#thank goodness i don't have anything to do tomorrow

[hitomisuzuya]

I don't have anything specific in mind but what if more scummy scara 😳 maybe scummy roommate scara? sorry if it's vague lmao thank youu

roommate!scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. scummy scara. perverted thoughts. masturbation. fingersucking. fingering. cunnilingus. obsessive behavior. degradation. sex toys. orgasm denial

my pulls for daddy aventurine happen tomorrow. i am very nervous. i'll take any ideas for a good luck fic. it's been awhile since i have written scummy scara😳

scaramouche's thoughts race whether he is around you or not. you commented one day that you thought his fingers were incredibly beautiful. gorgeous, even. he likes to think about you coming up to him, asking so sweetly for him to drop whatever he was doing and please you with his fingers.

you would put your lips next to his ear, and whisper about how wet you are. how your pussy is neglected and throbbing, how only his fingers stuffing you full would satisfy you. you would bring his fingers to your lips, cheeks flushing as your tongue swept out to lick them. an visible excited shiver would come over you as he prodded his fingers on your lips, your mouth opening so obediently as he pushed them into your mouth.

"get them nice and wet for me, doll," he purred, slowly pumping them in and out of your mouth, watching fascinated as drool trickled down the corner of your mouth. his cock throbbing from the sensation of your warm, wet mouth sucking in complete worship on his fingers. it would make him wonder what your pretty mouth would feel like wrapped around his cock. a gleeful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth hearing you gag softly on his fingers, muffling moans as he explored your mouth. pressing down on your tongue and rubbing the pads of his fingers on it.

a string of saliva would connect his fingers with your tongue which you would break with the most erotic flick of your tongue. your legs would eagerly move apart feeling then brush against your panties, your hand scrambling peel your soaking panties aside. just sucking on his fingers made you so, so wet.

scaramouche would take his time rubbing his fingers between your folds, happily and thoroughly soaking his fingers with your juices as he played with your clit. watching your face contort with pleasure, your body twitching as the cutest, softest moans started to sound from you. "what a wet little slut you are," the delicious way your hole would clench around the tips of his fingers made his cock strain harder on his jeans.

that you would do anything if he would just make you cum.

the needy way you would rub your pussy on his fingers, whimpering in needier protest while he prodded and teased his fingers at your hole. it made him want to test to see if he could get you to squirt just from playing with your clit. how long would it take you break if he denied you until you were shaking and crying for him to stretch you apart and make you cum on his fingers. he would reward you for begging like a good girl, pumping two fingers in and out of you while he contemplated denying you.

scaramouche has a particular list of favorites he likes to do if you were out of the house. you never locked the door to your room. what a sweet little thing you are, trusting him that much.

he would look through your panty drawer, especially liking finding a new pair of panties. better yet for him if you hadn't worn them yet. he would lay on your bed and rub your panties on his cock. to him, cumming on your panties was the closest thing to actually cumming inside of you. he would cover his mouth to muffle his soft whimpers, rutting his cock into the material.

he loves edging himself with any sex toys you have. he would writhe on the bed, rubbing and teasing the vibrator slowly on his cock. turning up the setting when he couldn take it anymore. it was an erotic rush for him to get himself off on something you got yourself off with.

he desperately wanted to edge you in the same way. to stuff both your holes with vibrators, rubbing a bullet on your swollen, throbbing clit. he would hold your wrists above your head to keep you from squirming.

when he could no longer handle the aching in his cock, he would rub the bullet on his cock until he was cumming hard on your chest from watching you cum slow and just as hard on the toys.

if scaramouche observed you looking stressed out, he would think about sinking to his knees in front of you, nuzzling his cheek against your thighs as he pushed up your skirt. "let me relieve your stress," he purred, wasting no time in putting his tongue on your clit as he tugged your panties down.

how your legs would shake as he teased your clit with his tongue, looking down at him with such a shy expression as you started to surrender to the pleasure his tongue would inevitably provide you. your hands would find the back of his head, pressing his mouth down onto your pussy.

tasting you on his tongue as you grinded on his mouth would remind him of just how badly he wanted to bully his cock inside of you. he wouldn't dream of deny you your orgasm. at least not right away. he craves to taste you cumming on his tongue.

he would greedily latch his lips on your clit, focusing his tongue on the sensitive nub until pleasure burst white hot behind your eyes. you would writhe restlessly, tears stinging your eyes as you desperately grinded on his mouth. "please, i need your tongue licking inside of me. i can barely stand it."

god, he could cum to the sounds of your sweet, pathetic begging, lapping up the taste of your pussy like a starved dog.

[beef-brisket]

Charlie: That's good, dad. I'm glad you're acknowledging your wrongs. That's the first step!

Lucifer smiled weakly. But she's right. It is the beginning. He can start over, Adam is a fresh slate.

Lucifer: Can I see him?

Charlie thought about it for a second: I don't see why you can't. You're not trying to attack an Adam that isn't there, and if I'm honest, it'll benefit him if he saw you.

Lucifer: R-Really? You think so?

Charlie: I do. He's been worried and sad that he may have done something to stress you out, to make you lash out at him. His room is all set up. He's settling it. But you're the one thing that's still on his mind. I think you two talking would be really great- BUT. Only if you think you're up for it. You look tired, dad. And I don't want you stressing out anymore.

Lucifer nodded. He should sleep. He hasn't had a solid sleep in a while. Not since the fake Adam turned up.

Lucifer: ...I don't want to say anything wrong or act up because... I'm exhausted. So, I might sleep, Charlie. If that's okay.

Charlie: That's perfectly fine, dad. I'm glad you're making that call. Go get some rest, and I'll tell Adam that you'll talk tomorrow.

Lucifer thanked his daughter, giving her a hug and a kiss. It was still a little awkward between them, but he wanted to work on their relationship, too. Maybe one thing at a time.

In Your Head

Lucifer sighed as he held the guitar that he took from the battlefield. It was Adams guitar and aside from a few scratches it looked like it was in perfect condition.

Lucifer: I'm going to miss you old friend.

Though, was friend the right word? Adam was so much more than a friend to Lucifer.

Watching him get stabbed like that had been very hard.

Was it though?

Lucifer snapped his head up, eyes wide as he looked at the angel he thought to be long dead, his helmet gone and golden blood staining his robe.

Lucifer: A-Adam? What, how are you here!?

Adam smiled at him and it was too sweet for the Adam of today the one that he turned into. But not the Adam he knew in Eden.

Adam: Oh come on Luci, you're smarter than that. No one comes back from an angelic blade to the heart. Thanks for that by the way.

That nickname sliced through his core, he hadn't heard it in so long he almost forgot that's what Adam used to call him.

Lucifer: You're not real are you?

Adam: Bingo baby! Awww, it's actually sweet. You miss me so much that I actually take up space in that head of yours.

Lucifer: Why are you so..... Nice? But look like that?

Adam shrugged and moved to sit down beside him: Probably because you don't really remember what I looked like in Eden, but more how I acted. So you just kinda...... Married the past with the present. I don't know boo, it's your mind.

Lucifer felt Adam touch his hair as if to tuck it behind his ear, but since he wasn't real the hand just went right through him.

Lucifer: I don't get it, you weren't like this in Eden.

Adam: Maybe I'm a version you've always wanted.

That made sense in a way.

Lucifer: Why would I want a polite slightly flirty version of you?

Adam smiled gently and leaned in: Come on Luci, you know why. Stop lying to yourself.~

His breath hitched in his throat, sure he had always thought about what could have been between them but...... It was always just a fantasy.

Adam: A fantasy you could have made real.~

Lucifer: You didn't want me.

Adam: How would you know? You never asked or tried. You could have had me all to yourself.

Lucifer: I could have?

Adam: Yeah. But now you never will.

@fanofstuff01 @beef-brisket

[vettelsvee]

YOU'RE NOT HANNA, AND NEVER WILL BE HER | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests here!

red bull sebastian vettel x reader, nico rosberg x reader

word count: 6588

summary: 2010 german gp post race party has many things in store for seb and y/n, who finally do what they both been willing to do for a long time even they're dating hanna prater and nico rosberg

warnings: everything related to gender-based violence (main trigger warning to physical and mental abuse) from nico to y/n (reminder that everything you read on my blog is fiction), curse words, "cheating", mentions of suicide and cancer

a/n: i'm quite scared and happy at the same time to be posting this fic because it's one of my favourite parts ever on history series, but still has me so worried you might not like it because of all the topics (and because history series was originally posted on wattpad and not many people liked it but don't let anyone know that pls). anyways, let me know your thoughts on this one and request anything you might like if you want pls! i'll probably be posting tomorrow another part since my town is currently on high risk alert of floods and we've been told not to leave home. let me remind you that comments and reblogs are truly appreciated! thank you so much <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

2010 Hockenheim   German Grand Prix  

You paused for a moment in front of the bathroom mirror as Valentina finished your makeup. You leaned forward to get a better look, but the your woman followed your movements with perfect synchronization and, surprisingly, without messing it all up.

Your own reflection was completely unrecognizable to you. In front of you stood a beautiful, self-assured Y/N, looking like someone who possibly had a life that, while not perfect, seemed enviable.

You feared that a simple layer of makeup could make you feel completely different from reality. It was as if all your problems had suddenly vanished, and instead had in front of you a superwoman admired by everyone, not a twenty-something whose life was falling apart.

Valentina Martínez, the girl standing beside you with whom you’d had the opportunity to become closer, was one of the Mercedes catering managers and, also, exactly the complete opposite of you. Valentina had a beauty that everyone could admire and a confidence that many, including yourself, would love to have. She could lift others' spirits with just a smile and a few words that, while not wise, were good enough to make sense.

The Argentine radiated the kind of magic you felt you lacked.

So, when Valentina’s gaze fell on yours as you continued to admire how beautiful you felt.

“Come on, Y/N!” Valentina shouted, stepping away from you and starting to bounce on her feet. “I know this isn’t your thing, but I swear you look incredibly hot.”

“Valentina…”

“None of that,” she interrupted, “you need a bit more confidence. I don’t know how you don’t have it with Nico already. He’s totally worth it!”

