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pucksandpower · 5 months ago

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What’s the Worst That Can Happen?

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles convinces his unathletic girlfriend to join him for his annual winter training ski trip … what’s the worst that can happen?

Warnings: description of ski injury and mentions of surgery

Based on this request

“Pretty please?” Charles begs, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh come on, you know I’m hopeless at anything athletic. I’ll just end up faceplanting in the snow the whole time.”

Charles grins, wrapping his arms around your waist. “That’s what I’m here for, to catch you when you fall.”

“Yeah until I drag us both down a mountain,” you retort.

He laughs. “I promise I won’t let that happen. We’ll start nice and easy on the bunny slopes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Bunny slopes? Mr. Formula 1 driver wants to ski the bunny slopes with his clumsy girlfriend?”

“Hey, everyone has to start somewhere,” Charles protests. “Even the great Charles Leclerc was once a beginner. And the bunny slopes are the perfect place to learn together.”

You snuggle against his chest, still not convinced. “But it’s so cold there. You know I hate being cold.”

Charles kisses the top of your head. “The hotel has an amazing spa with hot tubs and a sauna. We can warm up in there after skiing. I’ll even give you a massage if you’re sore from falling down too much.”

“Gee thanks,” you laugh. “But what if I really am hopeless at it? I don’t want to ruin your trip.”

“Impossible,” Charles declares. “You could never ruin anything. This is about us having fun together, not about expert skiing. Though I have no doubt you’ll be shredding the black diamonds in no time.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Okay now you’re just lying to make me feel better.”

“Never,” Charles gasps in mock offense. “I have complete faith in your yet-to-be-discovered skiing abilities.”

You bite your lip, smiling shyly. His enthusiasm is adorable, even if misplaced. “Well, I guess it could be fun to try something new together ...”

Charles pumps his fist in excitement. “Yes! That’s my girl, up for an adventure!”

You hold up a finger in warning. “But I get to pick my own skis, and a helmet with a cute design on it. If I’m going to be falling a lot, I at least want to look stylish doing it.”

Charles grins. “Of course, whatever you need. I’ll take you to the best ski shops in town. You’ll be the most fashionable beginner skier on the mountain.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re crazy, you know that? Most guys wouldn’t want to deal with their girlfriends being accident-prone novices who will just slow them down.”

Charles takes your hands in his, gazing into your eyes earnestly. “Most guys are idiots then. I don’t care if you’re the clumsiest skier ever, I just want to experience new things with you. We’ll take everything slow, stop for plenty of hot chocolate breaks, and I’ll catch you every time you start to slip. The most important thing is being together.”

Your heart flutters at his words. You lean in for a tender kiss. “How did I get so lucky to find a man as sweet and patient as you?”

Charles smiles, pulling you close again. “I’m the lucky one. Now come on, we better start packing if we want to make our flight tomorrow morning!”

You wrinkle your nose. “Tomorrow? As in, the day after today? Don’t you think that’s rushing it a bit?”

“Why wait any longer to start having fun?” Charles counters enthusiastically. “Unless … you’re trying to back out already?” He pouts accusingly.

“No, no, I already agreed!” You insist. “It’s just, my suitcase is a mess and I’ll have to dig through my winter clothes and shop for ski gear and ...” Your protests trail off at the amused look on his face.

“Excuses, excuses,” Charles teases. “Admit it, you’re trying to stall so you can change your mind.”

You smack his shoulder again. “I am not! I promise I’m not backing out. I’m just … nervous. I’ve never skied before, what if I really am a disaster?” You bite your lip anxiously.

Charles tilts your chin up. “Hey, you’re going to do great. I’ll be with you every step of the way. But if you really aren’t comfortable, we can rethink this.” His eyes search yours with concern. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything, even from me. We can pick a different winter trip if you would rather do something else.”

You shake your head, smiling softly. “No, it’s okay. You’re right, it’ll be fun to try something new together. I’m just psyching myself out cause I’ve never been skiing before. But with you there supporting me … I can do it.”

Charles’s face lights up. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning up on your toes for another lingering kiss. “Yeah. I trust you.”

“You’re the best!” Charles shouts gleefully, lifting you up and spinning you around. You cling to his shoulders, laughing.

“Whoa there, save some of that energy for the slopes,” you tease.

Charles sets you down gently, though his eyes still sparkle with exhilaration. “I’m just excited, that’s all. This is going to be such an amazing trip.” He kisses your forehead. “Thank you for agreeing to come. It means the world that you trust me enough to try this with me.”

You smile, running a hand through his hair. “Of course. Any chance to spend time with you is worth facing my fears and clumsiness.”

Charles grins. “Remember you said that when I have to stop every ten feet on the bunny slope to help you up.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Hey! I might not be totally hopeless.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Charles says seriously. “For all I know, you could be a secret skiing prodigy.”

You snort. “Yeah right. But I promise I’ll try my best not to plow into too many innocent bystanders.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles encourages. “We’re going to have the best time.”

You smile up at him softly. “I know. Anywhere with you feels like an adventure.”

Charles’s eyes shine with adoration. He leans down for one more lingering kiss. “I love you so much. Now come on, we’ve got packing to do!”

He grabs your hand and you let him lead you excitedly down the hall, butterflies swirling in your stomach. You still feel nervous attempting something so out of your comfort zone. But Charles’s childlike enthusiasm is contagious. And you know without a doubt that by his side, you’re ready to try anything.

What’s the worst that can happen?

***

Famous last words.

This is the only thought running through your head as you stand at the top of the beginner ski slope, knees knocking together nervously. Charles had seemed so confident about this yesterday. But now, staring down the gentle incline covered in packed snow, you’re starting to realize how insane it is to strap slippery sticks to your feet and careen down a mountain.

Beginner slope or not, you’re certain to make a fool of yourself.

Charles must notice your trepidation, because he squeezes your mittened hand gently. “You’ve got this, mon amour. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

You smile weakly, comforted by his presence. At least when you inevitably crash and burn, it will be into his strong, steady arms.

Charles grins at you eagerly. “Ready to give it a try?”

You take a deep breath, willing your knees to stop quaking. “As I’ll ever be.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles says brightly. He turns to address the small crowd behind you — his performance coach Andrea, best friend Joris, photographer Antoine, trainer Nico, and friend Antonio. “Okay guys, let’s start nice and easy so she can get the hang of it. We’ll take turns skiing slowly beside her.”

You feel a rush of gratitude for Charles’ patience and consideration. The other men cheerfully voice their agreement. With so many experienced skiers guiding you, surely you can handle gently sliding down this minor incline.

Charles volunteers to go first, expertly snapping into his skis and gliding to your side. “Just stay relaxed, bend your knees, and focus on keeping your tips pointing forward. The snow will do most of the work, you just have to guide the direction. I’ll stay right here if you need me.”

You wobble forward, mimicking Charles’ athletic stance as best you can. The slope doesn’t look nearly as gentle anymore now that you’re staring down it. But with Charles’ coaxing, you slowly push off.

For a moment, you feel triumphant. The icy wind whips past your face as you coast downhill, skis sliding smoothly. You’re doing it! This isn’t so hard after all.

But your small victory is short-lived. An unexpected bump jolts you, throwing off your tenuous balance. You pinwheel your arms frantically as the ground rushes up to meet you.

Before you can taste snow, Charles’ strong hands grip your waist, stabilizing you back upright. “Whoa there! I’ve got you, just regain your balance.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs. But the reassurance in Charles’s voice helps settle your nerves. With his support steadying you, you manage to get both skis back under control.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. “That would have been a quick first run.”

Charles grins. “What are ski instructors for? You recovered nicely. Want to keep going to the bottom?”

You eye the remainder of the slope warily. But so far with Charles’ help, you’ve managed not to cause a complete disaster. “Okay, but stay close please.”

“Always,” Charles promises, sticking to your side like glue.

With Charles’ hand hovering protectively behind your back, you make it the rest of the way down the slope with only a few wobbles. At the bottom, you collapse into Charles’ arms, exhilarated.

“I did it!” You cheer. Charles sweeps you up in a hug, spinning you around.

“You were amazing!” He proclaims proudly. “A natural.”

You smack his shoulder. “Oh stop, I would have face-planted in two seconds without you.”

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” Charles insists earnestly. “I told you this would be fun!”

You can’t help but smile, caught up in his enthusiasm. As the rest of the group takes their turns skiing slowly beside you for a few more timid runs, you start to relax into the motion. Having skilled athletes guide you step-by-step gives you the confidence to slide a little faster, turn more smoothly, and keep your balance over bumps.

With each successful run, Charles’ grin grows impossibly wider. “Look at you go!” He exclaims after your latest effort. “You’ve gotten so good, I might have some competition soon.”

You snort. “Let’s not get carried away.” But secretly, you’re thrilled by the progress. Maybe you do have some hidden athletic talent after all.

On your next run, you’re feeling confident enough to wave Charles forward. “I think I can make it one time on my own now. Just stay ahead in case I start to wobble.”

“You sure?” Charles checks, poised protectively at your side. At your firm nod, he smiles. “Alright, you’ve got this! I’ll just be a few paces ahead.”

As Charles slides effortlessly downhill, you push off after him, a fierce look of determination on your face. For a few moments, everything goes perfectly. You whoop excitedly as you zip down the slope, wind stinging your cheeks. Charles cheers you on from where he’s stopped halfway down.

But right as you reach him, disaster strikes. Your left ski hits a patch of ice and skids wildly sideways. You flail your arms, trying to stay upright, but it’s too late. Your legs fly out from under you and you’re airborne, the white ground spinning dizzily.

You slam down hard on your bottom with a painful whump. For a second, stunned silence fills the air. Then Charles is at your side, helping you up as raucous laughter echoes from the group gathered at the bottom.

“You okay?” Charles asks, barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

You groan theatrically. “Only my pride is bruised.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, joining in the laughter. “It was an awesome run up until that point!”

You lean your throbbing head against him for support. “Laugh it up, superstar. We can’t all be pros like you.”

Charles presses a quick kiss to your helmet. “Even the pros take spills sometimes. Falling is part of learning. And you really are getting so good!”

From below, Joris cups his hands to shout encouragingly, “We’re proud of you!” The rest of the group gives thumbs up and cheers.

Their support, combined with Charles’ steadfast pride, melts away your embarrassment. This mishap was simply proof you still have more to learn on your journey to skiing mediocrity.

After a few more cautious runs under the wing of Charles’ companions, you regain the courage to try solo again. Each time you stay upright a little longer, recovering from slips with increasing agility. The sun reflects brilliantly off the pristine white slopes, making you squint against the glare. But with the Dolomites rising majestically around you, icy air filling your lungs, and Charles’ voice urging you onward, you feel truly in your element.

By afternoon, the group decides you’re ready for something more challenging. Charles leads everyone to the top of a longer and steeper slope. It’s still rated for beginners, but looking down the incline makes your stomach drop.

“You’ve got this,” Charles says as you stare uncertainly. “It looks scary, but you’ll build up speed gradually. Just remember everything you’ve learned.”

You take a deep breath and nod, encouraged by his vote of confidence. As the others line up to follow behind you, Charles gives your gloved hand one last encouraging squeeze.

“See you at the bottom, mon amour!” He snaps on his own skis and glides smoothly to the base to wait. Heart hammering against your ribs, you push off.

The acceleration down the hill is alarming at first, icy wind biting your cheeks. But focusing on keeping your skis parallel, you manage to control your speed, leaning into smooth turns like Charles taught you.

Halfway down the slope you chance a glance over your shoulder. The group is fanned out behind you, following your path and whooping encouragement. Their cheers on this more difficult hill send a thrill of pride through you. Just wait until you tell your friends back home that you, Miss Uncoordinated Klutz herself, skied down an actual mountain!

But in your moment of distraction, disaster strikes again. Your right ski snags on something, jerking you off balance. Panicked, you spin your arms rapidly to recover. But it’s too late. You’re careening out of control, picking up dangerous speed.

“Look out!” You scream as you zip across the slope sideways. But the ground is racing too fast to stop. Other skiers scatter hastily out of your path as you barrel toward them like a runaway freight train. You slam through their midst in a spray of snow, not even having time to wince apologetically at the curses that follow your wake.

Up ahead, Charles’ figure grows rapidly larger as you hurtle toward him. He holds out his arms bracingly, but the impact when you collide sends you both tumbling head over heels in a tangle of skis and poles. Snow sprays violently in your wake.

When you finally roll to a stop, face down and groaning at the base of the slope, all is silent. Hesitantly you raise your head, blinking snow from your eyelashes. The sight that greets you is one of absolute chaos.

Skiers litter the slope, sprawled in your destructive path like fallen bowling pins. Poles, hats, and gloves are strewn haphazardly across the snow. Fresh scarlet tracks stain the pristine white from ski edges catching on now-shredded pants and jackets. Groans of pain and bewilderment fill the air.

Horrified, your gaze lands on Charles pushing himself up just a few feet away, covered head to toe in snow. He shakes powder from his hair, blinking dazedly. Then his eyes land on you.

“Mon amour, are you okay?” He asks, scrambling over in concern.

Mortified tears prickle your eyes as you stare speechlessly around at the scene of destruction. So much for impressing everyone with your burgeoning ski talents.

Some first day on the slopes this turned out to be.

***

As Charles helps haul you to your feet, pain suddenly explodes in your left knee. You cry out, leg buckling dangerously beneath you. Charles’ arms instantly wrap around your waist, holding you up.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brow creased in concern.

You grimace, tentatively trying to put weight on your leg again only for searing agony to shoot through your knee joint. “Something’s really wrong,” you gasp through clenched teeth.

Charles’ face pales. He keeps you supported against his side as he quickly unclips your skis so you’re not stuck in them. The moment your left foot touches the snow though, you yell in pain, leg giving out dangerously again.

Charles sweeps you up effortlessly in his arms. “I’ve got you, don’t try to stand on it,” he urges worriedly.

Over Charles’ shoulder, you see his friends weaving through the dispersing crowd of skiers, fetching a medic. As they confer in urgent French and Italian, Charles holds you close, face etched with guilt.

“This is all my fault,” he murmurs, distressed. “I never should have pushed you to try skiing when you weren’t comfortable.”

Despite the fire burning inside your knee, you force a pained smile, touching Charles’ cheek. “Hey, don’t do that. I wanted to try, remember? You didn’t pressure me into anything.”

Charles just shakes his head bitterly. “But look what happened. I’m so sorry, mon amour.”

You open your mouth to protest further, but just then the medic arrives with a toboggan sled. Charles gently sets you down on the padded plastic. You recline back, trying not to jostle your leg as the medic examines your rapidly swelling knee.

At the lightest touch, you flinch away with a sharp cry. The medic frowns. “Possibile lesione al legamento crociato anteriore. Abbiamo bisogno di portarla in ospedale,” he says grimly.

Charles squeezes your hand, face pale. “He thinks you may have torn your ACL. They need to take you to the hospital.”

You blink back panicked tears. You’ve always been prone to clumsiness, but nothing this severe. As the medic gestures ski patrol over to help transport you, the pain throbbing inside your knee seems to mock your brief foray into athleticism. Maybe you just aren’t cut out for winter sports after all.

Charles refuses to leave your side during the bumpy toboggan ride down the mountain. At the base, an ambulance is waiting to take you to the nearest hospital. While the paramedics work swiftly to transfer you into the back, Charles cradles your hand, looking utterly distraught.

“I never should have let this happen,” he berates himself again. “What was I thinking taking an inexperienced skier down that slope?”

Despite your pain-induced haze, you glare sternly at him. “Charles, stop. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine for losing control. Please don’t blame yourself, you’ll make me feel even worse.”

Charles still looks unconvinced. But he forces a tight smile, brushing hair back from your face. “I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you in pain. Let’s just focus on getting you fixed up. The doctors will know how to help.”

You nod, trying not to let panic overwhelm you. As the ambulance wails toward the hospital, Charles keeps his gaze locked comfortingly on yours.

Once there, nurses whisk you immediately in for x-rays and MRIs. Charles paces the waiting room, refusing offers from his friends to bring him food or drinks. When the doctor finally emerges, Charles springs forward anxiously. “How is she?”

The doctor’s solemn expression says it all. “Your girlfriend has sustained a complete ACL rupture. She will require reconstructive surgery as soon as possible to repair it.”

Charles sags back against the wall, color draining from his face. You fight back tears as the doctor explains your diagnosis — one of the worst knee injuries possible. It will require months of intensive rehab even after the surgery.

When the doctor leaves, Charles returns to sit by your side from where he was pacing back and forth. The pain in your knee has settled into a pervasive throbbing. At the sight of your obvious anguish, Charles’ stoic facade finally crumbles.

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, rushing to your side. “This is all my fault.”

You grab his hand fiercely, despite the IV of painkillers tugging at your skin. “Charles, stop. I already told you not to blame yourself. It was an accident.”

“An accident I caused by pressuring you to ski,” Charles argues miserably.

You level your most stern glare at him. “Charles Leclerc, you listen to me. I chose to try skiing. Me. Not you.” Your voice softens. “So please stop tormenting yourself over this. It kills me to see you like this.”

Charles searches your face silently for a long moment. Finally he nods, exhaling shakily. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just hate that you’re hurt. But no more blaming myself, I promise.”

You smile weakly. “Good. Now come here.” Charles leans down and you tug him into a fierce kiss, trying to convey without words that you don’t hold him responsible.

When you pull back, Charles looks significantly less tormented. He caresses your cheek tenderly. “I’ll take care of you, I swear. You’ll get the best care possible and recover even stronger than before.”

You try for a teasing smile. “Guess you’ll have to find a new ski bunny next season.”

Charles shakes his head. “Never. No one could ever replace you.” His voice drops earnestly. “I don’t care if you never ski again, I just want you healthy and happy.”

Before you can reply, the doctor returns with consent forms for surgery. When he mentions performing the operation here, Charles’ brow furrows.

“No, she needs the best surgeon possible for this injury,” he argues. Turning to you, he adds, “I know a specialist at a private clinic in Austria. It’s where all the elite skiers go. I’ll fly us there tonight.”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion, but you know better than to argue once Charles is in protective mode. You have a feeling you’re about to receive world-class medical treatment fit for an Olympian.

Sure enough, Charles arranges for emergency transport to the prestigious clinic. On the flight, he sits vigilantly by your side, holding your hand through every painful bump of turbulence. By the time you’re admitted to the glamorous facility, you’re touched, but not surprised by the lengths he’s gone to in order to help you.

