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plutotheplum · 4 months ago

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Red Tape

mma fighter!sylus x manager!reader

summary: the man you're in charge of is somewhat of a handful (...and a mouthful).

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, modern au, smut, vaginal fingering, kissing, dirty talk, oral sex - m! and f!receiving, praise kink, p in v, masturbation, size difference, size kink, mild choking

wc: 8.8k

a/n: pulled his grasslands card and nghhh he's so fine and big. lowkey think i wrote too much. hope you guys like it! <3

also on ao3!

The sounds of limbs colliding and loud grunts of exertion fill the air as you step inside the training gym.

You let your eyes scan the expanse of it, eyes narrowing to try and find the white-haired man you’re in charge of. You eventually spot him, red tape wrapped around his hands as he works with his trainer, throwing punches of varying strength against the boxing pads.

Heels clacking against the floor, you approach Sylus, standing off to the side as you watch him train. His moves are calculated and sharp, never allowing for any stray hits to pass through. It’s how Sylus has managed to stay at the top of the rankings for the past few years. He had risen quickly, his strength and technique acknowledged by those around him, supporters and rivals alike.

You’d been his manager for a total of two years. It’d been outlined in a fortunate job posting that you’d deemed interesting enough to apply for. Back then you had wondered whether he’d be difficult, but Sylus was annoying at most and actually acknowledged your judgement.

“How am I looking?” Sylus calls out to you, stepping away from his trainer and grabbing a bottle of cold water to press against his neck.

“Good,” you reply, watching as he steps out from under the ropes of the boxing ring, his tall frame approaching yours.

“Just good?” he asks, peering down at you.

You roll your eyes, reaching for his hand to undo the tape that covers his fingers. “Fine. Better than good. We both know you’re at the top of your form these days.”

Sylus hums in agreement, his fingers flexing once you unwrap the tape. You do the same for his other hand, gathering the discarded tape and rolling it up into a ball. He drinks down the bottle of cold water, throat bobbing as he does so.

“Who am I up against tonight?” Sylus asks, slumping down into a nearby chair.

His muscles are taut from training, a sheen of sweat covering his body. You can’t look away when he pulls his tank top over his head, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he reaches for a towel to sling around the back of his neck and wipe his face dry.

“First few matches should be fine,” you tell him, drawing your eyes away from his sculpted body to look down at your phone, “final match might be a little hard. Xavier.”

Sylus sighs, running his hand through his damp hair as he glances at you. “He’s fast.”

“Not as fast as you,” you say, shaking your head.

He grins, leaning towards you. “It’s sweet my manager has such faith in me,” he drawls.

You shoot him an unimpressed look, pushing his head back when he gets a little too close for comfort, his crimson eyes boring into yours intently.

“I’m more concerned about my paycheck.”

“I make you twice as much money than you would at a shitty desk job,” Sylus replies, thighs spreading as he gets comfortable.

“Try making it triple,” you grin back at him, tossing him another bottle of water as you stand up.

Sylus catches it effortlessly, pressing it against his forehead this time. He slouches a little more and you dig through his bag beside you, handing him a protein bar. You let your gaze drift as he rests, watching as the other men train in the gym.

Some throw punches, others duck to avoid getting hit. You were well aware of the fact that Sylus had his own personal boxing ring, and yet he preferred to train here, in front of other men. An intimidation tactic or simply personal preference, you didn’t know. All in all, you were grateful that Sylus’ performance was consistent. You hardly had to involve yourself, a new rush of sponsorships flooding your email in the days following his matches.

“Remember to rest,” you say to him when he stands up and rolls his shoulders, his muscles rippling.

“I’m a professional,” Sylus replies dryly, his hand landing on your head heavily as he grants you a few pats.

You scoff, swatting his hand away, trying to smooth down the strands of your hair. The view of his bare, broad back is appreciated however, your greedy eyes following the boxer as he slips past the ropes of the boxing ring again. It doesn't exactly fall under the job description to ogle the man you’re in charge of, but Sylus is unfairly handsome, and innocent glances never hurt anyone.

The thrum of the arena is electrifying.

You can feel the beat of the music match the pulse of your heart as you stand outside Sylus' locker room, checking your phone every now and then. The door swings open after a few moments and you step inside, finding Sylus sitting on the steel bench.

His legs bounce, his hands clasped together, head hanging low. All boxers had their own ritual, and you weren’t about to interrupt his. Instead, you strike up a quiet conversation with his trainer, waiting for Sylus to finish up.

Sylus waves you over after a few moments and you’re already undoing the red tape from its roll, winding it around his fingers so that it sticks properly. He flexes his fingers experimentally, giving you a nod and you move to his other hand, fingers brushing against his.

“Take it easy out there,” you murmur, lifting his hand to smooth out the creases in the tape.

“I always take it easy,” Sylus says, sending you a devilish grin.

It’s not exactly true. Sylus likes to show off, you think he might like the thrill of it. Carefully placed embellished hits do make for great television after all.

“Besides,” he continues, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs to pull you between his legs, “I have my lucky charm with me.”

You let out an awkward laugh, squirming out of his grasp although he seems reluctant to let go. His trainer seems to catch the little interaction between you, and you clear your throat, taking another step back.

“Manager. I’m your manager .”

“You can be both,” he retorts, standing up.

Sylus bounces on the balls of his feet for a few moments, his shoulders rolling and head tilting to get rid of any cricks in his neck. He pulls the hood of his jacket over his head, snowy hair disappearing, his face darkening. An announcement blares through the locker room and he’s moving out, with you and the rest of his team trailing after him.

You’ve lost count of how many matches of his you’ve attended, but somehow the nerves don’t ease, the knot of uncertainty tightening in your stomach. He’s more than capable of handling the blows hurled at him but there’s a part of you that can’t help but worry about an opponent playing dirty and landing a blow that he can’t recover from.

He excels through the first stages as expected. Most of his opponents for the first few rounds are amateurs at most, making clumsy mistakes that end up giving Sylus an opening to finish them off.

Xavier is more of a challenge. He’s quick on his feet, easily sidestepping and making short, sharp jabs that have Sylus keeping his distance. You wince when Xavier lands a blow to Sylus’ face, hard enough to make his lip split. Blood runs down his chin, but Sylus is catching the rivulets of blood with his tongue and finding your eyes through the sea of faces, his grin cocky albeit bloody.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. His eyes glint at the challenge, your warning to “take it easy” all but forgotten as he lands a heavy punch to Xavier’s abdomen. Xavier stumbles back, doubling over in pain but he straightens out just as quickly.

A few more punches are thrown, but Sylus wins the first round, thankfully. He’s waving you over during the rest period, crouching down.

You lean forward, letting him whisper into your ear, the sheer loudness of the crowd making it difficult to hear him.

“Need you to fix my tape.”

You nod, pulling off his boxing gloves and undoing the tape around his fingers to wrap it a bit tighter.

“Better?” you ask, peering up at him.

Sylus nods, and you motion for him to bend his head a little more. You press a damp towelette against his split lip. He hisses at the feeling, jaw clenching.

“He’s weak on his left-side,” you murmur, wiping away the blood that’s dripped down his chin.

“You’re not one to give me tips,” he says.

“Seems like you need it,” you whisper, “you’re performing poorly, Sylus.”

That seems to set him off a little, his brows furrowing for a moment before he schools his features back into something more neutral. He reaches out for you, his large hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes widen, trying to take a step back but it’s too late, your flushed face is being broadcast on the large screens.

The crowd seems just as surprised as you are, the raucous chatter quietening for a moment as they watch.

His lips brush over your ear as he speaks, his breath warm and heavy. “I’ll make you triple.”

Sylus lets go of you, and you shoot a wane smile to the camera that’s been trained on you both. It’s convincing enough for the crowd to lose attention as the second round starts.

As the match drags on, it becomes evident as to what Sylus is doing. He’s toying with his opponent, letting Xavier think he has the upper hand when really it’s Sylus that’s controlling the pace. Sylus lets Xavier get one last hit in before he’s retaliating, hard and fast, his opponent’s body crumpling to the floor. When Xavier fails to rise, cheers erupt, Sylus’ name being chanted throughout the arena, crazed fans jumping up and down as the referee holds his arm up.

There’s sweat dripping from Sylus’ brow when you find him back in the locker room. The reporters had loved his post-fight interview, his smug grin supersized on the large screens in the arena. A medic kneels beside him, examining his body carefully to eliminate the possibility of any injuries worsening.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sylus smiles, his head tipped back, resting against the tiled wall. “I won, didn’t I?”

Frustration pricks at your skin and your eyes narrow, feeling tempted to slap the stupid smile right off of his face.

“Don’t be like that,” Sylus coos, brushing off the medic attending to him without a second glance and reaching for you. “You wanted triple, I made you triple.”

“I- I wasn’t being serious !” you hiss, trying to tug your wrist free.

Sylus’ grip only tightens, tugging you down so that your face nears his. You swallow harshly, his scarlet eyes somehow brighter under the light.

“You said I was performing poorly,” he murmurs, “I did what you wanted.” His fingers unfurl, stroking the inside of your wrist. The hint of a smirk plays on the side of his mouth when he sees how rigid you’ve become. “Besides,” his voice lowers a bit more so as to stop others from hearing, “you liked it when I smiled at you.”

His fingers smooth over your skin a few more times, dragging down to spread across the expanse of your palm. Sylus can spot the haze that glosses over your eyes, the way you extend your arm towards him slightly, chasing more of his touch.

You think you could’ve stayed like that forever if not for his physical therapist that’s bundled inside the locker room, pushing you aside. His fingers fall away from yours and you snatch your hand back, tucking it behind your back. Sylus looks like he wants to say something, but you’re turning on your heel to escape the oppressive atmosphere, feeling as though you’ve been smothered.

The cool night air is welcome when you burst through the doors of the arena, chest rising as you take in a deep lungful to calm the storm of emotions swirling in your mind. It’s a strictly professional relationship, you remind yourself, muttering under your breath and nodding along to your rampant thoughts to soothe yourself.

“Professional,” you whisper, staring at your hand as though it were a traitor, “I am a professional .”

Your fingers tingle in response, the phantom sensation of his fingers spreading out across your wrist. A sharp scoff leaves you, wiping your hand against your skirt. Unfortunately, your mind is all over the place and remembering Sylus’ bloody grin is enough to send a rush of heat through your body.

The sound of someone’s shoes shuffling in the distance has your ears perking up, but you don’t pay it any mind, too frustrated with yourself. Sylus is irritating, but it doesn’t stop your heart from racing whenever you think about him. You’d never meant for the stupid, little crush to flourish into something bigger, but ever since he’d asked you to stick around, things had gotten complicated.

Truth is, Sylus hadn’t lost a single match ever since you’d begun to wrap his hands for him. It’s why he has you wrap them now, every match without fail. You didn’t exactly believe in this superstition of his, but he was adamant, refusing to fight unless it was you that was winding the red tape around his fingers.

The scuffling noise grows louder and your brows furrow, trying to spot where it’s coming from.

“Ya lookin’ really pretty, miss,” a raspy voice sounds, an unfamiliar man stepping out of the dark.

The stench of tobacco is strong and you’re taking a step back, sending him an uneasy smile. He smiles back, yellowed teeth becoming visible, and you fight a grimace, trying to stop your lip from curling up in disgust. You spy the automatic doors from the corner of your eye, but the man reaches for you before you can make it to safety, holding onto you tight.

“Let me go!” you say, sounding panicked.

He only grunts, trying to pull you towards him. You pull back, gritting your teeth when his fingers dig into you.

“Ease up, pretty,” the man leers.

If anything, this whole situation was Sylus’ fault. You’re angry at yourself, at Sylus, and now at this disgusting man who was trying to take advantage of you.

“You’re pathetic,” your voice is a harsh hiss, fear giving way to resentment.

“Now, that is not very nice,” he replies, “why don’t you smile for me? A real one this time.”

Your eye twitches at the sheer audacity of his words, teeth gritting together. You’ve never punched anyone before, but tonight might be a good time to start.

“Fuck you.”

Before your fist can land, there’s a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back gently. You don’t have to look to know who it is. Sylus’ arm shoots out instead, punching the man in the face. He staggers back, tripping over his own feet and landing on the floor with a heap. Blood wets his hand and he groans, clutching his nose. You hope it’s broken.

“You okay?” Sylus murmurs, stepping in front of you and blocking the man from sight.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, frowning. “I was handling it.”

“I’m sure you were,” he says lightly, gaze dipping over you.

The man makes a noise of disgruntlement, a security guard hauling the man up onto his feet. You try to poke your head out from Sylus’ side, but he doesn’t let you, holding your wrist to distract you. He smooths his fingers over where the man had been gripping you, his touch firm and insistent, soothing the reddened imprints on your skin.

“Let me take you home,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers brushing against yours gently.

“I can take care of myself,” you retort.

Sylus doesn’t let you escape this time, tucking your hair behind your ear before he’s guiding you towards his bike.

“Wait! Were you even cleared?”

“I’m not injured,” Sylus says, shoving a helmet down over your head.

“But- but my car!” you protest.

“I’ll have Luke and Kieran take care of it.”

The mention of the twins makes it more likely for something to go wrong. There’s a good chance they’ll end up totalling your car, or losing your belongings. You don’t even know why Sylus took them on, but they had succeeded in becoming unofficial trainees under Sylus’ guidance.

You shake your head stubbornly, pushing the helmet up. Sylus doesn’t let you, his hand shoving it back down before he’s picking you up and setting you down on his bike.

“I’m your manager!” you grouse in a last ditch effort.

“I’m well aware,” Sylus replies, swinging his leg over his bike.

You squeal when he takes off, arms wrapping around his middle tightly, eyes squeezing shut as the wind whips around you. He knows where your apartment is, having visited a few times when you’d asked him to stop by to sign some pressing paperwork.

His bike slows to a soft purr as it stops by the curb outside your apartment complex. His bike is annoyingly difficult to dismount and you grunt, struggling. You manage to land, although on shaky feet, your knees buckling for a moment. Sylus laughs, catching you by the waist before you hit the floor. The heat of his body has your breath hitching, your hands resting on his broad shoulders for stability.

“You’re too clumsy,” he murmurs, squeezing your sides gently, “take it easy.”

“Really?” you roll your eyes when he uses your own words against you.

“Really.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, voice softening.

All you can do is nod, heart fluttering at the gentle look in his eyes. He stares at you for a moment longer, trying to determine whether you’re lying. When you don’t say anything, he pulls you closer, his hands rubbing up and down your waist soothingly.

“I didn’t mean it,” you mumble out, feeling shy, “you- you were great tonight.”

“Yeah?”

You hum in response, giving him another nod. Sylus’ hands drift lower, past the line of professionalism. He stares down at you, his head tilting. Your lungs seem to have lost their ability to function at full capacity, quick, uneven breaths leaving you as your hands tighten into his jacket.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, voice barely audible when the tip of his nose brushes yours.

“Determining your wellbeing,” Sylus says smoothly.

“I’m fine, seriously.”

“Your cheeks are flushed and your chest is heaving” he whispers. Sylus’ hand has begun to wander, tracing down your neck, pushing apart the collar of your blouse to trail lower, his eyes drinking in your cleavage hungrily. He lets out a low laugh when you twitch in his arms. “You seem... unwell .”

“I’m fine !” you push away from his chest, patting your hot cheeks to try and cool them.

He raises his brows silently, but follows you into your apartment complex all the same, despite your protests. Something about ensuring your safety. Thankfully, he keeps his distance when he steps into the elevator with you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

The air is tense and you sneak a glance up at him to find him staring back at you. Your gaze snaps back, embarrassment rushing through your body, wishing the floor would just do you a favor and swallow you up.

Sylus doesn’t come in when you open the door, watching as you kick off your heels and rub at your sore ankles. He just stares , leaning against the doorframe.

“Thank you,” you say, breaking through the awkwardness of the air, “for bringing me home and- and taking care of that guy, but I definitely had it handled.”

He gives you a lazy smile, his head dropping to rest against the doorframe as well.

“You're welcome.”

“Okay, well, you- you can go now,” you say, gesturing with your hands and pushing at his chest to get him to leave.

Sylus doesn’t budge, his lips pursing as he stares down at you. The height difference is all the more noticeable since you’ve taken off your heels. His hand reaches out, landing on your waist.

“Come see me.”

“ What ?”

“Come see me,” Sylus repeats, “I’ll teach you how to punch.”

“I- I don’t need to learn how to punch,” you sputter, shaking your head vehemently.

“If you had punched that man, you would’ve broken your thumb,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up your neck to cup your cheek. “You need me.”

You can’t help your eyes from fluttering shut, leaning into the warmth of his palm. Sylus lets you, his thumb running over your cheek gently. You find that he’s gotten closer when you open your eyes, his lips parted. Rising up on the tips of your toes, you let your nose nudge his, wanting him to kiss you, consequences be damned.

Sylus smiles, a soft laugh leaving him when he pulls back, drawing up to his full height. “You’re my manager.”

You’re too stunned to reply, unable to get any words out as you watch him walk back towards the elevator. He gives a wave of his fingers, disappearing from sight. You stare at the empty hallway for a moment, letting out a frustrated scoff and scrubbing your hand over your face.

Exhaustion weighs your body down and you’re crawling into bed after showering, tugging the blankets up over yourself. The incessant ache between your thighs keeps you from falling asleep and you’re acutely aware of how empty you feel.

It’s why your hand is creeping down into your sleep shorts, a soft noise spilling into the quiet air when you find you’re already wet. Sylus’ face flashes through your mind, and instead of pushing it away, you focus on it. You rub your clit, slowly at first, savoring the sensation as you imagine his lazy smile.

The image shifts however, and now you’re imagining him between your thighs, your hand in his white hair as he licks over your cunt. It has your back arching, fingers rubbing against your clit faster as you moan.

“Fuck,” you whimper, stroking over your clit gently, the sensation making your thighs twitch.

Your imagination has begun to run rampant, imagining his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks into you, his mouth on your body, on your lips, against your ear whispering filth. You stuff two fingers into your pussy, fucking them in and out desperately. You have no doubt Sylus’ fingers would reach deeper.

You need him, you need him desperately . You think about him shoving your face into the pillows, palming your ass and sinking his cock into you. You think about his body flush against yours, his hands stroking your hair as he humps his hips into you. He’s just so big , his weight on top of yours would most likely make you lose your mind. Slick pours out of your cunt rapidly, whimpers filling in the air with how sensitive you’ve become.

“Sylus!” you moan his name as you cum, body shuddering.

Panting, you stare up at the ceiling, a frustrated whine slipping out of you when you realize how pathetically you’re acting. The haze of your orgasm doesn’t let your mind linger on the thought for any longer, your eyes drooping shut as you fall asleep.

You’re too weak to resist.

It’s how you’ve ended up here, inside his personal boxing ring, with him adjusting the tape on your hands. He’d suggested boxing gloves, but they’d kept slipping off with how big they were.