As Valentina’s smile grew wider, you sighed and lowered your head. You thanked her as calmly as you could for trying to transfer some of her positivity, though you knew it was somewhat of a show Valentina put on for everyone and wasn’t doing anything particularly special for you.

That was what you liked least about her: Valentina was so well-liked and appreciated by everyone that, somehow, she always played the same role, regardless of who she was with.

“I don’t know why I’m going to a party I definitely don’t want to go to,” you confessed with honesty.

Today’s race had been quite tough, and although the strategies were solid, they didn’t seem to deliver the expected results when Seb only managed to get bronze in his home race. That’s why all you wanted to do at that moment was order a good room-service dinner and eat it under the bed sheets while watching some low-budget TV show before trying to get some sleep.

"You know that stepping out of our comfort zone is the best thing," Valentina said, moving closer to you and gently taking your hands. "Besides, you're doing this for Nico," she insisted. "Remember: he's your boyfriend, and it's your duty to make him happy."

You smiled shyly even though, deep down, you shivered a bit at the tone Valentina seemed to be using with you. It was as if she wanted those last words, it's your duty to make him happy, to penetrate your mind and stay there. You tried to ignore it, as it was probably your own insecurities taking over. And, in some way, you knew Valentina wasn’t wrong. She was aware that you needed to stop being so perfectionistic and rigid, and maybe start letting yourself go a little bit more.

"You're right, yeah," you finally said. "Thanks for everything."

Without saying anything else, you left Valentina’s room to head back to your own, just a couple of doors away, not without first gathering the clothes you had been wearing earlier while your friend continued getting ready.

As you took out your room card from the small purse hanging from your shoulder and swiped it to enter, you started feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. However, the moment Nico Rosberg, your boyfriend, came out to greet you and looked you up and down, hands on his hips, all of it disappeared.

"Are you seriously going out dressed like that?" he asked, completely incredulous, pointing at your dress. "You look like a slut."

You were speechless, though part of you wanted to say everything she was feeling. Once again, fear caused you to shrink back, cautious about your actions and the possible consequences. The tone he had used on you was filled with anger and, above all, disappointment. You knew that nothing good would come from answering, so instead you held back everything you wanted to say to him.

“Nico, it's just a dress…” you tried to explain as calmly as possible, not really knowing how to make him see reason without losing your composure.

He stepped closer, and his eyes filled you with nothing but fear. You could swear that, in his fury, the bluish hue of his eyes had turned an orange-red, like fire; his pupils, fully dilated, were what sent you into internal panic.

“I don’t give a damn fuck if it’s just a dress,” he mocked you. “I don’t want you going out like that. You know there’ll be consequences.”

Be careful how you act with me, he had told you one day when you said you weren't in the mood to go out to have dinner. Since then, though you had realized many things he did to you, you’d also started to act with caution and rationality, knowing that blows could come at any moment.

You’d even considered that there was a remote possibility that you might be the one to end things, especially every time you recalled every single insult he used to hurl at you whenever you misbehaved, which had only increased in frequency in recent weeks, following your father’s death and your trip with Seb to your hometown for the funeral.

But, most especially, when the Red Bull Racing driver stayed a few days with you because he was absolutely worried about your mental health getting worse.

A lump formed in you throat as a few tears began to fall freely down your face, ruining the makeup your friend had taken so much time to apply and had turned out so well.

“If you don’t change your clothes right now and put on something that makes you look like a decent person…” He threatened, moving closer with his hand raised. “Think carefully, Y/N: I don’t want to go crazy, but I think you're forcing me to.”

You couldn’t let fear paralyze you at least, not now, as you felt his hand inching closer to your body. Another physical mark that would eventually fade, but another one that would leave a psychological one permanently.

"Please, Nico, don’t do this…” you begged, completely desperate by this point, but trying not to show it. “You said you loved me just the way I am and…”

“I just can’t believe you’re so stubborn! Don’t you get that I don’t want you going out dressed like some desperate girl who clearly wants to fuck with everyone?!” he yelled, filled with rage.

You backed up as much as you could until your back hit one of the surrounding walls. You had encountered this version of Nico before: no matter how hard you tried to reason with him, he would manipulate you until you ended up thinking it was entirely your own fault.

“Please, Nico, don’t shout. I don’t want anyone to hear us…”

“They’ll hear us if that’s what you deserve for wanting to embarrass me,” he shouted again, even more furious.

You knew the tension had reached its peak and that, from there, things would only worsen. 

Nico kept yelling at you. With your eyes squeezed shut and your hands pressed over your ears, waited for the familiar sensation of one of his limbs landing on any part of your body he fancied at that moment.

“Oh, so now you have the nerve to ignore me?”

When you heard him clearly again and saw his hand raise, you somehow found the courage to turn away and quickly slip into the bathroom, forgetting to lock the door in your haste.

“Open up right now!” he screamed.

While he pounded on the door, his yelling relentless, you leaned against the farthest wall, as if he might burst in at any moment. 

It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. 

You gasped for air in a place where there seemed to be none, your hand instinctively clutching your chest as if to shield your heart, which felt like it might burst out at any moment. You had learned to live with anxiety and panic, and both emotions had reached a point where they didn’t control each other but had fused, learning to coexist together with you.

“Nico… I’ll change my clothes,” you said, still crying, your voice choking. “I’m sorry, really,” you lied, trying to sound as convincingly as you could. “But please… don’t hurt me.”

Not again.

Your whispers seemed to have reached him because his pounding and labored breathing quieted. You hoped that the situation had calmed, and it seemed like it had.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead giving you enough time to remove the ruined makeup from your face and apply just a little mascara. A few minutes passed, enough time for you to relax and consider the possible outcomes of what might happen next, before he coldly demanded that you open the door.

You emerged and collided with his chest. Forcing yourself to look up at him, all you could see was contempt.

“Once again, you’ve disappointed me,” he stated without a hint of hesitation. “No wonder why lots of shit happens to you and people treat you so poorly. I was wrong to judge Vettel: he was right to treat you that way, and he should’ve done even more to you.”

All you could do was lower your gaze and head toward your suitcase on the floor, trying to pick something that would be ok with Rosberg’s dress code while reminding yourself that Seb did things quite bad, but he seemed to be truly sorry and apologized many times to you. The beautiful red dress, strapless and embellished across the chest, falling just above your knees, had to be replaced by another dress of the same color, but one that reached your ankles, with a much higher neckline and looser fit, so as not to highlight your nearly nonexistent curves.

“Happy now?” you asked, with as much disdain as you dared, even knowing he might match your face to her outfit.

“If you behaved like a responsible adult, yes,” he muttered as he opened the door and took your hand forcefully. “Sometimes I forget you’re only twenty-two and you have a lot to learn about life.”

Did he really know more about life than you did after all you had to go through?

That thought lingered in your mind throughout the journey, from their floor’s hallway to where the party was held, including the elevator ride where they encountered Mark Webber and a journalist from Sky Sports Germany, Eloise Schimdt. During the conversation between the four of them, though you remained silent, you had to pretend that everything was fine, even as your insides felt like they were shattering further.

As they entered the venue, the music, louder than she liked, started to throb in your ears. Your eyes opened wide to adjust to the dim lights from the spotlights, and, as you always did when in a public place with Nico, you began scanning the scene in detail.

There were more people than the space could comfortably hold. The dance floor was packed with people moving energetically, glasses in hand with the sole mission of keeping the alcohol from spilling. The bar was just as crowded, and in the center, across from shelves stocked with every type of liquor imaginable, she spotted Kimi, Fernando and Jenson with their respective partners, chatting animatedly.

But your eyes didn’t seem to waste any time and ended up settling on the guy standing a bit farther away from the others.

Sebastian was leaning back against the bar, tapping his left hand on it to match the rhythm of the song playing. In his other hand he held a glass of what she assumed was, possibly, a Jägerbomb, his favorite drink and, to him, a must-have for parties like this. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans with those Geox trainers he always wore, and his hair was completely tousled.

In that moment, you felt utterly captivated by him, and you were sure you would have dared to talk to him if his eyes hadn’t been fixed on Hanna. The blonde girl was a few steps in front of him, dancing seductively without caring where she was or who might be watching her.

You couldn’t help but wish, at that moment, to be her.

You shook off those conflicting thoughts as soon as Nico grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you, snapping you out of your trance, to head toward the bar.

"Give me a Martini," he said abruptly to the bartender, "and some water for her. She’s a bit dizzy," he lied to stop you from drinking, as he often did every time you went out.

"A Jägerbomb if you can, please," you ended up telling the guy behind the bar with your best smile.

You completely ignored the words and looks Nico was giving you. Instead, you just flashed your best smile at the bartender, who kept looking at you with concern, along with the rest of the people who weren’t too intoxicated yet and had overheard your boyfriend’s words.

"I can’t believe you’re drinking again… Can’t you control yourself or what?" he snapped.

He pulled you aggressively close, and you tried you best to ignore his words, spoken in a threatening tone directly into your ear, while you took your drink from the bar, along with his, and offered it to him.

Surrounded by people, you felt a bit safer than usual. He wouldn’t be able to hurt you, at least not physically, in front of everyone here… His reputation would be ruined, and Nico Rosberg was too proud to allow that.

So you didn’t stay silent.

"Nico, leave me alone for a few hours, please," you replied, ignoring his comments. "I’m here to enjoy the party you were so insistent on coming to, not to get scolded for wanting to have fun with you."

"Damn it, Y/N!" he expressed in frustration. "Do you always have to ruin everything or what?"

You just lifted your glass to avoid spilling your drink and walked towards the dance floor, leaving Rosberg behind, hurling insults you decided to ignore.

As soon as you found yourself among the crowd, greeting familiar faces with a friendly smile, you let yourself get carried away by the rhythm of the music. Tonight your shyness seemed nonexistent, and you could only thank the alcohol for giving you the confidence you had lost. You started to lose track of time as you danced, and though you didn’t know how, each move helped free you from the intrusive thoughts of loneliness and worthlessness, of feeling like nothing more than a mere object, which had crowded your mind at a dizzying speed.

