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probablyintensemuses · 7 months ago

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Dating Armando Aretas Would Include:

Grumpy x Sunshine Edition

🎧- Enchanted: Taylor Swift

pairing: Armando Aretas x black fem! reader

themes: grumpy x sunshine w/drabble

warnings: mentions of trauma & abuse, strong language, and a bit of gore.

authors note: I saw Bad Boys 4 again last night and it’s really refueled my Armando obsession, so more headcannons, drabbles, and fics on the way.

✨First Encounters✨

You and Armando meet in the worst of circumstances.

He, his father, and Marcus were on the run as wanted men, and you were the first person Mike thought to turn to after the attack at Tabatha’s.

Which he wasn’t wrong, you’d give your left kidney to Mike he’s saved you so many times.

You had let them into your small apartment, offering them clothes, food, and shelter until they could get in touch with the rest of the Ammo team and sort this shit out.

Armando had taken an interest to you then. Your house was warm and cozy, lived in. A small, plush couch, next to a coffee table littered with medical books. A kitchen stacked with teas and espressos , a dresser with vintage vinyls and a record player beside it. This was the kind of house he’d like to live in if he lead a different life.

You remember walking over to him, a picture of your parents and you when you were young in his hands.

“Those are my parents,’ you say. “I was ten then.”

Armando’s gruff exterior takes over though, and he doesn’t give you as much as a word back, let alone a thank you for feeding and housing literal fugitives.

You figured it was just him though and let it roll off you back like water.

You all got some sleep and the next day Mike asks you to drive them out to Dorn’s house on the dock. You agree and begin to load up the truck with guns, water, food, and extra clothes for the drive.

This is when Armando starts to question who you are and the legitimacy of your actions. Last person Mike trusted fucked them over, and he wasn’t having that shit again.

So he pulls his father aside and confronts him on the situation: you.

“How can we trust her?” Armando says, not far out of earshot of you.

“She’s good for it, trust me.”

“Didn’t you say that the last time and we got sold out. Don’t forget there is fucking five million dollar bounty on our heads. We can’t trust no one!” He whisper-shouted.

Mikes shoulders dropped. “I saved her life when she was younger, and I used to work with her parents. Trust me, she’s not going to pull a fast one. Because if she was, she would have done it already.”

Armando looked over at you, you’re dressed in a tank top, and that’s when he notices the cuts and burns littering your left arm. He sucks in a deep breath eyeing Mike who looks at you with sympathy too. There’s a story there, he’ll piece it together later, but for now he guesses you’re his only hope of getting out alive.

✨Post-fallout ✨

After you didn’t screw them over, and got them safety to Dorn’s, Armando found himself limping towards your apartment, blood trailing behind his feet.

Mike had sent him, and for some reason, at that moment, your place felt like exactly what he needed.

With the last of his energy, he banged on your door. Shortly, you answered and immediately went into panic mode.

The moment you let him inside, Armando crashes to the floor, passing out.

You screech and get every first aide equipment you have on hand and begin to bandage him up and stop the bleeding.

It took two bloody, sweaty hours, but you eventually got him all closed up.

Armando woke the next morning in a bed he didn’t recognize. This sent him into a frenzy. He went to shoot up out of the bed, but the soreness of his injuries knocked him back down.

“Fuck,” he moaned, grabbing at his torso.

From the living room, you turn down your headphones at the sound of movement. Armando must be awake.

Two days of rest, not bad.

You move towards the microwave and reheat the breakfast you had made him, pour some orange juice, and bring a whole heck of a lot of water and pain-pills.

Tray in hand, you kick open the door and slip inside your bedroom.

“Good morning.” You smile, setting the tray on the bed by his side. “How do you feel?”

“What the fuck did you put in this.” Armando asks, eyeing the food.

“Eggs, bacon, and toast.” You snicker.

Armando lifts a piece of toast, taking a bite. “If I die from this, I’ll kill you.”

“Noted, Sarg.” You salute.

You watch Armando eat his food with a smile on your face.

Eventually he looks up at you scowling. “Why are you staring at me.”

You shrug. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” You say truthfully.

“Well,’ Armando takes a swig of water, downing the pills. “Go be happy somewhere else.”

Your shoulders drop and you let out a sigh, you knew Armando was tough, but geez, you practically saved his life. Would it kill him to be a little nice?

But still you smile when you say, “okay, well if you need me, I’ll be out in the living room studying. Feel free to roam around, I don’t mind.”

It was a couple hours before Armando had come out of your room, limping over to the kitchen and rummaging through your fridge.

“I’m making dinner right now,’ you say, pausing your television show. “It’s a roast with veggies.”

“I want a beer.” He grumbles.

“Well I don’t have beer, but I do have wine.” You say, pointing to you collection of reds and whites.

“ I don’t want wine.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?”

Armando comes over to you, cornering you into the tiny space between your sink and the counter. “Get me a beer.”

“Let’s start over,’ you stick out your hand for a shake. “I think we’re at a misunderstanding of our situation.”

Armando frowns at your response, grumbling Spanish curses under his breath and walking away, slamming your door like a toddler.

The roast was done, and eventually you got Armando to come and have dinner with you…kind of.

He sat on the couch and watched the news, for updates on the status for his search, and you sat at the table, contemplating what to do with him next.