Your body stiffens when he steps up behind you. Sylus has you feeling like a fool as you hold your arms up, bent at the elbows, hands curled into fists. You meet his gaze through the mirror and he simply smirks, his chest pressing against your back as he fixes your form.

“Thumbs outside,” he murmurs, prying your fist open to tug your thumb free, “you’ll break them otherwise.”

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” you mutter, tensing when his fingers trail down your side.

“Self-defense is always necessary,” he replies.

You bite back a whine when his large hand curls around your hip, his palm pushing gently as he gets you to shift your stance.

“When you throw a punch, you have to pivot,” Sylus says, his other hand dropping to the other side of your hips. “Keep your shoulders relaxed, if you’re too tense the hit won’t be as powerful.”

You can’t exactly relax when he’s hovering behind you. Sylus squeezes your hips and you don't know whether he’s actually trying to teach you or whether he’s simply being a horrible man and setting off your poor touch-starved body.

“Wrist straight,” he continues, stepping away. “Put your body weight into it, and remember to pivot, okay?”

A simple nod is all that leaves you and he stands in front of you, holding his hands up. You can’t help but feel insulted.

“At least put the boxing pads on,” you mutter, feeling miffed.

“Hit me,” Sylus orders instead.

You lean forward, hips twisting as you put as much of your body weight into the punch as you can, shoulder rippling forward as you punch his hand.

“What are you trying to hurt, a fly?” he drawls, shooting you an unimpressed look. “Again.”

“I could have your reputation ruined,” you hiss back, adjusting your position. You let your hips pivot again, cheeks flushed with irritation as your arm shoots forward, punching his hand.

“Better.”

A satisfied huff sounds and you cross your arms over your chest triumphantly. It’s the little things in life, you think. Sylus rolls his eyes, his finger nudging at your forehead.

“Let’s just hope you don’t run into any more unsavory characters.”

“There’s plenty of other ways to defend myself,” you retort. “Pepper spray, tasers, and well, men always tend to have a weakness.” You point to the spot between his thighs.

Sylus looks down to where you’re gesturing, a laugh breaking out of him when he realizes what you’re implying.

“Not always,” he says and your eyes widen when he suddenly approaches you. Sylus places his hand over your mouth, spinning you around so that he’s practically draped over your back. “Get out of this.”

It’s hard to move when he has you pinned against him like this, but you shift your arm, driving your elbow back into his side hard . Sylus grunts, his grip loosening on you just for a moment. It’s the fraction of a second that you need, leg lifting as you stomp his foot harshly. He lets out a pained groan, and your leg kicks out again, landing a blow to his knee.

Sylus buckles onto the mat of the boxing ring and part of you can’t believe you’ve managed to bring him down. You hover over him, almost feeling bad for the man as he clutches his knee.

A sigh of a feigned dramatics leaves you, a satisfied expression creeping up onto your face. “You know, you did tell me to get out- ah! ” You shriek when he grabs your arm, tugging you down. Your legs give way and you land on the mat in a heap, letting out a pained noise.

“Celebrated too early,” he murmurs, “once your attacker is down, you run .”

You grunt in annoyance, ignoring his hand when he offers it as he stands up. Sylus waits for a few moments longer, letting out a soft laugh before he hauls you up by your elbow, setting you on your feet.

He lowers his head to check if there’s any damage to your face, invading your personal space. Your head leans back as his face moves closer until you can feel the heat of his breath fanning across your skin.

“Stop it,” you mutter, taking a step back.

You’re too clumsy for your own good however, losing your footing at the edge of the boxing ring. A squeak escapes you, arms flailing for a bit as you feel yourself beginning to slip, the ropes sliding down your back. Sylus reaches for you before you can fall, tugging you towards him.

“Careful,” he chastises.

Sylus’ hand smooths over your hair, brushing it away from your face. Your breath hitches when he cups your cheeks, tilting your head up.

“Stop- stop doing that,” you whisper, “stop touching me.”

“I don’t want to,” Sylus murmurs, his arm wrapping around your waist, “stop fighting me.”

You send him a half-hearted glare and he smirks, drawing you closer until you’re flush against his body.

“You wanted it last night,” he continues, mouth hovering above yours, “give in.”

His stare is blistering and it’s almost as though Sylus can see through you, though you’re not sure whether you’re ready for that yet. Your head shakes stubbornly and he lets go of you, letting out a sigh.

You watch as he shrugs off his shirt, his muscles flexing. Unspoken words sit on the tip of your tongue, but he’s leaving the boxing ring. The sound of his fist colliding with the punching bag echoes through the room and you stand there awkwardly, watching as the punching bag rattles under the force of his punches.

“Should I leave?” you call out meekly once you’ve managed to get out of the boxing ring yourself.

“Stay,” Sylus replies, glancing back at you, “we aren’t done.”

His words sound foreboding enough to have you squirming in place. Sylus hits that stupid punching bag countless times, to the point where even your emails aren’t keeping you interested.

Sweat covers his taut muscles as he approaches you, his hand running through his hair. You find your eyes fixated on his biceps, how broad his shoulders are and how big he is.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs.

“Like what?” you ask breathlessly.

He reaches out, his fingers squishing your cheeks together. “Like you want me to fuck you.”

Well, he’s not exactly wrong . You stare at him for a moment longer, heart racing in your chest. All your previous reasons to not pursue something with him have begun to fail you, your stubbornness being chipped away as he runs his thumb over your lips.

“I do,” you say, voice hoarse, “I do want you to fuck me.”

Sylus grins, his eyes flashing dangerously at your confession. The sweat on his body seeps into your clothes when he pushes you up against the wall, but you don’t care, hands spreading across his firm chest, a soft whine slipping out of you.

“Why the change in mind?” he coos, his thumb brushing over your lips again.

“Do I need a reason?” you whisper, opening your mouth and sucking his thumb into your mouth.

Surprise flits across his face and he lets out a deep laugh, pushing his thumb into your mouth further. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling around his digit, before lapping at the pad of his thumb playfully. He kisses your cheek, trailing hungry kisses down your neck, hand squeezing at your waist roughly.

“Always look so fuckin’ pretty,” he rasps, pulling his thumb free from the confines of your mouth.

His body is warm against yours, his hands groping at your ass, squeezing at the fat appreciatively. You whimper, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, eager for his mouth on yours.

“Wanted to do this at the match,” Sylus murmurs, “on the big screens. Could’ve shown everyone how good my manager is for me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, tilting your head as he kisses along your jaw, “that- ah- that would’ve caused a scandal.”

“The things I want to do to you would cause a bigger scandal,” he says, smiling down at you.

You’re weak for it, the lazy curl of his lips, the low drawl of his voice. You tug him down a little more and press a heated kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes bore into yours and he lets out an amused huff, stroking his thumb over the curve of your cheek before finally slotting his lips over yours.

Sylus works his lips against yours, hand cupping the back of your head to draw you closer to him. He maneuvers you as he pleases, your hands sliding down to rest against his bare chest, rising up on the tips of your toes.

He hisses suddenly, pulling away and you frown, brows furrowing. Sylus touches his still healing split lip, running his tongue over it.

"Sorry," you wince.

"I'm fine," he murmurs, lowering his head, "kiss me, sweetie."

"Oh, I don't think-"

Sylus doesn't let you finish. You’re both stumbling together, bumping into a wall every so often as he kisses you all the way to his bedroom, his hands roving over you. Biting your lip, you push at his chest, smiling when he falls down onto the bed, flat on his back.

Sylus shifts, propping his arm behind his head to watch you. You’ve never felt this adventurous before, but you’re pulling your shirt off slowly, giving him a show. His eyes darken when you take off your bra, taking in your breasts and pebbled nipples.

“Tease,” he murmurs when you pinch your nipples.

You take your shorts off next, hooking your thumbs into your panties to shimmy them off when he stops you.

“Keep them on,” Sylus says, voice laden with lust. “C’mere, baby.”

You crawl over him and Sylus drags you into another kiss, brushing your hair back. He squeezes at your ass a few times, groaning into your mouth as he feels your tits squished up against his chest.

“Hi,” you whisper, nosing against his cheek.

“Hey,” he says hoarsely, hands caressing your hips.

You can feel how hard he is through his shorts, the straining imprint of it against your skin. Sylus doesn’t let you touch his cock though, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and moving your jaw to guide you into a kiss.

A soft whimper escapes you when you feel his fingers brush your panties, pressing a little firmer until he’s rubbing your cunt through your panties. Sylus’ kisses grow sloppier, spit leaking from the sides of your mouths until he’s pushing your panties to the side and spreading your folds with his fingers.

“ Fuck ,” you mewl, pulling away from his ravenous mouth to rock your hips back into his fingers.

“So wet, sweetie,” Sylus whispers, tongue darting out to lick over your lower lip, “all for me, hm?”

You nod, hand squeezing at his shoulder. He smiles against your lips and you kiss him, fingers in his hair whilst your other hand wanders over his chest and abdomen.

Sylus sinks a finger into you, and your suspicions are confirmed, his fingers do reach deeper. He keeps you on the edge, alternating between rubbing at your clit and sinking a finger into you from time to time.

“Sylus,” you whine, pouting, “wanna cum.”

“Knew you’d be this whiny,” Sylus says, rubbing your clit faster, spreading your slick over your cunt.

That catches you off-guard. “You- you thought about me?” you ask breathily.

“All the time,” he groans, “always so fuckin’ good to me. Had to stop myself from getting hard every time you taped my hands.”

You let out a strangled moan at his confession, pressing yourself closer and smashing your lips onto his. He grunts, cupping the back of your neck to kiss you back just as feverishly, bullying another finger into your pussy.

Sylus licks into your mouth and you suck on his tongue, tugging lightly at the strands. He doesn’t let anymore spit drip, licking it up from your chin and pushing it back into your mouth.

“ Ah- ” you pant, eyes rolling back as he curls his fingers, thrusting them in and out of you.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, kissing your cheek, “taking my fingers so well.”

His thumb joins in on the onslaught, rubbing over your clit until you’re twitching and letting out ragged gasps.

Sylus moves you onto your back suddenly, his hands pulling your panties down and pushing your thighs up so that your cunt is on display for him. He groans at the sight, drinking in the glistening folds of your pussy.

Thumbing them apart, he groans again, watching the clench of your aching hole around nothing.

“Pretty pussy,” Sylus whispers, lowering his head to lick a stripe up your wet, slick pussy, “prettiest fuckin’ pussy ever, sweetie.”

He slips two of his fingers back into your pussy, crimson eyes finding yours as he kisses your clit gently. You smile hazily, running your fingers through his hair and rolling your hips up so he can kiss your clit again.

Sylus’ mouth latches onto your cunt before long, licking through the folds before sucking your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the swollen bud and flicking at it. You gasp, drinking in a shuddering breath of air as he squeezes your thighs and draws back to spit on your cunt.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, pressing his head back down, “Sylus, don’t stop.”

He huffs out a breath against your pussy, a half-laugh. Sylus doesn’t deny you though, dutifully carrying out his role, eating you out roughly. You squeal when he shoves his tongue into your pussy, fucking it in and out you for a few moments before his mouth is finding your clit again, teeth grazing the sensitive bud.

You twitch, tugging at his hair harder, letting out another squeal when he squeezes your breast roughly, his other hand tweaking at your hard nipple.

“‘m gonna cum,” you say, voice wavering, “ fuck , ‘m gonna cum !”

Sylus looks up at you, and it’s just like you imagined. His red eyes stare at you intently and the eye contact coupled with his tongue stroking over your clit is enough to have you crying out, body writhing as you cum on his tongue.

He hums into your cunt, holding you still as you try to escape his still working mouth, hands smoothing over your sides. Sylus laps over your cunt as you cum, drinking up your slick greedily, pulling away with a few soft pecks to your clit and inner thighs.

“You’re insane,” you mumble, cupping his cheek to kiss him.

Hand slipping lower, you grasp him through his shorts, reveling in the little gasp he lets out. From what you can feel, he’s long and thick , his cock throbbing through the fabric.

He helps you pull his shorts off, and your breath gets stuck in your throat, eyes fixated on his cock. Sylus is thick and big , and you think your poor pussy might split if he tries to stuff it inside of you.

“Not going to fit,” you whisper, voicing your concerns.

Sylus smirks, pulling you by the arm to kiss your cheek. “I’ll make it fit.”

Red, hot arousal runs through you at his words and you lean forward to kiss him again. Sylus runs his fingers through your hair, gathering the strands in a fist as you shift lower and press a kiss to the head of his cock.

Pre-cum drips from the tip and your tongue darts out, lapping it up so as to not waste a single drop. Sylus breathes heavily and you smile up at him, letting your tongue loll out.

“Brat,” he says, grasping the base of his cock before smacking the length of his cock against your tongue a few times, “this what you want?”

You nod, holding your tongue out obediently before licking up the length of it, tracing a throbbing vein. Your tongue swirls around the head, and Sylus moans, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he watches your mouth envelop his cock.

It’s a struggle to not let your teeth graze the sensitive skin of his cock, but you do your best, sinking your head down more, lips stretched around the fatness of his cock.

“Tap my thigh if it’s too much,” Sylus whispers, pushing your head gently.

Tears prick at your eyes, feeling his cock go deeper, air being sucked in through your nose as your throat swallows around him.

“ Shit ,” he hisses, fingers spreading out across your scalp, “just like that, baby.”

You whine, nails digging into his thigh, taking him to the hilt as your nose buries into the white hair at the base of his cock. Sylus moans loudly and you pull off, catching your breath by opting to place little kisses along the length of his cock.

Licking up the length of his cock again, you suck the head of it into your mouth, head bobbing shallowly as you hollow your cheeks and suck. Sylus mutters out quiet curses, his hand smoothing over your hair when his grip loosens. The weight of his cock on your tongue has your eyes drooping, your half-lidded gaze peering up into his aroused one.

His cock jerks against your lips, more pre-cum falling from his cock in fat globs. You catch them with your tongue, licking over the head of his cock and the leaking tip. His cum is addictive, the taste heady as you rub your lips across his tip, kissing at the flared head of his cock.

His thighs twitch and you giggle drunkenly, kissing his hip.

Sylus reaches down, cupping your cheek to kiss you, uncaring of the taste of his cum in your mouth. You whine, hand wrapping around his fat cock to stroke him, the sinful sounds filling the room as he wraps his hand around your throat to hold you in place while he kisses you.

“I didn’t take my manager for a whore,” he whispers, breath fanning across your lips.

“‘s your fault,” you reply, kissing him sweetly, wrist rotating as you jerk him off.

Sylus pants into your mouth, his hand tightening around your throat. You whine lowly, eyes fluttering shut when he kisses you messily, his hips bucking into your hand.

“My pretty, little whore,” Sylus says, squeezing your neck before letting go.

“Yours,” you agree, nose nudging against his affectionately.

Sylus kisses you slower this time, his hand cradling the back of your head. It’s tender enough to stop you from stroking his cock, your mind turning to mush with how gently he’s kissing you.

You can hear your lips smacking together, his hand rubbing up and down your back, his other hand drifting to circle your swollen clit again. You whine quietly, nuzzling into his cheek.

“Want me to fill you up, baby?” Sylus murmurs, his hand squeezing at your ass, “make you go brainless on my cock?”

“ Yes !” you sound your want, gripping his shoulder. “Please, please! Want- want your cock so bad, Sylus. I want you!”

He groans at the sheer need in your voice, and you roll over onto your stomach when he lets you, arching your back and pushing your ass up into the air.

“Sweetie,” Sylus rasps, spanking your ass, “ fuck- so fuckin’ good to me.”

You shove your face into a pillow, muffling your squeal when he shoves his face into your cunt, licking over your slick folds. Sylus spanks your ass again before kissing and biting at the reddened skin, leaving the imprints of his teeth on your ass.

He’s kind enough to shove a pillow under your hips, the thoughtful action making your heart flutter wildly. The press of his cock against your pussy is enough to have you moaning again, hips rocking back to try and get the head of it to slip inside.

“Needy baby,” Sylus whispers, draping himself over your back to kiss your shoulder. “My cock-hungry slut.”

“ Oh- oh fuck ,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he wraps his arm around you neck.

“Good girl,” Sylus whispers, kissing your cheek as his arm tightens.

You coo happily, turning your head to kiss the bulge of his bicep, feeling all rational thought leave your mind as nuzzle against his warm skin. He laughs hoarsely, brushing another kiss to your shoulder, hand kneading the fat of your hip.

“Put it in,” you demand, pussy empty and aching for his cock.

“Be patient,” Sylus admonishes, his fingers stroking over your pussy again. “I need a condom.”

“N-no!” Your protest comes out entirely too quickly and Sylus pauses his movements. You grumble, looking back at him. “I- I mean, I’m on birth control and I’m clean… please, Sylus?”

Sylus raises his brows, peering down at you. “Yeah? You want my cock raw, baby? Wanna feel every inch filling you up?”

You nod, a contented sigh leaving you, your lips drifting across the corded muscle of his forearm as he plays with your cunt, pushing his fingers in one last time before he grasps his cock. You whine, teeth sinking into his bicep as Sylus pushes his cock in slowly.

The sheets of his bed are in disarray with how you’re clawing at them, feeling his thick cock stretch you out.

“Too- too much!” you hiccup, squirming under him.

“Nearly there,” Sylus whispers, squeezing his arm around your neck tighter, “take my cock, sweetie.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he bottoms out. Sylus is hard and thick , his cock throbbing inside of your aching cunt. You feel wonderfully full, mouth placing sloppy kisses to his bicep as he drops his weight onto you, pinning you against the bed.

“Fuck- hah- cunt’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he groans.

As though in response, your pussy clenches around him and Sylus swears again, his forehead falling against your shoulder. He lets you get adjusted to his size, his hand caressing your waist soothingly before you can feel his hips draw back, thrusting into you slowly.

“You’re so big ,” you slur, eyes fluttering shut.

Sylus grunts, his fat cock bullying into your pussy again when he rolls his hips forward, breathing heavily against your back. You feel perfectly at home, content with the feeling of his arm around his neck, and the weight of his body bearing down on you. Reaching behind you blindly, you manage to find his hand and Sylus laces his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand affectionately.

“It’s like you were made for me,” Sylus whispers against your cheek, “hm? You were made for me, baby. Perfect little cunt made to take my cock.”

It’s getting harder to suck in air with how tightly his arm is constricting your throat. An uneven gasp leaves your mouth, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure mixes in with the lack of oxygen, his filthy words driving you further and further into a place where you can’t think.

His cock punches into you, his balls smacking against your clit, the sounds echoing through the room, the lewd harshness of skin slapping against skin making your cheeks flush. Sylus lets you breathe more comfortably when you dig your nails into his arm, trailing soft kisses along your cheek.

“Good girl,” he praises, his needy pants filling your ear, “my perfect girl.”

You whine, tilting your head a little more. “W-wanna kiss,” you mumble, “kiss me, Sylus.”