You knew that mixing liquor with the energy drink that funded your lifestyle was only a temporary fix and that, once the effects wore off, your life would return to the completely chaotic state you had come to deserve.

Suddenly, the music stopped, as did the bodies moving on the dance floor. A spotlight focused on the stage, where Seb stood, microphone in hand and swaying. There was no doubt that he was drunk.

His swaying body made it clear that he had no idea what he was doing and that, at some point, he would end up regretting something.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said into the microphone. "But I feel like making a little pause in this party we’ve got going tonight because I want to sing a song to someone I care about a lot."

You began to feel terrible as Vettel gestured to the DJ for the music he wanted. A few seconds later, the first chords of Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars was the only sound echoing in the room.

"Babe, this song is for you, and I want you to know how much you mean to me!"

You could see Hanna smiling broadly and shrugging. You wanted to leave to cry again at the beautiful scene unfolding in front of you, of which you definitely weren’t the main character.

Was it too soon to say that the boy you were in love with dedicating a song to his girlfriend hurt worse than any blow your current boyfriend had ever given you?

Yes, it was clear. Possibly, the alcohol had already taken too strong a hold, and you could no longer control what you said or thought.

You know I'd never ask you to change  

If perfect's what you're searching for  

Then just stay the same  

So don't even bother asking if you look okay

You felt confused and didn’t know what to do, but Sebastian’s voice, trembling and making his English accent sound more German than usual, had you completely captivated.

So did Prater's reaction when the German shifted his gaze from her to you.

“This is for you,” he said, sweeping his gaze across the crowd. “I know you know who you are, and I want you to know it’s all for you, and that you deserve the absolute best.”

When I see your face  

There is not a thing that I would change  

'Cause you're amazing  

Just the way you are  

And when you smile  

The whole world stops and stares for a while  

'Cause, girl, you're amazing  

Just the way you are

You noticed Hanna moving to your side, visibly confused and clearly uncomfortable with what was happening.

“Y/N…”

She couldn’t say anything else, nor could you to her. As much as you wished to be Hanna, you couldn’t help feeling sorry for her at the strong possibility that her boyfriend was confessing his feelings to another girl right in front of her.

Or, at least, that’s what the alcohol led you to believe.

“I want you to know that, from the first moment I saw you, you’ve been in my heart,” Seb admitted, his words drawn out, uncaring about the reactions of those around them, especially his girlfriend’s or yours. “Right now, I can’t have what I want most, but I want you to know that being with you is the only wish I’ve made, and the one I’ll keep making on my birthday, until we can finally be together.”

That was the last straw. As quickly as she could, trying in vain to hold back tears and avoid drawing attention, Hanna left, thoroughly embarrassed, muttering something you couldn’t catch. Seb's voice still echoed in your ears, but you tried to ignore it because you couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Lost in thoughts, you moved as far away as you could, trying not to stumble. Then, you made your way to the bar to order another drink, as if that might somehow make you forget what had just happened.

Just before you could exchange words with the bartender who had already served you so many drinks that night, you felt someone take your wrist, though this time much more gently. You knew it wouldn’t be Nico; when you turned around and saw Seb, however, you were even more surprised.

Your eyes met, and butterflies began to flutter in your stomach. Once again, you felt at home and safe, though deep down, you were only afraid.

Without saying a word, he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours.

In that moment, you felt everything fade away. You let yourself go, unafraid of who might be watching or what might happen next. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss… your first kiss. 

Slowly, calmly, and, as you felt, full of affection, you stayed that way until you both needed air.

You felt that you had both been waiting for this moment for so long and, in a way, you deserved it, turning a simple gesture of affection into something unique and special, caring little about your partners or your sobriety.

Seb pulled back, his hands still resting on you, and your gazes shared in complicity about what had just happened. You knew he was happy but confused, just as you were. You didn’t know what to say, and knowing he didn’t either, you simply gave him a shy smile to let him know everything was okay, that he could do that a thousand times more from now on.

“Y/N…”

“What is it, Seb?”

You wanted him to tell you he loved you, that he’d left Hanna, and that he wanted you to be his new girlfriend, the love of his life.

But, instead, Seb looked at you and left you, once again, speechless:

“You’re not Hanna… and never will be her...”

After he said that, you felt nothing but your breath slipping away and the sensation of fainting.

You wanted to tell him everything you felt at that moment, but his words had hit you so hard that they only increased your confusion and pain.

All you could do was stare at him, likely making a fool of yourself with the amount of tears clouding your vision. Silence took over, and when you finally found the strength to speak, trying to hide the pain you knew your voice would show, he turned away without even saying goodbye.

"How the hell could you do that, Y/N?! You have no shame! You humiliated me in front of everyone. Kissing Sebastian like you don't care about your boyfriend... now I see what you're really up to."

You didn't have time to say anything or leave because Rosberg came running towards you, grabbing your arm with a force you'd never seen in him. It hurt, and your scream, which was more of a complaint from the pain than a surprise, was a way of expressing how much you were hurting, not just from the tight grip, but also from the shake he'd just given you.

"Nico, please, calm down..." you tried to calm him, not wanting to embarrass yourself. Some people were already looking at you, and you wished Earth would swallow you up. "It was just..."

"Don't play innocent!" he shouted too loudly. "You thought I wouldn't find out?! I saw you kissing that piece of shit who only wants to fuck you until he's bored of you," he said, referring to Seb. "Now everyone here knows what you really are: a whore! And I'm glad, Y/N… You have no idea how glad I am."

The music suddenly stopped blasting, but your boyfriend's anger didn’t.

"Nico... I love you, really," you tried to speak. "It was just a moment of weakness..."

The moment of weakness was exactly what you were feeling now, making him believe you were truly in love with him when, in fact, you were only staying in the relationship because you were afraid your reputation wouldn’t make it out alive. 

"You say you love me? Don't make me laugh! If you really loved me, you wouldn’t act like this."

You wanted to tell him that you thought the same about him, but you held back, paralyzed again by the fear that your mind was processing all the bad things that could happen.

"Nico, come on. You don’t have to act like this. We can talk about this civilly."

As you saw Edward, Vettel’s personal trainer, appear, and pull Nico a bit away from you, a little peace returned to your body. You gave him a grateful look, to which he just answered by nodding.

"You don’t have to get involved, Eddie!" your boyfriend shouted. "Stay out of our fucking business!"

"You know you don’t have to treat her like this," he said seriously.

"She’s a whore, can't you see it?" Nico spat, pointing at you. "Disgusting little girl..."

"Nico, I understand you're angry," Patterson spoke again, after the German’s words, "but neither of you is in a state to talk about this, and this is not the right place," he said, referring to the curious looks around them.

You could only constantly whisper for them not to fight anymore, while deep down you prayed to take you away from all of this and bring you back to the hotel.

"I don’t care what you say," Eddie started. "I'm taking Y/N. I don’t think being here is the best thing for her."

After saying that, he stood behind you and guided you, putting his hand on your back, toward his car. At that moment, your desperation was so great that you didn’t even think about whether he was in any condition to drive.

The way back to the hotel, less than ten minutes away, felt eternal.You hadn’t drunk much because you didn’t like it, but not being used to it was enough for a couple of curves and a badly taken roundabout to make you gag and feel like vomiting.

Slowly, the shock began to set in, and you started to act on autopilot mode, following the directions of the man accompanying you, except when he told you it would be best for you to sleep in his room that night.

You didn’t know why, but that set off alarms in your confused brain. The last thing you wanted was to add fuel to the fire by sleeping with another man who wasn’t your boyfriend just to protect you.

"Thanks for everything, Eddie, really, but I think it would be best if I went back to my room to sort things out with Nico."

The Brit didn’t seem to agree with you.

"Y/N, I know it’s hard, but I don’t think it’s best for you to share space with him tonight," he was honest.

"I just want to talk to him and try to put an end to this," you insisted, still knowing you weren't right.

"And I understand you, really, but right now everything is too fresh, and the best thing is for you to rest and let the drunkenness wear off," he said, placing one of your arms over his shoulders. "Come on, I’ll take you to my room."

You decided not to argue anymore because it would be in vain, so you let yourself be guided while he lectured you about how you shouldn’t be intimidated by Nico and how you deserved someone better than him after what had happened at the club that night.

"Edward, Y/N. Good night, guys."

You lifted your gaze and saw another Brit. Jenson was standing in front of you, coming out of the elevator you were about to take. You were greatly surprised that he wasn’t with his girlfriend, but didn’t want to get involved; your alcohol-soaked self, however, wanted to gossip.

"Where are you two going?" he asked, crossing his arms and blocking the elevator doors so they couldn’t pass.

"I’m... taking Y/N to my room," Eddie revealed, stammering a bit for no clear reason. "She’s had a rough time, and it’s best that she doesn’t see Nico’s face tonight."

"And you think the best thing is that you take her to your room?"

Button’s features went from relaxed to a kind of aggression you had never seen in him. It’s not like you had spent much time or had many conversations together, but you knew the situation you were now involved in wasn’t what you had thought it was.

Edward Patterson stayed completely silent.

"Do you want me to call someone to be with you?" Jenson asked you directly, giving you no other option. "Y/N," he insisted again, "who do you want me to call to stay with you tonight?"

"Britta… please," you said as best as you could despite your discomfort.

To your surprise, while Jenson dialed the phone number of the woman you now considered your friend, Eddie let go of you and reluctantly pushed the driver, still leaning against the elevator frame, to leave. He didn’t even take the time to say goodbye to you, something that seemed to upset Button quite a bit.

"Hello, is this Britta?" Jenson began, speaking into the phone. "Great, yes. It’s Jenson. I’m with Y/N, and she asked if you could help her," he started explaining. "I don’t know much about what happened, except that she’s not feeling well and needs help from someone she really trusts," he clarified.

After exchanging a few more words, Jenson led you back to the lobby, where Britta appeared just a few minutes later in a bathrobe, espadrilles, and her hair tied up in a completely unusual way. You had never seen Roeske like that, and all you could do was laugh.

"Come on, let’s go already," Britta said, linking her arm with yours as if you were two old ladies heading to bingo. "This is how I want to see you: laughing, not crying."