The surgeon Charles selected, Dr. Braun, inspires immediate confidence with his warm bedside manner and decorated credentials. After thoroughly examining your knee, he determines you are indeed a candidate for ACL reconstruction.

Charles listens intently as Dr. Braun explains the procedure, involving grafting tissue to replace your ruptured ligament. Though you try to follow along, exhaustion and pain medication make it hard to focus. All you can register is Charles rubbing your shoulder and reassuring you that Dr. Braun is the best there is. You trust Charles completely, so his confidence in this surgeon is enough.

Too soon, nurses arrive to prep you for surgery. As they wheel your gurney toward the operating room, Charles walks alongside, face etched with worry. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “I love you so much.”

You cling to his hand for as long as possible before the nurses firmly insist he can’t go any further. As the operating room doors swing shut between you, separating you from Charles, your heart clenches anxiously. But Dr. Braun smiles kindly down at you, patting your arm.

“Not to worry, we’ll have that knee fixed up nicely,” he says. “When you wake, you’ll be on the road to recovery.”

As the anesthesia mask descends and your vision fades to black, you cling to the doctor’s reassuring words. Maybe there’s still hope for a somewhat happy ending to this disastrous ski trip after all.

***

As you blearily open your eyes, the first thing you see is Charles’ worried face hovering over you. The moment he notices you stirring, his expression floods with relief.

“Thank god,” he breathes, grasping your hand tightly. “How are you feeling?”

You blink slowly, trying to clear the hazy fog of anesthesia from your brain. “Okay I think.” Your voice comes out scratchy. You glance down at the heavy brace immobilizing your knee and the events leading up to surgery come rushing back. “Did it … go alright?”

Charles smoothes your hair back gently. “Everything went perfectly. Dr. Braun said it was a very successful surgery.”

You exhale, tension easing from your shoulders. With the capable doctor and Charles by your side, you’ve made it through the first step.

Right on cue, Dr. Braun enters, smiling when he sees you awake. “Wonderful, you’re up. How is our patient feeling?”

“A little groggy, but not too much pain yet,” you report.

“Excellent. The pain medication should be keeping you comfortable.” Dr. Braun moves to your bedside, examining your knee closely. “Everything continues to look promising in recovery. You’ll need to take it very easy for the next few weeks to protect the graft while it heals. But if all goes smoothly, you’ll be back on your feet before you know it.”

You nod, stomach swooping anxiously at the thought of the long recovery ahead. Noticing your nervous expression, Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Whatever she needs, we’ll make sure she has the best care and recovers properly,” he tells Dr. Braun seriously.

The doctor smiles. “Her rehabilitation will be the most crucial part. I work closely with a wonderful physical therapist, Elisa, who specializes in ACL reconstruction recovery. I highly recommend continuing your physio with her once you return home.”

Your eyes widen, not having considered that aspect yet. But Charles nods without hesitation. “Just tell us where she’s located and I’ll arrange for her to fly out to stay with us as long as needed. Money is no object.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” you interject, head still fuzzy but fairly certain booking a private international physiotherapist is overkill. “That’s incredibly generous, but I’m sure I can find someone local-”

Charles silences you with a stern look. “Not a chance. Dr. Braun said this Elisa is the best. I won’t risk your recovery with anything less.” Turning back to the doctor, he adds, “Just say the word and I’ll have a plane and a place to stay waiting for her.”

You sigh, but can’t help feeling touched at the lengths Charles will go to help you heal. Dr. Braun seems equally unfazed by the bold offer — clearly Charles’ wealth affords certain privileges in care.

“I’ll speak to Elisa immediately and make the arrangements then,” Dr. Braun confirms. “With around the clock support from both her and myself, I’m confident you’ll recover wonderfully.” He gives your other knee an encouraging pat.

Over the next few days in the upscale hospital, you begin to adjust to the restrictive new reality of your injury. While your knee remains heavily braced and immobilized, the rest of your body seems to ache from compensating. But true to his word, Charles sticks to your bedside attentively, keeping you distracted with games and books during the long inactive hours.

When Dr. Braun finally clears you for discharge, you’re armed with piles of post-op instructions, crutches, and medications. As Charles helps you hobble out of the hospital lobby, you eye the crutches nervously.

“I’m not sure I can manage these things along with the brace,” you admit. The awkward metal sticks feel precarious beneath your arms.

Charles frowns, glancing between you and the crutches uncertainly. Then in one swift motion he sweeps you up into his arms instead.

You yelp in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Charles! What are you doing?”

“Carrying you, obviously,” he states, as if this were the most natural solution in the world. When you open your mouth to protest, he silences you with a look. “The doctor said to stay completely off your leg if possible. So no walking for you until it’s healed.”

You know better than to argue with Charles in protective caretaker mode. So you simply chuckle, shaking your head in amusement, and let him carry you like a princess out to the idling car.

At the airport, he again insists on keeping you cradled securely in his arms the entire walk out to the waiting private jet. Normally you’d feel self-conscious being lugged around like this in front of staff. But the utter tenderness in Charles’ hold makes you feel nothing but safe.

Once settled on the plush leather seat, Charles hurriedly arranges pillows under your braced leg. “Here, keep it elevated like Dr. Braun said. Do you need more pain meds? Let me grab you an ice pack ...”

He fusses attentively until you’re thoroughly bundled up with your knee raised and iced. Only once he’s certain you have everything required for the flight does Charles take his own seat, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Get some rest if you can,” he says gently. “I’ll wake you when we land to carry you home.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “My knight in shining armor.” Leaning your head on his shoulder, you nuzzle into his warmth. The steady rumble of the engines is soothing, and despite your lingering aches, you feel yourself beginning to drift off.

Throughout the flight, Charles continues diligently caring for you. He helps you hobble to the restroom with assistance. He ensures you take your next round of medications on schedule. When the flight attendant delivers meals, Charles only picks at his own, too focused on making sure you actually eat to remember his food.

You’re simultaneously touched and exasperated by his hyper-vigilance. But you know it comes from a place of love and residual guilt, so you endure his constant fussing without complaint. If doting on you helps absolve his conscience, then so be it.

By the time the jet begins its descent toward Nice, your eyelids are drooping heavily. Charles lifts the window shade, sunlight streaming over your face. “Almost home,” he says with a tender smile.

You blink groggily, glancing down to make sure your knee is still properly supported. Reassured that Charles hasn’t forgotten a single detail of your care, you nestle back against his chest contentedly.

As the jet coasts down the runway, Charles cradles you close, placing a kiss atop your head. “Get some rest, mon amour. I’ll carry you out and get you settled back home.”

His quiet promise fills you with cozy warmth despite the lingering chill from your ice pack. You let your heavy eyelids fall shut, lulled by the steady thump of Charles’ heart.

Tomorrow your intensive recovery begins. But tonight, safely encircled in your love’s arms thousands of feet in the air, you feel confident you have the strength to face whatever lies ahead.

***

When you wake a few weeks later, pale morning light is just beginning to creep across the blankets. Blearily, you glance over to see Charles already awake beside you, brow furrowed as he stares up at the ceiling.

“You’re up early,” you murmur sleepily. “Everything okay?”

Charles startles slightly, as if pulled from deep thought. He forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, just thinking about some things.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, scrutinizing him in concern. His evasive tone is uncharacteristic. “What’s going on? And don’t say nothing, I can tell something’s bothering you.”

Charles holds your gaze silently for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve just been thinking about the start of the season coming up so soon.”

Your brow furrows. The opening race in Bahrain is only two weeks away. As the realization hits, your heart sinks. With your still-mending knee, it will be a lot harder to keep up with Charles globetrotting to races worldwide. For the past two seasons of your relationship, you’ve attended every race possible together. The thought of that no longer being the case feels daunting.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Charles’ expression is conflicted. He gently takes your hand, “I just hate the idea of leaving you here alone when you’re still recovering. It doesn’t feel right being apart.”

You force an optimistic smile. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself and Elisa will still be here for physical therapy. I’ll be okay.”

But your reassurance doesn’t seem to ease Charles’ frown. “I know, I’m just worried about you re-injuring yourself with no one here. I can get my mother to check on you too ...”

As he spirals back into restless thoughts, you squeeze his hand firmly. “Charles, stop. I’ll be fine, I promise. This isn’t my first time on my own, remember?”

Charles grimaces. “I know, but you’re hurt now. I just hate leaving you when you’re still recovering. If something happened while I was gone ...” He trails off, looking stricken.

Your heart swells at his protectiveness. But you won’t let him torment himself with hypotheticals. Sitting up fully, you level Charles with your most stubborn expression.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you won’t be leaving me here for long, because I’m coming with you just like always.”

Charles gapes. “What? No, you’re injured, there’s no way-”

“Uh uh,” you interrupt firmly. “I’ve been to every race I could since we got together, and I’m not about to miss one now over a bum knee. I’ll agree to skip pre-season testing but then I’m going to Bahrain no matter what.”

Charles' mouth opens and closes wordlessly before he finally manages to argue, “But how will you manage airports and flights and crowded paddocks? You’re still on crutches!”

You wave a hand dismissively. “So I’ll hobble around the paddock looking pathetic, big deal. Better than moping here alone.” Crossing your arms, you fix Charles with your most unyielding stare. “Face it, you’re stuck with me.”

Charles searches your determined expression, clearly trying to formulate another protest. But he knows you too well, can recognize when your mind is made up. With a resigned chuckle, he pulls you against his chest.

“You are the stubbornest person ever, you know that?” He kisses the top of your head, a smile in his voice. “But I really shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing can stop you from being there to cheer me on.”

You grin, basking happily in his embrace. “Damn right. You should know by now that I’m going to be by your side every race, no matter what.”

Charles just shakes his head in amused exasperation, arms tightening around you. “Well in that case, it seems I have some calls to make to arrange for your care in the paddock.”

You kiss his jaw tenderly. “See? Problem solved.” Settling back against the pillows, you add teasingly, “Now stop stressing and let me sleep a little more. Unlike you, I need my beauty rest.”

Charles barks out a laugh, the last tension fading from his frame. As you drift back into cozy slumber cradled against his chest, his steady breathing lulls you like a soothing melody.

Later that morning, it’s time for your daily physical therapy session in the makeshift rehab space set up in your apartment. Elisa guides you through gentle range of motion and strengthening exercises, keeping up cheerful encouragement. The work is grueling, but Elisa’s optimism inspires you to push through the discomfort.

You’ve just finished up with an ice break when hushed voices drift in from the adjacent room. Craning your neck, you glimpse Charles sitting at the kitchen island, phone to his ear as he rifles through an open notebook. Though you can’t make out his full conversation, you catch snippets.

“Need to make sure she has somewhere to rest comfortably ...”

“Don’t want her trying to walk too far ...”

“She says she’ll be fine, but I need to be sure ...”

You muffle a laugh into your hand. Of course Charles is already contacting Ferrari about you joining him in Bahrain, planning every detail to accommodate your injury. Elisa raises a questioning eyebrow but you just shake your head with a smile. Charles’ protectiveness never fails to make your heart melt.

Oblivious to your eavesdropping, Charles continues speaking in a hushed but urgent tone. You can visualize his serious expression pinched with concern, wanting to arrange every detail to ensure your comfort during race weekends.

It’s hopeless trying to curb his caring instincts. So you simply shake your head in amusement and turn back to your exercises, resolved not to override the plans you’re clearly not meant to hear.

After your session concludes, Elisa helps you prop up your leg to ice before gathering her things. “You’re making great progress,” she encourages. “Keep it up and you’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

You smile through your fatigue. “Thanks for everything. See you tomorrow?”

Elisa nods, waving farewell as she heads out. Once she’s gone, you eye your crutches propped nearby. Normally you’d use them to hobble around, but mischief sparks inside you. This seems like the perfect time to test your boyfriend’s hovering instincts.

Bracing yourself on the workout table, you carefully rise to your feet, keeping all weight on your good leg. The short hobble to the living room leaves you breathless, but triumphant.

Rounding the corner, you spot Charles sitting on the couch reviewing emails on his tablet. Before he notices your approach, you boldly flop down to sprawl across his lap.

Charles yelps in surprise, tablet clattering away as his arms reflexively cradle you. “What are you doing walking around alone? Where are your crutches?”

You grin up at him impishly. “Must have forgotten them back there. But I managed okay for a short distance.”

Charles gapes, torn between horror at your recklessness and awe at your determination. You take advantage of his stunned silence to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down into a kiss.

“Have I mentioned how amazing and caring you are?” You murmur when you finally separate for air. “Taking care of me even when you think I don’t notice?”

Understanding flashes across Charles’ face and his cheeks tint pink. “You heard that phone call earlier, didn’t you?” At your smug grin he groans. “I should have known I couldn’t get anything past you.”

You laugh, nuzzling your nose against his. “It was very sweet. But you really don’t need to go through so much trouble for me.”

Charles’ eyes lock earnestly on yours. “It’s no trouble at all. I want to make sure your needs are taken care of so you can be comfortable and safe.” He brushes your hair back gently. “I hate the thought of you struggling while supporting me at races.”

Your playful expression softens. You take his hand, intertwining your fingers against your heart. “Do whatever you have to do so that you can focus on driving your best without worrying about me. I’m a big girl, I can handle a few weeks of long flights and sitting in the back of your garage instead of standing. As long as I’m cheering for you, I’ll be happy.”

Charles searches your face, as if committing every detail to memory. “I don’t deserve you,” he says finally, voice husky.

You smile, squeezing his hand. “Sure you do. We take care of each other. It’s what partners do.”

Charles’s eyes shimmer with emotion. He cradles your jaw, kissing you deeply. When he draws back, the anxious creases in his face have smoothed away, leaving only tenderness.

“I promise I’ll do my best not to worry,” he concedes. “Just promise you won’t push yourself too hard.”

“Deal,” you agree easily, then smirk. “Now, how about carrying me back to the crutches you claim I so desperately need?”

Charles laughs, once again sweeping you effortlessly into his arms. You cling to his shoulders, perfectly content to let him fuss over you just a little longer.

***

“We should all go skiing together!”

Pierre’s enthusiastic suggestion makes you freeze mid-bite, forkful of pasta suspended comically halfway to your open mouth. Across the table, Charles goes completely still, face draining of color.

Oblivious to your boyfriend’s reaction, Pierre barrels on with growing excitement. “There are some amazing resorts in the Alps we could visit over New Year’s. Epic mountains, fresh powder-”

“No!” Charles interjects forcefully. He looks mildly ill at just the thought. “Absolutely not happening.”

Pierre blinks in surprise at the vehement refusal. Even his girlfriend, Kika, appears confused by Charles’ sudden change in demeanor. You have to press your lips together to keep from laughing at their bemused expressions.

“But why?” Pierre asks, brow furrowed. “I thought you loved skiing.”

Charles shudders. “Not anymore. Not after ...” He trails off, eyes darting to you meaningfully.

Understanding dawns on Pierre’s face. “Oh! Right, of course.” He smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t think-”

You wave a hand, unable to contain your amusement any longer. “It’s okay, Pierre. I know you didn’t mean to bring up traumatic memories.” You cast a teasing glance at Charles. “But I think skiing might permanently be off the table for us.”

Charles nods emphatically. “Absolutely. Never again. From now on, we take beach vacations only. Somewhere warm, with no snow, mountains, or treacherous icy slopes.” He shudders again for effect.

By now, you’re laughing so hard you have to set down your water glass to avoid spilling it. You knew Charles was still sensitive about the topic of skiing, but you hadn’t anticipated him having such an extreme reaction tonight. His overprotective dramatics are too adorable.

Still chuckling, you lean over to smack a kiss on his cheek. “You’re being ridiculous, but it’s very sweet that you’re so traumatized on my behalf.”

Charles wraps an arm around you, some tension easing from his shoulders. “After what you went through, can you blame me for swearing off anything to do with skiing forever?” He shakes his head vehemently. “Never again. It was the most terrifying experience. I thought I might have permanently damaged the love of my life.”

Your heart melts. “I’m completely fine now, thanks to you. But I can understand preferring to avoid ski trips in the future.” You smile teasingly. “We can find a nice beach to lounge on instead.”

Pierre chuckles. “Yeah, that’s probably smarter. Sorry for bringing up bad memories.” He smiles sheepishly across the table. “A tropical vacation does sound nice though!”

The group dissolves into easy laughter, the awkwardness forgotten. The conversation meanders to warmer destinations and the approaching off-season. Charles eventually relaxes his grip on you, seeming reassured that skiing is off the table.

You make it through the rest of the amicable double date without incident. As you all exit the restaurant into the cool night air, Pierre turns to you and Charles apologetically.

“Really sorry again for that ski trip suggestion earlier. Definitely wasn’t thinking.”

You wave off his concerns with an easy smile. “Don’t worry about it! No harm done.” You pause, then add impishly, “Though from now on, Charles may vet all vacation plans just to be safe.”

Charles nods, face comically serious. “It’s true. I take your physical safety very seriously now.” His grave expression cracks into a grin. “So expect lots of beach vacations in our future together!”

Everyone dissolve into laughter again. After final farewell hugs, you and Charles head to your car, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders.

Once home, Charles tucks you into bed with an amount of care bordering on reverence. As he curls up behind you, you lace your fingers through his against your heart.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” You murmur into the darkness.

You feel Charles smile against your hair. “Maybe, but feel free to say it again.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace. “You’re pretty much the best boyfriend on the planet. I love how protective you are over me, even when it’s a bit dramatic. It just shows how much you care.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your spine. “Of course I care. You mean everything to me.” His voice drops lower. “I never want to be the reason you get hurt again.”

You roll over to face him, gently cradling his jaw. “You could never hurt me. What happened was an accident, and I recovered just fine. So no more feeling guilty, okay?”

Even in the dim light you can see the sincerity in Charles’ eyes as he searches your face. “You really are too good for me,” he murmurs. “I’ll try to stop feeling overly responsible. Though I make no promises on vetoing future ski trip suggestions,” he adds with a teasing grin.

You laugh, snuggling happily against his chest. “Now get some sleep.”

As his breaths deepen into slumber, you reflect on how lucky you are to have found someone so devotedly caring. With Charles’ fiercely protective presence heating the sheets beside you, the future — filled with sandy beaches rather than ski slopes — looks bright indeed.

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verstappensrealwife · 6 months ago

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No regrets - Oscar Piastri x Inexperienced!Fem!Reader

fluff, smut.

approx 1200 words

warnings: fem receiving: fingering and oral, p in v, loss of virginity, not proof read. Pussy and shaft….

based on this request :)

oscar piastri masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

You never imagined losing your virginity to him.