Sylus kisses you gently, his lips moving against yours whilst his hips hump into your ass, driving his cock deep into your clenching pussy. He moves you before long, turning you on to your back, kissing your ankles and dipping his head to land a reverent kiss to your fluttering pussy.

Your legs lock around his waist, staring up at him hazily with your lip bitten as he pushes his cock into you again. Sylus lowers his body onto yours, making sure you’re comfortable before his hips are moving again.

“Feels s’good,” you mumble, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

Sylus hums, brushing a kiss to your brow, his hands smoothing over your hair. His thrusts grow more powerful before long, punching the air out of your lungs, your cries emanating through the room as your nails claw down his back.

“Gonna cum?” he asks, voice a low growl as he feels you clenching around him tightly.

You nod rapidly, hands curling around his shoulders as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, nipping and biting as he grinds his cock in deep . You whimper, back arching, and he grins against your skin, slowing his movements to make sure you can feel his every inch fat, throbbing cock filling you up.

“So pretty,” Sylus whispers, nosing along your cheek, “my pretty slut falling apart on my cock.”

“Sylus!” you cry out his name wantonly.

Sylus growls, his hand slipping down to hike you thigh up a little higher before he starts pounding into you without abandon.

“Where do you want it?” he hisses, his red eyes alight as he stares down at you. “My cum,” he clarifies when he sees the confusion in your cock-drunk gaze, “where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you whisper, body trembling with each thrust he delivers to your pussy, “fill me up, Sylus. Wanna feel it.”

“Little vixen,” Sylus snarls, kissing you roughly. You scream and squeal, the noises muffled every so often when he kisses you desperately, the coil of pleasure in your stomach curling tighter and tighter until it snaps.

You moan out his name, thighs twitching violently, nails digging into his back.

“ Hah- ” he rasps, peppering soft kisses along your jaw, “pussy’s gripping me so tight fuck- couldn’t pull out even if I tried.”

Sylus lets out a growly moan, his hand squeezing at your hip as he buries his face into the crook of your neck again. You can feel his cock twitching, his hips slowing to a stuttering stop as he cums, filling you up. Hot, thick cum floods your pussy and you whine softly, the sensation sending little aftershocks through your body. He shallowly fucks his cum into you, hips moving slowly before he slumps on top of you completely.

You push at his chest when his weight becomes too much. “Get off me, you brute.”

“Shut up,” Sylus murmurs, smacking your thigh lightly.

A smile spreads across your face when he lifts his head, his lips slotting over yours in a tender kiss. You make a noise of contentment, wrapping your arms around his neck, pecking his lips a few more times.

Sylus grunts as he moves off of you, his softening cock slipping out of you. You wince at the feeling of his cum wetting your thighs and Sylus stares down at where his cum leaks out of you, the substance spilling out you thickly.

“Don’t look,” you whine, trying to snap your thighs shut.

Sylus doesn’t let you, grabbing one of your legs to kiss your ankle and then your knee. He presses soothing kisses to your inner thighs, thumbs apart your folds to watch his cum leak out of you again, landing a soft kiss to your clit every so often.

You roll your eyes, pushing at his head when he tries to suck your clit into his mouth, your pussy already oversensitive. He grins, moving towards you again and you cup his cheek, drawing him into a kiss.

A few hours later, you’re sitting in his lap.

You’d both showered together, exchanging lazy kisses under the hot water. Sylus had given you one of his shirts and a pair of his briefs and they were entirely too big, but you’d pulled them on anyways, his shirt smelling like him comfortingly.

“Look,” Sylus says, pointing to the screen playing the recording of his match last night.

His large tv screen depicts your flushed face from when he’d reached for you, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Scoffing, you swat his chest and Sylus laughs, letting you hide your heated face in the crook of his neck.

“You look cute,” he murmurs, his hand rubbing and down your back. “Besides, how are you going to handle it when I kiss you in front of everyone?”

“I’m not going to handle it, because you’re not going to do that.”

“I will,” Sylus replies smoothly, slouching a little on his couch, “when I win the championship.”

“Don’t sound so sure,” you retort. You hate how straightforward he is.

Sylus’ eyes flutter shut when you run your fingers through his hair, a sigh escaping him.

“You should be more encouraging,” he says, petting your sides.

You smile faintly, tilting his head to kiss him. Sylus groans into your mouth, pulling you closer by the back of your neck until you’re making out sloppily, the sounds of fists colliding with skin playing on the tv behind you.

“Is- is that enough encouragement?” you ask breathily, pulling away with swollen lips.

Sylus stares up at you, his lips parted and hair messy and you think you might’ve taken that shower for nothing.

“Need a little more, baby,” he whispers, pulling you back.

He kisses you breathless, his hands slipping up under the shirt to feel your warm skin. You nuzzle into his cheek afterwards, looping your arms around his neck. He caresses your breasts idly, sometimes squeezing, other times simply grazing his thumbs over your areolas.

A moment of silence passes before he’s speaking again.

“Kieran scratched your car.”

#sylus smut #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lnd sylus #lnd smut #sylus qin #mma fighter!sylus #mma!sylus

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julymusings · 2 months ago

Note

Jason is the type of person to put on some shitty romance movie only for his date to fall asleep and for him to get strangely invested.

are you still watching?

i saddle up my horse and I ride into the city. i make a lot of noise 'cause the girls they are so pretty. riding up and down broadway on my old stud leroy, and the girls say...

or; 3 times Jason Todd gets hooked on your television choices [3.7k]

jason todd x fem!reader; this is so real...and so clever!!! i LOVE the concept. i did get a little carried away and lost the plot unforch...pt3 is just a sex dream ab cowboy!jason so. also I apologize for taking forever to respond. tw...klance mentioned💀 & suggestive but not explicit. and i do bash on voltron in pt2 a little but it's all in good fun🫶i did my time with them divider

“Baby, I love you, but if you don’t pick something soon I’ll call Dick in here to entertain us with his backflips.”

“Oh, be quiet,” you huff. Though as you scroll, once again, through all the options on Netflix, you fear his threat may be serious.

You reach the bottom of the page, having found nothing. You peek at Jason from the corner of your eye and hover the cursor over the ‘Back to Top’ button.

“No.” He reaches to grab the laptop from you, but his injuries hinder his usual swiftness. You shriek in objection and roll away to the other side of the bed, computer held tight in your clutches.

“Babe.” He groans. He tries to reach across the bed to you, but his grasp falls short by mere centimeters as you frantically begin another scan of the site.

“I will find something, I promise!” You say. “Just one more minute!”

He rolls his eyes. “You said that ten minutes ago. And I’m the one who’s injured, shouldn’t I get to pick?”

You spare him a glance, pondering over his wrapped foot elevated on a pillow, and the bandages around his torso. His arm has fallen flat on his bed, having given up on its attempt to catch you. That alone should guilt you into saying yes; his childhood bed is just shy of too small for his adult self, so being unable to reach the other end speaks to the severity of his pain. And to add salt to the wound, you know he isn’t exactly fond of staying at his father’s house, but he is in no shape to recuperate alone.

“I would say yes, but you don’t know any good shows! All you watch is Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives.”

He scoffs. “I thought you liked that show!”

You scoff back, imitating him. “I did. But a person can only stand so much of Guy Fieri talking with his mouth full.”

He quiets, probably searching for a rebuttal, but you can’t imagine he’ll find any. You use the opportunity to resume your search unimpeded.

After a few minutes, you perk up. “Ooh, they added New Girl on Netflix!” You scoot back over on the bed to his side, satisfied with your choice.

“What is that?” Jason asks.

You whip your head to him. “You don’t know New Girl?”

He pushes a stray hair behind your ear, eyes narrowed. “Should I?”

Your eyes flit to the computer screen, then back to him, and you sigh. “No, I guess not.”

You’re about to press play on the first episode but stop yourself. “Do you want to choose? You’re already hurting enough, I don’t want to torture you with this too. Besides, I’ve seen it, like, a million times anyway.”

“No, it’s okay.” He turns the computer towards him and presses play. “I don’t need any of my siblings barging in and catching me enjoying Guy Fieri. I’d never hear the end of it.”

You titter at his remark and set your laptop in the middle of you, a little farther away so you don’t have to crane your neck to see the screen. He lifts his arm to drape it around you but struggles with raising it past shoulder level. You meet him halfway by ducking underneath his arm and settling it over your shoulders. He kisses the top of your head in thanks.

Leaning against his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing is too hypnotic for you to focus. Paired with the warmth of his skin, bare so as not to obstruct access to his wound dressings, you are quickly lulled to sleep.

It must be several hours later when movement against you disturbs you from sleep. The room is almost pitch black, save for the dim glow of the computer, still on and resting on your legs a few feet away. The air is thick with late-night silence, and fighting against the heaviness of your eyelids is so laborious that you have to use your hand to pry them open. Jason is squirming next to you, hand outstretched, low huffs of pain slipping from his mouth.

A shot of adrenaline courses through you and you stumble into action.

“What happened? What hurts?” The laptop tips off your legs and falls to the bed, landing on its side as you scramble to your knees and face him. “Should I get someone?”

“What? No, I— I’m fine, why?” He squints at you through the darkness.

“You—” Your throat catches and you take a deep, steadying breath. “It sounded like you were in pain.”

“No, honey, I’m fine. It’s okay. You can go back to sleep.” Jason takes your wrist and gently pulls you back into his side. You don’t budge.

“Then why were you moving?” You scan him for any signs of a worsening injury. Downplaying his own pain is not something you can put past him, unfortunately.

“I…” His eyes look past you for a quick second. He swallows. “I wasn’t,” he says, unconvincingly.

You narrow your eyes at him, then turn around to see what he is looking at, despite his (false) reassurances. Your laptop, still on its side, lies awake and open to the Netflix website. You pick it up to get a closer look at the screen. The player has gone dark, and overcast in white lettering; ‘New Girl: Are you still watching?’

You turn back to Jason, dumbfounded. “You risked hurting yourself…for this?”

Now adjusted to the darkness, you can see his cheeks tinged with pink. “No?”

“Jason.”

“You’re the one who put it on!”

You check the clock in the corner of the screen.

“It’s three AM, Jay. You need to sleep if you want your body to heal.” You argue.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” He defends. “I can’t sleep sitting up, and I need help lying down.” he fails to meet your eyes as he says this.

You cross your arms, tilting your face to catch his gaze. “And what am I doing here?”

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” he mumbles.

You just stare. It takes fifteen seconds for him to break.

“Fine. I was enjoying the show. I wanted to keep watching. Happy?” He punctuates his statement with a shrug but groans through a clenched jaw, remembering the injuries to his upper body.

“Okay, just—” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “It’s too late for this. Can we please go to sleep?” You don’t wait for an answer, shutting the laptop and placing it on the bedside table.

He leans off the headboard so you can help him shift his body down the bed and lie flat, and you lie down next to him.

“Comfy?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Need anything?”

“No.”

“Okay. Goodnight,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jason says quietly.

You snuggle into his side. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but you can tell by his breathing pattern that he’s still awake. He whispers your name into the darkness, hoping you’re still awake.

“Yes, honey?” You answer.

There is a beat of silence. Then, “When do Nick and Jess get together?”

“Go to sleep.”

ii.

Jason leans against the kitchen counter behind him, hands in his pockets, as he watches the microwave dish spin in a slow circle. It whirs under the yellow lightbulb, the flat paper packet puffing up among raucous popping. With sixty seconds left to kill, he searches the cabinets for a large enough bowl to fit the family-size packet of popcorn, as well as the various add-ons you adore.

The first time you invited Jason over for a movie night, in the beginning stages of your relationship, he looked on in wonder as you combined the grocery store’s entire snack aisle into one salty, sugary, buttery abomination in a jumbo Hello Kitty bowl.

“How do you even come up with something like this?” He had asked, ripping open the bag of pretzels as you emptied the fresh batch of popcorn into the bowl.

“Wait!” You stopped him just before he could pour the pretzels in. “Sugary stuff first. While it’s still hot. Then it gets all melty and good.” You dumped an entire bag of mini marshmallows, caramels, and M&M’s in, and gave it a few stirs. “And to answer your question, I was in high school and experiencing intense munchies.”

You gave him the OK to add the pretzels, so he did. “I envy your dentist,” he said, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Now, with plenty more movie nights under his belt, you trusted him enough to assemble your party mix on his own while you select something to watch.

The microwave beeps. As he rips open the popcorn bag, you yell from the living room.

“Hey, what about The Bourne Identity?” You call out. “Have you—? Wait.” You cut yourself off.

“What’s it about?” He yells back. You don’t answer. “Babe?” He calls again.

“Never mind! I’m gonna keep looking!”

He adds the sugary snacks first, stirring them until they melt, just how you like it. He’s tearing into the bag of pretzels when he hears you shriek.

He drops the bag and bolts to the living room, pretzels scattering all over the counter and floor.

“What happened?” His eyes bounce around the entire room, scanning for any threat.

He’s unsure what he expected to find, but it was a tad more perilous than you simply sitting on the couch, staring open-mouthed at the TV.

“Uh…nothing. Sorry.” Your face flushes. The remote is still raised and pointed at the screen.

“Vol…tron?” Jason reads from the title sequence that plays in the preview window. “Is this some kind of anime?”

“No…sort of, maybe,” you say. “It doesn’t matter. I'm just surprised to see it is all. I loved this show when I was younger.”

“Is it any good?” He asks.

You look to the side, thinking about it. You settle on: “Define good.”

His forehead wrinkles, mouth falling slightly open. “Did you…enjoy watching it?”

“Define enjoy.”

“Okay, forget I asked.” He sighs and goes back to the kitchen.

When he returns a few minutes later, floor pretzels in the trash and counter pretzels swept into the bowl, you’re already watching the first episode.

“This your choice?” He asks. You take the bowl in your lap and he settles down next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Definitely not. Just wanted to reminisce until you got back.” You frown at the bowl. “Where are all the pretzels?”

He chuckles. “That’s what you get for screaming. Dropped ‘em on the floor.”

You pout. “I didn’t scream. I was surprised. Now the ratio’s off, there’s not enough saltiness to balance the sweetness.”

“Poor baby,” he croons sarcastically. “Only getting a quarter bag of pretzels ‘stead of a full.”

You were going to switch the television to a movie you both liked, but you spent the entire first episode bickering about the important role each ingredient plays in, what you call, “The Party Mix Experience”. The next episode auto-played on its own, and you let it.

During the second episode, you and Jason were absorbed in a competition to see who could catch more flying popcorn pieces in their mouth (Jason), which then devolved into seeing who could dodge more popcorn kernels thrown to the face (also Jason).

By the beginning of episode three, you settled into meaningless chatter while paying half-hearted attention to the TV screen, and by the end, you were laid out on the couch, head in Jason’s lap, while you scrolled on your phone and he stroked your hair. You drifted to a light sleep, coaxed by his fingers scratching at your scalp.

When you wake from your nap, there’s a blanket draped over you and Jason’s hand is still settled in your hair. You push yourself up to sit beside him, speaking through a yawn. “How long was I asleep?”

Jason adjusts the blanket so it covers both of you. “Um…I dunno. Three episodes, maybe.”

“You’re still watching,” you remark, as the end credits for episode six begin to roll.

He says nothing. You both stare as the auto-play timer for the next episode counts down. Next to the remote, his fingers twitch.

You purse your lips, suppressing a grin. “You know, there’s quite an online community for people who like this show.”

“Ha. Were you part of it?” He muses.

“Yup. And I deserve a medal of valor for my time in those trenches.” You kiss his cheek and stand up, stretching your arms. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he says. His voice is low and gravelly with weariness.

You turn toward the bedroom when a call of your name stops you.

“Is it just me, or is something goin’ on between the red guy and the blue guy?”

“Oh, honey,” you sigh. It’s loud and pitying. You bend down to cup his cheek and draw him in for a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Babe!” He yells after you as you disappear into the bedroom. “You didn’t answer my question!”

iii.

It’s only a Hallmark movie, but with how he’s reacting, it might as well be six hours of paint drying. Jason is not eager to spend his night watching some boring, formulaic cliché, but it's late and you don't have anything better to do.

“That is absolutely not true,” he says when you counter his protests with this excuse.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning, Jay. Is there anything else to do, except sleep?” You rub your tired eyes. Both of you could use some sleep but, burrowed as you are under a pile of blankets, moving all the way from the couch to the bed seems impossible.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear. “I can think of a few things.”

His warm breath tickles your neck, and you feel a shiver despite the heat you’ve conserved in your little blanket burrito. The faintest of kisses is pressed behind your ear, and his eyes glint with familiar mischief when he pulls back.

You brush him off, rolling your eyes in amusement. “Do any of those things involve flannel-wearing farmer hunks or the True Meaning of Christmas?”

Turning back to the television, you take the remote from his hands, catching the tail end of a disgruntled mumble about how ‘I can buy a flannel…’

He grumbles a few more complaints during the movie’s first act (‘he’s not even that hunky’) before you scold him to silence. Once he’s quieted, and you settle more comfortably into him, your head is nestled securely in the crook of his shoulder with arms wrapped around his bicep. The warmth of him has you fighting against the tempting call of REM. Right around when the independent, successful, businesswoman protagonist discovers the handsome, flannel-clad man who helped repair her car is also the single father who runs an honest family business, you start to drift off, falling asleep amid thoughts of wearing plaid in the countryside.

You open your eyes to find yourself standing in a vast, open field.

Thump. Thump.

It’s unclear where the sound is coming from, but a splash of red in your periphery stands out. You turn; there’s a barn off in the distance.

Thump.

Your legs carry you in its direction. Growing closer by the second, the thumping sound echoes louder in your ears. When you round the corner of the structure, the front doors are propped wide open by cement blocks, and bales of hay are stacked outside the doors. A large figure, whose back is to you, is lugging a bale by its straps. He hauls it onto his shoulder, and his shirtsleeves tighten around his thick arms. He brings it to the barn, tossing it onto a pile of more hay bales. It lands with that same thump.

When he turns around, it’s in slow motion.

The sleeves of his plaid flannel are rolled up his arms, exposing his large, veiny forearms. Under the flannel, he sports a simple white t-shirt, jeans, and work boots that give him an extra inch of height. His face and chest are shiny with sweat, and his shirt is soaked through. He holds a toothpick between gritted teeth.

It’s Jason. In a cowboy hat.

He takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair. Its dampness makes it stay slicked back rather than settling into its usual shape where little curls are always falling over his eyes. Then, he sees you. A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. He puts his hat back on and removes the toothpick so he can speak.

“Hey there, little lady,” he drawls lazily, the Gotham accent you’re so accustomed to replaced with a southern twang. It does something to you that you’re a little embarrassed to admit. He looks you up and down, pausing above your knee for a split second before continuing.

“Hi,” you say, averting your gaze from where it had zeroed in on a droplet of sweat running down his neck. Your face burns redder than his beautifully sun-kissed cheeks.

He chuckles. “You jus’ gonna stand there or you gonna lend a hand? Compost ain’t gonna turn itself.”