When Britta opened the door to her room, you immediately ran and threw yourself onto the bed. Your whole body hurt, and you weren’t sure if it was from the emotions of the night or because the alcohol was hitting its peak.

Whatever it was, you knew perfectly well that lying completely still, face up, and counting the total number of tiles on the ceiling, pointing at them one by one with one eye closed and your tongue sticking out was what was making your hostess laugh.

"Come on, Y/N, get up," Britta asked gently. "Do you mind if I help you get changed? It’s time to put on your pajamas."

You nodded as you sat up and moved to the foot of the bed.

Next, Britta unzipped the dress, and you noticed how she averted her gaze to give you some privacy while offering a nightgown.

"Right now, I’d love for Seb to be the one undressing me to fuck me. God... how I’d love Seb to make me scream now..."

Had you said that out loud?

"What did you just say?"

Britta’s muffled shout and the tone in which she asked, while turning her back without caring whether you had already put the garment on, making you realize that yes, you had said that out loud.

Your first time being drunk was going to be, definitely, a night to remember. Now, you just felt like saying those kinds of things, and you didn’t care at all about having a boyfriend… if he could even be called that.

"Oh…" you said, stretching the last syllable. "Didn’t you know it?"

"Know what?"

By the tone of voice, it seemed Britta thought it was related to the sudden thing you had said.

"Seb and I kissed," you told her, starting to laugh like a lovesick teen.

"This is the alcohol on you, I’m sure of it," Britta said, running to get a wet towel and starting to wipe it across your face. "You mean you and Nico kissed," she tried to correct you. "Seb is dating Hanna, and you’re dating Nico, remember?"

You started shaking your head constantly, about to collapse to the floor. A laugh started escaping you as you couldn’t control it.

"No, no, no, no," you denied while also wagging your finger. "Seb and I kissed. Nico’s an asshole."

"Y/N, you really should go to sleep, you’re not..."

"Of course I’m fine!" you said enthusiastically, getting up from the bed and standing in front of Britta.

The truth was that you only felt fine because of the effect alcohol was having on you. If it wasn’t for that, you would be crawling on the floor crying because you knew you had reached a point where you couldn’t pretend your life was perfect anymore.

"Do you really not believe me when I say that not only did Seb kiss me, but it was the best kiss of my life?"

You knew you were putting Britta in a tough spot, especially considering that the woman was probably closer friends with Hanna than with you.

"And Hanna?" Britta demanded to know. "Was she there, or had she left?"

"Oh, she was there?" you tried to pretend the best you could, using expressions that clearly showed otherwise. "I didn’t know..."

Before you could continue speaking, Britta ran to grab her phone and started making calls. You sat back down, crossing your legs and swaying while watching the blonde desperately cursing in German, since none of the contacts she called were answering.

It was possible that Seb and Hanna were busy, probably having sex. Your drunk self only wished she was in Hanna’s place.

"The only ones who tell the truth are kids and drunks, you know?"

Britta stared at you after those words. It seemed like you needed to say that phrase to make her believe you.

"Are you serious...?" Britta asked.

"What, Britta?" you insisted, urging her to speak.

"Did you really kiss Sebastian?"

You nodded.

"Yes," you confirmed. "Well, I mean, he was the one who took my face and kissed me," you corrected yourself. "Do I owe anyone something, like he owes Hanna?"

You were getting a bit defensive, and you knew it was making Britta nervous.

"Yes! You owe Nico, your boyfriend," Britta replied, giving you a harsh dose of reality.

"I don’t want Nico," you confessed. "At least, not in the way I think I should. He... I don’t know, Britta. I think he’s what I deserve. I try to understand why, but I know that his insults and those things he says to me make me a better person somehow."

You could see Britta go pale. Also, you were starting to feel worse; after all, it was the first time you had opened up about your feelings to someone since the journal Seb gifted you for your birthday last didn’t count as a personal therapist.

Britta usually had words for everything, but that day, you seemed to have left her speechless.

"Y/N..." Britta began, carefully choosing her words. "You’re a good person. You’re just scared."

"Maybe," you replied, trying not to make it a big deal. "And you, are you scared?"

"Of course. Everyone’s afraid of something."

"I’m afraid of being alone," you admitted, lowering your head because you were starting to cry again for the umpteenth time that day. "And I’m afraid of losing Nico. I know no one will ever love me, not better or worse, than he does."

Britta didn’t know what to say, and you felt bad for having to be in her room, drunk, sad, while your “friend” was putting up with you, possibly mediating between her client and her client’s partner.

That’s why you made a move to leave. Fortunately, Britta wouldn’t let you.

"Sit down, Y/N, and let it all out," Britta demanded.

And that’s exactly what you did. You told Britta everything, not just about what had happened since you started dating your current boyfriend, but about your entire life. Living with a mentally sick mother after her accident, her subsequent suicide, their move to Barcelona. Her father’s cancer and how it had worsened in less than two years. All the things Rosberg had said and done to you, even forcing you to do certain stuff you were clearly uncomfortable with.

You cried like you never had before when you told Britta about your first time, reluctantly, on a luxury yacht in Monaco’s seas, and how it gave you nightmares almost every night to the point where she was scared to fall asleep.

You could tell that Britta was truly worried when you started biting your lower lip, and a little tic appeared in your right eye.

"Have you talked to anyone about this?"

"Do you know I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her?"

You were fully aware that you had just avoided answering a crucial question, but you didn’t care at all. You were tired of talking about your burdens and your current life; from now on, you would focus entirely on your future and try to solve and finish once and for all all the problems that made your life a mess.

"But what are you saying, Y/N?" Britta asked, desperate.

"That’s exactly what I would have liked to ask Seb, but he left and Nico messed things up," you revealed, stretching your arms out and pointing to the marks, now red, that were the same shape and size as Mercedes’ driver’s fingers. "Great, yeah," you said ironically.

"But..."

"Do you think if I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her, I might have a chance to date Seb?"

Your question left Britta speechless again, unable to find the words. As Britta struggled to speak, you started playing with your fingers. Giving up, you laid on the bed, your back to Britta, clutching a pillow with the clear intention of falling asleep.

"Why are you telling me this?" Britta asked in a whisper, almost with... pity.

"Because I want Seb," you revealed, letting out a sob because, at last, you had been able to confront and reveal your confusing feelings for a guy who didn’t love you, and never would. "I’m in love with Seb, and it hurts knowing he’ll never love me back, and I know I’ll have to move on sooner or later."

Britta was about to speak, but you took the words from her before she could.

"Before you say anything else, take advantage of me and ask me anything you want: I’m a bit drunk because I’m not used to drinking."

You could tell Britta sighed, likely having lost all patience with you.

"You know... you know that Seb...?"

But then Britta stopped talking. You stood there for a while, staring at the red curtains that covered the window, waiting for the woman to continue. When she didn’t, you turned around:

"You know exactly what about Seb, Britta?" you asked, adjusting yourself on the bed, still hugging the pillow.

"Seb and you need to talk," Britta told you, leaving you speechless. "And when you do that, I’m convinced that you’re going to live the life you both deserve."

"But..."

Britta started to lie you down on the bed again, tucking you in under the linen sheets. Your yawns became more frequent, and after she kissed your forehead just like her mother used to do before your life was destroyed, your eyelids grew heavy.

"I know you won’t remember this tomorrow," Britta’s voice flooded your ears as you curled up into yourself. "But, to Seb, it’s more than obvious that you’re not Hanna and you’ll never be… And that’s exactly why that stupid, but incredible guy, has fallen truly, madly, deeply, in love with you."

You couldn’t tell if Britta’s words were already a dream, or if Morpheus was pulling you into his arms. 

"The day you stop doubting your worth, the world will be at your feet, Y/N. Sebastian has been telling me that and his closest people since you two spent the night together the day before his maiden win in Monza."

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a few words. l Joel Miller

Summary: words he didn't want you to hear

Warnings:  angst, unpleasant conversation, they move away from each other

A/N: nothing special. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

Tommy looked at his brother as if he was seeing him for the first time in his life. He hadn't expected this and was slowly regretting that he had shown up at the stables with a few bottles of beer that evening.

"You can't be fucking serious." he finally said.

The man who was sitting on a haystack by the wall seemed exhausted. His brown eyes were fixed on the horse in the opposite stall, the bottle in his big hands still full of beer.

"You slept with her?" Joel looked at him surprised. "What? Simple question. Did you sleep with her or not?"

Joel shook his head. "No."

"But you wish you did."

He looked down, but he couldn't lie to someone who knew him so well. Of course he thought about it. Most often when he was alone in the dark bedroom. Memories of every kiss, tender touch, moments when he held you in his arms - all of these haunted him like ghosts.

He was furious because he wanted more. He wanted to be alive again, to feel again. But should he?

"Joel, you've known each other for years, you live together. Why are you messing with her head if you don't want anything to do with her?"

"It's not like that, Tommy..." his voice was tired, barely audible. "Everything's different with her."

"So why don't you want to give it a chance?" Tommy took a sip of beer. "I don't get it. If you want to be with her, then be. Tell her how you feel and..."

"I'm too old for this!" Joel snapped. "She deserves better, and I can't give it to her."

"Bullshit!" Tommy muttered.

There was silence for a moment. The distant noises of the city settling in for the night drifted through the open stable door. Tommy sat down next to his brother, resting his arms on his knees.

"She's a really nice girl," he said. "I see how she looks at you, cares about you and Ellie. Do you really want to break her heart like that?"

"She's tough."

"Yes, she is."

"Are you going out?"

You were just putting a thermos with a hot drink and a couple of sandwiches into your backpack, you didn't even look up when Joel went down to the kitchen in the morning.

"Yeah. I'm going on patrol." you answered.

Joel frowned. "Our turn is tomorrow."

"I swapped with Paul. He'll go with you. You two get along."

An unpleasant shiver ran down his spine, his heart sped up. The backpack was almost ready, and you didn't seem in the mood for long conversations.

"I'd rather go with you." he grumbled, coming closer and clenching his hands on the back of the chair.

"A change will do you good. It'll do us good too."

"Have you talked to Tommy about this?"

You slung your backpack over your shoulder and looked him in the eye for the first time. He saw something strange in that look. A mixture of sadness, anger, and some kind of severity. You hadn't looked at him like that before.

