off

Annabeth: And to make sure we catch these guys, we think it would be best to see Nico off to his classrooms or at least the building.

Thalia, raising her hand: Uhm-

Percy: Don't worry. We adjusted it for times you guys are away. Which is why we used magnets to represent us. See? I'm the water droplet, Annabeth's the owl, Grover's the goat, Leo's the fire, you're the tree, Hazel's the-

Annabeth: They get it, Percy. All in favor of the chart say aye

Everyone, raises their hand: Aye!

Leo: So how are we gonna get back at these guys?

Jason: We could tell them off to the dean

Percy: You'd suggest that, wouldn't you, Mr. Goody Two Shoes?

Piper: I can charmspeak them to do embarassing stuff

Percy: Eh, we need something more

Annabeth: I'm writing that one down, it sounds funny

Mr D.: I am the God of Insanity. I can just drive them crazy.

Annabeth: Mr. D, no.

Percy: Not a bad idea though. I'm writing it down.

Will: Wait. I think I figured out another problem

Percy: What is it, Will?

Will: Who tells Bianca?

Everyone:

Percy: ...all in favor of keeping this a secret from Bianca, say aye?

Everyone, terrified: Aye!

Will: Whu- Percy, no. Remember that time you didn't tell her about how you accidentally destoryed Nico's mythomagic cards and made him sad for nearly a month?

Percy: *shivers* I still get nightmares from that.

Annabeth: Fine. Who tells her?

Everyone: *looks at Reyna and Thalia*

Reyna: No

Thalia: Absolutely not.

Mr. D: Hang on. If Bianca is so terrifying, why not just give the guys to her?

Percy: Mr. D, although that's a tempting plan, there is no telling what Bianca will do to those guys if we let her get near them.

Mr. D: She can't be THAT scary.

Everyone: Yes, she can.

Percy: With what she did to me? She might as well have sent me to Tartarus!

Frank: Gods, what did she do to him?

Annabeth: She took away all the blue in our apartment and replaced them with orange.

Percy: It took a month before she put them back! There was no blue food for a month!