He easily hauls up another bale, and you follow him into the barn.

You watch as he shirks it onto the pile, then repeats with the remaining few bales. He seems to forget you’re standing there as he gets so absorbed in his work, expression tightening in focus. You lean on the wooden post behind you and soak it in; every sound, every flexed muscle, every display of firm strength has you feeling like the air has been punched out of you. He carries the final bale into the barn and his low grunt as he throws it off his shoulder has a swooning sigh escape you. It catches his attention.

Your chest tightens in embarrassment as he prowls closer. He leans over you, hand against the wooden post right above your head. With him this close, a smattering of freckles is visible over the bridge of his nose, likely due to all the sun exposure. Huffing and sweaty, his eyes drag down your face and stop at your mouth. He swallows hard, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

He lifts his free hand to trace over the thin strap of your top. His fingers ghost over the skin, barely touching. “This is pretty,” he says, voice low. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all the way out here?”

And you just can’t help it anymore. You lurch up to him, desperate to close the space between you. You kiss him hard, and he kisses you back, his hand rising from your shoulder to grip the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your jaw, and your hands grip the material of his flannel, yanking it down to bring him even closer. You pull him against you so roughly that your head bumps the post behind you from the force. He smirks, teasing, into the kiss as his hand comes to cup the back of your head.

“Easy, sweetheart. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” After getting his fill from your lips, he slowly graces a path to your neck, kissing, licking, and nipping as he goes. His relaxed leisure perfectly juxtaposes your frantic hunger for him.

You grip his face and pull his mouth back to yours, kissing him with even more fervor. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down with little care for gentleness, and tug at the skin. He groans, and it rumbles deep in his throat. You soothe the spot with your tongue, and your eyes roll back into your head at the salty taste of his skin. As his tongue slides between your lips, he removes the hand that’s leaning onto the post and settles it on the skin of your thigh. It drags upward, feeling every inch of skin on his fingertips before disappearing under the hem of your skirt. At the same time, your hands slide down his body. His touch explores higher, and yours slips under his shirt to ground yourself on the hard skin of his abdomen, which has become slick with sweat.

The sound you make is debauched, coming from the deepest recesses of your stomach. He pulls back, wearing a cheeky smile. He opens his mouth to speak and says—

“Wait, what the fuck?”

You jerk awake. Jason is yelling.

“Why would you go with him?” He exclaims at the TV, and then turns to exclaim to you, “Why would she go with him?”

You stare at him, agape, trying to process your surroundings and asking yourself what just happened.

“Shit. Were you asleep?” Jason puts his outrage on hold.

You nod. “Yeah— yes.” Your voice comes out scratchy and hollow. “I was.”

“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says. His eyebrows furrow. “Are you hot?”

“What?”

“You look warm.” He presses the back of his hand to your flushed neck. “Is it too many blankets?”

Though his hand is cool, you feel even warmer, the image of his hand gripping that same spot of your neck flashing through your mind.

“I’m…good,” you say. “I think I’ll go to bed.” You dig yourself out of the shell of blankets and stand, but he doesn’t follow.

“Oh.” Jason glances at the TV, which is still in a commercial break. “You— did you want me to come?”

You don’t know what to say.

“The, uh…” He runs a hand through his hair, and you have to stifle a gasp. “The guy from her successful city life tracked her down to the small town to get back together. She said yes.” Then he sighs, sounding genuinely distressed. “There’s no way they’d end it like that, right? He was awful to her!”

At this, you crack a smile. “Do you want to finish the movie, Jason?” A hint of satisfaction seeps into your tone.

He clears his throat. “…Maybe.”

You plop back down on the couch with a hum. He interlaces your fingers and kisses the back of your hand before redirecting his attention to the screen.

“Babe?” You ask.

“Hm?” He answers, not looking away from the movie.

“Do you own any flannels?”

SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOYYYYYYY

love when u leave messages and feedback it feeds my praise kink

for part one: cut to me sitting up in bed shrugging my shoulders over and over again to see which muscles it uses and if that coincides with the injuries i gave him to see if that action causing him pain makes sense (it was inconclusive so i made his injuries vague oopsie)

for part two: the bourne identity (2002) is a movie about a guy named jason who wakes up not knowing where or who he is and somehow has elite training in combat and surveillance, though he doesn't know where it's from. he runs around functioning on pure instinct to survive while getting bits of his memory back, remembering that whoever he worked for was cutthroat, expected him to obey no matter what, and forget the person he used to be before joining their mission. sound familiar?

for part three: cut to me genuinely tweaking while proofreading bc i let my friend read it and so rereading it, knowing that she read it, was so embarrassing. i was screaming into my pillow & it took 20 minutes to get through 2k words bc i had to keep taking breaks. not an exaggeration

If any of you saw me change the theme of my masterlist 5 times yesterday only to change it back to what it was before…no you didn’t

#jason todd #red hood #batman #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #nightwing #dick grayson #jason todd x you #batfamily #dc universe #dc comics #dcu #dc robin #robin #bruce wayne

1K notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 3 days ago

Text

other side of the moon - chapter six | formula one imagine

chapter six: fireproof

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

testing is finally here and after the car launch, y/n is not looking forward to the mercedes garage

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | SERIES MASTERLIST

the day and a half after the car launch before max was called into the factory by red bull was a slice of peace y/n had longed for for three years. but also one she couldn’t help think would be the last bit of peace she would be afforded this season.

the pair woke up the morning after the launch, bundled up together and hair sticking up in every direction.

“good morning” y/n said, words smothered by max’s chest. the dutchman grumbled to himself as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter.

“max, your phone won’t stop vibrating - please tell whoever it is to fuck off”

max groaned, flipped over and grabbed his phone. with his eyes shut, max jammed a couple buttons and suddenly the gravely voice of helmut marko rung out.

“max! where are you? the team have just informed me that you left early and are not at the hotel?”

the dutchman finally opened his eyes. he pulled y/n back into his side and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“helmut, it’s too early for this many questions.”

“i asked you one, very straight forward question, max.”

“i’ll be at the factory tomorrow, don’t worry.”

helmut sighed down the phone, “wherever you are, make sure you’re not late and not spotted doing anything untoward.”

“me? untoward? helmut, i didn’t know you thought so low of me.”

“the only reason i believe you is because you’re on your best behaviour with y/n back, maybe we should add her to our payroll as well.”

y/n couldn’t stop herself before she burst out laughing. she smacked a hand over her mouth but it was too late. helmut hummed.

“i see. good morning miss y/ln. make sure he’s in top condition for tomorrow.”

“will do, helmut.”

max hung up as soon as he could and threw his phone down the bed. he smiles down at y/n, “that’s not exactly how i pictured my first morning in bed with you.”

“so you’ve pictured this?” y/n questions, raising an eyebrow.

“no? yes? maybe? i definitely have but i don’t want to creep you out so what do you want to hear?”

y/n laughs as he buries his head in the pillow, whining in embarrassment.

“maxy…” she sings and pokes his back.

“don’t look at me! i’m a freak!” max yells, muffled in the pillow.

“but you’re a freak for me?”

“isn’t it obvious?”

y/n finally gets max to lessen his grip on the pillow and look back up at her. there’s a dusting of pink on his face and a concerned look in his eye.

“don’t worry, i like it. as long as you’re only a freak for me.”

max ducked his head again, “as happy as i am to hear that, can we refrain from saying it like that? i was proud i managed to wake up without morning wood and you’re really testing that resolve right now.”

y/n’s laugh reverberated around the room. without the needy meows of brando, the pair could stay snuggled in the bed for much longer than usual.

“max?” y/n asked, the dutchman had rearranged them so that he could be the little spoon and had his head resting on her chest, “please don’t be sorry for your feelings. they don’t make me uncomfortable and unlike others you didn’t just assume i reciprocated. i like what we have and i want to see where it could go, but i want to take it slow. i don’t want people butting in and adding their two pence. i just want you - and our furry babies.”

y/n could see the smile breaking out on max’s face before he even lifted his head from her chest.

“i said i just want to exist with you,” max said, “that will never, ever change.”

the dutchman’s eyes flicked down to her lips and the blush returned when he realised he wasn’t too subtle about it. y/n gives him a small nod and max leans in.

“can i?”

“please,” y/n whispered as max’s lips connected with hers. it was a small peck, just a press of lips, but it was enough. both pulled back and smiled, happy to breathe the same air for a while. y/n’s hand wrapped around his nape and pulled him in for another one. this kiss lasted longer, the pair pouring their years of pining into it, communicating something words could not describe.

for a moment y/n wished that she hadn’t returned to formula one. she wished that this would be her life. happy in her coop in west london with her and max’s cats waiting for the dutchman to come home, far away from her past ghosts and the sport that nearly killed her.

“will you still find me attractive in mercedes kit?”

“that’s a stupid question. you’re the most beautiful person in the world. yes, i would prefer if it were my number and my colours, but i’ll live with it if it means seeing you at every race.”

y/n giggled, the dutchman pressed another kiss to her lips because he could.

“i know you’ll be rooting for kimi this season, but i’ll win every race for you. even if the red bull is a shit box, i’ll fight everyone to bring that trophy home to you.”

“my singular monza trophy is a little lonely,” y/n said, “but your wins are yours, not anyone else’s”

y/n pushed back the duvet and started to get out of bed, much to the chagrin of max. despite his attempted puppy-dog eyes, y/n shuffled into her slippers and made her way to the kitchen.

“find something good to watch, i’ll cook up one last cheat meal for you,” y/n’s voice called from the hallway. max stayed led in the bed, a dumb smile on his face. it all felt a bit too good to be true and he hoped those in the paddock who had already caused some trouble would stay out of this.

despite another night of snuggles, max did not want to leave for milton keynes the next morning. y/n had made him a breakfast sandwich for the ride, but it did little to console the young dutchman even though the pair would be apart for just two days before they’d reunite in monaco and fly out to bahrain.

“i don’t wanna go… i want to stay here, you’re so much nicer to look at than christian!”

max was dragging his feet as he made his way to the hire car. he even tried to delay his departure by roping frank into a conversation but y/n had thought of that and rung down to reception in advance.

“it’s like you want me gone!” max cried as he put his bags in the car.

y/n laced her fingers in his, “you know i’ll miss you, but i don’t want to hear helmut’s voice any more than i have to, so you have to go. i’ll see you in monaco.”

max pulled her into one last kiss and reluctantly got into the car. y/n waved him off as he disappeared into the streets of london.

“finally!”

a yell boomed out in the garage, making y/n jump and stick her keys out as a makeshift weapon. frank stood at the entrance of the garage with a huge smile on his face. y/n calmed down when she saw the older man.

“frank! that scared the shit out of me! how long have you been there?”

“long enough.”

frank looked very smug. y/n made her way to the entrance, pointedly ignoring the older man.

“don’t be mad, i won’t tell anyone. i’m just glad you finally realised what was right in front of you.”

did everyone see it before her? it certainly seems that way.

“we’re taking it slow, so i’d appreciate if you kept this under your hat, frank.”

“of course, miss y/ln. would you like me to arrange for another parking spot for your flat?”

y/n tried to keep a stern look but she just couldn’t help it and smiled at the older man.

“that would be lovely, thank you.”

her apartment was quiet without max. she didn’t want to say she missed him just yet, but she had to busy herself with something before she fell down that hole. she needed to pack and get a flight back to monaco so she could spend a little more time with the cats before pre-season testing kicked off the season.

y/n’s phone buzzed with a message.

kimi: y/nnnnnnnn huge favour to ask! george can only give me a lift back to london before we go to bahrain so could i maybe get a lift to brackley???

y/n: if you buy my coffee at each stop you’ve got a deal.

kimi: yes, yes. i know your order - THANK YOU !

she better get to packing.

the italian stood on the side of the road, wrapped up in two coats, a hat and a scarf. ollie stood beside him in just a t-shirt, some shorts and a pair of flip flops, showing off his british aversion to the cold.

y/n pulled up beside the pair and winded down the window. “don’t you know hitchhikers are dangerous?”

kimi smiled and gave ollie a quick hug, popping the boot and shoving his small suitcase in. the italian slipped into the passenger seat and waved at ollie.

“why didn’t i have the idea to ask you to be my mentor?” ollie whined, “esteban is great and he has already given me a ton of lifts but you’re you!”

“snooze you lose” kimi said, poking out his tongue.

“esteban is great ollie, don’t believe all this shit about him being a bad teammate. he’s lovely and will be more than happy to help you out. however, we do need to go because i need to drop off this princess and get a flight to monaco. ciao!”

y/n stood on the gas and flew off down the street. from the corner of her eye, y/n could see kimi studying her. this wasn’t too strange for the italian, he often just stared at her, amazed that she had even agreed.

“i can feel you staring kimi, do you have a question?”

“why are you so happy?”

y/n laughed at the bluntness. the italian sputtered, “i mean i’m happy you’re happy, but i can’t help but be suspicious. i haven’t heard a peep from you since the car launch… and a little birdy told me you left with a certain someone.”

“it’s been two days, kimi!”

“you’re still smiling, you can’t stop and considering you smiled maybe twice in the first couple days i knew you - this means something!”

“fine! you caught me. i did go home with max. i’m not saying anymore than we’re happy and we’re taking it slow. i’m telling you because i believe for a good mentor relationship i should be completely open, as should you. also you’re like a quasi-son to me so there’s also that. do not tell anyone else, i’m serious. not even ollie.”

kimi whined at that, “but i tell ollie everything!”

“well not this. you saw how some of the people, including your teammate are with me and max, i do not want to give them any ammunition, okay?”

kimi hummed to himself, his brain whirring so loudly that even y/n could hear it over the music and the road. “speaking of those who WILL be without ammunition because i WILL keep my mouth zipped shut… how are we actually planning on tackling george this season?”

y/n was making the turn off of the motorway and towards brackley as she chuckled, “aside from physically tackling him at testing? i am joking, by the way. kimi, i don’t want you to worry about george anywhere but the track. he talks a big talk, but he’s very easy to frustrate when he’s not winning. don’t give him the rise he’ll want, okay?”

the tension rose in the car, it had all been fun and games up until this point, cocktails parties and car launches. but now it was getting real. y/n had the voice in the back of her head that worried that her off-track drama with the other drivers could impact kimi’s career.

“please stop worrying, y/n. i know what you’re thinking, but i am capable of handling it myself. i may only be eighteen but i’m not afraid of anyone.”

y/n pulled up outside of the mercedes factory and turned to kimi. she grabbed his hands, “promise me, kimi. promise me that if the drama with me gets too much, you will say something. i know it’s your dream to work with me, but make sure i do not interfere with your career.”

kimi scoffed, “them being afraid of you will never be your fault, you know-”

“it doesn’t matter if my fault or not, if their pettiness fucks with you, i won’t be able to forgive myself…”

just as they spoke, george pulled up beside them in his mercedes. the brit wasn’t alone in his car however. a brunette woman sat in the passenger seat, and much like george, her eyes narrowed at the sight of y/n.

“that’s carmen, george’s girlfriend. she doesn’t usually come to the factory with him?” kimi gasped, “maybe she’s here to stake her claim on george, as if you’d want him anyway…”

y/n laughed as kimi got out of the car. the italian grabbed his stuff from the boot and walked round to the window. y/n rolled it down and the two did their handshake.

“enjoy the prep, bunny, don’t make too much mess. see you in bahrain!”

the moment was cut short by someone clearing their throat. carmen had rolled down her window and was looking at kimi, less than impressed. the italian squeaked a quick goodbye and shuffled towards the entrance.

y/n tried not to make eye contact with carmen as she inputted the airport’s address into her gps. she was baffled by the news that george even had a girlfriend, not that she wanted kimi or the couple to know that. how long had they been together? did she know about y/n and about george’s weird feud with her? too many questions and not enough answers.

george and carmen made their way past y/n’s car and stopped just in front of the entrance, pointedly in y/n’s eye line. the two kissed, messily for people their age, and just to sum up her return so far, george kept eye contact with y/n the entire time, his hand wandering lower and lower on carmen.

2025 was the year of psychological warfare it seemed. y/n could work with that.

she sped out of the car park with new vigour. if psychological warfare was what george was ordering, y/n needed to know everything about everyone. she had stayed away from the drama surrounding formula one in her three years away from the sport, but it was time to go full gossip girl.

it’s crazy how much you can find in an hour in an airline bar about your former colleagues. y/n’s phone started ringing loudly, earning her some dirty looks in the lounge.

“maxy! did you know that george dated nyck’s sister?” y/n said, shovelling the free nuts in her mouth, “and that lando and pierre once liked the same girl in dubai?”

“why oh why are you telling me about this?” max said.

“because that prick wants psychological warfare, so i have to know everything!”

max hummed, not convinced. “am i like missing something?”

“i took kimi to brackley this morning and was treated to a lovely show from george and carmen. the weirdo kept eye contact with me the entire time! so if he wants to play it like that, i gotta know my enemies.”

“as weird as this all is, i’m glad to see you’re so into all of this, miss detective.”

y/n laughed, “i know i’m reading way too much about all of this, but i swear to god if he tries to fuck with kimi or you, i’ll play dirty if i have to. i mean i just don’t understand why he’s being such an asshole now about everything i supposedly did when he has a girlfriend - insecure much?”

max laughed down the line, they really were so much more alike than people would think. hearing her now, max wished she was back in the paddock for qatar and abu dhabi last year just to see what kind of revenge she could’ve thought up.

“anyway, maxy, are you still at the factory?”

“yeah, we’re just on a break, i’m outside getting some air and i didn’t know whether you were on the plane yet or not - you know you could’ve taken air max if you wanted to?”

y/n smiled, “i didn’t need your plane for a trip to monaco, silly! i’ll only be on the flight for a little while anyway and i’m only going because i’m having withdrawal symptoms from my babies!”

“why would you say this, now i want to see them!”

the boarding sign popped up, “ah! i gotta go maxy, i’ll text you when i’m back at yours - what time does the cat sitter go?”

“she will have left like an hour or so before you get back. stay safe, i -”

there was chatter in the background, “i gotta go, bye!”

max hung up quickly. y/n was left to her thoughts again and just how much life can change. this time three years ago she was making notes about the season coming, turns to watch and previous first lap incidents and now she’s compiling gossip on the grid’s personal lives? part of her wanted to be ashamed, but in the same vain, she knew that her adversaries hadn’t spared a moment for introspection.

max’s apartment in monaco was alight with the impatient meows from brando, sassy and jimmy. the cats yowled like they hadn’t been fed in days, although clarissa, the cat sitter, had sent max and y/n nearly hourly updates on them.

“oh my babies! momma missed you so much!” y/n said, abandoning her suitcase at the door and ushering the cats towards the couch. once she was sat, brando bullied his way onto her lap, his spot, and jimmy and sassy snuggled up beside her as closely as possible.

she pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture of herself and the cats and sent it to max.

max: all my favourites in one place, you’re making listening to christian drone on even harder

y/n: you better keep listening, maxy, don’t want anyone else winning this season do you?

max: i do hate losing…

y/n smiled to herself, there was no lying to now, this place with the cats and max felt like home. the most at home y/n had felt for years.