He was your neighbor for goodness sake!

“Good morning!” He greeted each morning as you left your apartment at 8am sharp to head to work. You’d reply in kind and go on with your day, sometimes thinking to the cute boy across the hall.

Oscar, however, was not a morning person. He practically forced himself out of bed just to see you, speak to you, pretend to be going somewhere, then go back inside and chastise himself mentally for not even trying to ask you out.

One evening as you were coming home, he was leaving his apartment, and almost tripped over his feet when he saw you.

He was not prepared to speak to you. Each morning he’s silently sike himself up to utter two words. Now he was stuck in a situation: ignore you and pretend he didn’t just nearly fall straight into you, or mutter some words you probably won’t hear because of how quiet he would inevitably be.

“Hi,” You smiled as you pushed your key into your door.

“Hello.” He said back, not sure whether to walk away- very quickly- or stay and attempt to talk to you. It was the latter. “Sorry to be nosy but urm… well… I don’t think i actually know your name?”

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” You replied, holding your hand out to him to shake. His hand felt more than limp in your grasp.

“Oscar… Piastri.”

“Nice to meet you, Oscar… Piastri.” you giggled, slightly making fun of his shy demeanour

He huffed a small laugh, “Sorry to be more nosy, but I don’t think I have your number either?” He tried… he really did. And he succeeded!

“Oh! Sure, yeah!” You passed him your phone, a small smile playing on your lips as you watched him press the digits into a new contact. “Well, I should be going, a girl needs to eat.”

“I- I mean you can eat with me…” He said, “I- that sounds weird- I- Do you wanna go on a date with me?”

That was the first of many dates he had invited you on. It became almost routine over the 2023 summer break for Oscar to take you out, every Friday evening, 7pm.

But by the end of August he had to of course go back to travelling the globe, racing cars.

The two of you stayed in touch, he gave you a key to his apartment to water his plants- of which only 2 were real. He routinely called you on a Friday night- unless team duties came upon him- to keep up with tradition.

But he grew tired of not being able to see you, physically.

The flight was long, and boring, but seeing Oscar as the first thing out the airport was more than exciting.He hugged you- longer than friends would hug- and led you by the small of your back to his car.

“To the hotel?” He asked you.

“Yes sir!” You smiled.

The hotel room you were put in was huge, the bed probably bigger than your kitchen at home.

Before you even touched your suitcase you fell, backwards, into the pristine white sheets of the hotel bed. Oscar falling in suit.

Lay next to eachother, you turned your head to see him already looking at you. He had a lovesick look in his eyes as he admired your face, eyes, lips. The more he stared at your lips, the more he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing them.

His body acted before his mind and he was kissing you before he knew it. You were a little taken aback but didn’t pull away- you didn’t want to.

Until he moved his hand from your face, to your waist, to the inside of your leg.

You jumped up quickly, almost headbutting him in the nose in the process.

He was more than swift to throw apologies at you, sorries and quick movement to the other side of the bed.

There was an uncomfortable silence which Oscar hated. He wanted to say something, anything, but no words could fix, what in his mind, was the most awkward encounter with a woman in his life.

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” You said quietly from the far side of the bed. He looked over at you, face flushed a light pink in embarrassment. “I– embarrassingly enough, im a virgin.”

He frowned confused. “Your a virgin? Like… never had sex… You?”

“Rub it in why dont you,” You laughed, “Why’s that so shocking?”

“Look at you! You’re like the most beautiful woman i’ve layed eyes on.” He wasn’t lying. “I thought men would be throwing themselves at you- I would.”

Now it was your turn to blush crimson, heat rising up your neck and across your face. You carefully shimmied towards him, holding his face gently. “If I’m gonna do it, I want it to be with you.”

That was all he needed to hear. He was on you like predator to prey, greedily kissing you, feeling your body needily. Until he went lower.

He was tentative, gentle in pushing his hands under the fabric of your underwear. Rubbing his finger up and down, smearing the wetness across your pussy. “Thats a good girl,” He said quietly. You weren’t meant to even hear him, but you did. And god, did it make you moan louder. He smirked at your visceral reaction. You heartbeat quickening as he pushed one finger, then two inside.

“See, no need to be nervous… Feels good, hm?”

You babbled some sort of response to him, a ‘yes’ somewhere in the jumble of the reply.

He pushed the clothes off of your bottom half completely, before moving to pull the shirt off your torso, unclipping your bra with ease and tossing it somewhere behind him. He was more than gentle as he kissed you, your neck, chest, stomach, thighs, and finally your clit.

He licked and sucked like there was no tomorrow. Indulging in the way your body reacted to him, to what he was doing to you, how he made you feel.

The first orgasm washed over you, legs shaking as he licked up everything. Climbing back up your body he was face to face, his mouth covered in a shine of liquid. “So, do you wanna do this. Really do it.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. He undressed, and kneeled between your legs, rolling a condom up the length of his shaft before positioning it infront of the entrance.

You took one final deep breath and he slowing pushed his hips towards your own. It hurt less than you had imagined- -but that didn’t take away from the fact it still stung.

He hadn’t moved in almost 2 minutes before you gave him the go ahead, pulling his hips back slowly and pushing them back towards you at the same pace. It hurt less as he carried on, eventually the sting turning to pleasure.

“Doing so- fuck- so well for me.” He groaned as he reached his peak slowly.

You could barely make words, so stuck to just moaning his name over and over again, whines of need flowing from your lips.

“Gonna cum, okay baby?”

You nodded quickly as he quickened his pace a little before his hips stuttered against yours before pulling out of you and immediately getting up. “I’ll be back- just need to clean you up.”

You never imagined losing your virginity to him.

But god, you didn’t regret it. Not one bit.

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vivwritesfics · 11 months ago

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(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter One - I Hate You

Is me starting another series before my dissertation a really bad idea? Yes, yes it is (but i had the idea and I need to get it written down asap)

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

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"Get out of my apartment!"

In the doorway of a little two bedroom apartment in Woking was Y/N L/N. She had a bad on her back and at least three suitcases behind her. And in front of her was Lando Norris, her teammate, biggest rival and mortal enemy.

Lando stared at her, dumbfounded. "Your apartment?" He repeated, expression still shocked. "No, Zac said this one is for me."

"Then why did he give me a key for apartment 241?"

They held up the exact same set of keys on the exact same keyring. Lando let out a sigh through his nose as he pocketed his version of the key. "Somebody clearly has royally fucked up," he said and sat on the couch.

"I'm gonna call him," said Y/N as she put the key back into her pocket. She pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and dialled the number of her boss.

Zac Brown had been hers and Lando's boss for the last year and few months. He'd been dealing with hers and Lando's shit from day one, ever sine they revealing the McLaren car for that year. They'd almost gotten onto a fight on the stage in front of everybody.

Zac picked up the phone in just a few rings. "How're you liking the new place?" He asked in way of hello.

"It's great, Zac. Except it comes with an annoying little prick," Y/N spat.

There was a second where Zac didn't say anything. He saw this coming, had tried to mitigate it as best he could by telling Lando he'd be getting a roommate. Of course, he didn't say who that roommate would be: that would have just been asking for trouble.

But, then again, all of this was asking for trouble. Zac had been waiting for a call from at least one of them since he got into the office (he'd hoped it would have been Lando; over the past year he'd proven himself to be easier to deal with than Y/N, who didn't back down. No matter what).

"Get yourself unpacked, I'll deal with you tomorrow," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Zac put the phone down. He didn't say goodbye to his drivers, unless it was on race days. With nowhere left to go, Y/N dragged her things into the apartment. "Where's the second bedroom?" She grumbled as she looked down at Lando.

Without looking away from the television, Lando pointed behind him. But that wasn't helpful, since there was the kitchen just behind them and then two doors. "Furthest one," he said and Y/N dragged her bags through the rest of the apartment, heading to the furthest away bedroom.

The bedroom was sizeable, with a double bed and wardrobe already inside. But, other than that, there wasn't a lot. Y/N unpacked nothing but bedding and clothes for the next day. There was no way she was staying here, not living with Lando Norris.

***

Carpooling made so much sense when going to the same place as somebody, unless you hated that person. Zac watched from his office as two cars pulled up outside of the McLaren Technology centre.

The drivers got out of the car almost in sync. They both wore sunglasses as they strode towards the doors, Y/N's glare not visible behind her sunglasses as she followed Lando inside.

Things were clearly tense between them as they walked through the office. The drivers said nothing to each other, but their expressions said enough.

Where Lando took an elevator up to Zac's office, Y/N took the stairs. She ran up them, the two of them arriving at the same time (one of them out of breath and the other smirking at her).

She took the lead as they strode into the office. "Zac," Y/N began, but the CEO held his hand.

He wasn't like other bosses, he was a cool boss. But he was still there boss and, when he held up his hand, the two knew to shut up. "Sit down," he said, leaning back in his own chair.

Y/N and Lando sat in the seats on the other side of the desk. Her leg bounced as she waited for Zac to speak and Lando had his hands shoved into his pockets. Neither of them could ever agree on anything, except the fact that they're not leaving the room until they're not living together.

Zac laced his hands together and leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "You're both brilliant drivers," he began, "but you're both liabilities. You've both cost us millions because you keep trying to kill each other on the track. And your behaviour towards each other off track is bringing bad press to all of us at McLaren," he finished.

"We don't want to lose either of you as drivers, so we've come up with the brilliant plan to force you to get along."

Y/N's eyebrows were furrowed as she stared at her boss. "And if we refuse?" She asked him, placing one leg on top of the other.

"Then, we'll have to let one of both of you go. But the choice is yours."

But the choice wasn't really theirs. No matter what, they couldn't lose their seats, so they were just going to have to stick it out, suffer through it. Fuck.

The tension between the two wasn't just random. It had been brewing since their karting days. Even then they ran each other off the tracks and fought between races. Of course, back then it wasn't as big a deal.

There were way too many videos of when they were kids and they'd pushed each other off the track, gotten out of their karts and gotten into a physical fight. If they weren't so clearly talented, it would have affected their careers.

For the first few months of their Formula One careers in McLaren, the team thought they had made a mistake. If they weren't consistently in the points, Zac would have gotten rid of the both of them. But, truth be told, they were too good to let go.

So, he dangled this threat in front of them. Learn to get along or one of you is sacked. He'd thought about this hard, realised that this was the perfect threat. Y/N and Lando were so competitive that the thought of one of them losing their seat while the other thrived would have torn them apart.

"Fine," said Y/N. She stood up so quickly that the chair she was sat on, fell backwards. She quickly picked it up and rushed out of the office.

Lando said a goodbye to Zac and walked out of the office, rushing after her. He ran into the elevator just before the doors slid shut and stood beside her. They didn't look at each other, stared straight at the doors as the elevator took them down. "Sup, new roommate," he said with a smirk.

The elevator stopped moving and the doors slid open. "I hate you," Y/N said and walked out of the McLaren technology centre.

She drove her way back to the apartment in Woking in complete silence. Her grip on the steering wheel was so tight that it left imprints on her skin, on her palms and her finger tip.

How she didn't get pulled over for speeding, she'd never know. But the speed limit was the least of her concern as she made her way back to what was her new home.

But it would never be her home, not while Lando was living there.

***

Reluctantly, she unpacked her things. Hung her clothes up in her wardrobe and placed her underwear in the drawers. Y/N placed pictures of her family, pictures of her old F2 car, of her pets, of her car from the previous year up around her room. She pulled her lamp from her back and placed it on the bedside table, along with her phone, its charger, and her toiletries.

Lando had arrived home just minutes after her, but she'd already locked herself in her room. The only way they'd be able to get through this was by avoiding each other.

When her things were unpacked, Y/N sat on the bed and grabbed a book. A biography, all about the life of Enzo Ferrari. The one thing her room was missing was her sim racing rig, something her father was meant to bring up that day, but Y/N had told him to wait until she had somewhere new to live (which, we all know didn't happen. She was stuck in this apartment with Lando, whether she liked it or not).

Pressing her ear to the door, Y/N listened as Lando walked around. She waited until he walked past her room and into his own, shutting the door behind him. Only then did she walk out of her room to get herself something to eat and drink.

She could do this. All she had to do was avoid him.

Easy.

Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

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piss-pumpkin · 4 months ago

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🌲 see you next summer <3 🍂

(Older)dipper pines x reader, douce amere chapter 25 ~3.5k words Masterlist prev

Fuck. Fuck fuck fucking fuck. The last day. You half didn’t want to wake up. The bed in your aunts house left you with the same feeling of a hotel mattress, despite the fact that it was decorated with all items yours. You probably should have slept at the twins place.

Summers been good. You should think about that Instead of the fact that you’d be leaving today. You did all you set out to, really. You’d had an adventure, you’d gotten your romance, there were world shattering stakes at play. And the ending was sweet. You’d said your happy birthdays your goodbyes were next. Shit, you still had to pack up. How could you have forgotten that?

You sat up, and scanned the room. There was a lot of you in it. Your laptop was sitting with its bunched up cords on the side table, and your clothes hung out of the dresser and a few lied on the floor. Sighing, you kicked your feet off the bed. One last morning. Your fingers were locked clenched around the bedsheets. You had to let go to brush your teeth.

Toothbrush was the first to get packed up. You slipped it into a plastic bag with the bristles still wet. Ugh. The bag felt heavier in your hand than it should have as you threw it in your suitcase, tucked under your shirts.

Sighing, you knelt knees on hardwood floor beside the pile of laundry you hadn’t yet washed, and began to fold. Each article past you by as you fit it into the case. Your hands wanted to linger on each shirt or or shorts you’d worn on the good days. Like the pyjama shirt you had on when Dipper confessed, or the ones that knew the sheets of his bed better then they might your home blankets. Or the bathing suit you’d worn plenty to swim together. And despite yourself, you had to linger on the shirt you’d worn for days without realize, stuck on the kitchen floor while Dipper was left to figure out how to save you all. You weren’t sure you’d worn it since.

The bandage on your head from that week was almost ready to come off. And the side effects were better. You could have a clear head before school started if you were lucky. As much as the idea was nice, it was weird. Going back to school. People there don’t know your story. And they wouldn’t understand unless they saw it for themselves. Everyone else you knew missed whole chapters of your mythology, and there was no easy way to change that. Maybe that’s why you and your Gravity falls friends were like family sometimes. Because it they could understand.

You scanned the room for what was left to pack. Your backpack in the corner was for easy access stuff: snacks, charger, laptop, anything you might want for the ride home. Heaving a sigh, you started to pile it in.

As your fingers brushed the inside fabric, you caught on papers. Oh. When you saw the names across their folded fronts, you knew. Your death notes, your letters. You blinked. What were you gonna do with those? They felt too raw to throw or give away. Maybe you’d keep them as a memento.

The room was lacking character by the time you were done, and the person you became in the summer was locked up in your bags. God, it sucked.

…

The bus stop. The bus stop sucked. Being at the cusp of a drivers license meant you’d nearly escaped them. The ground was crisp as you walked with Susan, the grass already drying and yellowing with the heat and creeping autumn. You sighed. A few months ago, the bus stop was the first place you saw your best friends. Back then it was one of the first busses in, now you were going to wait for one of the last out.

Every time you’d managed to say goodbye, it felt like it could be the last. Like you’d go home, and suddenly Gravity Falls and all its mysteries could be a fever dream, and you’d never find your way back. So far, you always had. But how could you be sure this time wouldn’t be the one where the illusion shattered?

You could do this. If you could survive this summer, you could survive its end.

Between everything, it almost seemed like it never would end. In the best ways and the worst, kisses that could last a lifetime, and weeks that stretched into purgatory as you waited for death that wasn’t coming.

The bus stop came into view, and the Pines family and friends were already there. No busses, though, so you had time. Your hand was shaking on the suitcase handle as you rolled it along. They were saying goodbye.

Aunt Susan, affectionately known as lazy Susan, put a hand on your shoulder to stop you. “Should we say goodbye now before you go off with your friends?” She asked with her halfway southern drawl.

You pursed your lips, and nodded. She smiled, and wrapped you in a hug. “You’re a joy to live with, and a pain in the ass to try and take care of,” she said, brushing a few hairs out of the way of your head bandaid. “Thanks for helping out at the diner, and for keeping things… lively.”

You smiled as her big arms held you close. “Yeah… thanks for letting me stay with you,” you said.

She laughed, letting you go after a few moments. “Please,” she snickered. “You’ll hafta thank that boy of yours for living there, too.”

You smiled at the grass, “yeah, I will.”

She nodded, and the two of you started to walk again. Until the Pines saw you and you started to speed walk, leaving your Aunt behind, and eventually when you got close, devolving into a jog and you ran for your friends. You rushed up, practically jumping at Dipper and Mabel, your suitcase falling behind you.

You launched into Dippers arms, and when you landed, almost knocking the air out from your lungs. Shit man, you had to say goodbye today. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into his sweater. “Dude,” you said, muffled by his chest. “Dude, oh my god.”

He squeezed you back almost enough to suffocate you, too. “I know, man,” he said, resting his head in your hair. The unspoken agreement was that no amount of time could ever be enough, probably. And even though the summer was great, a part of you regretted every moment you hadn’t spent clinging to him like a life raft.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you said, maneuvering your face sideways to better speak.

He sighed, leaning his head on yours, “yeah.”

Then you remembered there was also a bunch of other people around. Pulling only slightly away from Dipper, you pulled Mabel in, too, the trio you were. Her hand slapped your back as she wrapped an arm around you, and one around her brother. “I’ll keep you updated on literally everything embarrassing he does,” she said.

Dipper didn’t even complain. You snickered, “okay, well he better keep me up on all your shit, too, just so you know.”

”As usual,” he nodded.

Mabel groaned, “Ugh, snitch. Hey, who’s gonna tattle on you, then Y/n, this street has to go three ways.”

”I’ll self snitch, I’ll eat that bullet.”

The three of you pulled back, and you looked at them both. You’d see pictures, but the next time you saw them in person, they’d probably look different. A year can change a lot, as short as it was in the long run. Nobody was ever quite the same coming back to Gravity falls after school ended. The best hope was that the people you changed into were just as close as the people you were before.

You sighed. There were other goodbyes too. You looked at the Grunkles. You weren’t sure who taught Stan what dapping up was, but whatever. He wanted too. You dapped him up as he smiled sadly. And Ford tried and failed to do the same.

“Thanks for, like, basically letting me live at your house,” you said, only somewhat awkwardly.

Ford patted you on the shoulder, “it’s really nothing, Y/n, your basically family.”