"You'll probably talk to him yourself, right?" you said "I think..." your voice broke for a moment, but you quickly got back on track. "I think when I get back I'll ask Maria to find me another place to live."

"W-What? Why?"

"We both know why."

You adjusted your backpack and left the house. The world you had built had just collapsed.

"What the fuck was I supposed to do?"

"You could have not let her go!"

"She's an adult, Joel! She came last night, said she had already talked to Paul. I couldn't say no to her." Tommy put the crate in the storage room and looked at Joel.

He could see that his brother was furious and distraught. You usually went on patrols together, Joel didn't like you going out alone. Although he knew you would manage, he didn't fully trust others. Now he had completely lost control over anything.

Tommy looked at him with pity. "I think she must have heard us yesterday. Maria saw her in town, she was upset. Then she showed up at our place. I didn't ask, it's none of my business."

"You could have stopped her." Joel repeated quietly.

"And you could have kept her with you. But you chose not to."

He could.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist

[evadnesworld]

yes my love to youuuuu, rafayel x reader

c/w: my ignoring the songs meaning and just sticking to the cute parts!1!! might do a fic with th actual meaning tbh... everythings lower case, nothing is beta read, probably ooc, i havent writtn in two years

"stay with me, please- just for one second more." to say he was embarrassed was an understatement. he was quite literally begging you not to stay, he was still groggy from the deep sleep he fell into. unfortunately, his dreams were plagued by sadness, he kept on dreaming about you leaving him. he didnt want you leaving him, hed give you his soul if it meant that you'd stick by his side.

it was night, the moonlights embrace peaking softly through the curtains, bathing him in the tranquil light. tranquil was the night, but his heart contradicted it, beating quickly with fright. his body felt warm, sweat dripping down his forehead- anxiety overtaking him after he was awoken from that dreadful slumber.

however, it was thanks to the moons light that he saw you- your features seemed to glow. making you look ethereal as-you looked at him with worried eyes. you slowly brought your hand to his cheek, where he quickly nuzzled against it out of pure instinct, "don't worry raf, im here. i wont leave you." those purple eyes of his which seemed to be carefully painted by the gods, were full of worry- worry that slowly extinguished.

something seemed to snap back into place now that he realized you were there, he straightened up. "well of course you wont, this fishy is much to good to leave behind." he let out a hmph as he crossed his arms- his chin being held high and eyes closing.

you immediately deadpanned, "of course not, although this.. fishy, might be unbearable, bratty, and a lot of other things, the pros outweight the cons." you rested your head on your hand as you saw him whip his head to you.

his mouth hung open, "you say the pros outweigh the cons, but you only mentioned the cons. i cant believe this." he ploppd back on the sofa, sinking into to emphasize how 'upset' he was.

you chuckled, "mhm, well all i can say is that i wont be leaving you anytime soon, youve seen too many sides of me- you know too much." you teased as you eyed him shamelessly, he did purposefully choose the lower v cut shirt to wear.

"insulting me, staring at me shamelessly, i cannot spend another second here- who knows what you might do to me." hes so dramatic, you thought. but you enjoyed it.

you traced shapes on his cheeks as you sat next to him, and as though it were muscle memory- he melted into your hand. all his previous qualms now dissipated. his pout was evident, however. you chuckled before giving him a peck on his cheek.

although his fear of you leaving him would sometimes prevail, and the end of the day it would leave. because at the end of the day, he still had you.

he could still see your smile, your eyes, he had you.

and he would do anything to make sure it stayed like that, because you had his heart. like how a sailor effortlessly catches fish, you effortlessly caught his attention- and he wouldnt have it any other way.

dividers by @/bloodibambiidoll

a/n: could you guys tell this story started pissing me off halfway through? hes extremely ooc but yk its 10pm and i have school tomorrow so i wont redo it. 😾

[dixons-sunshine]

Okay, so now that I have chapter one of Yielding Isn't My Middle Name finished, posted and added to my masterlist, and essentially lying about the fact that I wouldn't do any writing this weekend, I'm gonna start working on some requests while working on chapter two. I'm gonna be bouncing back and forth and we'll see which one gets finished first :)

[ficoandleo]

Hi guys, what do you think of me Romeo headcanons ?

All the best <3

The word 'headcanon' makes Romeo look to Leo for clarification. He's not exactly a fandom person and the combination of words is foreign to him.

"Headcanon is exactly what it sounds like. 'Canon,' but only in your head. Not the biblical kind of canon."

"So it's just a bunch of ideas that somebody--who probably doesn't know you to begin with!--gets in their head about you?" Romeo's phone gives a little buzz, a message from Leo allowing him to open your post. He already looks annoyed at the thought. The last thing he wants is more people spreading stupid, awful rumors about him.

"Well they're usually about fictional characters and not real people, but. Yeah, basically!" It's so funny how they think they're real people.

As a clarification from the writer, most anything Romeo says is 'right' or 'wrong' is merely in application to himself, here. It isn't meant to be applicable to all presentations of Romeo, only my own, on this blog. And even those are subject to change. Your headcanons are always valid, and I, personally, like most of them quite a lot! But you're not here for me!

"This is quite the list. . . ." Romeo crosses his legs and sits back in his chair, making himself comfortable. This is going to take a while. Leo makes himself comfortable, fiddling with his phone.

"I'll leave most of that to you. They're about you, after all. But no worries, I'll provide some witty commentary of my own if I see fit~!"

"Saying that I started at Darkwick 'a couple of years' after I turned 17. . .I've been here almost three years now, just how old do you think I am!?"

"The correct answer is~~~ don't ask💔! It's rude to ask someone pretty their age, okay?"

"Well, I didn't come to Japan before I reached adulthood, I can say that much. I lived in Italy until. . .until it didn't seem safe to continue to do so. Around four years ago." Ha. He wished he could have just come to Tokyo peacefully. . . .

"My parents were quite busy, and I won't deny that I wasn't as close to my father as my mother or nonna. I think most people are--it seems fairly common that fathers aren't the most. . .available for their own children." He doesn't know very many people who wouldn't say they're closer to their mother than their father. Maybe that was just the company he kept, though. "Expected to act as an heir, yes, but I negotiated a bit more freedom through my own skill and efforts. Although I don't think we have the same perspective of what I was supposed to be inheriting."

He briefly recalls how Taiga called him naive shortly after they met. How even recently he said he was still as naive as that day.

". . .but maybe even you know better than I did in this case." Every day he plays mafia. Sometimes he wonders how close he was to 'playing' mafia without ever having to leave the comfort of his own home.

"I mean, your family owned that super famous fashion brand. Not sure what else you'd be inheriting." Leo chimed, half joking. As if it weren't obvious what Romeo could have been in store for in another life--possibly even in this one.

"Ah. But, yes, three siblings and the languages are right. I understand little bits of other regional languages here and there--only what you pick up doing business and singing in other regions. I understand English and Japanese far better. Isn't that strange?"

Romeo frowns as he reads the part about his father, about gambling. He thinks of Taiga calling him naive and greedy. Like your old man. You gotta be more careful with your chips, Lulu! Of parroting words--he never really thought about it, but they may have been nearly the exact same ones--that his father had yelled at. . .his mother? His sister? His nonna? No, his father would never yell at her--

You're being ridiculous. He doesn't have a problem.

Even if he acknowledged it, what good would it do? His father was still in charge of everything--

He partially skips that one. "I was expected to take over for my father eventually. But our brand name was taken from me--from us. And everything went with it after that. I run the casino because that BTH won't do his own damn job and run the business he started. I don't need a reason to hate gambling--it's designed to make you keep trying and losing even when you're already at a loss. What is there to like about it if you aren't in the house position that's meant to see those profits?"

Even in the house position, he doesn't much like gambling. And he'd rather not admit that it might be more personal than that.

"And the drugs makes a profit, same as any other contraband. I wouldn't touch them if I weren't selling them. I don't smoke, either. I don't touch any of that unhealthy garbage. Do you know what that crap does to your body!?" It's a wonder Jin and Haku are in the conditions they're in with how much they smoke. Or, in Haku's case, smoked--he heard he's trying to quit. Good luck with that. "I'll admit to drinking, but I try and keep it to meals and celebrations." And moments of extreme stress. "The drinks Mickey makes are made from anomalous ingredients--all of the effects but none of the risks of actual alcohol. So it doesn't count."

But if that weren't an option he would be drinking real alcohol every night. He may not smoke, but Rui is currently, literally, the only thing keeping him from becoming a full blown alcoholic. . .no pressure or anything, Rui.

He grimaces at the mention of Catholicism or faith at all. "Is anybody back home really religious? Be honest, no one really practiced any of that BS." Well, some people did, especially older people. But it was more tradition and custom than actual belief that kept a crucifix hanging around his neck for most of his life. "I made a deal with a demon. That isn't a sin God would forgive, even if He were good. Even if I believed, what choice would I have but to put my faith elsewhere?"

The first thing he threw away himself after making that deal was the cross he'd worn around his neck. But he couldn't bring himself to blow it up. That felt. . .a little too dangerous, even for something he didn't feel like he really believed in. He'd simply thrown it as far as he could(much further than he could have thrown it a few hours prior) and left it behind.

After all, if a demon came to him and granted him great power, perhaps there was a God too? But by then it was too late to worry. If God saw fit to strike him down he would.

"I don't think most people like school, let alone Catholic school. And I assure you that any attempts to bully me wouldn't have needed my family or their connections to get involved. But they respected me and my family, so if anyone had any SAC about my middle name, they were smart enough to hold their tongues.

". . .as for keeping contact with my family, I don't know if any of my direct family--nonna included--are still alive. And they don't know that about me, either. As far as anybody back home knows the eldest son of the Lucci brand and his personal bodyguard have been missing for several years." Although he has quite the online presence, so if anybody wanted to reach out to him it's far from impossible. He still wears his name with pride.

"My indirect family, with whom I share my last name. . .I never spoke much to them, despite that they provided our security at home. I don't think they cared for me much when I pretty much had Taiga replace their men." But you really can't beat one guy who can beat up two or three guys at once and tells you how pretty he thinks you are all the time. "So I can't say I speak to any of them anymore. Even through letters. I CBA to find out if anyone's alright anyway."