“right, momma needs to shower and cook, babies!” brando did not look impressed but consoled himself by going back to grooming an equally unimpressed jimmy.

y/n rustled around max’s wardrobe trying to find a smaller towel for her hair. max wasn’t the most organised, especially with a wardrobe where he could just shut the door and forget the mess behind it. she finally got the towel loose, but with the last yank, a small book came flying out of the wardrobe.

the book was a small leather-bound book, clearly loved, bursting at the seams with use. y/n flicked open the book, scanning a couple of the pages. she could recognise the handwriting anywhere, was this max’s diary?

y/n flicked through a couple more of the pages before she landed on a page that boldly stated “fuck lando” in bold capitals. oh? the page was dated for a day in january 2020, just before she started her formula one career.

she knew this was a massive invasion of privacy, but max had never mentioned having a bust up with lando around that time - her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

i don’t know what lando’s problem is? i was on a discord call with him, george and alex this evening and he was in such a mood with me. it was all about y/n as usual with him, he’s being proper weird about her. of course we’ve already started training and discussing racing lines? we’re best friends. it’s almost like he knows i have feelings for her? but i know i haven’t been THAT obvious, at least not as bad as him and george. they think i don’t know, but they must think i’m dumb or blind (or both). he’s going to ruin his friendship with her if he’s not careful. i have loved y/n for as long as i can remember, but i don’t ever intend on making that her problem - why would she ever want to be with me? they assume because they’ve known her so long that they have this weird claim on her. i don’t know - i have a bad feeling about how this might all play out… i’ll just be there for y/n, she’s going to need it…

y/n slapped the book shut, feeling guilty about just how much she had read. max had liked her for that long? even when she was a jittery rookie with hormonal acne and way too much to say. and lando has always had this problem? there was never any chance of them being good teammates was there?

it feels like there’s a surprise around every corner since y/n reopened the pandora’s box that is formula one. how much was there left to reveal? to hurt her? can she handle what other secrets the sport has waiting for her?

but on the other side, if she had stayed in the shadows, y/n would’ve never known about max’s feelings and would never have the opportunity for what she feels right now.

y/n tucked the book back in the wardrobe and tried to wash the guilt off in the shower.

bahrain international circuit

testing was a boring affair for everyone that wasn’t in or working on the car. y/n was on her third coffee of the morning just out of pure boredom. kimi was in the car for the morning session and despite him paying her salary, toto did not seem like he’d make good conversation based on the frown on his face.

y/n saw sky making their way back down the pit lane and ducked back into the drivers’ rooms. because timing and fate loved y/n, george was leaving his just at the same moment.

it took a concerted effort not to roll her eyes as she forced out a quick good morning. george stopped in his tracks.

“good morning to you too?”

y/n gave him a nod and continued to kimi’s room, george grabbed her hand.

“are we going to have a problem the entire season? all of kimi’s career?”

“why would i have a problem, george? is there a reason i should have a problem?”

george huffed, “listen to me. we used to be so close… i wasn’t the one who crashed into you, why are you treating me like this?”

“george i’m not treating you like anything! 19 other drivers didn’t hear from me, you’re not special.”

y/n took a sip of her coffee, trying to school her heart rate, “you may have not crashed into me, but you hardly said much afterwards. you didn’t even come and visit me in the hospital? you didn’t post or say a single thing about me? you barely could bring yourself to say my name, so please spare me the lecture.”

george opened his mouth to respond but stopped, he tried to make eye contact with y/n but she avoided it.

“i didn’t think you wanted to see anyone to do with formula one! and you’re you! you hate dumb shit like instagram dedications and all that stuff…”

“you and your little partner in crime seem to be baffled about how max was the one who slipped through the cracks and stayed in my life. well read between the lines, idiot! his dedication to me is still pinned on his account, my number is on his helmet and he made the effort after the crash! you did nothing and you still expect me to coddle you?”

george tried to interject, “no! i think you’ve said enough already, george. you say all of this shit about how i led you on, but now you’re bringing up old drama when you’ve been in a relationship for years? so what’s the real reason? because so help me god, you fuck with kimi and i burn this whole place down.”

just behind george, y/n saw toto come into view. the austrian’s face told her that he had heard everything.

“well wasn’t that just great, thank you, you two. next time you have a domestic at track, please lower your voice, the entire garage now knows your business.”

“toto, i can assure you i will be nothing less than professional this season. winning with mercedes is my top priority, y/n will learn her place in this garage.”

even toto seemed taken aback by george’s words. y/n turned, her shoulder knocking george’s on the way past, “i think toto is well aware of who he hired and i know my place, just like kimi knows his… don’t crane your neck too much looking up at him on the podium.”

y/n shut the door to kimi’s driver room, and slid down to the floor. it was only the first day of testing and she’s exhausted. just outside the room she can hear george and toto still talking.

“i’m just saying i think it’s insane and honestly a little disrespectful that you hired her to begin with, toto.”

“i hired her because she was a talented driver and is willing to mentor kimi. i was not aware you two had a problem, and the fact that i’ve heard so much about it now without knowing what it actually is makes me think that the problem was in fact YOU. now calm down and get ready for your session.”

okay, maybe not all hope was lost. but y/n knew that this was just the start, the real racing had yet to begin and who knows how far george could take it, especially if the mercedes is competitive and especially if he finds out about her and max.

y/n popped open her laptop to keep track of kimi’s times on track but found herself struggling to keep her eyes open. by the time her impromptu nap had finished, kimi was making his way back into the garage, finishing the morning session. y/n made her way back into the garage to greet him as he made his way out of the car.

the session looked positive for the italian, but the pair were still anxious to see how george would perform, considering both were on the same program for the day. when kimi lifted his helmet, the two made eye contact, the italian’s eyes were so expressive that y/n could already hear the excited chatter.

“oh my god, y/n that was amazing! i know i’ve driven f1 cars before but knowing it’s actually mine for the season? wow!”

“well i’m glad you enjoyed it, let’s get some electrolytes in you before we sit down to analyse everything.”

the pair headed for the mercedes hospitality, with the other morning drivers doing the same throughout the paddock. during y/n’s nap she had missed the only real incident of the day, but a certain spaniard was about to make sure she knew.

“hey! antonelli!”

kimi’s head whipped around to see an angry carlos sainz charging towards him. the spaniard was clearly taking advantage of the lack of media outlets allowed at testing, getting in kimi’s face.

“you might be a rookie, but you’ll stay out of my way, got it? impede me like that again and we’ll see what happens!”

y/n pulled kimi behind her and jabbed her finger at carlos’ chest. “you self-important asshole, he didn’t impede you it’s testing. i know you’re at williams this season, so you’re going to have to invent a storyline for yourself, but trust me, this is not the one you want.”

“stay out of this y/ln, why don’t you stick to hopping into whoever’s winning’s bed, huh?”

y/n let out a sarcastic laugh, not caring about the small crowd forming around them. “your glory days, well whatever you call being stuck in charles’ shadow, playing politics with daddy to get given wins at ferrari only to be cast aside when you got a bit too big for your boots, are over. don’t be the bitter old bitch that makes rookies’ lives hell? oh wait, you’ve always been that way haven’t you?”

“you are a perpetual victim, y/n. that was years ago, get over it.”

“and yet you still act the exact same way. telling, really.”

carlos stayed quiet this time and y/n took that as the chance to guide kimi to hospitality. with their backs turned, “she won’t always be there for you, rookie! she can’t sleep with all of the stewards and she won’t be in the office to bat her eyelashes. so watch your back.”

y/n kept walking despite kimi tugging on her arm, wanting to retaliate. “stop. let him make a fool of himself.”

despite y/n trying to de-escalate the situation, max was less willing to do so. the dutchman had only heard a fraction but that was enough to rear the head of mad max.

“you think you’re so cute with this shit don’t you, sainz,” max said, looming over the spaniard, “you people never change, it’s pathetic.”

“the only thing that’s pathetic here is you, being her lap dog - and we’re meant to be scared of you? all we gotta do is flash an ankle or raise a hand and you’ll be eating out of our palm.”

max’s hands were shaking by his side and it took everything inside of him not to lunge at carlos. y/n’s grip on kimi tightened when jos was brought up, the crowd around them tensing as well.

“i don’t know what she does for you, but you surely can’t still be falling for it all these years later. i remember at toro rosso when you’d wake up the whole camp screaming in your motorhome and you’d call her crying. a four-time world champion and you still go crawling back to her.”

“she’s worth more than you could ever wish to be. i don’t know what propaganda your dad or lando has been feeding you, but you’re a grown man, you’re too old to be falling for it. now leave her and kimi alone. i’d threaten you, but it’s unlikely that williams will be anywhere near me this season.”

max gave one last look to y/n before running back towards the red bull garage. the crowd that had formed chattered amongst themselves and started to disperse. carlos looked enraged but backed off, not without one final glare towards the italian.

“i didn’t know formula one was just this dramatic,” kimi said, “i need to work on my insults!”

y/n laughed, but a voice from behind her stopped her dead in her tracks.

“always the centre of drama, aren’t you y/n? always looking for trouble.”

zak brown.

fin.

note: wow this took me so long to write and i kinda hate it! i am in such a rut rn idk what to do ? but i hope you guys enjoyed it anyway!

taglist: @peterholland04@miureiz@freyathehuntress@lighttsoutlewis@aleatorio1234@chaosandevelyn@blueberry648579@dog-and-cat-person230@fastandcurious16@obxstiles@cosmicwintr@becca388510 @savagittariuspy@tibadi @thisbitxhs-blog @finn-dot-com @scenesofobx @moofilms @alilstressyandlotdepressy @nana-love-bugzzz @mayax2o07 @obsessed-fan-alert @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @jajouska @poppysrin @mimimarvelingmarvel @jiyumie @heeseungthel0ml

@folkloresreputation@hc-dutch@shimmermotorsport@96mcobo@eclipsedcherry@formulaal@czennieszn@gothicwidowsworld@emily-b@suns3treading@henna006@kazgirl20@anotherapollokid@littlegrapejuice@daemyratwst@annimausi@yawn-zi@lulu-1998@xsilkesworld@justaf1girl@daddyslittlevillain@abq654@elizamoe1@evans-dejong33@wierdflowerpower@t1nkerbel1@okcurran@raizelchrysanderoctavius@skepvids@multilovebot@fernandoalonso14@jules-kup-172@m4xgirlie@rorabelle15@minkyungseokie@formula1-motogpfan

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x reader #kimi antonelli #ollie bearman #george russell

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freeabortionslol · 3 months ago

Text

"Baby Zegras" (luke Hughes x zegras!reader)

summary: childhood friends to lovers, reader is trevor's sister, secret dating caught by jack, trevor is portrayed as a mean older brother at the start (im sorry I love him I promise he gets better), italics mean flashbacks

warnings!! heated makeout, suggestive, cursing, mentions of alcohol, mutual pining, fluff, luke being a touch starved awkward king, I feel like I did a bad job proofreading

a/n: strap in cause this one is long!! towards the end it feels kind of rushed but that's bc I need to go to bed but I also wanted to finish this by tn. anyways hope you like it!!

wc:6.6k

The game was long. Too long. The entire time you sat at the edge of your seat up in the box. Your Anaheim Ducks jersey falling slightly past your fingertips, disregarding any attempts to push back your sleeves. Your own last name on your back as you watched your brother, Trevor, race for the puck. You sat in between your mother and father who were basically screaming at the ice like they were down there themselves, but you had your knees to your chest biting your nails. Of course you were proud of your brother, and you always cheered for him any other night, but this game was different. Your attention was focused on New Jersey defenceman, Luke Hughes. When Trevor was 12, he became close with Jack Hughes. They bonded over their love for hockey, and eventually claimed each other as best friends. That summer, Trevor was invited to stay at the Hughes lake house and with how gracious and welcoming Ellen and Jim Hughes were, they offered to let you stay as well.

“Mama I don’t wanna go! This is stupid. These are Trevor’s friends. I’ve never even met these people before.” You whined as your mother dragged you by your hand out of the car. Your glance immediately caught the large house in front of you. You’d never seen anything like it, never visited a lake being from New York. A boy stood on the front porch, his mother standing beside him with a warm smile. Trevor immediately jumps out of the car, running past you and your mother. You watched as he did a secret handshake with the boy on the porch just before pulling him in for a hug. You took a moment to smell the salty freshness of the air surrounding you. Everything felt so wide and open, and for a split second you thought it might not be too bad. Just as you were enjoying the moment, your mother tugged on your hand walking closer to the house, and your stubbornness kicked back in immediately. You snatched your hand away from her, crossing your arms as you followed her up the porch steps. She hugged the boy’s mother and small conversation began to spark as you stood with a grumpy face behind her. You felt Trevor tug on your arm, pulling you to where he and the boy stood.

“Y/n, this is my friend Jack.” You kept your annoyed face as you shoved Trevors hand off your arm.

“Oh! You’re baby Zegras!” Jack greeted you with a wide smile and held out his hand for you to shake. You simply crossed your arms and let out an aggressive huff.

“I’m not a baby. I’m ten.” You tilted your head away from him as he slowly let down the hand he had up.

“Don’t pay attention to her, Jack. She’s just a brat who wants attention.” Trevor gave the back of your head a hit and you turned your focus back to him.

“I’m not a brat!” You shoved him back, and he sent you a slap to the shoulder.

“Are too!” What started as two shoves turned into a slap fight on the porch between the two of you. You took a couple hits to his face, while his slaps remained on your chest. Just as you were about to send him a friendly kick to the groin your mother came over to separate the two of you.

“Hey! Hey! Mrs. Hughes was nice enough to invite you both to her lake house which we should be grateful for! Let’s try to act like normal human beings for once!” She said sternly, but not yelling like she normally did. Probably didn’t want to scare off Mrs. Hughes.

“She was gonna kick me in the nuts!” Trevor pointed at you, to which you responded by pointing back at him.

“He started it! He called me a brat!” Your face grew angrier as you and Trevor were now in a stare off.

“Yeah, you were being a brat!” You tried to hit him through your mother’s grip, but she had caught it before you even thought about doing so. She put a hand on each of your backs as she guided the two of you into the house with Mrs. Hughes who had started laughing at the sibling tussle saying, “I have three boys. Trust me, I've seen worse. Quinn ripped out Jack’s braces at the ice rink last year.” The mother’s began to walk ahead of you, Trevor and Jack. Your arms remained crossed, still quite upset at Trevor. Before you knew it, Jack had his arm around you as the three of you broke away from your mom and Mrs. Hughes. Trevor walked up next to you mumbling something along the lines of “Don’t embarrass me or I'll kill you and dance on your grave.” Jack led you both down a flight of stairs to the basement, his arm still wrapped around your shoulder. You didn’t hate that it was there, Jack was a pretty boy and the fact that he was your brother’s best friend made the whole situation better. You knew you could use it to twist Trevor’s gears in the future. When you had made it to the bottom of the steps you were greeted by a couch full of guys you had never met.

“Y/n, this is Alex, Cole, my brother Quinn, and my brother Luke. Luke is your age, Quinn is 14 and those two dick heads are me and Trevor’s age.” Your hands fell out of the crossed position they were in, and you allowed your face to soften. “Everyone, this is Baby Zegras.”

You quickly shot him a glare “I’m not a-”

“Not a baby. I know, but the thing about hockey nicknames is that you’re supposed to hate it. You may hate it, but the team thinks it fits.” He interrupted your speech and shook you with the hand on your shoulder. You turned your attention back to the couch full of unfamiliar boys that were friends with Trevor. You’d heard countless stories about them, but now you could put faces to names. You upturned your lips into a half closed-mouthed smile and awkwardly raised your hand to wave. Everyone smiled back and several “Hi!”s echoed through the room. Jack moved his hand to grip on your shoulder as he moved you towards the couch. He took a seat next to Cole, and Trevor followed after. You made your way to the end of the couch to sit next to your brother, but he responded by putting his leg up on the seat next to him.

“Nuh uh. No way. I didn’t even want you to be here.” You almost felt tears well up in your eyes as the only thing you wanted was the comfort of your big brother in a room filled with unfamiliar faces.

“You can come sit with me!” You heard an excited voice from behind and turned around to see the littlest Hughes scooching over and patting the seat next to him. You sucked all of your emotions back into your chest as you made your way over. You took a seat in between Luke and his older brother who was sitting back looking at his phone. The two of you sat awkwardly for a moment and watched as the older boys discussed things that happened during hockey camp. You looked over to Quinn who you were sure was only there to make sure the boys didn’t break any furniture, or light the basement on fire.

“They call me baby too. Baby Hughes. I hate it.” Luke let out with a small laugh. You smiled and let out a chuckle as the two of you sat shoulder to shoulder, with hands in laps. “We can be babies together.” He looked over at you and held out his fist for a fist bump. You quickly responded to it not wanting to ruin the chance of having an ally at this house for the summer.

Later that night after your mother left, and the house began to quiet down you were moved into the rooms you’d be sleeping in. Being the youngest child, you were prone to separation anxiety and homesickness. You missed your mom, but you were just thankful you’d be sleeping in a room with Trevor. Cole and Alex were tucked away in the spare room, Luke and Jack in Jack’s room, and you and Trevor in Luke’s room. Trevor was visibly upset that he’d be sharing a room with you, rather than his friends that he came on this trip to see. It didn’t make you sad that he didn’t want to share a room, just as long as he’d be forced in there because lord knows you couldn’t sleep alone. You and Trevor were tucked into Luke’s bed around ten. You tossed and tousled trying to sleep which was hard because you were so far away from home and your mother was nowhere to be seen. After about thirty minutes of lying in bed next to Trevor, you felt the weight of his body lift off the mattress. He had assumed you fell asleep and decided to make his way into the room with all of his friends. Without his presence beside you, you immediately felt a wave of sadness come over you. You burst into tears silently, trying to muffle your heavy breathing into the pillow. You wanted nothing more than to be safe in your own bed, in your own house with your family. You lay on your side facing away from the door, practically drowning yourself in your own tears. As you very quietly repeated the words “I just want to go home” to yourself, you heard the door creak open. You immediately sat up, pulling your knees to your chest under the blanket, wiping your nose with the back of your hand as you tried to stifle your sobs.

“Trevor?” You sniffled out with a shaky breath following behind. You had expected, wanted even, to see Trevor creep through the doorway. Despite the fights you just wanted the comfort of your big brother.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Luke shuffled into the room with tired eyes, shutting the door behind him. You caught a sudden shock at the sight of him as he moved closer towards the bed.

“Yeah I-I’m fine.” You nodded your head trying your hardest not to cry in front of the boy, but that all went out the window when you said “I just miss my mommy.” Tears resumed spilling down your face. You bit your lip, hoping it would stop the streaming mess that was burning your face. Luke said nothing. He only walked over to you in the bed and wrapped his arms around you to pull you in for a hug. You continued to cry into his shoulder, letting out shaky breaths. The comfort of his polyester t-shirt against your chin definitely helped.