✨Enemies, Friends, Roomates✨

Mike had told you harboring Armando would only be for a short while until he could figure something out with the D.A’s office….that was three months ago.

Eventually you got your bed back, Armando taking the couch, but not your sanity.

Living with Armando wasn’t easy. He was brash, stand-offish, stubborn, and mean.

You did everything to try and form some kind of bond with him, even buying him gym equipment offline, but it just never clicked for him.

Not until one night when you’re studying late for an exam and happen to fall asleep at the kitchen table, books all around you.

That’s when you fall into a nightmare. The man who ruined your life the star of the show, again.

It always starts the same. You and your parents living happily at the park. Your parents watch you as you swing higher and higher, giggles filling the air. Then a man appears at the edge of the park, beckoning your parents over. You scream and shout for them but they never turn back, they keep going to the man. And when he has your parents in his grip, he brandishes a knife, slicing them open.

You let out a blood curling scream, slamming awake and falling to the group. Sweat sticks your curls to your face as you cry and gasp for breath.

Armando’s up in a second, swarming you.

“Estás bien?’ He pats you down, checking you out. “What’s happened to you?”

You can’t do anything but cry. The man who’s ruined your life, he’ll never leave you…he made sure of that in many ways. His latching to you is so deep that you can’t even escape him when you sleep.

You finally are able to get some words out, tell Armando, “I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,’ he helps you stand. “Maybe you should get some sleep in your bed.”

You’re shocked by his response, but you’re even more shocked by the way he helps you to your room.

“What are you doing?” You asks, confused.

“You just flew out your chair from a nightmare, what do you mean what am I doing? I’m helping you.”

“Yeah, I get that…but you never help me.”

Armando sighs, holding his hands at his hips. “You gonna tell me what it was about, or should I leave.”

You sigh. “When I was younger, my parents worked for the Miami Police Department. They were detectives and before I was born they ended up helping catch this serial killer. His name was Gunter Bennett but the media called him “The Gutter” because that’s how he killed. Years later, somehow he escaped prison. That’s when he came for my parents. He killed them in the middle of the night.’ You take an uneasy breath, finding birth relief and shock when Armando’s hand slips into yours. “And I was sure he was going to kill me too, but he didn’t…he did worse. He kidnapped me and kept me at some shithole for three years. Three.”

You rile up your sleeves and show all your burns and cuts. Armando remembers them from the first day he met you.

“It’s how I got these. That sadistic bastard,’ you cry. “He tortured me.”

Armando feels something in him snap hearing your story and seeing the ways it’s effected you, even now. He knows what it’s like to be harmed and loose the people closest to you.

So he shocks even himself with what does next, scooping you up like a wounded bird and nuzzling under the blankets with you.

You whimper and sniffle in his arms and he just hushes you, stroking your curls.

“It’s going to be alright, niña bonita, he’s gone now.”

Slowly, the exhaustion of work, school, and your tears overcome you and you both drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

✨My Lover✨

Armando was jealous.

You two had just spent the day out shopping, laughing and talking. Hell, you two live together! And yet you’re grinding on another man at the bar?!

The glass in Armando’s hand shakes and chips as he squeezes it further.

“Relax, muscle milk. You’ll break the glass.” Marcus says.

Armando scowls at him.

“I’m just saying, if you love her, tell her.” Marcus shrugs, walking away.

Armando scoffs. Love? Yeah right.

Did he feel close to you, yes.

Want to spend every breathing moment with you, yes.

Touch himself in the shower thinking about you, yes .

Oh fuck…he did love you.

Fuck! He loved you and you’re grinding another man!

Armando pushed out of his chair, it clattering to the ground in his wake.

He stalked over to you, grabbing your wrist and putting room between you and the man you danced on.

“ ‘Mando, what are you doing?” You stumble, clearly drunk.

“Let’s go.” He grabs you, chest heaving.

“Hey, wait!” You swat at him as he drags you through the bar and out the exit. “Why would you do that?” You whine.

“Because you’re drunk.” He rolls his eyes, slinging his leather jacket over your naked shoulders.

“I’m not!’ You whine, stumbling, luckily Armando catches you with ease. “I am.”

“You are. Let’s go.” He says, slinging you and carrying you bridal shower.

“Ah,’ you say, wrapping your arms around Armando’s neck and snuggling into him. “My knight in shining armor always takes such good care of me.’ You lean over, smacking his butt with a giggle.

“Shut up.” Armando says, resisting the urge to crack a smile.

Home, Armando tucks you into bed. He’s just about to walk away when you snatch his wrist, pulling him on top of you.

“Let’s play a game,” you whisper.

Armando rolls his eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth for truth. I tell you a truth and you do the same. “I’ll start.” You giggle.

“Tonight went exactly how I planned.”

Armando pulls back. “What do you mean by that?”

You shake your head and pout. “Uh uh. You’re turn.”

Armando sighs. “I don’t actually find you that annoying…anymore.”

“Ah, I knew it!” You laugh.

“Knew what?”

“Game over.’ You slump and snore, pretending to sleep.

“Stop it, you knew what?” Armando lifts you.

You bop his nose. “I knew that you loved me.”

Armando’s eyes get big. “What?”