It's probably paranoia. But if your family was attacked over unpaid debts that were out of your control you would probably be paranoid too. If he reached out or started some sort of investigation, someone could get hurt. What if it were him!

"It is virtually impossible to find good, authentic Italian food in Tokyo. Especially if you want something specific or regional--the available ingredients aren't the same either. We had people who cooked for us back home--anyone with money like ours would have, I'm sure--but I don't think that would stop anybody's grandmother as long as she had working hands."

He resists the urge to smile. "But she taught me how to sew more than she taught me how to cook. It's a wonder we got away with that--I had never liked my father simply having others make my designs without any input beyond sketches and notes. I wanted more involvement so that everything would be perfect. . .but that isn't what you're asking about. Nobody cooks like your mother--and even less people your grandmother."

Leo makes a contemplative noise and looks thoughtful about this. Sho is very good at replicating tastes and recipes based off of description. . .and getting good ingredients imported. And he loves making food from different cultures--'Highway To Home' was called that for a reason. For Leo, no one's made better food than Sho, even either of their mothers. It probably wouldn't be the same. . .but he likes the idea of Romeo owing him a favor and giving Sho a challenge, and files the thought away for later.

"Kurossa, which one is pansexual again?"

"Huh? Oh, it's 'where there's a hole, there's a goal,' more or less."

"I thought that was bisexual."

"These days it's pretty much the same thing depending on who you ask."

". . .Which one are you?"

"Awww, do you wanna be like me, Ro-Ro?"

Romeo smirks back at him, tilting his head. "What can I say, you have good taste."

"Honestly, I don't really care. The pan flag's colors look like printer ink, so I just say I'm bi because I don't want the ugly ass neon flag? It's so bright, those colors can look good but you've really gotta put effort in for it. The bi flag colors are a little more muted? The aro colors kinda suck too though."

Romeo appears to be looking up the flags and scrunching up his face. "They're workable colors. I think the fact that they're plain bars is part of what makes them look so unappealing. . . ." But then he realizes he's getting off track and goes back to the headcanon list. "Well, in any case, I favor men as a. . .noticeable pattern. But I've been attracted to others before, so I would say you're probably right. But my interest in fashion is from my family business, and my interest in self care is from both my desire to maintain personal perfection and an upbringing in the fashion business. Top tier clothing wouldn't be tolerated on a face and body that don't compliment it. It would be a waste."

"Like, still put the effort in obviously, even if you can't get it perfect. Some effort is a million times better than no effort." Leo adds, rolling over on the couch.

"Of course. Not everyone can afford the price of true beauty, and not everyone is patient enough for it even if they can. But that doesn't mean you don't do anything at all. They say you can't polish a turd but hikaru dorodango still manages to make some aesthetically pleasing work of simple mud.

"Speaking of brands, while I certainly favor Italian brands," especially his own family's when he can find their older pieces, "I don't shop them exclusively. Primarily, yes, but I'm not going to refuse good and aesthetically appealing products out of some sense of national pride.

"There's a bidet in my private office bathroom and my bedroom's attached bathroom. I've had both almost entirely remodeled, although fortunately, as this is a luxury cruise ship, there wasn't much to be adjusted.

"I'm not interested in sports." Which is to say you're correct in that he acts like he isn't interested, but he does follow it. He's a little too busy to be watching football games on the other side of the planet all that often, but he does keep up. "And I don't hate being called Romeo. I'm used to the mispronunciation by now, although I'm really not certain when it arose considering Japanese is a phonetic language and I've never written it ro-mi-o. Like I've said before, I don't like being called Vice-Captain because it makes me sound off-brand! So I gave myself my own title that they can use instead--there is no doubt that no one here but me is Fico! The only people who have to refer to me as such are my underlings, the casino staff, and the underlings of other houses!"

"I use 'Romi-sama' and 'Ro-Ro' for him and other people use different nicknames too. Maybe that makes it seem like he doesn't like his name since he lets us call him nicknames?"

"How is that I don't refuse friendly nicknames a sign that I dislike my name, as opposed to that the company I keep tends to be people who are much too friendly for their own good!? Most of them use 'Romi' in some way anyway!"

"I'm just speculating! You are so loud all the time."

"And, finally. Of course I have things imported for me from outside of Japan. If I can afford to do it, why wouldn't I?" Especially his fancy €12 bottles of sparkling water!? "It's annoyingly expensive but I've worked out a deal with the mail room. If I can't find something here I'll simply bring it here. I won't compromise my quality of life."

Romeo sighs in exhaustion. Why did he do all of that? He could have just said no, really! But instead you made him give a verbal essay on his own existence. You did it, not me. "There. Do you feel sufficiently validated or invalidated now?

[yesplsnothankyou]

I only come on tumblr when I'm at the very end of my rope and barely hanging on by a quickly disintegrating thread and I don't know what that tells you about me

[gottagobuycheese]

A WIP I didn’t end up having time to finish and I’m not sure when it’ll really be “IP” again sdkjfhsk, BUT since it’s still February 15th in some time zone somewhere, HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIM DOKJA!!

[ID: a digital sketch depicting several characters from Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, posing for a photo. A young Kim Dokja lays asleep in a hospital bed in the center of the frame. A slightly older Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung crowd his sides; on Kim Dokja’s right, Lee Gilyoung half-climbs onto the bed to rest his elbow on Kim Dokja’s shoulder, while on his left, Shin Yoosung kneels beside the bed and rests her hand on Kim Dokja’s arm. In front of her, Yoo Sangah rests her right arm on the foot of the bed, a somewhat wistful expression on her face as she kneels on one knee so as to not block the people behind her. Han Sooyoung stands behind the bed with her arms folded over the top, chewing a lollipop stick as she stares at the camera with a tired yet determined smile on her face. Finally, Lee Jihye stands in the right foreground, grinning at the camera and making a peace sign as she takes the picture. /end ID]

[confetti-critter]

The night is young and I am free to do whatever my heart desires but unfortunately I have once again found myself trapped in the Time Prison and so I

[companion-showdown]

not sure what time the new round will be out

[sevenstevearmy]

... Guess who learned about cluttering and disorganized speech today... Guess who was struggling with those symptoms this whole time... Guess who has comorbid disorders... Guess who's not happy about learning new things about themself...

[ghostsprincess]

I can't stop thinking about Ghost being a better boyfriend than your ex, even without establishing that title....

This is a continuation of part one.

warning: mention domestic abuse

💀

Simon was there every night you worked. You never gave him your schedule, but he'd show up and settle onto one of the stools like clockwork. Soap often joined him, and while they carried on like always, you knew Simon's gaze lingered on your body. You could practically feel the weight as you took drink orders and pulled pints. It wasn't unwelcome. In fact, it made everything easier knowing you weren't alone if your ex dared show his face.

When your shifts ended, Simon would walk you back to your new place. The one time you insisted he didn't need to do that, he grunted and said, "What if I want to?"

You didn't mention it again. Instead you got into a routine of giving him a fifteen minute warning when your shift was going to end, and you'd head out into the cold night with him at your side. He was mostly quiet while you chatted about whatever was on your mind. When you'd ask him about himself, he'd reroute the conversation back to you. Then he would wait while you unlocked your door and stepped inside.

You always had the urge to invite him in, but you were taking up so much of his time already. And what would you do with him anyway? This hulking military man with kind eyes? 

You thanked him and gave him a little wave before ducking inside, and you knew he always waited until he heard the sound of your door locking before he left. 

"Y' alright, love?" he asked one night when you were starting to feel particularly good about yourself again. Your split lip had healed which required less makeup. You felt stronger for having left your ex in the dust. You were wearing a new top that made you feel sexy.

"Yeah. I'm alright, Simon. I feel really good, actually."

You served him a drink and refused to let him pay. You really ought to make him stop tipping you at this rate. He was doing so much for you and getting nothing in return. He was doing all of the boyfriend duties just as he had promised, but he never so much as touched you other than the occasional hand hold.

What if you wanted more?

He broke into your thoughts as he said, "I can tell. Ya' been smiling more. Almost ready to go?"

Tonight you felt like you were floating along the dirty sidewalk with your hand tucked in Simon's massive paw. He was keeping you warm without doing anything, and he listened to your nervous rambling as you tried your best to work up your courage. But the two of you reached your front door all too quickly.

"Get inside," he said, voice deep and tender in spite of the command. "An' lock up."

When he started to pull his hand away, you didn't let him. And you didn't budge when one of his eyebrows inched higher. "Not quite yet," you whispered, toe tapping the cement step you were standing on which put you slightly closer to him in height. "I have to tell you something."

Simon's lips pressed together in a tight line, and his chin dipped in a slight nod. "I need to tell ya' something, too. Just don't want to."

"What?" you asked immediately, the lightness you'd been feeling instantly replaced with a lead brick inside you.

"I'm leaving. Late tomorrow night. Not until after I make sure ya' get home from the pub."

"Leaving?" you whispered, heart pounding faster. He was in the military. Some sort of special mission involvement. You knew that much. And you could read between the lines to know that someone who looked and behaved like he did was probably about to risk his life, not for the first time. "Simon, where are you going?" you asked with tears in your eyes even though you figured he wouldn't be able to tell you.

Simon shook his head, his lips curling into a soft smile. It was a rare sight, and it made you dizzy. "Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be worried 'bout me." You wanted to tell him you would be. You'd worry nonstop until you saw him again. You'd come to rely on him, but mostly you liked how you felt when he was around. "There'll be someone to walk ya' home from work every night. I can promise that."

You wanted to lean in and kiss him, but instead you threw your arms around his neck. He was so solid and warm, and the scrape of his facial hair on your cheek was somehow comforting. "But I'll see you tomorrow, right?" you asked, voice breaking on a sob.

"I'll see ya' tomorrow, love."

He didn't move an inch as you extracted yourself, and the sound of his receding footsteps could only be heard once you'd locked yourself inside.