“You know when I'm away and I miss my mommy, I just hug Buttons and pretend it's her.” Luke let go of the hug and reached down to the floor to grab a beat up looking teddy bear. It had one missing eye, with a button for the other, its ears were limp, and it looked like it had been through two world wars. “I came in here to get him, but I think you need him more than I do.” Luke gave a soft smile as he handed over his teddy bear. The same bear that he’d threatened Jack to death if he dared to touch it. He’d never let another person hold Buttons except for his parents, but for some reason you were different.

Luke stayed in the room after handing over his one prized possession. He laid on the floor with a blanket and a couple pillows to let you have the bed. He talked your little ears off until you finally found the comfort to fall asleep, Buttons in hand. From that day on, you and Luke became inseparable. Everyday at the Lake it was always you two together running around in the yard. You would play together until the two of you basically dropped from exhaustion. You became the “babies” of the lake house. You were invited back the next summer. Per request, an air mattress was moved into Luke’s room which he took gladly and let you have the bed. You weren’t sad when your mother left anymore, in fact it made you happy to know you got to spend time with Luke. The Hughes continued to invite you and Trevor to the lake house every summer, and every summer you and Luke grew closer. You were close with all the other guys with them looking at you like a younger sister, but Luke's eyes turned into hearts when he caught the sight of you. He doesn’t remember exactly when, but he was around thirteen or fourteen when he realized how in love with you he was. The way you made his heart feel when you would even just brush a shoulder against him was intense, and he wanted to feel that way everyday for the rest of his life. When the two of you were fifteen, Jack, Trevor, Cole, and Alex decided to throw a party in the basement while Ellen and Jim were away. There were probably 50 people in the basement that night filled with beautiful girls who you were sure would take Luke’s attention away, but instead the two of you stood against the wall all night sipping from Coca-Cola cans since Jack and Trevor said neither of you were allowed to drink. You and Luke watched as your brothers sat in a circle playing spin the bottle with various girls you’d never seen before and would probably never see again. After realizing how lame the party was since the two of you couldn’t drink, Luke pulled you by your hand outside.

“Race you to the dock.” He said quicker than you could think as he began to run towards the water.

“Not fair Lu!” You raced after him in a fit of giggles trying to catch up. Luke of course, made it to the dock first and before you could stop in your tracks, He grabbed you by your waist. The two of you stood there laughing and collapsing into each other. A few moments later you found yourselves sitting at the edge of the dock sitting shoulder to shoulder with your feet hanging over the water. You two just sat there taking in the quiet bliss away from the obnoxious party behind you. The two of you started talking about the actions of your brothers inside the house specifically, spin the bottle.

“Never had your first kiss, Lukey?” You nudged his shoulder and he let out a soft laugh.

“No. Not yet. Who would I have kissed?” He looked over at you with a toothy grin.

“I don’t know. Sure there’s plenty of girls lined up to kiss the baby Hughes.” He gave a sheepish grin and looked down at the water “I haven’t had mine either. Feels kind of pathetic being fifteen not having kissed anyone. All of my friends have.” You shifted your gaze to the horizon in front of you, taking a sip from your coke can. What you didn’t realize is that Luke had been staring at you. Admiring your features and coming up with either the best or worst idea he’d ever had.

“You could kiss me.” He kept his sight on your face, not realizing what he’d just said. You almost choked on the soda in your mouth as you moved your head to face him. He had a smirk on his face that told you he was infatuated with the way you looked. You couldn’t understand why sitting on the dock with no makeup on, in one of his hockey sweatshirts, with your hair messily waved up from the lake water.

“Really?” You asked him with hope in your voice that he was serious.

“Yeah. I mean it wouldn’t be weird. We're comfortable with each other.” This is when he realized what he had suggested. A bright red tint covered his face as you scooched in closer to him.

“Okay.” Was all you said as you cupped his face into your hand, pulling him in closer. He placed a simple, but sweet closed-mouthed kiss on your lips. The both of you pulled back in an instant, smiling at each other. You noticed the way his blush creeped towards his ears as you rubbed your thumb against his cheekbone.

Unfortunately for the two of you, this wasn’t the moment that your relationship began. However, it was the moment that made you realize just how in love you were with Luke, the crush no longer being one sided. Throughout high school neither of you dated anyone and the only people you’d ever kissed were each other. The two of you grew out of your awkward teen stages together, remaining close. After graduation, Luke went to U Michigan to play Hockey, while you studied psychology at NYU. Though it seemed to your families and friends that the two of you had drifted, it was quite the opposite. You and Luke would stay up late nights on facetime talking about your vastly different college experiences with each other. You loved him, and he loved you. It had always been that way and you’d hoped it would stay that way. When you found out that Luke had been drafted to the New Jersey Devils and he would be living only 20 minutes away, you immediately dropped every man on your contact list. It only took Luke until the second time he visited your apartment to confess his love to you. It was the most relieving moment of both of your lives, feeling like a giant weight had been lifted from your chests. You and Luke decided to keep your relationship a secret considering if Trevor found out, he’d have to resort to physical violence. Luke recalled Trevor giving a whole speech at the lake house to all the boys saying that you were “off limits” and if he found any of them touching you in any way that wasn’t platonic he’d “beat your ass so far into the ground you’ll be able to see the core of the earth” You and Luke’s relationship consisted of a lot of secret meetups at him and Jack’s apartment after games. Jack always went out with the team for drinks after a win, so you and Luke had the place to yourself. The two of you would steal moments during the day to go out for a nice lunch date, or a stroll through the park. It was all you’ve ever wanted and more

That was almost a year ago. Now, you were sitting in the box seats watching your brother go head to head against your boyfriend on the ice. The entire scene was nerve wracking considering it was third period, with the Ducks leading the Devils 4-3. Your parents were ecstatic as they watched the plays unfold, jumping up and down every time the Ducks got the puck back. You however, were nervously making a snack out of your freshly painted nails with your knees tucked to your chest in the same way they were the night Luke found you crying in his bedroom. With the way you looked and the seats you were in, all signs pointed to “this girl is a Ducks fan” but on the inside you were secretly cheering on the Devils. You’d never seen Luke play in an NHL game before, since you both thought it would look strange showing up to one of his games when the two of you supposedly haven’t spoken in two or three years. You had however, seen Trevor play several times and you knew when he was in the game, he was really into it. Deep down you knew that Trevor wouldn’t get aggressive with the Hughes boys, but for some reason the thought lingered in your mind. Not even specifically Trevor, but the thought of any Ducks player becoming aggressive with Luke made your skin crawl. To you, he was fragile. Always the sweetest guy in the room, and you don’t know what you would do if something terrible happened. You also knew that Luke was constantly chirping at the opposing team which caused your fears to escalate.

“Baby, you gotta calm down.” Your mom placed a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to bring down your nerves “You’re on high alert right now, and the Ducks are winning!” She points to Trevor on the ice, who is grinning wide. Your gaze remained on Luke who was sitting on the bench, and you wished he would just look at you for two seconds.

“What? It's a stressful game!” You groaned at your mother with a hint of annoyance.

“Yeah honey, I didn’t even know you got into hockey like this.” Your dad added to which you gave a simple eye roll and returned chewing on your nails.

“Ooh! I know! Let’s play that game where we try to find your future husband on the opposing team.” You looked over at your mom who was bouncing her shoulders up and down with a mischievous grin.

“No no no. Mom, I don’t wanna play.” You leaned your head back in frustration at her attempts to distract you.

“What? You love this game! Come on. Hmm…” She skimmed through the players on the ice reading the names and numbers on their backs “Oh! Luke Hughes number 43!” She excitedly pointed at Luke from the box “You two were awfully close as kids. How about reconnecting?” Your mother’s words did nothing except make you realize that he was back on the ice. You sat up straight in your seat basically going down on your nails at this point. “He’s got nice hair and he’s tall and-”

“Mom, shush I'm trying to watch this.” She sighed in defeat as you locked your full attention onto Luke skating around the ice.

“You shouldn’t talk to your mother like that. I ruined my body for you, you know? I’m going to go get you a hot chocolate and we’ll see if that calms you down.” Your mom got up from her seat with your dad following close behind her.

“Yeah yeah that’s great, mom. Thanks.” Your eyes still strictly focused on Luke, whose figure was extremely small from the box. You watched as Jack passed him the puck. He skated fast as always, clearly attempting to go coast to coast taking a shot on goal, but it was ultimately saved by the goalie who returned the puck to the Ducks. You let your head hang for a moment in your hands before drawing your attention back to the game. You scooted to the edge of your seat, putting your legs back on the ground as you rested your elbows on your knees. You saw Luke skate closer to Trevors teammate, Ross Johnston. You knew immediately that he was chirping. He was chirping at a time like this. You stared closely, squinting your eyes, watching as Luke spat out a couple words to the taller and older man. You looked down and ran your hands through your hair as you let out a quiet “Oh my god.” Groaning through your words. You looked up from the floor, turning your attention back to the ice, only to see Luke being pushed up against the glass by Johnston.

“OH MY GOD.” You practically shouted as you rose from your seat, stepping closer to the box barrier watching the scene unfold in distress. The arena’s camera pointed to Luke who was trying to talk his way out of things as usual. Luckily, his teammates had his back and swooped in quickly with the refs following close behind. You let out a sigh of relief as Johnston was pulled away from Luke. You moved back to your seat, heart just about beating out of your chest. You tilted your head behind you to see several Ducks WAGs and parents giving you confused stares. You just widened your eyes and slowly turned your head back to the game, wanting to hide yourself in your jersey. Instead you opted to pull your legs back up to your chest, resting your head on your knees.

The game continued for another 10 minutes where Nico scored a goal to tie the game, and Luke made an assist to Jack who scored the game winning point. Your parents and everyone else in the box let out various groans and hung their heads in defeat, but you were wearing a secret smile behind your hand. No matter what it came down to, you were just proud of Luke even at the expense of your brother’s loss. People started shuffling out of the arena, including your parents who said they just wanted to make the hour drive back home and go to sleep. You told them you wanted to wait for Trevor as a cover up. You said your goodbyes to them and waited in the box for a bit longer.

lukey: Meet at my car in the parking garage. Second floor. Ily ❤️

You smiled at his message and began making your way out of the suite. All of the fans had shuffled out of the arena at this point, so you were just waiting for Luke to finish his post game interviews. Your walk to the parking garage was nicer than you expected it to be. You smiled and blushed at the way Luke looked when Jack scored the final goal. You couldn’t show it when you were sitting in the box, but you had to let out the excitement now that you were alone. The whole place that was once crowded with fans, was now almost completely empty and silent. You passed by a giant mural of Jack’s face as you walked down a hallway, and laughed to yourself about how big that guy's ego is. You made it to an elevator where you showed the security guard your pass. He looked you up and down visibly confused by your Ducks jersey paired with your Devil’s pass. He shrugged it off and let you in. You skipped your way down the parking garage until you found Luke’s car. You leaned against it, waiting for him to meet you there. After about ten minutes you finally caught sight of Luke running up to you with his duffle bag slung around his shoulder, grinning wide. His soft curls poked out the sides of his Devils baseball cap, while his black hoodie flopped up and down as he made his way over to you. He immediately engulfed you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“You did so good tonight, baby. I’m so proud of you.” You muffled through the fabric on his shoulder.

“I love you so much. Thank you for being here.” He huffed out as he rocked your body back and forth. He let his hold strengthen as he took in the scent of your perfume which you only wore because you knew it was his favorite.

“You have no idea how hard it was trying not to cheer when you made that pass to Jack.” You giggled through your sentence and he let out a soft laugh. He released his hold, flipping his cap backwards, and pulled you in for a kiss. His soft lips immediately washed away the anxiety that poured over you during the game. Jokingly you pushed him back.

“No! You asshole! You scared me tonight!” You giggled and pushed his chest back, as he sent you back a large grin “You have to stop chirping at guys who are bigger than you, ESPECIALLY dudes with a big temperament!” He simply laughed at your statement, wrapping an arm around your shoulder pulling you to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door for you and you stepped into your seat with the help of his hand. He wrapped an arm around you, resting his hand on the center console once you were settled. He planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“I will stop chirping the day you show up to a game in my jersey.” He whispered into your parted mouth before shutting the door and entering the driver's seat.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take long for Luke to get started with you. It never did. The moment you shut the door to his apartment behind you, he had you pinned up against it. His lips placed sloppy kisses on yours which were only growing hungrier by the second. His large hands were planted on your waist making you feel like the smallest woman in the world. Your hands moved to his chest, gripping at the fabric of his hoodie, working to pull him closer. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, causing a slight moan to escape the back of your throat. He removed his lips from yours just barely to whisper “Jump.” The feel of his breath against your lips made you eager for his touch. You jumped up to let him hold you. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you through the living room like you weighed nothing. Your hands moved from his chest to the nape of his neck, allowing your fingers to explore his curls. You tugged at his hair slightly to which he responded with a low groan from his throat. He moved throughout the apartment until his back slammed on the door of his bedroom. With one hand on your ass, the other very eagerly searched for the door knob. You gently bit his bottom lip as he finally managed to get the door open. Entering the room, he laid you down on his bed, positioning himself on top of you as your legs remained around his waist pulling him further up. He removed his lips from yours and began placing a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck, until he found your sweet spot and began teething at it. You threw your head back and arched your back desperately for him.

“Need you now, Luke.” You spoke softly with each word interrupted with a breath as his hand hiked further up your leggings. You felt him grin against your neck as he moved his kisses up your jawline until he reached your ear.

“Take off this stupid fuckin’ jersey.” He whispered and his words sent a shiver down your spine as you grew hungrier for his touch. He leaned off of you slightly as you sat up for a moment to rip the Anaheim Ducks jersey off your body. He leaned back into you and began leaving kisses on the parts of your left breast that were uncovered by your bra. He moved his left hand to your stomach, letting the right one reach towards your back to unclasp the lacy bra you had worn just for him.

“OH LUKEY BOY! HOW BOUT THEM DEVS?” Jack's voice echoed throughout the apartment as you and Luke froze, staring at each other with widened eyes. He quickly jumped off of you, realizing the bedroom door had been left open. Jack always went for drinks after a win, so this was unexpected and quite unusual. Your fight or flight mode kicked in as you quickly remove yourself from the bed, shuffling under it. You watched as Luke quickly made his way out of the bedroom, shutting the door closed behind him. Jack passed him on his way to the kitchen, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Good job tonight, man. Seriously.” Jack glanced over at his brother as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Luke’s face was completely saturated with a red tint and his lips were still swollen. “You good, dude?”

“I-uh yeah i-i’m good.” Luke stuttered over his words as he straightened his posture and stuck his hands in his pocket, trying to look as natural as possible.

“Okay.” Jack laughed, taking a sip from his water bottle looking at the counter. “How’s your dick?” Jack looked back to his brother now with a mischievous smile on his face.

“It’s uh- it’s good.” Luke nodded his head, not fully processing Jack’s question “Wait, what?” He leaned against the door frame.

“It’s poking out quite a bit.” Jack’s smile only grew wider as he teased his little brother.

“What the fuck you lookin’ at my dick for?” Luke's voice comes out as frustrated and slightly guilty.

“I’m not! It’s looking at me!” Jack laughed through his sentence, taking another swig from his water bottle. Luke rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “So…who's the bunny in your room?” Jack asked, catching Luke off guard.

“W-what I d- I don’t know what you’re talking about. There's no ‘bunny’ in my room.” Luke flailed his arms out, trying his best to cover up the situation.

“Yeah bullshit. Who’s the girl?” Jack smirked, walking closer to his brother who just shook his head. “Tell me, or I'm gonna go in there and introduce myself.”

“No no no, Jack. You have to believe me. There’s no one in there.” Luke protested,but Jack’s hand was already on the doorknob and entering the room. Luke followed close behind him, a feeling of relief washed over when you were nowhere to be seen. “See! I told you. No girl.” Jack felt defeated for a split second, but knew not to give up as he walked towards your jersey on the floor. You silently cursed at yourself from under the bed for not grabbing itn your heart dropping straight to your stomach.

“So, this is your Ducks jersey I'm assuming?” Jack looked over to Luke with a devilish grin, jersey in hand. Luke's hands went straight to his head, as Jack crouched down to where you were hiding under the bed. Luckily the shadows of the night were in your favor, covering your face perfectly.

“Hey queen. I’m Luke's brother, Jack. Promise I don’t bite.” He reached out his hand for you to take as you sighed, and accepted the defeat. You slowly made your way out from under the bed, your head poking out first.

“Hey, Jack Attack.” You gave him a sheepish smile as he fell back into the wall in shock. His mouth gaped wide open as he looked over to Luke, then to you, then back to Luke.

“BABY ZEGRAS?” Jack yelled at Luke as you swiped your jersey from his hand, quickly putting it back on. “Baby Zegras is your bunny?!” Jack’s glances shifted back and forth between you and Luke. “Oh my god.” Jack covered his face with his hands as he leaned his head up against the wall. “How long?” You and Luke glanced at each other, unsure of what to do at the moment. “HOW LONG? OH MY GOD!” Jack whined at the idea of the two babies from the lake house being together.

“Uh um bout a year.” Luke let out as his arms fell limp beside him.

“A YEAR?” Jack turned to face him, uncovering his face “THAT’S A LONG FUCKIN’ TIME, GUYS!” You began to bite your nails, staring down at the floor. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Luke you’re a deadman.” Luke's ears tinted pink as Jack rested his forehead against the wall.

“No no, he's not. Just please please don’t tell Trevor.” You whined at Jack, begging for the slightest bit of sympathy.

“THAT'S GONNA BE HARD CONSIDERING HE’S IN THE ELEVATOR ON HIS WAY UP HERE!” Jack muffled a scream through his spot on the wall. Your eyes widened as you looked over at Luke who had his hands on his knees, clearly stressing.

“Holy shit.” was all you could let escape your mouth, as you heard someone knocking on the door. Jack ran out of the room to let Trevor in, as you and Luke shuffled in next to each other freaking out, like you were two kids who’d been caught by their parents. You winced at the sound of Trevor’s voice when he greeted Jack at the doorway. However it was quickly interrupted, by Jack pulling him straight towards Luke’s room.

“Trevor, let me direct you to the scene of the crime!” Jack said with a shocked, manic smile on his face. You and Luke stood there shoulder to shoulder. Both of you looked a mess.

“I don’t get it. Y/n, what are you doing here?” Trevor let out a small, confused laugh. He stood there and glanced at the two of you, trying to connect the dots in his head. You felt a hard lump in your throat as Trevor took an unbelievably long time trying to figure out what was happening.

“Oh my god, Trevor. THEY FUCKIN’!” Jack spat out, flinging his arms towards the two of you. You watched in terror as Trevor’s face grew angry, his fist charging up in the air. You quickly stepped in between him and Luke.