“Me and kelly paid that guy to dance with me. We knew you’d get mad and that was all the proof I needed.”

“You’re a dick.” He starts to walk away, but you grab him by his belt loop.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You pull him back. “But you don’t have to be shy.” You hiccup.

Armando grumbles, nuzzling his face into your stomach. “And why’s that?”

You lift his head, angling it to face you. “Because I love you too.” You lean forward, placing a firm kiss onto his plump lips.

Armando reciprocates, opening his mouth turning the kiss fierce and hot. He climbs on top of you, mumbling against your lips. “And I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”

You giggle. “Feels good to be bad for a change.”

#angst #headcanon #armando aretas x reader #armando aretas #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life #jacob scipio #armando armas #hotmando #fanfic #fluff #grumpy #sunshine #armando x reader #armando fic

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januaryembrs · 8 months ago

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SKIN LIKE PUFF PASTRY | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [6]

description: the ONE where you help him grieve another woman + the ONE with the promise

length: 8.04k

warnings: maeves death. grief. Spencer is a sad bby. HOWEVER maybe perhaps some fluff? healing journey! gun, blood, usual cm warnings.

author's note. HERE YOU GO POOKIES. I hope you enjoy now I've put you all out of your misery.

previous chpt | next chpt | series masterlist

'Lacy, oh lacy, skin like puff pastry,

aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of hell?'

The one where you help him grieve another woman.

It killed her walking up those stairs every day. She knew the gift baskets were piling up, had already had a terse conversation with his neighbour about leaving ‘clutter’ in the hallway, to which she thinks she might have swung at the eighty year old woman if she didn’t think it would cause Spencer problems.

He had enough on his plate already. Maeve had died, for fuck sake.

In fact, she almost entirely blew her top when she made it to the top of the steps to see every single one of Garcia’s gift baskets had been moved, the bunches of tulips she’d brought him every other day over the past two weeks gone with little trace other than browning petals scattering his door mat. Even the cookies JJ had baked him, the card Henry had drawn for his uncle Spencer had been moved.

Bugsy stopped for a second, her head snapping to the door to the right where his neighbour, Miss Cavanaugh, had shuffled out of her apartment in her pink dressing gown, her grey, wispy curls flat against her head as if she’d just rolled out of bed.

She blinked at the younger girl through thick, bubble-like glasses, her blue eyes annoyed the minute she saw her standing there.

“You can’t just take people's things, you know, I don’t care if it got in the way of your daily walk, Miriam, those were for Spencer-” Bugsy started, her voice as calm as she could get it even though her scowl spoke for itself.

“I didn’t touch any of his crap, little lady,” Miriam raised her mottled hand, crooked fingers shushing the outrage Bug had been ready to bark at her, and the women sighed when they realised they might just have another argument like their last one, “Kid was poking around at like six in the morning taking it all in, nearly woke up my dog,”

Bugsy rolled her eyes, “God forbid,” Miriam flipped her the finger which made Bugsy’s jaw drop wide open, shuffling back into her apartment muttering to herself, her mail in her mangled hands, “Old bag,” Bug murmured to herself, but her eyes quickly locked back onto Spencer’s door.

He had been out. Well, he had been into his hallway, but it was something.

Her legs felt like jelly when she took hesitant steps towards his doorway, her knuckles gently rapping on the wood, a frog crawling into her throat that she tried clearing with a cough.

“Spencer?” Her voice was soft, melodic, and it made him wince where he sat against the other side of his entrance, his own hair a state of disarray, “It’s me,”

Of course he knew it was her. He didn’t think a day could ever go by where he wouldn’t know her by the sound of her steps alone. Like he’d grown a sixth sense for these sorts of things, like they were linked by some weird Spidey powers like in the comics she’d brought over to his apartment and begged him to read, because even though he could devour a million words a minute (her words not his) it was the art in it she loved and that forced him to slow down and enjoy the pages.

He wanted to tell her to go away, but he couldn’t find it in him to ever be so cruel, to dig himself a bigger trench of regret than he already felt. He couldn’t save Maeve, physically could never get the image of her dying from his ginormous, genius brain that held onto every detail, and on top of it, he knew he deserved none of the kindness Bugsy showered him with. He’d heard her come stand outside his door every single morning, heard her knocking with the same worried call of his name at the same time before breakfast. He heard her sigh after ten or so minutes and leave, her retreating footsteps clunking down the stairs sadly.

She was too good for him. He’d only solidified it that she was so beyond what he deserved, that he could never treat her the way she deserved to be treated, the same way he hadn’t with Maeve.

Spencer’s self loathing was a poison, slowly devouring him every time he heard her voice, felt her approach through the floorboards, when he’d seen the little notes she’d left on the books she’d dropped off outside his door. Usually they were her reviews on them, a list of pros and cons, her general musings, all things they would have chatted over a bagel if things had been normal between them. But he couldn’t remember the last time they’d had breakfast together the way they had like clockwork since she joined the BAU. That was a lie. He could remember, of course he could, it had been four months, three weeks and five days ago, a Monday. He thinks she knocked around 10am. Something like that.