💀

Part three

[lavenderspence]

Bump Relief - S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, pregnant reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Making you comfortable while you're pregnant is his number one priority, so he decides to give JJ's little trick a try

Request: maybe Spencer hearing from JJ or reading somewhere that holding the baby bump relieves the mother and decides to try it on his girlfriend/wife? 

A/N: So a few days ago, I asked for short requests because I was dying to write something short. I sat down to write, and it got a little longer than I anticipated(I have no excuse). It's a known fact I can't write anything short, so I don't know why I try. I was going to post this tomorrow, but I really needed the serotonin I get from posting a fic, so enjoy! 

masterlist | requests are closed!

Spencer was twirling a pen between his fingers, deep in thought. All of his thoughts were about you because of course they were. 

He thought about you while he fell in love, proposed, and watched you walk down the aisle towards him. You occupied every waking moment when he wasn’t focused on his work, friends and mother, or hobbies. You were a constant in his life, and have been for years. 

But he’d been thinking about you a lot more in the last 6 months, and especially the last few days. About you, and the little angel.

At 34 weeks pregnant, you were glowing from the inside, just as beautiful as you’d been in your wedding dress. Or that’s what Spencer saw when he looked at you. 

But along with all the beauty of growing your little one came the few negatives, some of which he couldn’t help but notice too. How you hadn’t been wearing your wedding rings since the start of your third trimester. 

Or the light sheen of sweat on your brow just going up the stairs to your apartment. Or even the discomfort at the small of your back from carrying all the weight around. The small winces he heard coming from you, along with the scrunch in your eyes and nose. 

He wanted to take a part of your discomfort and bear it as his own. He’d watched you grow this little bean inside you for months, fight the morning sickness, and the only thing he’d been able to do was hold your hair and rub your back, watching as you suffered through it. 

Or the changes in your body, your clothes not fitting, or sometimes feeling like an outsider in your own skin. He’d been able to offer reassuring words, and kisses laid across your whole body, any point that sparked an insecurity in you - worshiped. 

He’d wake up in the middle of the night to satisfy your weird food cravings, or even the desire to have him as a snack. 

He’d been to every appointment with you - held your hand, wiped your tears, or kissed the crown of your head. You’d heard the heartbeat together, where he’d spoken in your ear, thankful to you for giving him the greatest gift of all to come in a few short months - being a dad. Something he’d wished for, for years, sometimes even thinking he’d never get to experience it. 

But that’s as far as he could help you and god, he wished he could do more. 

He didn’t hear JJ approaching and wasn’t even paying attention when she called his name out softly. And then again, and again. 

Snapping her fingers in front of his face worked like a charm though. 

“Yes?” He asked, after a light shake of his head to clear his thoughts. 

“Where’d you go Spence?” She leaned against his desk, giving his shoulder a small squeeze in support, “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s good,” He didn’t look or sound convincing, and watching JJ’s brow arch in question, he sighed, “Well, okay, not everything.” 

“What’s going on? Are Y/N and the baby okay?” She asked a frantic worry in her voice.

“They’re good and healthy,” Spencer confirmed, watching her let a sigh of her own. He decided then and there to seek her advice. She was his friend, and seeing as she’d been a mom twice now, she knew exactly what you were going through. 

“She’s been feeling uncomfortable, carrying the weight of the little bean around,” He smiled, simply mentioning his child softened everything within him, “And I see her trying not to show it that much, but it’s clearly exhausting her even more, and I wish there was something I could do to help, you know?” He sounded so small at that moment, rubbing his wedding band, feeling like he was failing you somehow. 

He knew that wasn’t possible, you told him daily how proud you were of him and everything he did and has done for you, but even now, he couldn’t help but worry sometimes. 

“Well, there’s this one thing that worked wonders for me when I was pregnant with Henry, and Michael too.” She started before she shared her little secret.

You breathed in deep, moving around yet again, and then exhaled a long breath. 

Your couch was one of the most comfortable things in the apartment - at least it had been before you’d started popping. Now it felt more like the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever, but you knew that was just your inability to get comfortable - well, anywhere really. 

It was a struggle finding a way to feel good, but not like your baby was sitting on your bladder, or putting more pressure on your back than needed. You had roughly 6 more weeks to go, but you already felt about ready to pop. 

Your bean was grown in size - with a tall daddy like your husband, you weren’t even that surprised. You somehow knew that they’d take even more than his height - you hoped they’d inherit his best characteristics too. His love for learning, his calmness, and most of all his heart. Maybe his hair too - you loved his hair. And his smile. God you simply loved him.

You couldn’t wait for him to get home - the only time you felt like your whole body could relax was whenever he was with you, one hand or both thrown over your bump in a protective manner, talking to you and your baby quietly. 

You tried a few more times to get comfortable, a few different positions - leaning on your left, your right, or even with your back straight, and nothing worked.  

Another deep exhale left you and you simply gave up - lying on your back and praying for no uncomfortable sensations for at least a few minutes. 

Just as you felt your eyes droop - you wanted a few minutes to simply breathe - you felt a little kick to your left. It didn’t hurt, luckily for you, your little one seemed to be a pretty calm, small bundle so it wasn’t often any cry for attention left you rattled.

You did let out a little chuckle, rubbing the spot. As you rubbed at your stomach, small kick after small kick under your hand, you heard a key being inserted into the lock - the door opening and closing, keys rattling on the key hanger next to the door. 

“Sweetheart? Where are my girls?” He asked, as you heard the familiar sounds of him hanging his jacket and satchel, and taking off his shoes. You’d decided the gender would be a surprise, but Spencer insisted that it was a girl - you had a feeling he wanted to be a girl dad. 

You raised a hand, waving in the direction of the door, not wishing to move now, “We’re here, love.”

You didn’t attempt to push yourself up, you just stayed where you were, rubbing your belly and waiting for your husband to make his way over. 

Sure enough, just a few seconds later he was kneeling next to the couch close to your head, moving pieces of hair away from your face.

“Hi.” He whispered before he leaned down and laid a series of small kisses all over your face - one on each cheek, one on your forehead and nose, finishing with a gentle press of his lips against yours. It still made a small shiver run through you, just like it always did.

“Hi.” You returned when he pulled away, watching him as he leaned towards your belly then, kissing just next to where your hands were still sitting. A kick followed his kiss like your baby knew it was his daddy having returned from work. 

“Hi, little love.” It was his little nickname for them, and you loved it. You ran a hand through his hair then, soft and thick to the touch. 

With his hand sitting next to yours, wedding band gleaming in the light, he pulled you into another small kiss. His face was inches away from yours. 

“Can you stand up for a second, love?” He was whispering, content in keeping you three in a small bubble of touch and soft words. 

“Why?” It sounded like a whine, but in your defense, everything felt more comfortable than before now that he was there. 

His eyes softened then, understanding written all over his face, and a small smile on his slightly chapped lips too. 

“Just want to try something JJ suggested. Please? It’s going to feel good, I promise.” He kissed your brown in reassurance, and promise. 

You sighed again, allowing him to pull you up. 

“If I hate this, you have to go get me those super sour lemon candies from the candy store on the other side of town, okay?” You bargained with him. You’ve been craving those since last night, but he’d been going out on a limp for your every whim and you wanted to cool it for a day or two and allow him some time to breathe. 

He smiled softly, hand on your lower back, moving up and down. 

“Okay, sour lemon candy it is.”

“What are we doing again?” 

“Okay, I’m going to settle behind you, and I want you to lean your upper body against me, lay your head on my shoulder,” He instructed, moving behind you, hands on your hips just like he’d told you to do. His scent filled your nostrils, and you moved your head to the side to nuzzle his neck. He kissed your head, “Okay, now relax, and let me do all the work, yeah?” Again, soft, in a whisper. 

“What work -” You started before you felt his hands settle underneath your bump, holding onto it, and allowing the weight to fall on his hands instead of falling on you. You felt light like you were no longer carrying your little bean, but instead, it was safely nestled into his father’s arms. A half sigh-half moan left you, so relieved,  thankful in that moment, to JJ and to your husband. 

“Good?” He asked. Tears gathered in your eyes, so overwhelmed by the reprieve. You nodded, just a tiny bit choked up at that moment. 

“So, so good. Thank you.” You said, one hand moving to cup gently around his, face once again burying into his neck. You couldn’t believe the universe had granted you this man to be by your side for years to come. This dedicated, adorable, kindhearted man, and all his care. 

He rubbed his thumb against your bump, feeling your little girl kick against him, and he kissed your hair, holding you both, doing his very best to help in any way he could. Just like he always would. 

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[astonmartinii]

false start | lewis hamilton social media au

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem swimmer reader

some people are getting a bit too ahead of themselves

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

.・゜゜・ part of the aston martini summer olympics ・゜゜・．

espn

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lillyking and 509,455 others

tagged: yourusername & lewishamilton

espn: the 2024 paris olympics kick off tomorrow and we'll be keeping a close eye on the pool. and despite being one of the biggest names in the sport and the fiance of seven-time f1 world champion lewis hamilton, we don't predict to see y/n y/ln on the podium this summer.

view all comments

user1: when will y'all learn?

user2: i swear they did this back in 2021, saying she wasn't good enough any more and then BAM she won double gold and they were suspiciously quiet after

user3: i hope she dunks on their heads again

charles_leclerc: STOP UNDERRATING HER I SWEAR TO FUCK

user4: bro hasn't even started as lewis' teammate and he's already ready to throw down for y/n

charles_leclerc: i have been a fan of the queen since before i even started in f1 - no one disrespects her in front of me

user5: espn better be shaking in their boots after that

lewishamilton: 😐

user6: the king has spoken

user7: it's an emoji babe

user8: real lewis fans know that this is worth a thousand words

user9: the picture with the double gold is going to hit like crack i fear

user10: best believe i know that they'll tag espn just to be messy

user11: i'm sat. i'm so sat. the cinema workers have told me she doesn't compete for a couple days but i'm simply so sat

yourusername: ⏳

user12: OKAY SLAY

user13: i need these golds like i need air

user14: okay queen i need you to run back the celebration from last olympics

user15: time to become an honourary aussie for a couple weeks to support y/n

user16: LET'S FUCKING GO KANGAROOS

user17: run me my passport australia

user18: when will lewis get his australian citizenship

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell63, charles_leclerc and 1,459,833 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: go get em'

view all comments

user22: gIVE ME ONE CHANCE PLEASE GOD PLEASE

user23: sorry to everyone else at the games, but the hottest couple has arrived

user24: tiktok girls PSA: if i don't have ten alchemy edits of them on my desk by tomorrow morning THERE WILL BE ISSUES

yourusername: for you sir, anything

yourusername: ugh your ✨ title ✨ is so hot

lewishamilton: let's win and then put it to good use 😉

landnorris: do you people mind?