”Yeah, what’s another mouth to feed, and a dent in my car,” Stan tried to complain, but he was still smiling, and occasionally glancing between you and the twins.

Wendy and Dipper swapped hats, she plucked his off his head and wore it backwards with a little smirk.

You saw Pacifica next. She was a little late, just approaching now. She seemed… fine. Better than the other day. You couldn’t help but to grin at her, and wrap her in a hug. And shake her side to side.

“My number one bitch,” you laughed.

She snickered, “I better be.” When you let go, she was still smiling at you, with a slight purse of the lips to hide the fact that she’ll miss you. “I’ll send you like, cool stuff… you know how it is.”

Daddys money was how it was. Even after supposedly becoming poor. But poor to a rich girl was still enough to shop a lot, and send you gifts when she saw something you’d like. “Thanks man,” you laughed. She really was nothing like her parents.

“And tell you like, all the gossip I hear,” she added. “So when you come back, your caught up.”

You smiled, “you better.” Snickering, you shook your head, “I’ll dutifully do the same.”

Mabel said her goodbyes to Candy and Grenda. Dipper said goodbye to Soos. Man, this sucked. A bus was starting to creep over the horizon, and you weren’t sure if it was yours or the twins. You weren’t sure which would be worse, actually, you leaving first or them.

It seemed like most of it was all said. Sighing, you went back beside Dipper, and leaned heavy on his side. Without a moments hesitation he wrapped an arm around you and tried to pull you in closer.

He sighed as the bus moved in. It was still too far to see the number, though. “Man, this sucks,” he complained. “I’ll see you next summer, I guess,” he said wistfully.

Well, that was like a stab in the chest. But that gave you an idea. See you next summer. The papers you wrote on your deathbed weighed heavy in your bag, and you had a good idea of what to do with… at least one of them.

“I have something for you, actually,” you said, slinging your bag off your shoulder and rifling through. Your hands landed on the golden letters, until you saw the one with his name on it.

You pulled it out, and passed it around your hands a moment. Too late to back out now, even if its contents were embarrassing. “Here,” you said, holding it out to him.

His fingers brushed your as he grabbed it, and started to unfold it.

You cut him off, swatting your hand over his. “No, do that when I’m out of sight it’s too cringe,” you laughed, shaking your head. “And like, maybe don’t message me about it. But…” you pursed your lips, looking at the grass, leaning your cheek onto your shoulder. “I wrote it the day before my exorcism. Read it or don’t, but don’t tell me about it,” you laughed

His eyes widened a moment, and he nodded, slipping it into his bag. “Uh, thank you,” he said quietly, with emotions unreadable.

The bus was pulling up, and you sucked a breath in through your teeth. It was yours. You’d be the first to arrive, and the first to leave.

You met Dippers eyes, and he sighed. The bus door was opening. And somebody must have gestured at the bus driver to give you a moment, because it didn’t pull away.

Dipper sighed. “Well,” he said, glancing at the bus. “Guess I’ll see you later,” he smiled, “I love you,” and gently kissed your forehead where you bandage was, light enough as not to hurt you, hard enough to leave an impression.

A crooked grin here on your lips, and you fought the urge to cover your face, which was probably blushing. “Cringe. Love you too, Dip,” you said, fighting to maintain eye contact. You gave him one last kiss, and grabbed your suitcase.

You sighed at the busses stairs, and looked back. “Bye guys,” you waved, looking over your friends once more.

They smiled. Pacifica waved, “Let me know when you get home.”

”Oh, us too,” Mabel said, elbowing her brother.

Dipper nodded, slightly blush on his cheeks, “bye Y/n.”

And then you were on a bus, going the opposite direction of Gravity falls, and on the first stretch of a journey far away from your friends. Into the… somewhat known, you supposed.

…

Dipper sat with his legs crossed on the bus. Mabel was already asleep beside him. He wanted to chide her, but it was already dark outside, the only light was the dim and blueish bus LEDs. He checked his phone. Almost midnight. They’d probably get home around one.

He tried to look out the window, but it was hard not to see his own reflection.

He pursed his lips. Your words were echoing around in his brain. Read it or don’t. But don’t tell me about it. He snickered to himself. But the paper felt heavy in his bag.

Sighing, he pulled it out. Just his name was written across the front, and the thought that you wrote it thinking it would be the last he read of you… he pursed his lips, and unfolded the paper.

Dear Dipshit

He smiled.

I’m sorry. We just got done talking about what we’re gonna do with me and Bill and whatever as I’m writing this. You didn’t seem too happy about the idea. This all sucks, I know. I guess I’m a little glad that you care enough to argue for me though, that you weren’t so mad at me for… this whole thing that you’d be fine with the risk. Sorry I worry you so much.

Dipper winced reading over the words. Of course he cares, he wanted to say. A part of him did begin to understand why you wouldn’t want him to message you about this though. The thought of you writing this, alone and thinking you were going to die…

Honestly, sorry about all of this. It was my mistake that landed us here, there’s a thousand things I could’ve done differently. Like, I could have told you about the statue, that would have been so easy. I could have told you about what he was saying in my head, I guess I thought it was my own thoughts. That seems so silly now, he was saying some weird shit. I could have told you “hey I shook hands with a rock” and even that would have been something. I guess that’s all over with now though, no use dwelling on it. Even if it’s hard to help myself.

So sorry. Yeah. I should write about better stuff.

Dipper fought the urge to text you and tell you it wasn’t your fault, reminding himself that he promised not too. But his chest tightening thinking of your guilt. Deep breaths. He told you. He told you after that it was a burden they all had to bare.

This summer has been one of the best regardless of all this, I won’t lie. Like, deadass. We did a lot of cool stuff. Hanging out, monster hunting, scheming. I really liked the Fourth of July. Bet you can remember why lol. I feel sorta cringe writing that. Whatever, I’ll live. Or… heh. Jokes.

Ugh, that was bad. He shook his head as he smiled. You were totally right though, that was a good night. He chose to think about that rather than your horrible dark jokes.

Honestly, you’ve been great. Like, as long as I’ve known you. It’s weird, we’ve been friends since we were thirteen. I’m surprised our friendship survived the school years. I’m glad it did.

He nodded along reading it, as if you were there next to him.

I forget what made me like you. Well, no, bad phrasing. I know why I like you, but I forget what exactly did it, you know? Like, I wonder what the moment was for little fourteen year old me that made me go “yeah, this guy… this is the guy.” Honestly, I wish I did.

I wonder what the moment was for you, too. Like what the fuck game did I have when we were thirteen that got you down bad for like, the next several years. Well I shouldn’t flatter myself too much, I guess, I don’t know if it was just a summer thing. I know we both dated other people during school. But still though, several summers.

Dipper covered his mouth with his hand. Who he was hiding from, he wasn’t sure. Unfortunately, the memory was clear in his head. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, not even close, but he definitely had a crush on you after maybe five hangouts, however quick that was. It was after the two of you worked with Soos to catch Bigfoot.

Oh god that totally reminds me: dating other people. When I dated that bitch I refuse to name, like, several times I basically just wished it was you. Like, he sucked so much, you know I’m not gonna get into it, and so much towards the end I thought about you. Like, how much nicer you are to me. Wow that felt super weird to admit. True though.

Oh my god. Dipper wanted to hide in his hand. He could relate too much. Dating somebody else to try and get over you, he definitely screwed up, and so much just wished he could be done with his feelings, or just be with you instead. He tried to avoid thinking about that year, it was embarrassment and shame enough for his whole life.

Dipper, I hate that as i write this, we haven’t even been dating that long. Like I know it feels like forever, to me at least, just cuz we’ve been friends so long, but we only got together like, this month. Isn’t that crazy? It feels crazy to me.

There’s a lot I imagined we’d do together. Like, we’ve never spent a Valentine’s Day together, that feels like a thing most couples do, right? I don’t even like that holiday much, and I’m still lamenting that. Have I even seen you in winter? The only time we hung out not in the summer was that one spring break. Winter would be fun, I think.

I love you, man. Like, for realsies. Sorry about everything. I’m glad you still like me, but I guess that means you’d be sadder if this doesn’t work out. Pros and cons to everything.

It’s been good. You’re one of my best friends in the world, and I wish there was more time. You’re sweet. Don’t forget me.

Yours,

Y/n

Dipper smiled. His vision was a little blurry, and he stared at the ceiling with his pupils to try and stop himself from crying. You really thought that was going to be your goodbye, didn’t you. Well, it was a good one.

Fuck. He glanced at Mabel, then back out the window. His face was a little red. His eyes drifted over the paper again as he skimmed through it once more. You wished that you’d had more time. And didn’t want him to forget.

As the lights of Piedmont drew closer, he thought; You’d have plenty time together. It had been a good summer, believe it or not. Just like the first one had been, despite the apocalypse. The world nearly ending seemed rather normal for an eventful summer. And how could he ever forget you? The idea seemed laughable.

He tapped Mabel on the arm to rouse her, and she started to wipe her eyes as they got closer to home. Plenty of time. Whether it be next summer, or maybe spring break if he was lucky, you’d have plenty of time. He looked over your letter. Wendy’s hat was heavy on his head. Next year, he’d go back and trade again. He’d see his grunkles for the holidays. He would watch Soos’ terrible YouTube channel. He had the number for everyone else he cared about.

Next summer, he’d have plenty more time. They got off the bus, hauling their bags behind them. His home always felt foreign after summer. There was a light on in the kitchen he could see. One of their parents must have been waiting for them to get home safe.

He sighed, and they started for the door, Mabel following groggily behind. Next summer, plenty of time. Maybe sooner. Hopefully sooner. How would he survive this school year? Dipper shook his head on the doorstep. He was already counting the days until classes ended, and he could go back. Because right now, Gravity falls felt more like home than the suburbs.

Next summer, he’d have plenty of time.

★彡๑ end ๑★彡

Epilogue

Chat. Im free. Finally. HUGE THANKS TO ANYONE WHO EVER COMMENTED!!! You guys were sometimes the only reason I actually started to write. Huge motivator. I’m done with this summer, main story over now. It was a long summer. But I’m a sucker I’ll probs write an epilogue or two.

Anyway, I started this fic with like 1/4 of a plan and a dream and somehow it ended at a cohesive story an even 25 chapters.

Also I’m goofy im arospec, I Bounce back and forth between loving the idea of romance, and being completely repulsed by it, which makes it hard to write a y/n romance sometimes. I tried to power thru it, but I feel like it shows in how little they actually kiss or say “I love you” 😭 I just can’t stand that stuff sometimes. Hope it wasn’t too obvious.

Thanks so much for reading!

Taglist: @cipheress-to-k-pop @dead-esque @phobo-ss

#x reader #my writing #douce amere #dipper pines #dipper pines x reader #gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #dipper x reader

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fandom-oneshots-etc · 1 year ago

Note

✨ Dropping by to request literally anything sherlock x reader - would love something with awkward idiots in love ✨

🍄 Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

🍄 Genre: Fluff

🍄 Summary: When Sherlock goes off on a frantic tangent, John knows exactly who to call, the idiot in love with him...

🍄 Word Count: 2084

🍄 Abbreviations: N/A

🍄 Warnings: N/A

🍄 Note: I hope this is what you were looking for Anon! :)

“What’s he doing this time?” you answered the phone as John’s name appeared. You had become so accustomed to the calls at all odd hours of the day, usually all pertaining to your high-functioning sociopath of a friend, Sherlock. Odd hours like the one now.

You had just sat down in your cloud chair, kindle in hand ready to read the next chapter of your gripping (b/g) when the phone had pinged, angrily vibrating against the coffee table-top. A puff of air had moved the stray hairs touching your face as you instantly recognized the personalized ring tone you had installed. You knew that John wouldn’t call you unless it was at least a code blue, blue-in-the-face blue. A colour code the two of you had created to describe the different moods of Sherlock Holmes.

“I’m so sorry-” You rolled your eyes with a little smile. “He’s just off on one. He solved the case, you know the one with the woman and the suitcases? He’s been off the walls since then. Can’t get him to settle, he’s talking about renovating the flat, knocking walls down for more ‘thinking space’. I think Mrs Hudson’s threatened to evict him already,” You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips at the thought of the sweet old woman threatening your tall friend, knowing very well that she’d mean every word. You could already picture the offended horror on Sherlock’s face at her threats.

“I’m on my way,” you reassured before hanging up the phone and pushing yourself out of the comfortable chair. Slipping your kindle into your bag, you grabbed your keys from the hook and turned off the lights. You didn’t bother changing out of your night clothes,, instead your threw a long coat over your pajamas and slipped on your trainers before heading out of the flat. You weren’t exactly keen on the idea of getting a cab this late at night, but you preferred that over walking the streets alone in the dark.

Thankfully, Baker Street was only a few roads away and the journey was nice and short with the lack of traffic at this time of night. Looking up at 221B you could see tat it was one of the only lights on in the street. You slipped the spare key out of your bag and unlocked the door to 221B.

Mrs Hudson reached the bottom of the stairs in an angry flurry huffing as she passed, a few rushed ‘oh dear’s escaping her lips as she passed you, only briefly making eye contact as she scurried back into her flat, red-faced. Taking that as your cue, you started up the stairs to the flat, fully expecting to see the flat in complete disarray, and you weren’t disappointed.

The papers from the now-closed case were still strewn across the flat, stuck to the walls, laid out on the desk, tucked under the tea cups on the small side table. The tea cups, several sat on the desk untouched and probably growing a few types of fungus that Sherlock could happily describe for you. The pillows from the sofa were thrown about the flat as Sherlock stood on the sofa, feet buried in the sofa cushions and tape measure I hand as he stretched it across the wall in front of him, a HB pencil clenched between his teeth.

“Thank God you’re here!” John poked his head out of the kitchen as if weary of the man in the living room. He gestured for you to step into the kitchen, with a final glance at the tall consulting detective, you slipped into the kitchen.

“How long has he been like this?” you asked, setting your bag down on the cluttered kitchen table. Piles and piles of old experiments were stacked tall, filling up almost the entire surface of the table and from the darkening black patch by one of the chairs you had no doubt that Sherlock had blown something up today, yet another thing to add to the list of problems for you and John.

“A couple of hours now, I stupidly thought that solving the case would change his mood, but it only seemed to make him more antsy for another one-” He sighed. “Sorry it’s so late, I know you usually sit down and read about now. I didn’t want to bother you but with Mrs Hudson threatening eviction I thought it best not to wait.” You smiled at your friend and shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s been a while since he’s been like this so it was expected sooner or later. Better sort him out before Mrs Hudson really does chuck him out.” The two of you chuckle at the thought of a homeless Sherlock, it’s not really a sight either of you can imagine fully. But you had no doubt that his homeless network would really find him the best spots in London to squat.

“You don’t mind if I take a quick walk do you? I’ve been cooped up in here for a few hours trying to sort him out, just need bit of fresh air.” You shook your head and hurried John out of the kitchen door and down the stairwell. You knew it would be easier to deal with Sherlock without John around anyway. Not that John was a problem, but with Sherlock like this and his habit of making unsavory comments without fully thinking of the consequences, it would be easier than having a row start between the two flat mates.

You paused for a moment and brushed your finger against the black mark on the table top and inspected the pad of your finger. That’ll come off with some polish, you decided. Stepping back out of the kitchen and into the living room, your eyes zeroed in on the consulting detective who had now abandoned the tape measure and was gently knocking against the wall looking for a hollow sounding area.

“No.” You spoke clearly, catching the attention of the detective who had yet to notice you. Spinning on his heels, his eyes flashed at you wide and adorable. It kind of reminded you of a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. His mouth started to open but you shut him down quickly. “No,” You gave him a stern look. “That wall has all of the major electricity lines and one of the main water pipes. No.”

“There’s no way you could possibly know that just from looking at the wall-” Sherlock argued.

“No I couldn’t. I know because I had to get the schematics for the flat after you started shooting the walls because you were banned from in-person cases and blew the power out in this side of London,” You reminded. “An event that Mycroft still calls ‘The Great COVID Blackout’.” Sherlock’s nose scrunched at the mention of his brother. “Now, are you going to sit down or am I going to have to use that self-defense training program you insisted I go on to incapacitate you?” You could almost see the cogs turning in his head as his eyes narrowed at you, trying to deduce if you were serious or not. Your unwavering stance must have given him his answer as he slowly stepped down from the sofa and settled his feet back on the floor calmly.

“Why are you here?” You were very rarely offended by Sherlock’s blunt words, it just wasn’t worth the energy when you also knew that he rarely meant it to come across in that way. “No, don’t answer that. You’re here in your night clothes, your kindle is tucked in your bag and your hair is done up which means it’s late- John called you. Why?”

“Probably because his roommate was threatened with eviction after planning to renovate their rented flat and set the landlady off.” “Mrs Hudson wouldn’t evict me. She still owes me for getting her husband executed.”

“Favours do expire Sherlock. They have their limits.” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Really?” You nod. “Oh. Well John wouldn’t let her evict me.” “Have you been experimenting today?” You think back to the two mugs settled on the kitchen counter, one sporting a brownish green sludge at the bottom.

“Yes, why- Oh.”

“Right come on,” You clapped your hands, moving towards him and grabbing one of his hands to pull him over to his chair. You ignored the sounds of protest from Sherlock as you settled on the chair and tugged on his arm. “Sit down,” you instructed. Sherlock sighed and complied, dropping onto the floor and crossing his legs underneath him. You grabbed the TV remote and switched it on. “What should we watch? Bones or Criminal Minds?” you pondered.

“Why do we have to watch a crime show? They’re always so inaccurate-” You flick the TV onto an episode of Criminal Minds. “Look, the killer’s using tape- what about finger prints? They don’t need to study his behaviour, just find the prints-” You smiled softly, fiddling with a few strands of Sherlock’s curly hair in your lap as he rattled on about the mistakes of the Unsub and the BAU team.

It was around an hour later that John returned to the flat. Pushing open the front door of 221, he was relieved to hear nothing. The light under Mrs Hudson’s door was now off, meaning she had slipped into bed, no longer tormented by her tenant’s renovation plans. The light on the landing let off a soft glow as John started up to the flat. A heavy wave of relief swept through him as he noticed the lack of banging, drilling, sawing or any construction noises at all. You had managed to talk him out of it for now. He reached the top of the stairs and could hear the muffled sounds of the TV in the flat. Stepping into the kitchen he could see that the place was still a pig sty but at least there wasn’t any knocked down walls or partially constructed extensions. The mess could be dealt with in the morning.