It was the day before she’d flown to London, actually. She had dropped the boys (the boys being Niko and Sergio) off to his apartment, thanked him a bunch of times for looking after them, given him five months worth of cat litter and kibbles and immediately unwrapped a to-go bag of their favourite pastries from the bakery downtown. He remembered it was close to October because she’d bought over maple buns and they only sold at the beginning of Autumn, and he’d asked if she’d be doing anything for Halloween seeing as their usual plans of a horror movie marathon were being put on pause while she was in England. She wasn’t, and she’d asked to call him instead so they could discuss their favourite trick or treating outfits they’d seen.

He’d promised her a call, only another case popped up by the time the thirty-first rolled around, and it had never happened.

Spencer hated how he was able to remember every detail of her face the day she’d left, the warmth of her hug he’d clung onto for months. He hated that day she’d surprised him and he hadn’t even thought to wrap his arms around her because he’d been so stuck feeling the overwhelming shock of seeing her. He hated that he’d made her frown like that, that she had ever doubted that he wanted to see her. But it had felt like he’d been caught cheating, why had it felt like cheating?

He knew why. He knew why seeing her when he was going out to call Maeve had felt like he was double-crossing her.

Not that it mattered anymore, he thought bitterly. Because Maeve was dead. And Bugsy had every right to hate him. But she didn’t. Because she was too good.

He hated himself more than he’d ever thought was possible.

He heard her sigh, but she didn’t repeat herself. Nor did she leave. Instead, he felt the door rattle behind his own spine as she slumped against the wood, sliding to the floor until she unknowingly leaned against him, little more than a few centimetres from his warmth.

He heard her pull out something from her bag, and the tell tale slip of paper over paper told him she’d brought a book with her, pre-empting staying longer this time. Spencer wanted to tell her not to bother, because if he got brave enough to open the door to her and see her face, smell her clothes, feel the softness of her hugs, he thinks if he told her every thought bouncing around that aching skull of his, it would all come crashing down around him, and he wouldn’t ever be able to stop telling her how sorry he was. For all of it. For letting her pull away from him when she was grieving. For letting her kiss him that night Derek brought her over, because it was obvious she wanted to forget the whole thing. For pushing her away when she came back from London. For being rude and cold when she wanted answers. For trying desperately to completely detach himself from her, which had only ever made him want to scream in frustration because it hadn’t worked anyway.

Maeve had died because of him, an innocent woman he’d seen himself falling for if they’d been given the chance had died, and he was still head over heels in terrible, stupid love with Bugsy.

They stayed there, her reading and him aching from the inside out, for about seven minutes before her phone rang. He heard her huff, letting it go to answer phone and settling back down with her novel. That is, until her dial tone sprung back to life and she half growled under her breath, assuming she pressed the answer button, and he heard her voice again.

“Hello?” She said, the slight annoyance bleeding into her words, and Spencer already knew that duty was calling by the way her book thumped to the floor and he could just picture her rubbing over her temple in frustration. “I have an appointment, Hotch, I can be there in a couple hours,” Silence, where he guessed Hotch was chiding her on her tardiness, “No, I know I’m supposed to book these things off- it’s just- it’s a contraceptive implant removal, yeah I really busted my IUD when I broke my arm, it’s not settled since,” Spencer almost smiled on instinct, almost, though he thought even if he did it would look like a bitter grimace because he’d not moved his face in over ten days. But she was a really good liar, and he’d always found that part of her charm. She huffed again, “God, you sound like Emily, yes I’m being safe- we are not having this conversation, Aaron, I’ll get there when I get there,”

With that, perhaps the only person who would ever be allowed to slam the phone down on Aaron Hotchner in a huff did, and they were left alone in silence again.

“You shouldn’t ignore their calls for my sake,” He found his voice, even if it was groggy with misuse. He felt her straighten against the wooden door, her shock palpable through the brief moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for just a second too long, as if she was scrambling not to say something else than what came out.

“Pot, meet kettle,” She murmured back, loud enough he could hear it, and she felt him shuffle behind the door, wanting to smack herself in the face for not feeling him there sooner.

“New case?” He asked, his eyes heavy, his pyjamas days old. He knew he needed to shower, but the minute he’d walked into his apartment everything had felt pointless.

“Yup.” She breathed in, her shoes brushing against his welcome mat with a scratch as she pulled her knees up to her chest, “Although I think Hotch will stick to Penelope making the calls after today,”

Something between a scoff and a sigh came from his throat, something she couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.

“What is it?” He replied, and she remained quiet for a second, picking the skin around her nails.

“I’ll tell you if you open the door,” She bartered, wondering for a second if she’d gone too far and had pushed him back into the hole she was coaxing him out of.

“Blackmail,” Spencer said, all emotion gone from his voice, and Bugsy winced, “A little on the nose for someone who’s grieving,”

But she could sense it. The way his syllable raised on the last word, that he was being cynical, not cruel like she’d worried.

“Think of it as a trade deal,” She humoured him, though she kept her voice soft so he knew she meant no harm, just to cheer him up if it was even possible, “You get your answer, and I get to give you this incredibly boring book that I know you can devour in a half hour and give me the summarised version,”

He smiled. Weakly, and only for a brief few seconds, because if there was anything that warmed him up from the cold, dark, nothingness place he’d found himself in it was her.