“NO NO NO NO! STOP! We are not ‘fuckin’! I think the two of you should sit on the couch.” You motioned the boys out of Luke’s room with him following close behind.

“Yeah, you sure have a lot of explaining to do.” Trevor huffed out as his face turned tomato red, taking his seat on the couch. You and Luke stood in front of the couch facing Trevor and Jack. Your firm gaze was planted on Trevor’s, but Luke was staring at the floor in fear that these were his last moments alive. You smacked him in the chest back into reality, as he fluffed his hair and directed his gaze towards Jack with a look that said ‘fuck you’.The two of you stood there side by side taking in the final moments of your private relationship. You looked over to Luke who gave you a soft smile and nodded his head.

“Luke and I have something to share with the two of you.” You started. Jack and Trevor moved closer to the edge of the couch wearing the same concerned expression with a hint of anger. “We are not just hooking up.” You kept your stern look on Trevor as you took Luke’s hand into yours. “We are in love.” You watched as Trevor’s mouth dropped and Jack pretended to vomit, leaning over the edge of the couch. “AND, have been…for the past year.” Trevors mouth gaped open wider as he tilted his head down, looking up at the two of you through his eyebrows. Jack began to laugh nervously at the situation, looked over to Luke, and mouthed “You’re fucked.” You and Luke glanced at each other nervously, hand in hand as Trevor stepped up from the couch and made his way towards Luke. Trevor gave him the death stare of his life, to the point where he was afraid to blink. Through Trevor’s tough exterior, you hoped there was a small part of him that just wanted you to be happy. Thankfully, you were right in your instincts and Trevor held his hand out for Luke to shake. A sigh of relief left your mouth as Luke smiled slightly, taking Trevor’s hand in his.

“If my baby sister is gonna date an idiot, i’m glad it’s this idiot.” Your shared anxiety with Luke quickly left both of your bodies as Trevor made his way back to the couch. You looked over at each other with wide grins, realizing the part of your relationship that you both dread was finally over, and you could finally continue your lives without having to be so secretive.

#freeabortionslol #fanfic #imagine #x reader #hockey #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl players #nhl #hughes brothers

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luveline · 8 months ago

Note

oooh what about hotch's sister calling spencer to pick her up at the hospital after an accident or something because she doesn't want hotch to know since worry and go into protective big brother mode, but spencer tells him anyway and they both show up and lots of fluff ensues :)

adopted fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for panic attacks

You should call your brother.

You think about it, even pull up his contact, he’s the first person you go to when you need help and he always has been, but lately Aaron has been so stressed you hesitate, clicking the text button by mistake.

You read back his last message.

I can feel myself being spread too thin but there’s nothing I can do to fix it, he’d text. I guess I’m frustrated. But how are you, working girl? New jobs are scary. I bet you’re doing better than you think already. Jack and I are super proud of you

You’d sent him a meagre response. You aren’t always sure what to say to him. Sincerity is easier in person, but even then, he can be terse and deflective; he looks after you and no one looks after him.

You didn’t tell him about work, and you won’t tell him about now. You call Spencer instead. This is a good way to test the almost dating thing, right?

He doesn’t answer. When you call again, he answers on the first ring. “Hey, are you okay?”

“No. Are you busy?”

“I’m not busy if you’re not okay. Two seconds.” There’s a pause where you assume he’s moving from one place to another, perhaps closing a book around his hand, or closing the lid on an early lunch. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m, uh, in hospital. I had a huge panic attack at work and I… thought I was having a heart attack, so I–” You’re so embarrassed your voice turns to a thread. “Sorry, I know it’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, that’s not stupid. How do you feel now?”

“Like someone hit me really hard in the chest.”

“Are you calmed down?”

“Mostly.” You wince. “They want to talk to me about medications. Uh.” You clear your throat. “I want to go home.”

“Angel… I’m on my way, okay? I’ll get Hotch and–”

“You can’t tell him.”

“What?”

“Please, Spencer, he gets so worried, he’s worried enough. And if he finds out I had a panic attack he’ll try and make me take time off of work and that’s just another thing on his plate he didn’t ask for–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, “please don’t panic. You’ve had a hard morning, panicking again is really gonna hurt. Try and think about things that don’t wind you up, alright? Is there anything you need me to get?”

“You don’t have to come.”

“That’s why you called me, right? I’ll be there.”

You can’t know that he says goodbye and ducks straight back into Hotch’s office, where he’d been, to tell on you. It’s not to hurt you and it isn’t because you told him not to —it’s two parts concern, and one part self preservation. Aaron needs to know and you need him with you, and he also can’t imagine things going well for himself if he kept the news of your stay a secret. The shovel talk plays in his mind.

Aaron’s shovel talk being, You won’t do anything to hurt her, said simply, and with an impassive expression that bordered terrifying. Not overly unaffected, just casual.

You’re laying in your hospital bed with your hands clasped across your stomach when Spencer arrives. He frowns at you in your bed, worse when he sees your smudged makeup and the chafed inside of your wrist where you’ve picked and squeezed at your own skin. Your panic has left a physical mark, your chest aching as you force yourself to sit, and it hurts doubly so when your brother lets himself in behind your nearly-boyfriend.

You don’t have it in you to complain.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says, reaching down to give you a quick hug as you sit. “I had to tell him.”

Aaron’s hug is similarly apologetic, though much longer. “You weren’t gonna tell me?” he asks quietly, his hand settling at the place between your shoulders. “How do you feel now?”

“I’m fine, I– I really thought I was having a heart attack.”

“That’s common,” Spencer says, “it’s the feeling of impending doom, thousands of people mistake anxiety for medical issues every week.”

Aaron holds you by the shoulders. “It’s okay,” he says. “Was it a doctor that checked you out, or a nurse?”

Aaron probes the name of your nurse from you and promises to be back soon. He seems to have gleaned that the quickest way to get information today won’t be from you.

Spencer goes in for another hug when he leaves, and then, to your delight, a very quick kiss pressed to your cheek. He ducks away after that and sits on the side of your hospital bed, his knuckles gracing the outside of your thigh. “Thank you for calling me,” he says, smiling at you, and better when you smile back.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. I know how it feels, okay? If they want to talk about medication it’s a good thing, but everyone has moments like this.”

“I can’t believe you told Aaron,” you say, giving a weak but playful glare.

“I can’t believe you weren’t going to. He loves you, he wants to know what’s hurting you, no matter how much stuff is on his plate.”

You bite the inside of your lip, contemplative for a few slow seconds. “You think so?” you ask finally.

The hair flicked under his ears wobbles as he nods. “Absolutely.”

You lean forward to readjust his collar and tie. He’s wearing one of his cutesy waistcoats, dark grey over a light blue shirt. His tie has patterns you trace with your thumb, like fish scales. “Sorry, I know you were working,” you murmur.

“I think my boss will forgive me.”

You let your hands fall. Spencer, perhaps picking up on a hint you hadn’t meant to give, takes them both into one of his and squeezes reassuringly.

“It’s harder than I thought,” you confide softly.

“It’s an adjustment period. But maybe it’s not right for you, there. That’s what started it, right? Your job.”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know. I get panicky about all sorts of stuff, but I’ve never had one this bad before. I was a miserable kid, you can ask Aaron, but I really thought I was better.”

He rubs over your fingers with his thumb. “I think we all have stuff that messes us up. Doesn’t mean you’re not better. You don’t even really have to be better. And I… I am here for you, I promise. I know you have no reason to trust me with it yet, but I’ll listen whenever you need me to.”

You think about kissing him. Spencer kisses like he’s suffocating and your air, it’s cliche and undeniably true. Whenever you kiss him it’s like a shock —he steals your breath, he can’t stop himself from grabbing your face, and any other time you’d love it, but right now you just need a peck. You’re hoping he can do those kinds of kisses too.

“Will you kiss me?” you ask tentatively.

He gets the memo on gentleness. You shouldn’t be surprised, your very first kiss was tame, his hand running up your arm as he encourages you forward. Your eyes shutter closed at the feeling of his lips on yours, and the exhausting thrumming that’s lived beneath your skin since you woke up numbs to a more manageable ache.

Spencer breaks away. He cups your cheek quickly, dropping it immediately when the door opens.

You shuffle backward nonchalantly.

Aaron gives you a sarcastic look. Really? it says. I wasn't born yesterday.

“They want to give you a prescription for Paxil, honey, what do you think?” He turns his attention to Spencer reluctantly. “What’s her best option here?”

“Paxil could be fine. They didn’t suggest a benzodiazepine? Paxil is an SSRIs, it slows down the rate of serotonin reuptake, basically increasing the effectiveness of your bodies natural serotonin, which could decrease the risk of another attack, but taking it won’t stop her from feeling like this,” —he frowns at your location— “very quickly. Ideally she should have a medication for general anxiety and the option for quicker relief if this happens again.” He smiles at you suddenly, nearly shyly. “If that’s what you want, that is.”

“What are you thinking, honey?” Aaron asks you.

You have the two of them here to look after you while you decide. You take Spencer’s hand gently, desperate for reassurance. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s okay, we’ll work it out,” your brother promises.

Spencer squeezes your hand.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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beloveds-embrace · 14 days ago

Text

(a series in which you are a witch living in the woods, and a group of knights have decided to keep you safe and sound in exchange for kisses and charms.)

Ghost’s visits were fleeting, much like the twilight shadows that crept through the trees. They always came without warning, as if the man himself was more a part of the forest than even you, slipping between the cracks of the day unnoticed. Tonight was no different. The wards surrounding your cottage buzzed softly, recognizing his familiar energy, and you opened the door before he could knock.

His broad figure filled the frame, his skull mask catching the faint glow of the firelight spilling from within. Shadows danced across the painted bone, but you didn’t flinch.

You never did. Never felt or had to.

“I wasn’t expecting you tonight.” You said, stepping aside to let him in.

He ducked through the doorway, gloved hands reaching into his coat to retrieve a worn leather pouch. The door closed quietly on its own behind him, glimmering faintly. “Had time. Thought you could use this.”

He handed you the pouch, and the faint scent of crushed lavender and sage wafted from it. Behind you, empty bottles clinked and tapped their way into a neat row on the counter.

“Perfect for cleansing rituals,” you said, smiling as you took it. “Thank you, Simon.”

At the sound of his name, he stilled- even though he had told you to call him that himself, so long ago. The moment passed, and he watched in silence as you began sorting the herbs, your hands deft and practiced and your magic humming in the air.

“You haven’t been visiting as much,” you noted, glancing up briefly to flash him another smile. “Been busy?”

“Always.” He replied simply, leaning against the wall. His eyes tracked your movements, the fluidity and familiarity with with you did everything. It was comforting.

“You should sit.”

“I’m fine standing.”

You shook your head but didn’t argue, instead reaching for a small carved charm resting on your workbench. The rune, etched into a piece of bone, pulsed faintly with a soft, protective glow- magic you had infused into it over several nights. It was a good thing he came by when he did.

“This is for you,” you said, stepping closer and holding it out. “It’s for the nightmares. To keep them at bay.”

Ghost hesitated for a moment before taking it, his fingers brushing yours. He studied the charm, turning it over in his hands. The silence stretched, but it was never uncomfortable with him.

“Thank you.” He said finally, quiet but no less sincere.

“You’ve been sleeping poorly again, even aside from the nightmares.” You observed gently, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

He didn’t answer directly, but the slight tightening of his posture was answer enough.

“I’ll make you something stronger,” you offered, already moving toward the shelves where you kept your jars of herbs and oils. “A dream salve to help you find peace.”

“You do too much, witch.” He muttered, rough and yet carrying an undertone of warmth.

“This is how I protect you,” you replied, grinding dried lavender and valerian root in a mortar. “You all keep me safe in ways I could never repay, Simon. This is the least I can do.”

He stayed quiet, watching as you lit a candle and whispered an incantation over the mixture. The flame flickered unnaturally for a moment, the salve glowing faintly before settling into a calm, soothing scent.

When you handed him the small jar, he tucked it into his pocket alongside the charm. His eyes lingered on you for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

“You’ve got a way of making this place feel untouched,” he huffed at last. “Like the world out there doesn’t exist.”

“It’s the wards,” you grinned, pride flickering. “And maybe a little bit of you all, too.”

His jaw tightened slightly, and he glanced toward the door. “Speaking of the world out there…”

You followed his gaze, the faint hum of unease settling in your chest and chasing away the pride. “What is it?”

“Had to deal with something on my way here,” he admitted, grumbling darkly. “The crown’s men were sniffing around the edge of the forest. Heard rumors of a ‘witch’ living out here.”

Your stomach dropped, and you gripped the edge of your workbench. “How close did they get?”

“Not close enough,” Ghost said firmly. “I made sure they wouldn’t come any nearer. A few whispers about cursed woods and unnatural shadows should keep them away for now, and they have no reason to doubt me.”

He didn’t elaborate, but you could imagine it: the sight of him emerging from the trees, his skull mask illuminated by the dying light of day, his voice low and threatening. He didn’t need magic to make men tremble- his presence alone was enough. Especially for those who heard about him.

“Thank you, Simon.” You breathed out softly, your voice laced with genuine gratitude. Your heart began to calm down from the way it’d started thudding before.

“I’ll keep them off your trail,” he continued, tone leaving no room for doubt. Carefully, he reached to hold your cheek in his hand for just a few seconds that felt much longer. “Price has a system in place, but if anyone gets too curious, I’ll handle it.”

You stepped closer, reaching up to brush your fingers against the edge of his mask. “I don’t know what I’d do without you all.”

“You’ll never have to find out.”

Before he left, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to the edge of his mask. The cold material brushed your lips, and for a moment, he softened.

“Be safe out there, Simon.” You whispered.

He nodded, stepping into the shadows beyond your door. As the forest swallowed him, the wards around your home shimmered faintly, strengthened by the presence of the man who had once again ensured your safety.

You returned inside, the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air, and whispered a quiet spell of thanks- one more layer of protection for the man who guarded your hidden sanctuary.

Witch of the Woods Masterlist | John Price

#noona.writes #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 #cod imagines #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #noona.posts #simon

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bitchface24-7 · 27 days ago

Text

THE SEDUCTIVE PROFESSOR VIKTOR

synopsis: Professor Viktor, the most sought out and dreamt of professor at Piltover Academy. Luckily for you… you’re his favourite student.

warnings: age gap (viktor’s gotta be anywhere in his 30s-40s to be a professor, reader is in their 20s (early to late I don’t really care) ), power imbalance, dom!viktor, I tried my best to make this gender-neutral, this isn’t gonna be a full on story, just bullet points I come up with, no beta we die like most of the characters in Arcane

genre: m/f, m/m (however you label yourself, I hope you can read this and enjoy it!)

Professor Viktor hasn’t been a professor for very long at the academy. After he and his partner Jayce Talis revolutionized machinery and magic in the form of Hextech, well… the academy and the council wanted their genius shared with the younger generations.

“The Science Behind Magic: HXT101” became a hit. This course had the highest approval ratings, least amount of absences, and highest amount of A students in the history of the academy.

Viktor’s proud of his students work, everyone else sees it as it is. Everyone is doing amazing due to their hot professor.

His attitude, his humour, his accent, his beauty. Professor Viktor is sin incarnate and doesn’t seem to realize it. The dreamy sighs, the lustful gazes. It all goes over his head like water down a ducks back.

Having Jayce come in as a guest speaker doesn’t help in the slightest.

The two men are gorgeous. Jayce with his broad shoulders, messy hair, and wonderful beard. A few strands of grey focused on his temples.

Viktor with his long hair, sultry eyes, lithe frame that’s mostly delectable legs. He dresses wonderfully too. All tailored to fit his frame perfectly. His tiny waist seems almost impossibly small.

Viktor tries his best to be impartial to his students; neutral as a good teacher should be… but there’s something about you.

You’re bright, intelligent, well-spoken. Overall beautiful. He can’t stop looking at you during lectures, he can’t stop thinking about you in the privacy of his own home; in his office as well.

You always pay attention in class, you ask riveting and inspiring questions, you continue the conversation Viktor is desperately trying to create to invigorate the students the way he and Jayce were all those years ago.

Your pretty eyes, soft looking lips, shiny hair. The way the academy uniform compliments your figure in all the right ways. He’s a man obsessed.

He knows you’re at least physically attracted to him. The way you bite your lip when you look at him, when you shyly look down when he compliments your work with a sultry “good job”

How you jolt in your seat from daydreaming when he comes up behind you and whispers in your ear to pay attention.

He wants to see how you react to other stimuli. A practical theory if you will.

Will you be good and listen to Viktor’s every command? Or will you be bratty; needing to be put over Viktor’s lap and your ass reddened to be taught a lesson. Would you prefer his hand, a ruler, or maybe even his cane?

How pretty would you look on your knees, taking his cock down your throat? Would your eyes water? Would you choke? Or are you secretly a slut, who can take it no problem.

Are you a moaner, a whimperer, a screamer, or a crier?

He knows his blatant desires for you are cementing you as his “favourite student” you can do things others can only dream of.

You can come to class late and not need a valid excuse, you can borrow any materials without reasoning, you can stay as late as you want during office hours; when anyone else would be politely but firmly told that their time was up.

People have noticed, everyone but you it seems. The rest of the class can’t help but envy you. How the hell do you have such a drop dead gorgeous man wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even realize it!

You’re going to realize it soon, when Viktor tells you to stay behind after class. That he has a theory he’d like to discuss with you.

That theory leaves you with your face feeling like it’s on fire, your throat sore, your body aching in a delicious way, your legs bowed, and your appearance completely disheveled.

Viktor gets the answers he’s been desperately craving and is not disappointed. He can’t wait for the semester to be over. He wants you, and he can pursue you when he’s no longer your professor.

He just gave you a taste of what he’ll give you everyday if you agree to be his.

(You’ll agree to be his. He rocked your shit)

#arcane #viktor arcane #viktor imagine #viktor x reader #viktor smut #professor viktor #arcane imagine #arcane smut #fem!reader #male!reader #gender neutral reader #banners by cafekitsune #HEAR ME OUT #HES SO FINE 😩😩#ANY VERSION OF VIKTOR CAN GET IT #(except when he’s a kid)

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undyinglantern · 2 years ago

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You know, I do have exactly one aunt who I remember would explicitly choose not to shave and like. As a kid I always found that a bit strange but I never particularly thought it was gross or anything either

#the image of her stuck in my memory is of a blue/navy pencil skirt and very thin heeled business shoes but I can’t remember the top #notably she also had a fairy large mole above her lip too but idr which side it was on either #personal #but she also owned a ducking hotel we even stayed at once and had a bunch of loritos también so like #I remember I stepped out of the room we were staying in early in the morning bc I wanted to be in the hall to look at them #and got in trouble w my mom for doing so. But I’ve always loved animal so idc <3 #besides the loros she also had exactly 2 tucans which I find questionable now but at the time I was amazed to simply be standing so close t #to* irl. she was eccentric you could say. at the least #OH YEAH I JUST REMEMBERED the way we drove to the hotel was on the trunk of a truck with her dog(s? hazy memory) too. it (they?) were #German shepherds and very friendly #Idk abt laws now but riding in the back of trucks back then was so fun #As long as my sister didn’t make fun of the way my cheeks jiggled on the bumpy roads </3 #I’m rambling again dije buenas noches pero no tengo sueño todavía so idk what to do but fr I should stop rambling

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cherubcameron · 4 months ago

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Melting

Part 1

Authors note: sorry if this is straight ass and it’s also not edited at all. Just straight from my dome.