yourusername: why are you always in our business? don't you have your own little guppy to follow around in paris?

lewishamilton: he's just lonely? or not? i can't keep up with his relationship drama

landonorris: EXCUSE ME?

yourusername: you're excused? we've been together for like eight years we aren't used to whatever drama you've gotten yourself into

lewishamilton: eight years, six months and 237 days :P

user25: first espn and now lando? they're not holding back this summer

user26: fucking around and finding out is what summer 2024 is all about

georgerussell63: good luck y/n !!!

yourusername: thank you georgie :)

georgerussell63: and i checked, i don't think there's any gb swimmers in your events (other than the relays) so you'll have my full support

yourusername: thanks?

lewishamilton: he's a little confused but he's got the spirit

user27: i need y/n to win and come to the paddock with her medal for zandvoort

user28: i am seeing it and i need it to happen

olympics

liked by lewishamilton, pierregasly and 893,209 others

tagged: yourusername

olympics: never in doubt, y/n y/ln takes gold in the 100m backstroke final!

view all comments

user29: RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

user30: suck on that espn

user31: espn admin come outside rn please i jUST WANNA TALK

lewishamilton: @espn KEEP MY (soon to be) WIFE'S NAME OUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH

yourusername: that was so hot

lewishamilton: you wiping the floor with the whole pool was so hot

lewishamilton: but then again you're hot doing literally anything

yourusername: says you mr model

lewishamilton: i got a few things i wanna model for you ...

yourusername: is it my gold medal and nothing else ?

lewishamilton: how did you know ???

user32: so winning a gold medal really does make you horny on main

user33: some of us lived through them with no PR managers, this is tame

user34: they're one couple where it really wouldn't surprise me if something got leaked

yourusername: can confirm it tastes as sweet as it did in tokyo

oscarpiastri: could you hear me cheering? i was so loud :)

yourusername: funnily enough, no

oscarpiastri: oh :(

yourusername: but i felt it in my spirit!

oscarpiastri: good :) because i think i have slightly deafened your husband 🤷‍♂️

lewishamilton: my ears are still ringing but i'll take it because you were supporting y/n

yourusername: awwww you cuties

user35: yall saying that kimi antonelli is lewis' grid kid but it's clearly oscar

user36: if i watched lewis put yellow and green glitter on oscar's face on live tv it's not a conversation to start with

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, jensonbutton and 1,459,783 others

tagged: olympics & lewishamilton

yourusername: gold in both 100m and 200m backstroke is more than i could've ever dreamed coming into these games, thank you to my family, friends and wonderful fiance for their support. and to the others, you know who you are, be careful on all those false starts you keep making ;)

view all comments

user38: where are you ? LET'S BE HAVING YOU !!!

user39: her winning the golds regardless isn't enough i need a gun

espn: ... i'm sorry?

lewishamilton: YOU SHOULD BE

espn: sir, i am just an intern who posts what i am given

yourusername: well now you're making me feel bad

espn: i can give you my boss' email?

lewishamilton: YES PLEASE LET ME AT EM

user40: bullying works?

lewishamilton: i'm so so so so so so proud and so so so glad that everything lined up for me to be there and witness your excellence in person 🙇🏾

yourusername: i love you so much and couldn't have done it without you, all those facetime dates and missed anniversaries are worth it in the end

yourusername: although i am looking forward to following you around the world again for a bit

user41: thank fuck you're not retiring ????

yourusername: who said that ??? @espn was it you again??

espn: not this time i swear!

yourusername: i can confirm that i am not retiring, us terrorising all the youngsters in our sport is kind of our whole bit

lewishamilton: although some people could learn to walk away - cough @fernandoalo_oficial

yourusername: really?

lewishamilton: beef waits for no one

fernandoalo_oficial: well i personally was cheering on y/n, you can choke

user42: how does y/n look so good even after racing?

yourusername: getting laid well and often 👍🏼

lewishamilton: you're welcome

yourusername: i love you 🥰

lewishamilton: i love you more

fin.

note: hope you guys enjoyed!! swimming is always my favourite olympic sport (i also swam for ten years so that's probably why lol)

[ssahotchnerr]

hi!!! could you write aaron x bau! reader, where jack accidentally finds a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom or somewhere in a drawer before reader gets a chance to tell aaron)))🫶🏻

tells

omg omg i could cry 🫶🏻🥹 cw; pregnant bau!reader, mentions of pregnancy symptoms, a ton of fluff <3 wc; 1k

"Hi sweetheart."

Aaron's eyes rose as you entered his office, before returning to the files laid atop his desktop, a paper in his right hand. His stare had lingered momentarily, so he noticed the bag in your hand. "Heading out?"

"Yup, gotta pick up Jack." You replied, hoping you sounded somewhat normal, given your current circumstances. You felt as if your voice was borderline squeaky, in that attempt to remain normal, while also resisting the urge to bounce on your toes. "You coming with?"

On another note, you were so incredibly thankful to be leaving early; overwhelmed with nausea, back pain, fatigue. Ginger ale had been within arm's reach all day, an achingly long day. Laying in bed had never sounded more appealing.

"No, I wish I could. There's a few consults I need to look over before tomorrow. It shouldn't take too long, though." He got up, inching towards you, "I can, however, spare some time for you."

Your nose scrunched in amusement, leaning up to peck his lips, "You're too good to me."

He chased your lips, murmuring into the kiss with a soft smirk and teasing you right back, "I do try."

After the two of you pulled away (and a whistle echoed outside from a passing Derek Morgan), you toyed with his tie, smoothing it cleanly against his torso. "Don't stay too late, okay?"

"I won't." Aaron kissed you once, twice more before retreating back to his desk. He held onto your hand for as long as possible, causing it to fall gracefully to your side. "I'll be home before dinner, I promise."

Instead of leaving, all you could do was stand there; staring at him, completely giddy. The secret you held, it made you feel a whole new kind of love when you looked at him. The father of your unborn child, the perfect addition to your family. A new love you had created together.

Aaron's gaze lifted, catching you ogling him, a confused smile forming on his face. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." You shrugged, forcing your feet towards the door. "I'll see you at home."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, playfully. He absolutely didn't buy it. "Okay, drive safe."

-

"Hi." Jack greeted, climbing into the backseat and shutting the door behind him. He struggled the smallest amount, his backpack weighing him down.

"Hey Jackers," You twisted behind, offering a warm smile, "have a good day?"

"Yeah." He verified, and left it at that. He simply settled in, buckling up.

While you had thought you were the one being strange, he was definitely more so. As you took the route home, he remained quiet in the back, rather than being his usual talkative, wanting-to-tell-you-everything-about-his-day self. You peered at him in the rearview, observing him.

He didn't look pale, so hopefully he wasn't coming down with something. He didn't seem upset - his eyebrows always pinched together in worry when he was. Even this morning during breakfast for instance, he seemed far away, off in his own world. If you didn't know any better, he looked on edge, but in a jittery, seemingly excited way. Antsy, and oddly familiar.

"You okay?"

Jack nodded, keeping his eyes out the window. His absorbed expression indicated the gears continuing to turn in his mind.

"Did something happen today? You're awfully quiet."

"I have a question."

You stopped the car, arriving home, turning around in your seat again to fully look at him. "You know you can ask me anything. Whatever's on your mind, nothing's off limit."

His eyes lit up, hopeful yet quizzical. He quietly and timidly asked, "Am I getting a baby brother or sister?"

You blinked at him, surprised, as that was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth. But you couldn't stop the small smile tugging its way onto your face. Not only because you were happy, of course, but you also didn't want him thinking he had done something wrong. "What makes you ask that?"

"I wasn't snooping, I promise. I went into your bathroom to look for some floss - Dad said I could, said it was in the top left drawer - and I saw it, it said pregnant. But I didn't mean to see, I swear."

Your expression softened sweetly, a gentle laugh escaping you too, "It's okay buddy, that's completely on me. I didn't do a very good job of concealing it at all."

An adorable, boyish smile pulled at his lips, the words leaving him shyly. He could infer the answer, but he needed the actual confirmation. "So... am I?"

After a moment's silence, letting the suspense linger, you confirmed, your heart bursting as you did. "You are."

"Yes!" He nearly shouted, immediately unbuckling his seatbelt and throwing his arms around you, as much as he could with the obstacle of the driver's seat. His arms mainly reached around your neck.

You laughed gleefully, your hands raising to his arms, squeezing them gently - a makeshift hug for the meantime. Tears dared to spill down your cheeks, overwhelmed with emotion.

He released the embrace, sobering for a moment and the realization beginning to fully set in. "I'm really getting a sister?"

"It could be a boy too." You arched a brow, grinning.

"Yeah," he matched your smile, buzzing with happiness. "And I'd love that too. But, I think it's gonna be a girl."

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see." You shrugged coyly, "It's still quite early, so we won't be able to find out for a couple weeks."

"Weeks?" He whined painfully, but it faded as fast as it had appeared. "I'm so excited. I can't wait."

"You wanna know something else?" He nodded profusely. "You're the only one who knows."

Jack's eyes brightened more if it were possible, in both exhilaration and shock. "Seriously?!"

For the meantime, it was a special secret, shared just between the two of you. You could've sobbed right there, between his genuine sweetness and excitement. And the hormones.

Regardless, he was going to be the best big brother.

"Dad doesn't know?"

"Not yet. I was brainstorming how to tell him, how to tell you, but you were just too quick for me." You flashed him a teasing grin. "That means you have to help me come up with a fun way to tell him, and quick, because I think he's onto me. Deal?"

Jack held out his pinky, interlocking it with yours. "Deal."