He wished he could dislike the fact she did it so easily, wish he could dislike how simple it was to like her, to feel himself wanting her even in that nothingness place he was crawling through as a lone ranger. He wanted to pull her into him tightly, wanted to let her fuss over him, to apologise until his voice ran even more hoarse, but he couldn’t. He feared if he touched her, she’d be marked for death right then and then; that he’d taint her somehow. And that he could never do.

Yet, he bent to her will. He stood up, prompting her to do the same, leaving his door on the latch as he pulled it open a crack, enough for her to jimmy the book through, The Death of Ivan Ilyich, by Leo Tolstoy.

He had read Tolstoy before, of course he had. War and Peace was one of the first books he ever owned in Russian, ironically enough one that he’d read only a few days before they’d driven to Baltimore and he’d met Bugsy for the first time. Yet it was this one she’d given him of all of Tolstoy’s works; the one where the protagonist goes on a journey of acceptance that he’s dying with no explanation as to why.

He thought she might just be the only person who knew how to crawl into the mess of his brain and find something familiar in there. Because this was the same book he’d read when Emily had died.

He would never tell her he already owned it, however. Nor would he call her out for the fact she most certainly didn’t find it boring considering she was so far into it with annotations already scribbled in the margins. He just took it with a lump in his throat, his eyes burning with the idea she was so incredibly her that it felt like he had no option but to drown in it.

“Body’s been found in San Francisco,” She said gently, and he knew she wished he would open the door fully so she could at least see him. Yet he kept the door on the latch. Because if there wasn’t a barrier between them, he wasn’t sure how else he would keep it all in, “You get to know more when you finish the book,”

He sighed, holding the book tight to his chest, and they stood there for a second, the air turning stifling as they both held back a million words behind brave faces, “Will you be gone long?”

“No, only a few days, I hope,” She replied, zipping her bag up and slinging it on her back judging by the sounds coming from her side of the door. She hovered, not wanting to say the wrong thing, but wanting to stay here on his welcome mat because this was the closest they'd been physically and otherwise in months.

“Be safe,” He murmured, and her hand shot through the gap in the doorway, her pinky finger raised to the heavens.

“Promise,” Bugsy said, her heart jack hammering against her ribcage when a long, warm finger wrapped around hers, and they squeezed them together. It was just a little touch, but it was a start. She wished he would open the door so she could beg him to talk to her, even if it meant crawling to her knees, she wasn’t above it whatsoever.

Reluctantly, she let him go, though she noted the way he had held onto her until she did so.

“I have to go,” She said sadly, drawing her hand to her chest like she’d received a Midas touch, and her hand was suddenly valuable after gracing his own.

Her skin felt electric, her breaths felt laboured. She wanted more, but she couldn’t have it.

And with that, it took every ounce of resolve to turn on her heels and head back down to her car.

–

Bugsy stared at the artwork with a grimace, picking hard at her cuticles because the metallic smell was making her stomach turn. Their UnSub had taken to painting with his victims’ blood, canvasses upon canvasses of leeched ichor brushed out to make out an image of the bodies.

Her nose scrunched when another wave of hot, iron wafted up her nose, and she thought about asking Hotch if she could step outside for a moment, knowing he likely wouldn’t question her perhaps ever again after their little phone call.

“What other reasons would he have for separating plasma from the blood?” Hotch asked, and her brow furrowed, her mouth opening to speak before another voice cut her off.

“It’s a habit,”

She swore she gave herself whiplash with how fast her head snapped to the side. She would know his voice anywhere. It sounded lost and desolate, yes, but her eyes swirled with relief when she saw him standing there, looking skittish and tired but alive.

“Reid,” Morgan breathed, the same level of surprise she felt as JJ darted towards him, her arms wrapping around his middle before he could protest.

“Spence,” She said, and they hugged one another tightly, his eyes following over Jennifer’s shoulder to where Bugsy seemed to watch him unsurely, like she was waiting for him to tell her what to do, how to make it better, how to fix it. A girl who had always been so sure of herself now reduced to pining from afar for answers.

“I didn’t expect you back this soon. You sure you're ready?” Hotch asked, an almost identical look of hesitance on his face as Bugsy had on hers, and it was no wonder half of the department said they were two sides of the same coin.

“No but I think I figured something out,” He breathed, moving out of JJ’s embrace towards the boards where the victim profiles were, and he began speaking in that slow, cold tone he’d taken on.

Spencer, to no one's surprise, was able to all but fit their disjointed puzzle pieces together in the space of an hour's flight, and with just a few pointers in Garcia’s direction, they’d got their UnSub.

“And bingo was his name-o, actually his name is Bryan Hughes, he is an AB positive haemophiliac who works as a janitor at the Bay Area Museum of Art. And before you ask, yes his address has been sent to your phones.” Penelope rushed, pinging the information to their phones just as fast as it had appeared on her screen.

“You’re the best baby girl,” Morgan said into the speaker, hanging up the phone as the team stood from their place at the desk, Hotch assigning them tasks as everyone strapped on their kevlars and guns.

She held back for a moment, her eyes assessing him like man approaching a wounded wolf.

“I’m okay-” He was about to say, because he knew what she was going to ask before she thought to do it, except she simply nodded at him, turning on her heel to follow the others, despite him expecting something more Bugsy-like.