As he turned the corner and peeked - still a little cautiously into the living room - a soft smile graced his face. Your back was pressed against one of the arms of Sherlock’s chair, your legs swung over the opposite side. Sherlock’s was still perched on the floor with his legs crossed, his head dropped back against your stomach, with your right hand resting on top. Your fingers rhythmically threading through his curly brown locks, soothingly. John flicked his eyes up to the TV screen to see an episode of Criminal Minds playing, Sherlock’s face scrunched in distaste as he watched the team profile the murderer. Your other hand held your kindle tightly, your fingers set comfortably around the flower pop socket on the back as you occasionally flicked the pages with your thumb.

John couldn’t help but watch in awe for a moment. No one he knew had ever been able to soothe Sherlock in the way that you could. Not him, not Mrs Hudson and certainly not his brother, not even his parents had this calming effect that you had. He wondered if Sherlock would ever confess to the effect you had on him, or explain why you had such an effect on him. John knew the reason, Mrs Hudson knew the reason… did Sherlock? Did you?

You were always just as oblivious as Sherlock. John had mentioned to you once or twice about how you effected the consulting detective, but you couldn’t see it. You wouldn’t admit to the effect you so clearly had on him nor would you confess to the butterflies that whirled in your stomach whenever you were this close to him.

You caught John’s eye and must’ve made an educated guess of what he was thinking as you rolled your eyes and shook your heads. Deciding that now was probably not the time to bring up the obvious pink elephant that shared the living room with the three of you, John mouthed a ‘thank you’ to you and you nodded, letting out a quiet yawn. He bidded a quick farewell to the pair of you before shuffling out of the kitchen and upstairs to his room. On his way up the stairs, he couldn’t help but wonder how long the two of you would remain oblivious.

As he reached the top of the staircase he paused and chuckled. Lovesick idiots.

#sherlock x reader #sherlock oneshot #sherlock imagine #sherlock holmes #sherlock #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes oneshot #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock oneshot #bbc sherlock imagine #request #reqs open #requests open #anon ask

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golden-ebony · 1 month ago

Text

Man Eater (3) 𓆩♡𓆪

♡ series masterlist ♡ previous part ♡

♡ Pairing: Logan Howlett/Fem!Vigilante!Reader

♡ Word Count: 3.0k

♡ Rating: Mature (but any additional parts may be explicit)

♡ Warning/Tags: fighting but by no means violent

♡ Summary: Leaving your past behind is never easy; teasing Logan makes it tolerable

♡ Note: i FINALLY have a proper vision for the series and i'm so so so excited!

It didn’t take you long to move into the X-mansion. You typically kept most of your things in storage, preferring to live out of a suitcase as you traveled from place to place. It always made it easier to leave on short notice if needed.

But you promised yourself you’d try to make it work at the school, hence moving all your belongings in. Leaving in the cover of night would be significantly harder now—unless you were willing to part with more than a few possessions.

In just a month, you’d settled into a permanent room and reacquainted yourself with your newfound teammates. Like Charles, they treated you with kindness and respect whenever your paths crossed. Occasionally, you even assisted them if it aligned with your own self-interest.

You had more interactions with Logan than anyone else. Despite knowing him for only a few weeks, you two were definitely getting closer. Friends? Maybe. True friendships were rare for you. Most of your relationships were transactional, impersonal. But with Logan, words weren’t always necessary to convey what the other was thinking or feeling. There was a mutual understanding between you.

Still, he loved finding new ways to get under your skin. And you were more than happy to return the favor. It was a brazen, tenacious dance that raised the tension in any room you were in, even when others were around.

Bantering with him was the only exciting part of your days. You itched to do something—anything besides train. The thrill of a mission was what you craved. Waiting for that “something good” Charles and Logan had mentioned felt like torture.

You saw the others come and go on missions a few times over the month. They’d be gone for only a few hours or a day, but that was exactly what you wanted. Your requests, however, were falling on deaf ears.

“I think I’m ready,” you reaffirmed to Storm as you finished a set in the gym. “I did great in the Danger Room, I train on my own, I’ve read some rather boring files. I’m ready!”

“You survived the Danger Room,” Storm corrected. “You’d do better if you actually worked with us instead of next to us.”

You huffed, hands on your hips. “I’m trying, alright? And I have been doing better!”

“You have,” Storm nodded. She glanced over, noticing Logan entering the gym with a group of students, and a sly smile crossed her face. “If bickering and flirting with Logan were a measure of improvement, I’d say you’re more than ready for a mission.”

Looking over your shoulder, you saw Logan talking with some students. You’d bet his training shirt was a size too small, hugging every ridge of his toned physique. You quickly turned away, not wanting to give him any ammunition for later teasing.

You shook your head, a smile creeping onto your lips. “Well, he’s annoying, and it’s something to do until I can actually go on a mission.”

Storm noticed Logan catching sight of the two of you and saw the tension between you thicken. Around the students, you both were more restrained, but that didn’t stop Logan from eyeing you across the room.

“Patience is a virtue,” Storm remarked as she passed you, knowing it was best to leave you and Logan to your own devices.

Turning, you watched as Storm said something to Logan before leaving the gym. An idea sparked in your mind as Logan’s gaze settled on you. You gave him a nod toward the wall, signaling for him to follow. He obliged, moving out of the students’ earshot.

Noticing the sweat-soaked collar of your shirt, Logan couldn’t help himself. “Already hot and bothered just by me being here, sweetheart?”

Your face remained serious, ignoring his comment. “Can you do me a favor?” You crossed your arms, your tone sincere.

Logan huffed, realizing he wasn’t going to get a rise out of you. He nodded, mirroring your stance. “Yeah, what’s up?”

You felt silly about your request. “Can you talk to Charles for me? I want to start going on missions, but no one thinks I’m ready.”

Logan shook his head, surprised. “Probably because you’re not ready.” You’d heard it from Charles, Scott, and Storm, but hearing it from Logan felt like a betrayal, even personal.

“You know better than anyone I can handle myself!” Your voice was louder than intended. “I’ve been doing this longer than any of you—well, except you.”

Logan raised a hand, signaling you to ease up. “Easy, sweetheart, you’ve only been here a month.”

“And it’s agonizing!” you snapped. “I know I’m still learning this whole team thing, but you said I could do something good here.”

“Then do something!” Logan shot back, as if it was obvious. Before you could retort, he continued, “Look, Charles has me teaching self-defense to these boys without their abilities. Offer to do the same for the girls.”

For the first time, Logan had managed to shut you up. You looked over his shoulder, watching the boys practice without his supervision.

“Yeah, we have missions, but this is a school. Helping these kids—that’s the original mission.”

You glanced back at him, huffing. “You sound like Charles.”

“Because he has to remind me of that sometimes.” He placed a hand on your shoulder. “And now I get to remind you.”

His firm grasp was oddly calming. Weeks ago, you would’ve swatted his hand away with a scold, but now his touch felt sincere.

You nodded. “Alright, I’ll talk to Charles about training some students. But will you talk to him for me?”

Logan playfully hummed as if he was weighing his options, “I’ll vouch for you when the time comes,” Logan decided, shooting you a smile. He turned back to the boys, seeing them get a bit more rowdy under no current supervision. “I’d invite you to watch, but I think you’d distract the boys” he teased as he squeezed your shoulder. The look in his eyes was more mischievous than anything.

You picked his arm off your shoulder, sensing the bait, “Distract them or distract you?”

Logan eyed your leggings and cropped shirt. Your partially exposed abdomen and arms were dried with sweat, but Logan couldn’t get your smell out of his head. It was almost dizzying. It had been getting worse over the last few weeks. Your smell was all over the mansion on every goddamn surface in every goddamn room. He only found refuge in his own room. However, Logan was nothing but honest.

“Mainly the boys, but…” Logan stepped a little closer, taking a proper deep breath to inhale your scent, “I ain’t above your charms either.”

You deeply inhaled, your exhale resulting in a chuckle, “For a man that’s seen my case files, you have to know where that charm can lead you.”

Logan shrugged at your point, “For a woman who claimed she couldn’t possibly be a part of a team, you’re sure itchin’ to go on a mission.”

“So?”

He shrugged again, taking a few steps back with a playful gleam in his eyes. “First impressions aren’t everything.”

You watched as Logan went back to the students, immediately getting their attention when he spoke up. As you walked past the group to leave the gym, you noticed how attentive the male students were actually being, focusing on every word Logan was saying. And whether Logan wanted to say Charles made him do this or not, you could tell that he enjoyed it. If he said no, it wasn’t sincere. You knew a liar when you saw one.

After your conversation with Logan, you spoke with Charles. He was excited to see you take initiative in assisting the children. You didn’t have the heart to tell him it was Logan’s idea, but if Charles really wanted to know, he had his ways of figuring that out. You didn’t push the idea of going on missions to him again. That was your idea.

It only took Charles a day to find groupings of female students that were interested in your lessons. At this point, you didn’t interact with the students much. You were more of a lingering figure in the hallways. This was the students’ opportunity to size you up as well.

As you stood there in the gym with 12 girls staring at you with their judgemental eyes, you felt a bit exposed, a little vulnerable. You had grabbed their attention, and now you were slightly regretting it.

“Uhm, so, self-defense is important…your abilities won’t always save you. It may not be safe to use your abilities.” You nodded as if you were convincing yourself. Some of the girls nodded as well, giving you some semblance of confidence.

“I’m not…” a curly haired girl began as she looked at you. Her brown eyes were wide with hesitation, “I’m not a fighter.” A few of the other girls muttered in agreement.

“And you don’t have to be.” You tried to reassure them with a soft smile. “I’m not asking you guys to pick fights or…even like to fight. It’s just important to the Professor…important to me that you guys know how to protect yourselves. No matter where you go in life.”

Pride was a feeling you were familiar with. Usually that pride stemmed from your own work. And these girls were right; they definitely weren’t fighters. However, watching these girls take your advice, follow your movements, even laugh when they made a mistake, you felt pride outside of yourself. Even over the course of an hour, you saw the improvement. Their movements were more fluid as they learned to strike and block.

You could see that the hour was winding down. It flew by as you watched the paired up teens practice these simple moves on each other. Your mind was already racing with ideas on what to teach next. Sighing with contentment, you clapped to grab their attention.

“Alright, that’s gonna be all for today!” you told them, only holding some of the girls’ attention. The others were still playfully fighting at this point. “Same time next week? Yeah?”

A number of the girls nodded as they began to grab their things. When your eyes turned toward the door, you spotted Logan leaned against the doorframe with his large forearms crossed. You looked smitten with himself as he watched you interact with the students. You playfully narrowed your eyes with a soft smile.

You turned your attention back to the girls who were grabbing their bags, “And if you don’t remember anything from today, just remember to never pull your punches. What you lack in experience, you can make up for in ferocity, alright?”

The giddy girls all were quick to say their thank yous and goodbyes as they passed you. Some said bye to Logan, too, as he moved out of their way.

With hands shoved in his jean pockets, he approached, “They don’t look half-bad,” he remarked, referring to the students. “And you look pleased with yourself, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip to hold back a smile, knowing Logan was going to use this as ammunition on why he’s always right. But a part of you didn’t care. “You were right; these are good kids. And I may have had fun,” you admitted as you grabbed the spray bottle and pushed the mop to clean down the mats. Logan walked beside you with raised brows as you began to clean up.

“Oh, I was right? That sounds good coming off your lips,” Logan teased, lightly shoving your shoulder.

“Don’t get used to it, Wolvie.” You eyed him as you turned around with the mop around to toward the other end. Noticing his sweats and t-shirt–that damn tight t-shirt again–you motioned to the equipment toward the end of the gym. “Are you here to work out or bother me? Because the weights are down there, brute.”

Logan's mouth quirked into a wry smile at your question. Walking next to you, he could smell your scent, a mix of sweat and your own natural scent. It made him feel oddly relaxed yet infuriated. He let his eyes drift down to your body as you pushed the mop.

“I was, but,” His eyes lingered on your form before taking the mop from you, tossing it against the wall, “now I wanna see if what you’re teaching these girls are any good.”

Logan backed up, giving ample space between the two of you. You cocked your head, interested in the dare but still hesitant. The tension was already stiff in the gym with anticipation at the mere mention of a fight.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” you shot back, already beginning to stretch your arms, “but if you wanted a personal lesson, all you had to do was ask, Wolvie.” Your tone teased him, bringing a gleam of challenge in his features.

In the empty gym, you both took your stances across from each other, sizing the other up. The thrill of anticipation and adrenaline began to flood your bloodstream as you mentally refamiliarized with how Logan fought during the Danger Room. Brutish is how you’d described it.

“You gonna keep your claws to yourself?”

“Gonna keep your knives to yourself?”

You dramatically rolled your eyes. You unsheathed your knives, darting them to a nearby board in a show of faith.

Logan cracked his knuckles, a smirk playing on his lips. “You sure you want to do this? I wouldn’t want to hurt you, princess.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting into a defensive stance. “The only thing delicate around here is your ego.”

With a sudden burst, Logan lunged forward, aiming for your midsection. You ducked, the rush of air from his punch sending a thrill down your spine. You pivoted swiftly, landing a sharp kick to his side. Logan staggered but quickly regained his stance, admiration creeping on his lips.

“Not bad,” he admitted, his tone teasing, “but you’ll need to do better than that to impress me.”

You couldn’t help but grin, “I already know I impress you.”

You darted in again, your movements a blur. A quick jab here, a feint there—Logan parried some strikes but let one slip through, catching him right on the cheek. The surprise on his face was priceless, and you took a moment to bask in it. If Logan could bruise, he was sure he would have.

You winced, a playful lilt in your voice, “I don’t pull my punches, Wolvie.”

Logan dryly chuckled, rubbing his cheek, “Alright, sweetheart.”

With a mock glare, he lunged again, relying on his size and strength. You ducked low, narrowly avoiding his grasp, and then executed a spinning kick that nearly knocked him off balance. He stumbled, caught between frustration and admiration.

“Gotta say, I like the way you move for me,” he remarked, genuine awe shining through.

“You wanted an up close show,” you shot back, grinning as you moved in again, launching a series of rapid jabs. Logan blocked a few but let one slip, landing solidly on his jaw again. He staggered, a laugh escaping his lips. “And I aim to please.”

As they exchanged blows, the gym echoed with their banter and laughter. You weren’t even exclusively on the mats anymore. You were moving around the equipment, against the wall. Logan tried to pin you against the wall, but you slipped out of his grasp, executing a swift spin that brought you behind him once more.

With a burst of speed, you locked him in a tight hold, your bodies inches apart. Logan struggled, muscles flexing beneath their grip, but you had the upper hand. “You’re not getting away that easily,” you teased, leaning closer, their breath brushing against his ear. You felt Logan ease up.

“Don’t know if I want to,” Logan shot back, breathless yet exhilarated.

Feeling your cheeks reddened, you pushed Logan down, pinning him to the padded floor in a swift maneuver with knee and forearm. You positioned yourself over him, yours faces inches apart. Logan didn’t appear defeated; he looked pleased with himself despite the pressure on his abdomen and chest.

You were pleased with yourself, too…for more reasons than one.

“I won,” you breathlessly stated, a small smile on your lips.

Logan’s eyes darted between your eyes and your lips. He unconsciously licked his lips before another smile grew on his face, “Then why do I feel so damn lucky?”

You would’ve expected your heart to slow at this point, yet it stayed elevated as you looked down at Logan. His hazel eyes were now a dark green. It was over. You could release him, but you didn’t. Against your better judgment, you nuzzled yourself close to his ear, hearing his breath hitch.

“Because most men barely make it out with their lives when I get ‘em like this.”

It took everything in Logan not to groan as lips grazed against his ear. Yet, he couldn’t help the hand that partially gripped your waist, feeling the warmth radiating from your body.

“Not the worst view to take in before the slaughter.”

Your mind was fuzzy being this close to Logan. It only worsened when Logan gripped you. Your entire body was buzzing, screaming to pull away. Still, you stayed, only slightly shifting your weight off his chest. The competitive gleam in Logan’s eyes was replaced with something softer, sensual even. Your breathing slowed, but your heart was racing a mile a minute.

Even Logan couldn’t seem to piece together another quip, a retort. All his thoughts had been stripped away, replaced with only you. You were consuming every ounce of his senses except the very one he craved the most. As close as you were, it wouldn’t be difficult to obtain. Yet, Logan was reluctant because even in the tenderness of your eyes, he saw a flash of something–he almost missed it—that he hadn’t seen in you before.

Fear.

“I gotta talk to Charles,” you quickly stammered as you lifted yourself off of Logan, not even thinking about facing him again. As quick as you said it, you were heading for the door. Logan could only muster the faint call of your name from the floor. He wasn’t surprised when it didn’t stop you.

After slowly standing, Logan noticed your knives still jammed into the wall. Your favorites, no less. Pulling them from the wall, Logan took the knives with him.

You’d be looking for them eventually.

He couldn’t wait until you did.

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asocialangel · 6 months ago

Text

a polaroid love

For Christmas, Isagi got a polaroid, and you best believe all his 10 polas would be of you, his muse.

smut – 4k words🧍. Isagi x fem!reader

DO NOT READ IN PUBLIC unless you’re a brave soul wwww. Mentions of sex, slight chocking, p in v, cum.... yadayada. Characters obvi aged up.

inspired by someone here on tumblr ! Who's user i forgot so if you know pleassssse tell me !! Their fic was something along the lines of: where the bllk boys would keep their dirty polaroids. I feel so stupid for not finding it again... Anyway enjoy my first long fic ! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

ꕥ

For christmas, Isagi got a polaroid with 10 pictures to take. He did not ask for that, neither had he ever thought about getting one, let alone actually using it. But he figured, now that it’s here, might as well make a good use out of it.

His muse was obviously the one and only you. It wasn’t necessarily his intention, but his first and last pictures would be of you. At first he asked you when to take pictures, if you considered they would be worthwhile. Over time, he had his own sense of photographic art. The very first one was his idea though.

1rst pola: a picture of you two.

When he got it, he instantly said that the first picture he wanted was one of the two of you, to put in his phone case. Therefore the first picture ever printed was you two hugging in front of the christmas tree. You’re looking at the camera, smiling, his hand on your waist, your head nuzzled in his neck. You were wearing matching christmas sweaters if it matters, yours red, his green. He had asked Hiori, who gifted him the polaroid, to take the picture and choose the settings. And it turned out perfect ! Not over exposed, centered. Isagi was so happy with the results… As promised, he instantly put it in his clear phone case, hiding the dollar bill that was already there. It’s a happy memory you are glad has been immortalized.