Your mom had let him in, unbeknownst to her, that you two had fought. Rafe looked around your family home. The stark contrast from the home you had with him, it was more cozy. Smaller too. He had to duck to get in. And he couldn’t help but notice your cute brother and sister running around, trying to catch each other.

“Hola Rafe!” Your sister Bella says.

“Hey munchkin.” He says, endearingly. He’s shocked on how much she looks just like you. Same hair, same eyes, same smile. Your sister was like a mini you. You both looked like your mom.

“She’s in her room.” Your mom says warmly, she pointed down the hall for him. He smiled and thanked her, walking down the hall. His heart was harming in his chest. This could go either way really. And he was worried you wouldn’t forgive him.

He knocked on the door once.

“Estoy busy mami!” You yelled from inside the room, his heart leaped at the sound of your voice.

“Uh-it’s me…Rafe.” Silence engulfs the space, it takes a minute before you open the door and stare at him.

“How—

“Your mom let me in.” He says simply, he looks at you, doing a once over. His eyes seeing you in a pointelle pajama set. Your hair is loose and draping your shoulders. He sucks in a breath, you always looked beautiful to him. The way that you dressed, the person you were, the way that you looked. Everything about you enamored him.

“Hi.” He says softly, his hands in his pockets. You still haven’t spoken, your eyes scanning him as well.

“Hi.” You say coldly. His heart broke at the way you spoke to him. But he deserved it. Especially after the way he treated you. He swallowed thickly.

“Can we please talk?” He asks. Your eyes look away from him. Staring at anything in your room. But him.

“No.”

His heart shattered, he couldn’t help but let a tear roll down his face.

“Come on baby, please.”

“Don’t call me that” you say a little too harshly, you wince at your own tone

“But you are my baby, you are.” He closes the distance between you. He grabs your face into his hands.His thumb trancing your cheek.

“I’m sorry okay, for everything. From the way I spoke about you to Ruthie and Topper. Shit from kicking the suitcase from you. I shouldn’t have forced you to stay.” He takes a sharp exhale in.

“Rafe—

“I know, I know I shouldn’t have done that. I was upset and my emotions were all over the place.”

You shook your head at him, “It’s fine Rafe. Really.”

He shook his own head in turn. “No none of it was okay. If you wanted to come home to your parents I should have let you.”

Silence engulfs you once more, your eyes still not meeting his.

“I was just scared of losing you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” His blue eyes meets your eyes. A pleading look engraved in his.

“I’m not coming back Rafe.” You say simply but those words shatter his heart in pieces. Tears are falling down his face now. He’s holding onto you like a life line.

“You don’t mean that. I made a stupid mistake. I’m an idiot. Please.” He pleads, but you still continue to shake your head at him.

“Don’t do this, please. I love you okay. I see a future with you. With kids, like your siblings.” He points towards the door, out to where your siblings are laughing and playing around.

“Rafe—

“Please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”He gets on his knees, he’s tall enough that he still can wrap his arms around your waist and his head almost reaching your chest.

Tears are falling down your face now, your eyes not staring back at his.

“Rafe, stop.”

“No.” His voice is muffled by the fact that his face is pressed to your chest. You can feel his tears going onto your shirt. You hear him hiccup.

“It’s been two weeks baby. You haven’t called or texted me. Two-Two weeks without you. Your hugs, your kisses, your love, and your smile. I can’t do it anymore. It’s killing me baby.” He’s kissing your stomach now, his face pressing closer to you.

“Rafe, please. Get up.” He shakes his head rapidly, you can hear his sobs. He hugs you tighter, not letting go.

“B-baby, please. Don’t leave me. Please. I can’t, I can’t do this without you. It feels pointless.”

You want to be harsh, a part of you does. The more hurt part. To tell him that his friends would be ashamed of him for how he’s crying over a pogue. On his knees no less. How they’d be embarrassed of him. But the more tender part of you, the one that loves him. Is more overbearing.

“Rafe—

“Don’t, I can’t hear you say that you’re not coming home to me. That you don’t want to be with me anymore. I can’t.” He’s rubbing his face on your chest.

At first you had your hands up in the air. Not wanting to touch him. But after awhile, you can’t help but put your hands on him. Trying to soothe him. Your hands running through his buzzcut. Feeling like mowed grass. It’s a silly thought. But you suppressed a laugh.

“I’ll do anything. I told them that you are my girlfriend. That I am with you. That we’re building a life together. Please, don’t throw that away baby. Please.”

The hurt part of you wants to slash his dreams. Make him pay for how he made you feel. But the loving part is hogging up the space.

“Rafe seriously get up.” You say, he does so but slowly. He eyes you like a puppy. Awaiting punishment. His hands are still on you. His hands still on your stomach as he reaches his full height. You look up at him, tears falling down your face.

“This is hard for me to do, okay.” He looks at you, his face is all scrunched up. He’s hurting, you can tell.

“It doesn’t have to be, baby.” He says, his hands moving up to cup your face. “I want to be with you. And only you. No one else compares. I-I need you.”

You don’t know how to respond. This was the last thing you’ve expected to happen. You never knew he would just show up in your doorway. Wanting to repair things. But he was Rafe. That’s exactly the kind of person he was.

“Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll even propose right now. If that’s what you want.” He sounds so broken and you want nothing more to hug him. To kiss those tears away.

But you don’t know how to respond. What to do, you’re confused. You’re so scared of getting burned.

“Please, say something. I need to know you still want this.” He’s hiccuping again, this time more consistent.

“I don’t know Rafe.” He brings your head up so you can meet each others eyes.

“I’ll even go to therapy. I’ll change. Please. I’ll do anything for you to come back. If I have to get on one knee and show you how serious I am. I will.”

You’re taken back by how serious he is. How adamant he is about you. Suddenly, you feel him get on one knee.

“Y/n l/n…

“Rafe, I don’t—

“Will you please marry me?”

The words feel like they’ve been sucker punched out of you.

Finally, you get the courage to speak.

“Rafe, stop. Get up.” He does as you say, mournfully.

“I mean it though.”

“Rafe, you’re not asking me to marry you as a way for me to forgive you.” He shakes his head, his eyes filmed with tears.

“I-I, fuck I wasn’t doing it for that.” He reaches for you again. You’re surprised your mom hasn’t come in to say something yet. Maybe she knows…

“Look, I love you. So much. And I can’t imagine a life without you. I want to be better person for you. I know, I know it sounds cliche. But I promise, I mean it.”

You stare into his blue eyes, sucked in like they were a tide trying to bring you in.

“You have to really mean it, Rafe. No bullshit. Or this is done.” He nods adamantly, his hands touching yours. Rubbing circles.

“I am, I am I promise. I’ll do anything to make things right with you.” He eyes you, his face so scrunched up, you want to grab his face and kiss him.

“I forgive you… but you do or say something about me like that again… it’s done. Forever.”

He nods, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

“I won’t be dumb again, I promise.” You wrap your own arms around his waist. Unable to meet him at his full height to wrap your arms around his neck.

“So about marriage…” he says after a while, you just giggle unable to hold it in anymore.

“We are of age…” You say

@roseshopper here you go!

#rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron #outer banks #outerbanks x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n

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cherrysweets-world · 20 days ago

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Eyes of the Gods I

masterlist - part II

Pairing: Caracalla x femaleReader, Geta x femaleReader

Summary: You catch the eyes of the twin Emperors despite doing everything possible to stay out of their way.

Warnings: mentions of blood

Word Count: 2k

The air was unusually cool and still. Perhaps you should have recognized then that things would soon be different, that the Gods themselves were waiting with baited breath. They intended to be entertained.

Palatine Hill was not always so quiet, not even in the evenings. Servants, such as yourself, were kept busy with cleaning and cooking and entertaining nobles. Tonight was different, though, and you gripped the water jug tightly as you padded along the empty halls.

Your duties typically kept you in the kitchen, preparing food and keeping it tidy. A recent bought of sickness has travelled around the servants' quarters and pushed you to take up duties you usually wouldn't. Duties that forced you to emerge from the places overlooked by many and into the eyes of dangerous people.

The jug was damp under your hands, condensation trickling from the outside and moistening your hands. You suspected it was also sweat. The halls of the imperial palace were not welcoming and you wanted nothing more than to duck back out of sight. The gentle cloak of night was just that - gentle. You yearned for something heavier, thicker, that would guarantee safe passage back to your quarters.

Unfortunately the sickness had seeped from the servants and into several of the nobles. Lady Lucilla herself had come down with it and you had been tasked with taking her medicine-infused water to her personal quarters. Into the lion's den, so to speak.

It was not Lady Lucilla that you were afraid of. There were others with rooms not so far from hers. You had heard things- orgys lasting well into the morning, participants emerging bruised and occasionally bloody. Stories of an unstable Emperor and a controlling one. Rome was not safe right now, perhaps the palace was more dangerous than the streets.

Andrea spotted you and waved you from the shadows. "I have been waiting!" she hissed. She had no patience for your shy nature. "Are you forgetting that my Lady is sick?"

"Of course not," you replied evenly, passing over the jug.

Andrea took it and peered into it. Satisfied, she nodded and slipped back into the room, pushing the heavy door shut behind her.

You sighed. It was too much to expect a thank you. Swiveling on your heel, you began the journey back to your quarters. Without the burden of the jug you quickened, the bottom of your dress creating a pleasant breeze around your ankles.

This area of the palace was far better decorated than where you typically roamed. Grand busts lined along the wall, elegant traces of gold defining grooves and patterns. Marble that gleamed enough that you could see your own harried reflection in it. Although you wished to stop and take it in, it was more of a reminder of exactly where you were and how you did not belong.

You were so occupied with your own thoughts that you almost missed it at first. Slowing as much as you dared, you tilted your head and listened. A tiny, almost discernable squeaking noise. It came from your left side, beneath the table.

Fists tightening, you took a slow step towards it. A stunningly beautiful cloth was draped artfully over it, so you could see nothing. The noise came again and your heart jumped. What if it was a child? You would be in trouble if you did not return them safely to wherever they belonged, servant or otherwise. And what if one of the Emperors or Macrinus stumbled upon them? It did not bear thinking about.

You cast one last hopeful look around. There was no hero offering themselves up to raise the cloth. It would have to be you. You got to your knees and held your hand in front of the tablecloth. There was a stark difference between the expensive, soft fabric of the cloth and your servants hands.

You couldn't stand to wait a single moment longer out in the open like this. Grabbing a fistful of the fabric, you raised it in a jerky motion.

Breath rushed out of you in a pathetic wheeze. The monkey - of course, the damned monkey - worse still, she was accompanied by her master.

Emperor Caracalla gazed up at you with watery, red rimmed eyes. His hair was disheveled, as though he had tried to sleep and had been yanked from it. He did not seem surprised to see you. Before you could utter an apology, he had secured a hand around your wrist and yanked you under the table alongside him.

Your forehead grazed painful against the underside of the table and you curled in on yourself to avoid it. Still, Emperor Caracalla said nothing. Your heart felt seconds away from clawing its way up your throat and you found yourself thinking of something your mother had said to you once long ago. Fear would only make it worse.

"Emperor Caracalla," you whispered, "is there someone I can get for yo-"

"No!" the word burst out of him, startling you with its ferocity. "No, there are only traitors and wicked liars, thieves who wish to steal my empire from under me."

His hand had left a bloody smear on your wrist. His own were splattered with it too, and you tried hard not to think of all the rumors. Tried hard not to think of where the blood had likely come from.

His thighs were warm beneath you. Only the thin fabric of your dress kept you from actually touching. How had you gone from hardly setting eyes upon the Emperors to this?

Panic began to creep further up your spine. You had only heard things about the moods that sometimes overtook Caracalla and even then they were littered with half-truths and exaggerations. You had never been able to make sense of them, and crouching before him now made it no easier.

"Perhaps," you relinquished, "but tonight is silent, my Emperor. There are no traitors, or liars or thieves tonight. I have walked these halls myself, I have seen no one. It is safe."

Caracalla eyed you with an alarming amount of awareness. You continued, "No-one except you, Dondus, and I."

The monkey chirped again and ran her fingers through her masters hair, as if that was what she had been trying to tell him. She reached her other hand out for you and you warily held out your fingers. Did monkeys have sharp teeth?

If they did, Dondus kept them at bay. She sniffled your fingers and then released them, seemingly satisfied. Whatever satisfied her seemed to also satisfy her master.

"What is your name?" he asked. You gave it, you had no choice. He murmured it to himself, let it roll around his mouth and settle in his throat.

"Perhaps you would like to return to your quarters now, my Emperor," you asked. "I'll escort you there myself. If we come across anyone then we shall be together and I am quite sure they shall not bother us."

Realistically you had no idea if anyone would bother you or not. You were more than ready to come out from beneath the table, though, and put safe distance between you and the unsteady Emperor.

His eyes seemed steadier now, and there was a faint blush on his cheeks. Perhaps this was a sign that he was returning to himself. Whether that was a good thing, you could not say.

"My chambers," he whispered, voice cracking. "Yes, you will accompany me to my chambers."

It took a moment to untangle yourself from under the table. You emerged first and held out a hand to steady Caracalla. Dondus leapt upon your offered hand and curled herself upon your shoulder. Her fur was softer than expected and you gave a surprise laugh, the sound echoing around the halls.

Caracalla's eyes were fixated on you, and so you allowed him and small smile before turning in the direction of his chambers. The attention was almost too much. The handful of occasions that you had been in the presence of the Emperors were entirely different from this. Surrounded by food, prostitutes, servants and fellow nobles, they had no time to pay attention to anyone specifically. And now…

Caracalla's arm brushed yours and you jerked away, hardly daring to look at him. Something like a laugh came from him and he did it again. This time you remained still and tried to give no reaction. It had the opposite effect. Caracalla shuffled closer until there was no room between your side and his. Dondus slipped back onto his shoulder and you tried to keep your eyes forward.

He said your name again to himself. You wished he would not. It felt as though every time he said it, he was cementing you further in his mind. You hoped that tonight would be nothing but a smear in his memory, hazed by the grip of his sickness.

When you caught sight of the doors to his chambers, it was a great effort not to heave a sigh of relief.

"We are here," you gave a shaky smile, "no traitors or any such thing. You are safe, Emperor Caracalla."

He regarded you with blurry eyes, but did not disagree. You pulled open the door and angled yourself to allow him in. He slipped by you, close, too close, and it was a fight not to let the door slam. You caught a brief look inside the luxury of his room and the several guards that regarded you with surprise and relief.

Caracalla had a habit of slipping his guards. His brother had made it a point to allow it, you had heard. As if to say that they were not afraid of any intruders in their home, such was their might. Surely if it had been someone else, the hallways would have been filled with Praetorians and it would not have been such a still night.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, eyes flickering over your figure. His eyes seemed less cloudy by the second and you did not want to stand in front of a fully aware Emperor Caracalla.

You thought again of the blood and the words rushed out, "I bid you goodnight, my Emperor. Sleep well."

You let go of the door before he could say anything. It was foolish, and for a moment you expected him to come rushing out, hands clawing at your face for your blatant disrespect. But the halls remained quiet, and you breathed out for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

The blood had dried on your wrist, flaky and dark. You inspected it with a grimace before tucking it at your side and walking back down the corridor. If it wasn't for the physical evidence, no part of that night would have felt real. Hopefully you would be able to banish it entirely from your mind by tomorrow, and do your best to stick to your familiar grounds in the palace.

As you walked, you saw a flash of red from the corner of your eye. You turned, expecting Caracalla to be standing outside his door and prepared yourself.

Emperor Geta watched you from the very spot you had just been in. Your already dry mouth felt drier. He tilted his head, watching you curiously, arms folded in front of him.

He looked young. Rich, red cloths rumpled from sleep, hair smoothed down and face bare. Beautiful, like his brother, but deadly. His eyes were dark and steady, opposite to his brother, but equally as unsettling.

An expression flickered in the corner of his mouth and it prompted you to dip your head and curtsey.

"Excuse me, Emperor Geta," you said, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. "Good night."

There was a weighted pause. For a moment you did not think he would say anything.

And then, "Goodnight."

You rushed around the corner and dove into the shadowy hallways, grateful to get yourself out of sight. It would be a long, long time before you took up any of your friend's tasks for them again. It was not worth it.

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Author's Note - I have not written fanfiction in years but I had to emerge from my cave for these two. I'm pretty rusty so please excuse any mistakes! Like & reblog if you enjoyed :)

#emperor caracalla #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #joseph quinn #fred hechinger #gladiator II #gladiator 2 #fanfiction #caracalla x reader x geta #emperor caracalla x you #emperor geta x you #eyes of the gods

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icypopz · 8 months ago

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bathing with them ♡

↬ request from anon ; Hiiii may I pls request the love and deepspace boys with a reader who loves taking baths with them??

↬ notes ; rafayel, xavier, zayne x gn!reader

↬ from ice ; ice active era?! jk we all know i'm lying atp HAHAHA but here's my annual post which is also my first post for LADS :> i changed the prompt a bit but i hope u enjoy !

↬ warning(s) ; tiny spoilers for rafayel's backstory, xavier's is like microscopically suggestive

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

[ rafayel ! ]

rafayel absolutely adores taking baths with you, even though he loves to tease you about being too clingy (he's actually the clingy one, but he'll never admit it for the world). he loves just chilling in the bathtub with you, especially on winter nights where he'll pull you closer in the hot water, complaining that "i need more warmth! protect me from the cold, miss bodyguard!"

he would get playfully annoyed when you joke about wanting to see his mermaid tail when he gets into the bathtub, scolding you about how lemurians also have powers to lure humans in and he'll be doing that to you if you don't get in the bath with him "right now!" also rafayel doesn't really like rubber ducks, he says it's weird that humans like to put toys like that in the water when they could just go swim in a lake if they wanted to see ducks. but! he does love bubble baths, he loves to put the bubbles in your hair, and when you make a beard for him with the foam, he finds it the cutest ever.

rafayel definitely has like several hundred bottles of soap, shampoo and conditioner in varying scents, claiming that their fragrance was so inspiring he just had to buy all of them. (the truth is, he wasn't sure which one you'd like so he just bought everything.) it's really helpful for when you stay over at his place though, you don't have to worry about packing a vanity case because he keeps everything ready for you, from your favourite toothpaste to a spare toothbrush. he also loves seeing you wrapped up in a towel, he thinks you look so adorable.