It wasn’t like her to leave him without some final word, some final stand, and he was right. Because no sooner had she gotten all of three paces, she whirled back around, heading back towards him with a timid expression, and she all but launched herself into his arms.

He held her tight, the warmth of her body making his eyes well up, because if there was anything that could have made him crack his resolve, it was her touch alone.

She carded her fingrs through his hair, tucking her face into his neck and breathing in deeply.

“I’ll see you when I get back,” She murmured, stopping herself from saying anymore as she released him, well aware of the fact he had tried squeezing her tighter before she’d had to let him go, like he hadn’t wanted her to go. But neither did she.

“Stay safe,” He said on instinct, and she nodded, her eyes trailing over his empty eyes and sallow skin.

She wanted to kiss away every trace of sadness there, but she couldn’t. Wanted to wrap him into a hug so tight she might just stop breathing, but it would have been worth it. Wanted to tuck him into bed and stroke his hair and feed him tea and chocolate and make sure he was kept well, because she’d do anything to make him better.

But she couldn’t. They had a case.

It took every scrap of resolve to let go of Spencer Reid, sheepish and mourning, and leave him in that room alone.

–

She sighed, scrubbing at the back of her hand with the shitty aeroplane soap they had on the jet, the tiny basin doing nothing to help the fact she was all but peeling off the top layer of her epidermis.

Catching Bryan had been messy; he had come at her with a scalpel, she had shot, his blood had sprayed over her arms, soaking right through. Spencer had all but gone white when she’d gotten to the runway, hoping to make it back to Quantico by midnight.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He fretted, despite the fact it was the closest he'd come in weeks to an emotion that wasn't sadness, and he stood little more than a few centimetres away, his fingers twined together, wanting to check her over himself.

She waved him off, “It’s not mine. I’m going to wash up on the plane, don’t worry,” She replied, her expression exhausted, twitching on the spot to stop herself pushing his hair behind his ear. She knew he’d washed it because it looked particularly fluffy, the way it always did when he hadn’t bothered to style it before he left the house, “Are you okay?”

He nodded wordlessly, and took her mini suitcase from her side, wheeling it along the tarmac for her, his face a worried scowl as they boarded the jet.

She thanked him as she stepped past him putting it in the overhead luggage, heading straight for the toilets to wash up, Morgan and JJ ducking out of the way when they saw Carrie 2.0 passing by them.

It wasn’t until they were already in the air did she emerge, her change of clothes on her skin that had been rubbed raw, her uniform in a biohazard bag that she swiftly dumped at the back of the jet to keep it out of sight. She threw herself down on the nearest seat, her entire body aching from the long few days, but she didn’t miss the hazel eyes that bore into the side of her head to her right.

She turned to meet their gaze, even though she already knew who it was before she’d even looked. Spencer looked like he was caught between about five different sentences to start with, his eyes trailing down her arms and to her hands that were now squeaky clean.

“You sure you’re okay?” He murmured, and she flipped her palms over for him to see for himself. No cuts. No abrasions. Except her usually marred cuticles she’d been picking at all day.

“Pinkie promised, didn’t I?” She teased, but no humour met his face. He just looked back at her, like he didn’t quite believe her still, like she was a ghost where his best friend should be sat, or a trick of the light. She turned her knees towards him, her sleepy eyes buttery and genuine, as if she was trying to make herself as relaxed as possible, just so he would stop worrying, “Spencer, I’m fine. Didn’t even knick me,”

He stayed quiet for a moment, looking down to his satchel bag where he played with the buckle, the brown leather cold in between his fingers, “I’m sorry I’ve been weird and distant and ignoring you- I just…”

“Spencer,” She tried to interject with a honeyed voice, but he shook his head, a crease forming between his brows when he heard her say his name like that.

“I just worry I’m letting everyone down, but when I saw you covered in blood-” He gulped, willing his eyes not to burn up again with unshed tears.

“Spence, it’s okay,” She cooed, shuffling closer to him in her seat, her hand migrating to his knee, because she didn’t know if he’d want to touch her after she’d had someone else's blood all over her hand. She liked her chances, yet the last thing she wanted was to push him. “No one’s expecting you to go back to normal, I just want to know you’re safe. I owe you as much, I mean you looked after me when Emily was gone,”

“You don’t owe me anything, Bug,” He shook his head again, his brows furrowing and she was quick to correct herself, “Besides, I loved living with you,” He rested his palm over her hand and gave her what he hoped looked like a small smile.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Spence,” She said, flipping her hand over to squeeze his fingers gently, “Did you not think I loved living with you too? I just want to take care of you for me,”

He looked at her, her eyes hopeful as she roved over his clean clothes, his freshly washed hair, his satchel he’d kept tight in his lap, as if checking him over for bruises despite the fact he hadn’t been in the field. The crushing weight over his chest like a fallen log seemed to shift, and with it, her hand soothed the wound, her smile dried his eyes, her warmth engulfed his very core in a blanket.

Spencer knew he was going to be okay if it was him and her. He knew the world was livable again if she was fighting in his corner. But then, when hadn’t she been?