2nd pola: you at a café

His second picture was at a café, not much after the first pola. He had almost forgotten the existence of his camera, until he saw it sitting on his shelf and thought your upcoming coffee date was a great time to take a pic. He quickly put it in his bag and carried on. When you were finally seated he asked you to pose and ! Flash and all, the picture was getting printed. It came out a bit too bright ‘cause he didn’t master the settings yet, but he was happy nonetheless. “Pretty for my first polaroid, isn't it?” “Your model did all the work”, you answered, kittenish.

3rd pola: you fixing your hair

For his third polaroid, Isagi had decided he wanted to have a candid moment, not a perfected pose. So when he saw you getting ready to go to run errands, he thought “this is the typa moments i want to capture, my lovely day-to-day”. He turned the polaroid on and sneakily took a picture of you fixing your hair in front of the mirror. The flash surprised you so much, you turned around and couldn’t help but to smile at his contented face. To be fair, the picture turned out great. The yellow bathroom light almost gave it a retro vibe. and the composition, for something that was taken so fast, was surprisingly good. Had it been digital, it definitely would have become your insta profile picture.

4rth pola: you at the beach

The fourth film was used at the sea. You and your boyfriend were on a beach vacation. That definitely was a good place for pictures, had he thought. In the suitcase it went. Isagi was definitely not the type of guy to “save things for the perfect moment, a moment that ultimately never came so you ended up never using said thing''. He was a firm believer in “use it as soon as you feel like it, or else it would end up unopened 5 years later when you are no longer interested in it”. So whenever he felt like taking a polaroid, he did it, not thinking about its price or anything else. Obviously, a vacation in a paradisaic landscape was the place he wanted to have physical memories of. As soon as you guys had arrived at the hotel, you put down your suitcases and stripped down to put your swimsuit on – a baby blue and white striped bikini – and ran to the sand. Isagi did the same, only taking his polaroid with him and a bit of cash cause he knew you would want ice cream. Just as he planned, you first ran up to the water, went in until your claves got wet, turned around, splashed him a bit, laughed at him and exited the water, until you saw the ice cream vendor with his cart, and looked at him with puppy eyes. You didn't even need to say a word, he was already holding your hand as you walked towards the man. You chose your always flavor, Isagi did the same. He had the routine memorized, so he knew the next step would be you tasting your ice cream and immediately asking to taste his before even finishing experiencing your own flavor. “Sure” he said as he brought his cone to your face. Just as it was close enough for you to lick (you were staring at him right in the eyes), he pushed it a little more, until it hit your nose leaving a bit of ice cream on it. You smiled really hard, til the corners of your mouth reached your ears. He stepped back, and clicked the perfect shot. Beautiful you in a beautiful outfit with a beautiful sea behind. And a cute moment. Maybe his favorite pola as of this far.

5th pola: you flashing him at the supermarket

When the time came for him to take his 5th polaroid, half his shots, you wanted to make things more interesting. Isagi had been so sweet to you these days, especially during these beach vacations. He told you he wanted a more casual souvenir, one in a random place. So the local mini supermarket seemed perfect ! He told you to stand next to the soda bottles for a colorful background. So you did. But you were feeling a little mischievous and also wanted to give your lover a special gift. You were all reddish from the sun, your freckles stood out and your hair was curly from the salt. You looked effortlessly innocent, maybe that was why Isagi loved you so hard perhaps. Since you were coming back from the beach, you still had your tote bag on your shoulder, your mini shorts on, and sand on your knees. Oh and you weren't wearing anything under your shirt. So after making sure you were right where Isagi wanted you in the frame, you hit a pose. “Are you ready ? One, Two, Three !” Right as he said three, you shook your peace signs away to grab the bottom of your shirt and lift it up, showing your beautiful boobs to the entire supermarket. Luckily, it was empty and no one saw it. Clueless, Isagi put down his camera and waited for the film to come out. Perhaps from the small window thing on his camera, he hadn't seen what you did. So he was there, blissfully unaware, looking at the white yet undeveloped polaroid. “Okay, we can get moving now ! As always, the picture’s gonna show up in a few minutes so let’s buy what we have to buy”. Isagi started walking in front of you. As you guys grabbed snacks, you could see him peeping at the picture. Getting chips, he peeped. Getting fruit, he peeped, longer this time. Getting chocolates, he peeped and looked confused, bringing the pola closer to his face. While grabbing chewing gum at the cashier, you could see him getting redder and redder, though he didn't say a word. He quickly put it in his pocket, and asked for the total, stuttering. You could feel he was avoiding your eyes. So to tease him even more, you got up to him and grabbed his arm. You could feel how hot his face was, it was so cute. When you passed the automatic exit doors, he looked at you: “Y/N ! Why did you do that !” He wanted to sound mad but you knew he was just flustered. “Why, are they ugly ?” “No – don't say that ! They are way too beautiful, that’s the problem. I’m gonna cherish this pola, it will be mine and only mine to see”. You laughed and laid your head on his shoulders as you walked. “Don’t play tricks like this on me again, y/n…”

6th pola: a facial

The sixth pola was taken the same day as the fifth. I guess all these emotions had him excited. When you guys went back to your hotel room at the end of the day, you put down your stuff and headed straight for the shower (you hated the feeling of sand in your hair and salt on your skin). As you started singing a tune under the shower head, you heard the bathroom open, but you paid no mind to it as Isagi often entered to take random items and exited as if he was never there. So you continued singing “yeogi pale blue dot, ooh hoo ohh…” When you heard the door close, you sang a little louder as you tried to wash away the shampoo from your hair. But you soon heard the shower curtain wrinkle and water droplets fall on the rug. You barely started to turn around to see what was happening when you felt Isagi’s hand on your waist. His touch felt a bit slippery as you still had remains of foam on you. “What are you doi–” you giggled but he stopped you from finishing your sentence, interrupting you with a kiss. From there on everything went literally steamy, as you guys locked yourself up in the bathroom for quite some time, stopping all the vapor from ventatiling. It did not stop at a kiss, and when you guys finally decided to exit the bathroom, it was only to continue in the bedroom. You had your high quite a few times, so did he. It ended when he came on your face for one last time. You looked at him with lustful eyes, shiny from tears, cheeks flushed pink. You were so beautiful. So much so he wanted to remember your beauty forever. Without letting go of your throat –that he had been holding as hard as you liked– he turned around and grabbed the polaroid that you guys had thrown on the hotel carpet since you were in such a hurry to free up the bed. Because one hand of his was busy, he had to pull on the lens with his teeth, to turn the camera on. As soon as it was ready, he chose the right setting and flashed your eyes almost blind. He did it so swiftly you barely had time to realize it, let alone change poses. You still had your innocent expression on, face dazzled with his milky cum. He took the picture that was coming out and laid it on the bed. He finally unclenched his hand on your throat and with his thumb, rubbed off some of the cum you had on your nose to spread it on your pouty lips. You licked it off and finally smiled, like you regained your spirits. “Did it turn out great ?” “How couldn't it ? You’re so photogenic”. Once the pola had fully gotten his colors, he looked at him before showing you. You were lying in the bed sheets when you took it from his hands. Beautiful. Your big eyes, the eerie white flash on the white hotel sheets, his veined hand, your breasts with pointy nipples and obviously, Isagi’s artistic streaks all over your face. “Are you putting this one in your phone case, Isagi ?” “Want me to ?”. You chuckled.

7th pola: your wet pussy

I think at that point you guys had hit the point of no return. Every pola he’d take from now on would not end up in a family photo album. The 7th was taken back home. The vacation had ended and neither of you had wanted to take a pola, maybe nothing was memorable enough to take a pic. So the 7th one happened in your house actually, after a match. Isagi had played against a random nugu team, but somehow had made very beautiful plays. Maybe it was because you, for once, made the effort to go see him. To be fair Isagi was having a really bad season and you kept on taunting him about it. It’s understandable that you didn’t particularly want to see him barely run on the field. But that day you went because you had nothing better to do, and you guys arranged an at-home date, so it was easier if you went home together. You didn't warn him you were coming, you just parked your car and sat in the VIP lounge, close enough to the field he’d notice you fast. Damn had he been good for once in a hot while. He was very lively, made beautiful feints, and memorable goals. He was so attractive when he played… The way his muscles tensed up, how he constantly wiped his sweaty face with his jersey, revealing his abs… Yeah you were no better than a fangirl. Actually you were the fangirl. But to top it off, really tie the knot, something that, unbeknownst to him, physically made you wet… He got mad at other players. Ah, so embarrassing for you but how down bad you were for him shouting at his teammates, borderline pushing the opponents, cussing himself when he missed… You could feel your pussy throbbing all throughout the match, getting more flustered as he began bad mouthing more and more the opponents cause he was winning. When people tried to talk to you, you stuttered, afraid at the idea they could read your mind. Oh the things you were imagining right now. When the match finished, Isagi went directly to you, and changed moods like nothing happened (he was never mean to you like that, to your discontent…). “You came to see me, angel ?” “Yes I figured I’d spare my boyfriend some of my precious time”. You went and kissed him, tasting the salty sweat on his face. You loved him like that, but again, it was a secret. Your kiss was unusually passionate for just a ‘hello’ kiss. Isagi stepped back and looked down at you, chuckling. “Thank you for coming. Let’s go home ?” “Yeah”, you answered as he took your hand and walked to your car.

You were driving when you talked about the match. “I think I went overboard with the rudeness today on the field”. “You think ? I think it was okay. Plus it made them tense, so I guess it worked.” “Tense ? Wait, you could hear them too up where you were ?” “... No, I just, I’m just guessing”. You could feel your cheeks getting redder. “Soooo you know how I am on the field ? Why’d you never mention it ? This is so embarrassing for me y/n…” Isagi closed his eyes while you were pretending to be focused on the road to avoid looking at him. “No it’s not actually. I find it… sexy”. Your cheeks were now hot. “Sexy ?! What do you mean ?! I’m plain spiteful !” “Yeah… that’s kinda what I like. I thank you for not being like this with me cause I’d be constantly horny”. Big blank. Isagi paused as you turned left into your driveway. His mind was working double (So she knew about it ? But she likes it ? Does she like being disrespected or is it just me ? What does she mean horny, if I push her she’ll kiss me ? If I insult her she’ll moan ? What the flip ?) ((Yes I'm convinced Isagi genuinely says that)). You turned the car off, took your keys and opened the door. “Forget about it, I’ve said too much and lost my dignity ‘till the end of our relationship”. You look at the floor sheepishly. “Are you fucking crazy ? You’re so weird y/n !” Isagi looked at you, angry as he caught up to you. You didn't react and went for the door, but Isagi blocked you, putting himself between you and the lock. “Answer”, he forced your chin up with his hand, making you look him in the eyes. Finally you could see the playful spark in his eyes. You smiled. “Yes I’m ‘fuckin crazy’. Cause this is enough for me to want to take my shirt off”. “Damn that’s… crazy. I adore crazy. So when you said wet, you meant… wet ?” “I’m pretty sure I left my seat back there drenched”. Isagi finally let you unlock the door and as soon as you closed it behind you, he picked you up from the floor, taking you straight to the bedroom. “Let me see”. He threw you rather carelessly on the mattress, making you laugh at how everything turned out. He unbuttoned your jeans and took them off for you while you kept laughing. As he threw them on the floor you heard him fulfilled: “it IS true ! You’re so wet only from me ?” You hide your face with your hands, still giggling “I ammm”. As Isagi looked up to see your face, a wide smile on his face, he saw his pola sitting on his shelf. “I am so proud – wait let me show you !” He removed his hand from your inner thighs and stood over you, hands on the bed, stretching trying to reach his camera. When he grabbed it, he looked down and looked at you in the eyes. Your faces were so close to each other. He snapped out of it and went back to business. He touched your wet pussy and tugged on one lip, revealing its pinkish color. Your panties were so stretchy, and so thin, even with fabric, all its topography was clear. And your wetness made the fabric stick even closer to your beautiful inner lips. Your panties were DRENCHED. You didn't lie when you said it made you feel things. Actually, had he looked, even your jeans were humid. He stroked your pussy quickly, and spread your legs slightly more with one hand, as he framed the shot, looking through the small camera preview. “Looks good”. He clicked and you heard the shutter go down. He took the picture and jumped back up to tower you. He looked deeply into your eyes “when you said you loved all of me, you did mean it” “i did, i do”. He kissed you passionately. The polaroid eventually showed its colors. A close up of your beautiful pussy, half of it revealed by Isagi’s fingers, and almost all your panties soaked. “You better not use this kink I have as a secret weapon during our fights from now on, babe”. What a use of a polaroid.

8th pola: your hands on his dick

The eight pola was the result of a game. Basically you guys went to an arcade and you had set a rule: you would count the winner of every mini activity you did, and the one with the most wins could have a wish realized, any wish. In the end, you ended up winning. And your wish was simple, you wanted a pola that you could keep for yourself. With the satisfied grin you had when you told him what your wish was, he directly understood this would not be a polaroid like the first one you took. You really hesitated for what exactly you wanted to capture, so you thought to yourself that you would see how the night would go and you’d choose the right moment. Isagi looked really really cute, cute enough for you to want to take the picture multiple times. Honorable mentions of when you really hesitated to take the pic: when he took his belt and jeans off, that’s a classic but always has its effect on you, when he towered you, shirtless, and finally when he was eating you out. But you settled on perhaps your second favorite thing ever of Isagi, after his sweet personality: his cock. When you were giving him a blowjob, it really kicked in that, yes, damn his dick was beautiful. So you had him come but forbid him from spitting his cum anywhere but his abs or right up in the air so it’d fall back on his tip (usually he loves cumming on your thighs). So bam, his penis is covered in his own cum, and your beautiful hands –with a fresh manicure mind you– are stroking his dick. “Isagi stay like this. This is how I want the pola”. He looked at you almost embarrassed, he wasn't used to you being the one giving orders, especially in this context. “Can you take it for me ? I love your artistic vision better than mine”. Okay that was already too much for him so now he felt straight up humiliated. “Uhm, sure…” “A bet is a bet, angel”. Now you were using HIS pet name for YOU, TURNED AGAINST HIM ? He was the one who called you angel usually… He pouted, cheeks started to flush from embarrassment and he reached for the polaroid. “Make sure to leave your balls, your abs and my hand on the frame, angel”. He did not answer, he just kept pouting and pressed the button. When he was done you wiped the cum on his dick with your hand, cleaning your hands on his abs. “Good boy” you purred. You kissed him and grabbed the picture. It turned out perfect. “This one’s gonna be in my phone case”.

9th pola: your naked body

The second to last, 9th polaroid was taken the same night. Had he been honest, Isagi would’ve admitted it was for revenge and to remind you who was in control. But he just said that “the camera was his after all, so he could take pics whenever he wanted”. As soon as you admitted being satisfied with your wish, Isagi pushed you lying on the mattress and pinned you down. “Let me show you a prettier sight”. He edged you for minutes on end, fingering your tight pussy. At the end, when he finally let you cum, you were left breathless and tired. That's when he grabbed his camera back, and took a picture of your naked body, bright flash on, leaving out your face. You could see everything in the picture, your boobs, your pretty hands, your shiny pussy from your own cum, your cute belly, and even your underwear that was still tossed next to you. “I’m the only one who knows it’s you because your face is left out, but I know every detail of you, even the heart shaped mole on your hips”. It was a cool pola to be fair.

10th pola: his dick in your pussy

The very last polaroid of the 10 item refill was thought through carefully. Isagi wanted something memorable and quintessential of his photographic journey. So he hesitated quite a long time between a genuinely innocent picture of the two of you, a selfie perhaps, or a nasty, dirty, filthy intimate scene. He was an advocate for the first one while you preferred the latter, that's why he decided to choose while playing rock paper scissors… Guess who won ?? Yours truthfully, obviously !! You shouted in joy and jumped around, hugging him from behind and teasing him. “I know what I want already, babe, something that is fair to the both of us”. You whispered in his ears: “let’s photograph a creampie”. He snickered. I’ll leave it up to your imagination how everything unraveled, but the last pola was very pretty indeed, showing equal parts of you and Isagi.

A/N: Y’ALL MY 1RST SMUT WAS IT GOOD OR NAH ? I fear it’s not even that smutty but idk, I find fics describing graphically everything boring, like I'm creative enough to imagine which dirty words my delusionalship would say to me… This was longer than anticipated, but I gotta say I'm quite proud ! Plus I wrote it in like 3 days, which is unusual for inconsistent me. I lovvveeee isagi sm, this felt illegal writing cause I was always in my family living room kkkkk. And I was also inspired by my current polaroid I dusted off from last time I used it in 2017 bahaha.

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Between your arms [S. R]

Spencer Reid x wife!reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: after a hard day Spencer returns to his safe place

A/N: I just finished the third season, imagine it's somewhere in there. And DAMN, with each passing chapter I fall more in love with this man

When Spencer got home, he was completely exhausted. The case had been delayed longer than expected and the fact that the jet had technical problems didn’t help in the least, so the total delay was 5 hours, so it was already late at night when he opened the door of your apartment. He strongly wished that you weren't awake or he would feel guilty and that concern dissipated when he noticed that you weren't lying on the couch as he had found you so many times.

Spencer needed to shower so he could somehow wash off the stress of the case and wash off the dirt he'd picked up during his stay in the woods. Fortunately the shower was far enough from the room to go unnoticed and he took his time, enjoying the hot water running all over his body, considerably relaxing the tension he had in his muscles. Once he left, Reid took a cotton pajama that he had packed in the suitcase, it had colored stripes on the white fabric and you had given it to him for a birthday many years ago. The fabric was already worn by time, but he loved the calming feeling it gave him, and the smell of your favorite fabric softener on it made him feel like he was right at home.

When he opened the door of your room he found you in bed, sleeping so peacefully that he felt some envy, but at the same time he smiled tenderly. He and you were very different when it came to sleeping: he couldn't fall asleep if he wasn't tucked in, he had a hard time doing it alone, he constantly woke up to go to the bathroom and he tossed and turned throughout the night. You, on the other hand, could sleep soundly as soon as your body touched the mattress, fully exposed, and you would stay in the same pose on your left side unless he asked you to reposition yourself. You slept on the inner side for reasons of practicality, because when he was late or had to leave due to an emergency it was easier for him to jump out of bed, and you always did it hugging a stuffed dog that Spencer had won for you in a fair.