Sensing his ease in attitude, or perhaps she just knew his eyes so well to notice the way they seemed to carry less burden as soon as she’d spoken, she leaned back in her seat, “Besides, the boys miss you. They said you gave them more treats than I do and Niko appreciated you brushing his fur for him,”

He smiled over at her bashfully, his head dropping down to lean on her shoulder as she pressed her cheek to his head.

“Well, if the boys miss me, I guess I have no choice,” He murmured, his eyes heavy the second he rested against her, like she’d sprayed a sedative over him, and he couldn’t help think that her new perfume wasn’t nearly as them as her old one had been. Not that he disliked this one, just that the other one reminded him of morning breakfasts, and movie marathons, and nights when they would bake apple cake at twelve in the morning because she made it how he liked it to a tea.

She chuckled, and it sounded like a hum in his ear, as he curled up to her side, “Get some sleep, I’ll wake you up when we land and I’ll drive us home,”

And it didn’t take much for him to do so, even if something had been right on the tip of his tongue; his apartment had only felt like home when she said it like that.

+1. The one with the promise.

He’d had that dream again.

It had been four months since Maeve died, but he’s had that dream again.

He’d start out in a restaurant, the walls lined top to toe with books, the chandelier the perfect amount of dust that it had character but not tackiness. A waiter would bring him over a menu and an iced tea, his favourite. He’d go to look up to ask why he’d been sat at a restaurant he had no recollection of getting to, and he’d see her staring back at him.

Maeve. Looking healthy and happy, like he hadn’t watched her brains sprayed across that warehouse floor.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” She would say, a glass of some kind of white wine swirling in her hand, her teeth straight and white and pretty when she smiled.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you,” He’d say, though he couldn’t feel his mouth moving, he just knew it had come from him. “Where are we?”

“You promised me a date, so this is it,” Maeve said, a glint in her blue eyes, “First and the last. Let’s make it count,”

His heart would give a jump then, because he’d remember this was the only time he’d ever get to see her. He’d remember that she was dead, that he had never seen her in person like this until the day she’d died.

He’d open his mouth to apologise, to beg for an explanation or forgiveness, whichever one he thought was more pressing, and then the door would swing open.

And Bugsy would walk in.

Donned in the same bluebell dress she’d worn at JJ’s wedding, only her arm wasn’t broken. And she’d walk right up to him, that smile on her face that said she was excited to see him.

And Maeve would look at her, and instead of scowling or sneering like a woman soaking in jealousy would, they would look at one another and grin like they’d known each other decades.

“Car’s out front when you guys are done,” Bugsy would chirp, her eyes warm when she looked down at the dead woman, satiated in genuine happiness to see her, “Don’t keep him too long,”

“One dance, Agent Prentiss, and he’s all yours,” Maeve would reply with a giggle, her brunette locks falling like a waterfall over her shoulder when she’d stand, offering a hand to him to sweep him onto the dancefloor, “You coming, Spencer?”

And his eyes would snap open, returning him back to the horrible reality of his darkened bedroom, his apartment silent other than the sound of Bugsy tossing in the spare room, the way she did when she got too warm in her sleep, and he threw his legs out of bed to go get her some cold water.

But the dream never left him. The same one he’d had for months, since she’d moved in with him to take care of him, make sure he was eating and keeping as happy as he could be.

The sight of her in that blue dress, waiting for him to finish his dance haunted him almost as much as Maeve did.

–

“Why didn’t you tell me you hadn’t been sleeping?” She asked, cornering him in the kitchen once they’d both dropped their go bags in their room and he’d jumped for the kettle to make them both coffee.

He blanked, the mug nearly slipping from his grasp as he plonked it down on the counter in front of her, “Why would you think-”

“Spencer,” She said as a warning, her lip quirking between her teeth as she gnawed at it worriedly.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” He confessed too quickly, scratching the back of his neck the way he did when he was nervous, “I know you worry about me, especially right now, and when you worry, you don’t sleep, and I just thought what’s the point in both of us running on nothing,”

She huffed, and he shuffled around the island to meet her where she stood by the bar stools, looking like she wanted to be cross with him but she couldn’t find it in herself.

“You should have told me, I could have stroked your back the way you liked, or, I don’t know,” She shrugged, looking anywhere but his guilty looking hues, “Smuggled night nurse in your tea,”

“Drugs. Cause that’s way better than my thing,” He teased, and she snickered, and he sighed in relief that she wasn’t really mad at him. He hated lying to her, he’d just wanted to keep his odd dream to himself until he could make sense of it, “Did Dave tell you anything else?”

She shook her head, and he knew she was telling the truth because she seemed to immediately be the one assessing him for anything else she should have been told much sooner.

“Is your head okay?” She asked, putting a gentle hand to his forehead to check for migraine heat, “I know they get worse when you don’t sleep-”

“My head’s fine, Bug,” Spencer replied, grabbing her hand with his long fingertips, pulling them from his face to squeeze at her side with a warming smile, “Promise. I’ll tell you if it gets bad,”

She watched him sceptically for a moment before she leaned over to grab her coffee, taking a long sip, and sighing in delight when it tasted perfect, “I love your memory, did I ever tell you that?”