Many people would think that getting married at 21 was crazy and even a couple of gossip told you that you were making a mistake or that it would only take a few months for one of you to file for divorce, but four long years had passed since then. Not everything was perfect, because there were arguments as in all marriages, and to that we had to add the constant stress that Spencer's work had, not only for him but also for you. Although, somehow, you had made it work and he always found the time to dedicate himself only to you, because he knew that you deserved it. You had a good position in a real estate company, nothing risky, and with hours that were always respected.

You two preferred not to think about it, especially him, but there was a degree of codependency in your relationship that you hoped wouldn't escalate into something sick or dangerous. You had had a difficult life, Spencer continued to have a difficult life, but little by little you two opened up to each other and the communication helped comfort what sometimes still tormented you. Reid had saved you from committing many idiots and if it wasn't for you, he didn't know how he could have faced situations or ghosts from his past. You were his reason for living and your apartment was that safe place where he could isolate himself from the whole world and live his own utopia. With you there was no suffering, there were no traumas, no crimes, no coworkers who ignored him... and when that existed, you were there to hug him tight and tell him that everything would be fine.

Honestly, the fear of becoming a burden plagued him frequently, but the two of you were trying to work through your own insecurities so that you could carry on your marriage in peace.

As soon as he felt his body touch the surface of the mattress, he moaned calmly and finally allowed himself to feel all the tiredness of the day, sure that it no longer mattered because he was in the right place to rest. He stayed like that for a couple of seconds, enjoying the softness on which he was lying, until your gentle breathing next to him caught his attention. He hated waking you up during the night, but now more than ever he needed to feel you close and he considered that with such a heavy sleep you had his touch would hardly be noticeable. He moved enough to be able to wrap his arm around your entire waist and bury his head in your skin at the nape of the neck, but against all odds he heard you inhale heavily as a sign that you had noticed the grip.

“Spence?”

"I didn't want to wake you up" he apologized, as he kissed you on the shoulder to mask his remorse, although to be honest a part of him was very grateful to be able to talk to you.

"I wasn't asleep" you lied uselessly, because your voice betrayed your state of sleepiness. Careful not to let him let go of you, you turned around to face him and he smiled from ear to ear when even in the dark he noticed that you were smiling weakly at him "Did you just get there?"

“Things got difficult. We came back by train”

“Oh…” you hummed sympathetically. Your hands traveled deftly up to his face and you stroked with your thumbs, watching him turn to putty between your fingers. “Did you even have dinner? Let me make you something"

"No, no, darling," he hastened to say, stopping you from getting up to go to the kitchen. Honestly, hunger was the least of Spencer's worries at that moment, his mind was longing to receive your body heat and with some luck multiple kisses on the face and lips "Just stay here with me"

If in normal circumstances it was already difficult to deny your husband something, it was even worse when he whispered in that pleading tone, so you simply nodded and snuggled closer against him. His long golden hair tickled your nose and you realized that Spencer had used your conditioner again, even though he had promised not to do it again, but you didn't mind at all.

"You feel good?" you asked softly, as one of your hands traveled to the back of his head to stroke his head and you maneuvered your other arm for him to use as a pillow.

He was very protective as a husband, perhaps motivated by the fear that some of the horrible things he saw daily at his work would happen to you, and he constantly looked out for your well-being, but on those occasions when you took the time to pamper him after a terrible day, he swore that it was you who took care of him from the lurking monsters.

"I feel better now that I'm here," he confessed, the words slightly muffled by his lips on your skin. "I missed you."

"Oh, I know you did" you joked, now a little more lucid than at the beginning of the conversation. You were very interested in him being able to fall asleep, because once he did it, all you had to do was close your eyes to imitate him, and how to blame you? With that strong grip and his legs intertwined with yours, you felt total tranquility "I missed you too”

Your hand continued to untangle strands of his hair in an attempt to relax him and you stayed that way for a few minutes, until he broke the silence. You didn't understand at first, so you gently whispered in your ear for him to repeat it.

"I missed our nine o'clock show" it was inevitable to let out a soft laugh at the apparent priority issue of your beloved and you kissed him on the top of the head before answering.

"Yes, it is sad"

"Remember how I told you that Anita and the butler were having an affair?" he asked and you hummed affirmatively “Did I get it right?”

"Almost. She was having it with the gardener” you heard a defeated sigh under your chin and your smile only increased “Now you owe me five bucks”

“Too bad, I don't have cash with me,” he muttered, pretending to be genuinely pained. “Would you accept another method of payment?” There was no need to ask what his suggestion was from him, the gentle kiss he placed on your shoulder spoke for itself.

“Yes, but there is a problem with the currency conversion. Five dollars equals approximately…” you took a moment to think of a suitable number and when you got it a smile escaped your lips “five hundred kisses”

“Five hundred kisses?!” Reid squealed from his hiding place in your chest "That's a huge debt"

"It is"

"I better start now huh?" he said flirtatiously. He started with quick kisses on whatever section of skin was within his reach that made you laugh out loud, then he continued up your neck with more careful caresses and by the time he reached your face the kisses were slow and so gentle that you felt die. But he wasn't so merciful to you, so his kisses touched almost your entire face except your lips. "Do you keep track?"

"Sorry?"

"Do you keep track of how many kisses I gave you?”

"Oh no, I guess you'll have to start over," you whispered, as you felt his smile against your skin as he planted a kiss right on your jaw "Or if you give me one on the lips, we're even”

Spencer didn't think twice to finally indulge your wishes and it was such a warm and deep kiss that you felt like a newlywed again. There were bad times, yes, but it was these moments that made you know that facing the rest was worth it.

"I love you very much, you know that?" he sighed, still with his eyes closed and his forehead resting on yours. You lifted your head a little just so you could steal another chaste kiss from him.

"I love you more, baby"

Spencer settled back, now lying entirely on your chest and you wrapped both arms around his waist while your hands traced uneven patterns on the striped fabric on his back. You asked your ear to please get some sleep and the soft beating of your heart was enough to calm him down until exhaustion overcame him.

If there was a perfect place in the world, he knew that it was between your arms.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #emily prentiss #david rossi

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niqhtlord01 · 5 months ago

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Humans are weird: Better call the Human

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The courtroom was silent as Overseer Mikab slowly scrolled through the petition brought before him. It was still early in the morning so the rest of the courtroom was empty save for a pair of Tenvalen’s who sat in the front row behind the litigate’s table. They had been the ones to capture and hand over the felon now on trial and waited eagerly for Mikab to sign the petition and hand over the felon to their custody for transport back to Tenvalen space.

To the front right of the overseer on the prosecution side were the litigate Ji, and opposite him was the captured felon Wei’ran still shackled to his chair. Ji was fiddling with the latches of his suitcase, indifferent to the situation. He was already thinking about what he would be doing with the payment the Tenvalen’s had fronted him to speed up the hearing. They wanted Wei’ran bad for crimes he had committed against the Tenvalen’s and had hunted him down across three sectors before cornering him. After a short chase through a crowded street they grabbed him and made him confess to his crimes.

“Does the defendant have anything to say before I make my decision?” Mikab asked as he finished scrolling through the request. Before Wei’ran could respond the doors to the chamber opened and a lone figure stepped inside.

“My apologies,” they said as they walked past the Tenvalen’s and stood next to Wei’ran, “I was delayed from representing my client.”

“Your client?’ Ji asked. “I was not aware they had even asked for legal counsel.”

“That is because for the last twenty four hours I have been denied access to my client.” The human retorted as they opened their briefcase and pulled out several papers.

“Honored Overseer, I would like to put forward a motion to deny extradition of my client to Tenvalen and request his immediate release.”

Ji scoffed at the unreasonable request while Overseer Mikab turned an inquisitive eye towards the human.

“On what grounds do you make such a request, litigate…..”

“Horris; Frank Horris honored Overseer.” The human replied when he realized he had not introduced himself yet. “And I would not waste your time unless my request was grounded in clear cut facts.”

Ji was about to speak when Mikab held up a hand to silence him. He was not one for flattery, but the show of respect towards his office was a refreshing change of pace and the Overseer nodded for Horris to continue.

“My client,” Horris began as he motioned to Wei’ran, “was illegally kidnapped, detained, and interrogated by two Tenvalen’s who then coerced my client to make false statements admitting guilt to save his own life.”

“Lies!” one of the Tenvalen’s shouted at Horris. He rose to his full height, an impressive seven feet tall, and looked down at the human as if they were nothing more than a smear across the underside of his boot.

“Silence.” The overseer replied calmly. The Tenvalen glared at the human a moment more before relenting and sitting back down.

“These are serious accusations Mr. Horris.” The overseer said as they clasped their fingers. Horris responded by separating several sheets of paper and handing them to an orderly waiting silently next to the overseer.

“As of this moment there are no extradition treaties between the Tenvalen’s and the Jenharie Republic, which means the two Tenvalen’s who hunted my client through the city streets were acting of their own free will in complete defiance of the law.”

“Counter point!” Ji demanded. “They were apprehending a wanted fugitive who was causing chaos in the city streets.” Pulling out a small device Ji activated it to show the chase of the Tenvalen’s as they rushed after Wei’ran. The security footage caught Wei’ran running away as fast as he could using everything and anything to block his pursuers.

“As you can see he was a danger to the general public that needed to be taken into custody.” Ji finished.

“If that were the case why did they not inform local law officials of their operation and work in conjunction?” Horris countered. “Furthermore, why did they not identify themselves as agents of the Tenvalen government and instead began chasing my client through the streets like madmen?”

The human turned to Mikab. “Dear Overseer, surely you can understand that if two large scary looking aliens began chasing after you without announcing themselves you too would seek to flee for your own safety.”

Mikab surprised Ji by giving a subtle nod in agreement. “I am inclined to agree with your assessment,” he began before cutting of Ji who was about to speak up, “I also would like to know why our local enforcers were not made aware of this detainment.”

“There was no time to inform local enforcers, overseer.” Ji spoke calmly. “Had they taken the time to inform them Wei’ran could have fled to another world and once more elude justice for his crimes.”

“So they felt that they were above Jenharie laws and could come and go as they please?” Horris countered. “My Overseer this does set a dangerous president for future cases if people can ignore your laws with such audacity and get away with it.”

He stood in front of the overseer and pointed at his client. “What happens when they come calling again and grab another person off the street? Or maybe two people? Or twenty? When do the laws you seek to uphold protect the innocent?”

“Innocent?” Ji laughed. “Wei’ran gave a full confession to his crimes in Tenvalen territory and signed them.”

To Ji’s surprise he saw the human nod in agreement rather than shake in embarrassment.

“Please tell me litigate, was there anyone else present in the room besides my client and the two Tenvalen’s who abducted him?”

“What does that matter?” Ji scoffed.

“It matters because my client was afraid for his life and the only guarantee of his continued survival was to agree with whatever his captors told him.”

Horris turned around and faced the two Tenvalen’s sitting behind Ji who had become increasingly flustered at the course the trial was taking. “He had been chased down, beaten, dragged into a room and questioned by two people he thought wanted him dead. He would have admitted to being the reincarnation of god even if it meant they would cease their torment.”

“Overseer-“ Ji spoke up but Mikab held up a hand.

“The human makes another good point. Was there anyone else present during this confession that can corroborate this confession?”

Ji’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to find a counter argument before relenting and admitting there was not. Horris shook his head at the admission.

“This only further highlight’s the mockery of Jenharie law as it is written in stature 441-74-5698FB that “During any interrogation of a witness or perceived criminal there be a minimum of two to three non-participating witnesses who can observe the questioning to ensure the lack of coercion”.”

“You know our laws?” the Overseer asked with a modicum of respect in his voice. “Not many offworlders take the time to learn them so thoroughly.”

“I do, my Overseer,” Horris nodded, “which is why their flagrant disregard to be so upsetting. For if offworlders like myself cease to respect these laws how can you claim to be the pinnacle of a just and fair society?”

Mikab said nothing as he looked at the human. He was impressed they had been able to so easily dismantle the case against his client after only just entering his courtroom. From the corner of his eye he could also see Ji fuming behind the ears as he wanted to no doubt curse out the human and demand the extradition be pushed through.

“What would you recommend instead?” Mikab asked Horris.

“I would never seek to impose over you, but since you have asked my opinion I would respectfully ask for a dismissal of not only the notion of extradition but also all charges that have been brought against my client here today.”

He waved a hand to Wei’ran as he still sat silently in his chair. “My client did cause a commotion which frightened several innocent people as he fled, so I find it would be more than fitting to sentence him to an extended period of community service to repay the debt he has incurred upon the people you protect.”

The two Tenvalen’s were now glaring daggers at Ji whom had assured them this case would be a speedy trial but now looked to be unfolding around them.

“I am inclined to agree.” Mikab admitted, much to the dismay of Ji. “I hereby state the evidence brought against Wei’ran has been corrupted and is no longer admissible in my court. Extradition request is denied and I sentence the defendant to serve a period of seven rotations of community service.”

With a bang of a loud gong the court session came to an end. The Tenvalen’s rose to their feet and looked as if they were to pluck Wei’ran and run when the orderly stepped between them and unholstered his electro-maul. They were sure they could easily overpower the orderly, but more would come and the pair would be trapped inside the court building. They instead chose to leave and report their situation up the chain and look for a more diplomatic solution.

When finally it was just Wei’ran and Horris Wei’ran spoke.

“I didn’t request a litigate.” He said softly. He eyed up the human who was replacing the papers back into his suitcase. “I didn’t even get a phone call after they nabbed me.”

“No, but you have some important friends that like to keep an eye on you.” Horris admitted, locking up his briefcase with a loud click. “When they saw you taken they gave me a call and told me to get you out of trouble.”

“You call this getting me out of trouble?” Wei’ran laughed. “Seven rotations of community service?”

“It beats being locked in a Tenvalen maximum security lockup, guarding your holes every time you drop the soap in the shower.”

Wei’ran paused at this and said nothing. “The trick is not to admit you are free of guilt; just not the guilt you are being accused of. You muddy up those waters enough and before you know it you’ll be swimming to freedom again in no time.”

#humans are weird #humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01

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sssammich · 6 months ago

Note

For supercorp 💗 🥹🥹

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

thanks for your patience, anon! alas, i have gone overboard once more because i cannot help myself.

ask meme

---

she's been given a mandatory month off from supergirl duties. she's not sick, she hasn't solar flared, and she's not hurting for any freelance work that requires her attention. she had simply been told that she needed to take the time off and to avoid any caped hero work unless absolutely necessary.

so that's why she's here now, without superhero work for the next thirty days. free to do whatever she wants.

after the initial shock washes over her, she places her hands on her hips and nods towards alex and j'onn. she knows exactly what she wants to do with her freedom.

"okay."

"look, before you fight th--okay?" alex stares at her, wide eyes mirroring kara's. "really?"

she shrugs, already heading towards the elevator. no need to fight the inevitable. "really."

as the elevator doors close in front of her, she can't help smirking in amusement at the identical confused expressions on both of their faces.

she has one destination in mind.

she knocks on the massive wooden door, though she knows she doesn't need to. it's a formality at this point considering the unrestricted access that she's been granted to enter the top floor of this condominium highrise.

still, she waits, because the anticipation is half the fun.

her face splits into an easy smile when lena opens the door to her with her own toothy grin.

"heya," she greets, stepping foot into what she calls home: within lena's arms.

"hello to you, too," lena says, swift yet careful in wrapping kara in her arms. her hands are open as they rub circles on kara's back. kara sinks further into lena's embrace, pulling lena further into her. "how are you?"

"i'm great."

lena stares into her eyes. "yeah?"

"oh yeah. i'm on vacation." she emphatically nods.

lena beams at that. "funny you say that. me too."

she quirks a brow at that, though she shouldn't be surprised. a month vacation doesn't just fall into people's laps without explanation. "yeah?"

"oh yeah," lena mimics her.

kara, still holding lena in her arms, pulls the other woman back in, the two of them swinging in place. "what a coincidence, right?"

lena throws her head back in laughter.

they arrive in a private villa off the coast of naples.

it's a modest hillside two bedroom house that overlooks the gulf below. when the local guide roll their suitcases for them, he unknowingly wheels lena's to one room and hers to the other. she smirks and lena tips him handsomely--enough that his olive skin tinges in embarrassment at just how much is in his hands. when their eyes meet after he leaves, they break into a giggle.

because they know the truth, despite not uttering a word of it: why bother taking up more room when right by each other's side is all the space they'll want to take.

despite the destination of her luggage, her body follows after lena to the other room, the one with the better view of the water. just as well, lena's body follows after her when they busy themselves in the kitchen to make themselves a quick dinner. when they finish, they share the hammock sitting out on the back deck, lena's head on her chest and her arms around her waist, while kara's arms wind their way in holding lena against her, their limbs tangled.

when lena yawns a few too many times, they call it a night. lena leads, their hands entwined, and they end up on lena's bed, drawing back the thin covers enough to stave off the inevitable cool night air.

they walk everywhere, always touching. a hand on the arm the elbow the bicep the small of her back. an arm slung over a shoulder or hooked together.

it's when they reach a destination that kara's courage grows, that lena's bravery broadens.

when they travel to the town square market as they shop for groceries that lips find their way on one another's skin; the temple the cheek the forehead.

when they treat themselves to a picnic right by a vineyard and lena is leaning back on her between her legs, lips chance on a bare and pale shoulder.

when they lounge in the hammock and lena is resting on her chest, lips chance on collarbones and behind the ears.

when they tire themselves out from full days, fuller stomachs, and fullest hearts that they are in bed and lena is facing her and their legs are tangled with one another, lips chance on entwined hands and fingers.

each one given freely, each one received gracefully.

soon, kara thinks, this will all change. especially when they cross the final threshold between them. though that's a formality at this point, all things considered.

still, she will wait until that happens, more than happy to be exactly where she is.

thirty days is long and short and is plenty and is not enough.

on their last day while they wait for their local guide to collect them, they stand on the corner edge of the back deck, lena in her arms as they overlook the gulf for the last time.

"i don't want to go back to work," she murmurs into lena's ear. lena twists in kara's arms until they're facing one another.

"you don't have to, if you really don't want to."

"we can move into this villa. i'll learn to fish. you can sell them at the market."

lena laughs in her arms and kara holds her tighter, like trying to capture lightning in a bottle.

"you're no good as a fisherman, sweetheart."

kara pouts because it's probably true. but she'll learn for lena.

"well, next time we're on vacation, we ought to come back."

"anything you want," lena says, her eyes dipping down to where kara's lips are.

"anything?"

lena nods, assuring, her eyes darkening. kara's smile widens and she leans forward just enough, their noses brushing.

kara is ready for what's to come. she's ready for lena.

still, she waits, because the anticipation is half the fun.

#supercorp #replies #fic ask meme #lmao sorry i have more of these to go through i realize yall might be sick of them hahah #considering the last one i did i lulled you all into a false sense of security please accept this as a peace offering #even if it's mm idk it's fine #but i did try #samficlet

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bad268 · 10 months ago

Note

Hi can I request Brock Purdy bcs he just look so hawt when the NFL posted that the 49ers are in the building

This picture did something to me pls, I want a fluffy but really hawt smut

Iykyk 😉

In The Building (Brock Purdy X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/NFL

Requested: Clearly (Happy Super Bowl yall)

Warnings: none

Pronouns: Second POV (You/your)

W.C. 691

Summary: Pre-game anxiety requires pre-game reassurance

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

“You do realize that this is the Super Bowl and not the Met Gala, right?” You complained from your spot on the bed. Brock had woken up impossibly early. From nerves, excitement or just his mental alarm not letting him back to sleep, you will never know. He decided now was the best time to frantically look through his suitcase for his outfit. You groaned as he kept mumbling to himself, causing you to sit up and throw a pillow at him. It hit him in the head, and he finally looked over at you. “You’re walking through a tunnel and then putting on your gear. Do you really need to fuss this much about it?”

“It’s the Super Bowl, and it’s Vegas,” He sighed as he gently threw the pillow back as he stood up and walked to the bed. He sat back on his side as he pulled you into his chest, just needing something, someone, to hold onto. “They’re gonna tear into me unless I look perfect.”

“I swear, no one cares,” You laughed as you rolled yourself up to sit on his lap. “It’s clothes and as long as you’re covered, I do not think they will care. For god’s sake, where is the guy who casually wore a stained t-shirt and jeans to the NFC Championship game? Huh? Where is the carefree attitude? You’re letting everything pile before the pile has even started.”

“It’s stressful being the quarterback, and it’s stressful trying to find something acceptable for the Super Bowl,” he laughed. You gave him a short kiss before standing up and walking to the closet where you hung up a suit you thought he would look good in. Before you could get to the closet, you stopped and pointed at his suitcase. “What about it?”

“Did you bring your entire closet with you?” You accused as you started to put the clothes back in the case. “Do you not remember me packing your suit because you said you didn’t want to stress about it later. This whole conversation could have been avoided, Brock.”

“Oh, I forgot in all the chaos,” He admitted as he stood up to help you clean it up.

“No, go put the suit on. I’ll worry about this while you get in the mindset for the game. The last thing your team needs is a distracted quarterback,” you lectured, pushing him toward the bathroom. “We’ll go get breakfast when you're done and head to the stadium.”

He just needed to calm down and think of it less as a Super Bowl and more a more of a normal game. Otherwise, he would overthink everything. Relatively speaking, it did not take long for him to get in the zone.

And you were off.

Vegas was not known for having a lot of good breakfast places, but the hotel you were staying at had a decent spread. There was stuff that you liked, stuff that he liked, and there was no need to compromise. It was fairly lax so there were not a lot of people around. You both were able to sit down and enjoy the calm before the storm that would be inevitable at the stadium.

When you finished up, it was already time to leave. The car was in front of the hotel, ready to pick up some of the key players and take them to the stadium.

When the car pulled up to the tunnel, all of the other players and their significant others climbed out and were practically flash banged from the paparazzi’s cameras. You two hung back a minute letting the hectic news die down before you faced the masses.

“Are you ready to make your debut?” You asked, grabbing his hand in reassurance as you rubbed your thumb over his knuckles. “You’ll do great, you know.”

“Let’s do this thing,” he said strongly before letting out a breath and moving to step out of the car, holding out a hand to you. You walked hand-in-hand down the tunnel through the flashing lights toward the hectic locker room

“And the San Francisco 49ers are in the building.”

~~~~~

#brock purdy x reader #brock purdy #brock x reader #nfl fan fic #nfl imagine #nfl playoffs #nfl football #nfl #national football league #san francisco 49ers #49ers #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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keelt9 · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter 1

Masterlist

The doorbell is already disturbing. I walked to the door and I could see through the camera a white napkin waving in the air. I giggled and opened the door.

“So you already visited mom, huh?” Lewis hugs me softly.

“It's so obvious?” I let him walk in, right to my mess. “It's actually happening, oh my god.”

I put my hands at my waist and see my apartment or what still makes it look like my apartment.

Lewis points to the big pile of boxes and bags next to the window. “This is for moving?”

“That's for charity or rubbish.” I point to the barely 5 boxes next to the T.V. “Those are mine.”

He pressed his lips together, seeing the mayhem in the kitchen, all types of food containers and a lot, a lot of boxes and bags split all over it.

“What have you been eating?” That moody voice tone exactly as mom.

I walked to clean the sofa so he could sit. “Pizza, Mexican and Chinese, healthy meals.”

I layed in the carpet tired as I heard him talking about what I should be eating; however he wasn’t speaking to me, he's on his phone ordering food, a healthy one.

He hung out, took out his coat and laid next to me. “Upside down?”

I scoff remembering what these 7 months have been, hitting like a thunder on my mind and heart.

“I had a life planned Lew, literally I was at 10 hours of walking down the altar, and look at me.” I raised my arms to the sky. “Now I’m packing, trying to move on and set a piece of life together.”

Lewis sighs but turns on a Bob Marley's song, “Three Little Birds.”

“And the job?” I laugh because I forgot to mention I already quit my job.

I see the empty walls and furniture, the frames piled in a box and the bag full of fragments of photos. Years in tiny parts.

I told my twisted life to my older brother, after a delicious dinner and random talk with Lewis, he walks and observes the boxes and suitcases.

“So all this goes with mom?” I forget I changed the moving date, but the new owners of the apartem arrive in 3 days.

I tossed my hair. “It’s the plan.”

Lewis makes a weird face as he sees all the wedding presents that friends and family instead I keep.

“Why don’t you send it to my place? I’m barely at home.” I stand up and walk to him. “I know you can handle it, but it’s easier.”

I see the present disturb him so much, and put it away. “Ok, not because it is easier, unless you find a job.”

I have money for living 3 months without worrying too much. However, in my to do list to find a job it's a priority.

“Oh, talking about that.” I shook my head and he put his hands on my shoulders. “Listen to me first, ok? I don’t spoil you, not that much.”

Both of us laugh.

“I’ve been thinking, you need distance from all this, and you and I have been talking about founding a refuge for dogs, right? So, here is my offer.” He used his poker face. “Prepare a proposal for the refuge, all included, convince me and if you do it, I set everything for we can put it to work. But I have two conditions.”

I bluff but I keep listing. “1. You will accept a modest pay for reporting your advances. 2. You’ll come with me this season.”

I roll my eyes faking a laugh, and walk back to keep packing, but he doesn't surrender.

“Come on, it’s a good offer. Besides, I need someone who’s to keep an eye on Rosco all the time and not be distracted for the race.”

I feel so proud of Lewis, however he knows I’m not anymore a huge fan of the formula one, less if he didn’t win, and Rosco doesn’t travel that far.

“Don’t use Rosco against me.” I turn around and a photo of Rosco is in front of me. “Hamilton!”

Lewis moved his phone in front of my face. “Think about it, ok? Meanwhile I’ll keep your boxes safe.”

I push him as he begins to close the boxes with tape. “It’s rude to use my love for Rosco against me, you know that?”

He smiles but doesn't answer and focuses on his task.

It's a bittersweet feeling how 6 years of my life now is packaged in 5 boxes, 3 suitcases and 2 bags.

T.V turned on, like always, mom is in her bedroom watching the first race of the season early in the morning.

I soft knock on her door. “Can I come in?” She smiles and pats the side of her bed as I laid down with her.

After a couple of minutes she finally spoke. “I’m proud, how you are handling this.”

I scoff and hide under the sheets. “Mom, I’m a mess, I feel like a mess and my life is a mess. Proud of what?”

Mom discovers my head and smiles softly at me. “But you are still fighting, believe that is more than enough.” Jewel appears under the sheets and licks my face. “A mess but a wonderful one.”

I smile and hug her as Jewel gets between us. “Thanks mom.”

The commentator said Lewis made an amazing overpass to Sainz and now is in the 5th place, mom splits and watches the T.V holding my hand.

The radio communication of Max appears on the screen along his onboard.

“Smart guy, a little bit not too friendly? I think.” I laugh and stand to go change my clothes for taking out Jewel.

Mom stops me at the door. “You have all packed?”

I nodded and Jewel was about to pass over my feet, sniffing my shoes. The 3 year old pomeranian, who is picky about his morning walks.

“Don’t be jealous young lady, those boys have my things, I must be nice.” The expression of my mom makes me smile.

Melbourne greeted me with a strong windy day, following the specific and detailed instruction of Lewis. I just packed what I could need and no one could get it for me.

We agreed that I don’t attend the paddock on the days of practices and the qualy day. I remind myself to focus on my job and I keep my nerves calm as much as I can.

At 5 am, I knew it Lewis knock the door of my room, three soft knocks follow by <It’s me.>

I opened the door for him, eyes half closed as he put a bag over my bed.

“I can’t believe I got you this.” I opened the bag and saw the t-shirt and caps I asked him. “The clothes are perfectly fine.” He pointed to the other bag next to my bed.

The day I arrived a bag full of clothes was on my bed, my issue is all are clothes style Lewis Hamilton.

I take out the clothes of Mercedes, black and white t-shirt and only black caps. “I’m not a fashionista, thank you so much.” Lewis scoffs and tosses my hair.

“Don’t be late.” He said leaving my room and sunglasses on. The sun didn’t even come out yet.

In the paddock I arrive in calm and walk right to Mercedes hospitality greeting all the people I know and someone who I was introduced to in the past days.

I stayed in there as much as I could, working and seeing the videos that are posted in the preview. After the ceremony I stopped working and walked where all the Mercedes crew used to watch the race.

Great race for Lewis and a second place, get all the team clapping and congratulating each other for the good work. I remind myself in the garage all the ceremony to keep far away from the cameras and reporters.

It isn’t like the old times anymore.

After the ceremony, along with the celebrations, Lewis changed his wet clothes. I met him in the garage giving him a big hug.

“So proud of you.” I hug him tight, before splitting and hugging him one more time. “Mom said this is for her.”

Lewis chuckles and sighs. “I’m so happy to have you here again.”

With the cameras focused one more time in the first place, almost all the garages are calm.

After I split from Lewis, someone got down my cap and hugged me shaking me side to side.

“Here is where you've been hiding, huh?” I recognized the voice of Bottas even though my eyes were covered.

I giggle. “Damn it, I should stay in the hospitality room.” Mocking Bottas who let me go and smiled at me.

Checo laughs and I hug him. “How long has it been?”

I didn’t even think about it, but there are few pilots who have kept going here since the last time I came to a Gran Prix.

Lewis sighs as both of us look at each other. “Pff, like, 9-10 years, more less?” I said winning eyes wide open from everyone.

“You were this tall.” Checo raised his hand to the level of his torso.

Bottas couldn’t let go. “No, no, this tall.” This time my height was at their waist.

I giggle. “Ok, I got it, I will say hi from time to time. I wasn’t that little.” I stuck my tongue out for them.

“Yes, you were.” Lewis sentences. “But, this grown up guys has been asking if it was actually you, the girl who has a strong resemblance and walks around the paddock or if it was someone else.”

“Turns out, it’s actually you.” Bottas fake a shock expression.

Their respective crews interrupt us, all still have a lot of things to do, so they say goodbye and make me promise at least I won't hide from them, the younger ones have to live with that.

Late at night, Lewis finally had time to rest and we went out for dinner. We chose a nice place with an amazing view to the ocean far away from people so we can talk in peace.

“It changed?” Lewis asked in the middle of our dinner. “The paddock, the atmosphere, all.”

“It’s been 10 years, Hamilton, of course changed, a lot of new faces.”

Years ago I was the little sister of a F1 champion. There were days where cameras were over me and made me feel…. some relevant, a proud sister who was grabbed at her father and mother's hands supporting his older brother.

Just I forgot that I was a little fish in a tank of sharks.

Lewis clearly understood the silence that followed by stirring answers.

“You’re right, things change.” Lewis careness my hair and smiles at me. “Remember it’s just a year, by the end of it you will be a brand new you at that’s what matters to me.” Lewis has this tendency of making me cry easily.

I sniffed as I laid my head in his hand. “Why do I have the best brother in the world?”

Lewis laughed and laid back a proud smile on his face. “What a coincidence! I had the same question.”

The no race weeks I spent in Newport in Wales where I plan to set up the refuge; searching places and an apartment, a few days in London babysitting Rosco and explaining Lewis my advances in search for some recommendation, but always I have the same answer.

One of the many things I love from the paddock is the Mercedes area; big black crystals all over the place, almost impossible to see inside but so easily to see outside, at the last level a rest zone where you can hardly hear the people from inside and the people outside hears and feels distant.

The race week in Azerbaiyan I allowed myself to go to the paddock for the sprint. Lewis finished in seventh place and George in fourth, so after it ended all reunited for the small meeting they had every time a race ended.

I go to work in what I called, the tea zone, with some peaches and my computer trying to brainstorm me, but I get stuck every time I start typing.

I bite the top of my pen and I close the computer at this rate I’ll have burned out.

I lay back my head, stretching my neck and when I sit down straight one more time I notice the top level of the Red Bull building is almost empty, just a single person taking a Red Bull watching his phone.

I go down stairs where I can see right to Tom, one of the teammates of Lewis.

“Still inside, huh?” Tom nods, making adjustments to his camera.

“Tough day.” He sees me. “This is a familiar thing, huh?” He pointed at the sunglasses.

I giggle while taking another bite of my peach. “We can say that.” I sigh. “I’m going out for a while, I’ll be back to leave with my brother, all right?”

Tom nods, after a month they learned one thing; Lewis, this time is overprotective of me.

“Use one of the markers so you don't get lost again.” Tom jokes about the first week I arrived, I got lost as I walked around the place.

At the end of the day, there was a lot of movement around the place, but what always calls for attention is the drivers. If you can see a bunch of cameras, people and one single color in the middle you find a driver.

I reached the zone where you can see all the garages, I stopped there trying to focus on and put an order to my mind.

“It’s weird for someone who isn’t that excited to have a car just a few meters away.” I don’t turn around hoping for my “I know” to be a satisfactory answer. “Almost all around here would give anything to be this close.”

Reckless I turn around. “I have other priorities, a different one. I’m here for who matters to me.”

“Then you should be with that person.” I scoff at the answer.

Mom, you're right, Max isn’t an easy going guy.

I stand straight holding my eyes on his totally not friendly face; curiously mad, that’s how I feel.

“I heard you could be here.” Checo speaks, still with his suit race at the level of his waist.

That’s what for the sunglasses, I can roll my eyes and no one knows.

“I’m not lost, I swear.” I walk to him, giving him a hug. “Such a good race, congratulations.”

Checo hugs smiles. “I better go, I should be in another place.” Checo narrowed his eyes and looked at my back. “See you tomorrow.”

I walked and didn't turn back but I could hear the conversation at my back.

“You collect mad Hamiltons, mate.” Checo said.

“What? What are you talking about?” Max raises his voice. I couldn’t avoid taking my time.

Checo makes himself more clear. “She is Lewis Hamilton's sister. His little sister.”

As soon as I arrived at the building, Lewis came out from the meeting, a kind of stress expression on his face.

I greet all the team with a smile as they let us alone in the hall.

“Tough one?” Lewis put his arm around my shoulder, changing the subject.

“Are you hungry? Let me change my clothes and we will go for dinner.” Yes, it was a tough one.

As we walk out from the paddock Lewis notices for the first time my camouflage actually works. Wearing a cap, t-shirt from Mercedes and jeans, combine with a hoodie or a jacket is enough for the cameras and reporters didn't even looked at me

In the car Lewis giggles. “I'm impressed. Good plan.” I giggle. “Smart girl.”

Our night is pretty lovely, nice dinner, a good talk and going back to bed earlier so he can be fresh for tomorrow's race.

One more time it was an early race, so by the time I left the hotel, news about his arriving at the paddock were all over the internet.

I walk in calmness at the entrance even when I see the world wide champion standing outside of RB hospitality. It's time for a second round?

“Morning Y/N.” Bono greeted me as he appeared next to me, head and papers in his hand.

Bono has been with my brother for years, supporting him, helping, being a friend, becoming family.

“How was the dinner?” He smiles and walks next to me as we get inside talking about our nights.

No, the second round must wait.

It wasn’t a good race for the team with the fifth place from Lewis and the seventh of George it's not how the team expected it to be.

After the race ends, I meet my brother in the hospitality room, I hear him so he lets out all that disturbs him.

“I left my phone in the garage.” Lewis let back his head. “Wait here I…”

I know he's tired of cameras and questions so I grab his arm. “I'll go. Stay calm.” Lewis pressed his lips together but didn't reply to me.

As I put my cap outside of the building I lost the vision in front of me until the incessant chattering made me lift my eyes. Cameras and microphones all over Max.

Same strategy, pass behind the cameramans who are so immersed in taking the best or worst side of the winner of the day.

In the garage I pick up the phone and walk back where Lewis has his eyes closed, headphones on.

“Where are those connected?” He laughs and takes his phone.

“I remember the songs.”

After a long day, finally Lewis is free to go. We'll take a flight late at night to London to go to a party of a friend of the family.

In the hotel lobby picking our things, we were talking about the time he has to learn to change dippers.

A few meters from the main door, Max intercepts us. “Lewis, you’re leaving?” Lewis and I turn around.

“Yeah, we have a small reunion with family.” Lewis stops and thinks for a second. “Oh, you don’t know each other, Max, she’s my little sister, Y/N...”

“We crossed paths before.” I said shaking my hand in front of Max, but Lewis noted the acid answer.

“Not that good, I guess.” Max narrows his eyes to me as he tries to see through my sunglasses.

One of the bellboys calls for us teeling our car is waiting for us.

“Nice to meet you Max.” I said politely as much as I could. Lewis giggled and gave Max a similar observation as Checo.

“Winning her bad side so quickly, another record Max.” I heard his hands crashing into each other, in a high five.

In the car Lewis giggles, shaking his head. “What?”

“What did he say to you?” I shook my head and threw at him a fluffy toy I bought for Rosco.

“Let it go Lew, let it go.” He took out his phone and taunted me as I put my headphones

“Just me?”

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #max verstappen imagine #lewis hamilton #mercedes #sir lewis hamilton

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