He chuckled, dodging a rogue Niko that bobbed between his feet because it was almost dinner time for the two miscreants, moving back over to the sink to tidy the granules of sugar he’d spilled, “Many times. But I’d remember your coffee even if I had a normal brain,”

“Humble as always,” She remarked, smiling devilishly when he shot her a glare over his shoulder. It was then that Sergio jumped up onto the counter, the way Spencer had tried scolding him for a million times because of the germs, only for the onyx black cat to flick his tail in his face as if to flip him a middle finger, yowling in the man’s face for his usual dinner of kibble and water.

“Alright, alright,” Spencer sighed, reaching into the cabinet to grab their food, two fluffy bodies immediately weaving in between his long legs with mews and head bumps, because those boys knew how to wrap him around their little finger, “You ought to start being nice to me, boys. One day it’ll probably just be me and you guys, and then you can’t just bat your tails at me like you do your mom-”

“I know I’m turning twenty eight but I still got a few years left kicking, Spence,” Bugsy protested, her brows furrowing when she heard his murmurs, which she hadn’t found entirely odd since he always spoke to the boys when he fed them, except this time it had made her draw back in confusion, “Where am I in this hypothetical bachelor pad you got going on?”

“You’ll be with whatever guy is lucky enough to talk his way into dating you, maybe engaged, maybe married,” He said like it was nothing, despite the fact he’d been thinking about that exact scenario for months. Since Penelope had mentioned just how good British men were in bed, in fact. Because he felt both sick and curious as to whatever it had been that had come out of her mouth in return, “And I’ll look after the boys while the two of you move on, because you’ll feel sorry for taking my only friends away from me when you leave, and I’ll be forced to become a lonely, old cat man,”

“That’s not true,” She said, her face warming when he chuckled cynically, running a hand through his hair, “Spence, you can’t actually believe that?”

“Yes it is, Bugsy, you don’t need to try and make me feel better,” He brushed her off, wiping his knuckles over heavy eyelids, “You and I both like facts, right? It’s a quantifiable fact that zero women except Maeve have ever fallen in love with me in thirty years. Even if we call it twelve years to remove the factor of less meaningful relationships developing before adulthood, that means I’ll be forty two by the time I next get a shot, at which point I’ll be too old and washed up for anyone to find me attractive. Let’s face it, no one is ever going to love me like that again,”

“That’s not true,” She repeated, her chest hammering, her face scrunched into a scowl, “You’re wrong. Quantifiably wrong.”

“You have no data to back that statement up, Bug,” He replied with a dark snicker, and maybe it was the lack of sleep or the idea of her engaged to some other bonehead that had made him so crass, “Can’t make a conclusion without drawing on your evidence, to which you have none,”

“Yes, I do, asshole. I know for a fact that someone is in love with you,” She snapped, and it was like a bolt of lightning had cut through their conversation, blowing up in her face, her entire body freezing the second the words had left her mouth.

She looked at him, her eyes panicked, and all teasing had dropped out of his expression, leaving something confused, “Bug-”

“I don’t know why I said that,” She cut him off, jumping into action and avoiding his burning gaze. But he was fast, and he was pushing off the counter just as quickly as her.

“Bugsy, what do you mean? I don’t understand,” He persisted, darting only a pace behind her when she moved towards the living room to grab her cardigan off the back of the sofa.

She shook her head, “Ignore that, it doesn’t matter,”

“No, what did you mean by that?” Spencer asked, his voice tense because he had never seen her cower away from him like that, her body moving entirely into a state of flight. She shook her head, snatching the white fabric in her fingers and spinning on her heel to head for the doorway. But there he was, blocking her escape, his impossibly tall body stopping her right in her tracks, and she didn’t need to look up to know he had that special Spencer brand of Puppy Eyes.

“I’m going to the store-”

“Bugsy,”

“It doesn’t matter, Spence, just leave it,” She said shakily, trying to duck around him only for him to dodge to the left and stop her advance, “Spence, leave it, please,”

“What did you mean? Just tell me,” He begged, his cadence wary, the sound of it flushing her entire chest with a heat she’d never known. She swore she was going into cardiac arrest, her heartbeat was in her throat, and it made it difficult to swallow, let alone push him away, “Do you know something?”

Her breaths were deep, begging her chest to behave as it damn near spun her vision into dizziness. He was just a man. He was just a boy. How could he have so much control over her entire body when he had barely even touched her? When he had just asked her one tiny little question?

It was unethical, how her stomach rippled with butterflies the second she dared to look at his hazel eyes, round and intense where they never left her face. It should have been illegal for begging to look so good on him.

She took a sigh, shaking her head and looking back to his mismatched socks, chuckling bitterly, and putting her head in her hands. She couldn’t escape from this, her only defence mechanism was to curl into herself like an armadillo against a predator, her attacker being the god's honest truth that he was owed years ago.

“I really,” She cleared her throat, her eyes starting to burn with unshed tears, “I really messed things up with you,”

“What?” Spencer’s hot hands wrapped around her wrists, pulling them away from her face so he could hear her every word clearly, “I thought we were okay now, I thought we were friends again,”

She laughed emptily, her bottom lip quivering, her hands shaking under his touch. He was so warm, he always had been, but it felt as if he was everywhere when he was only really touching the skin of her pulsepoint. She hoped he couldn’t feel just how it beat for him, beat so loud and fast all for him.

“That’s the problem,” She whispered, her glassy eyes meeting his as she gave an unsure breath, gulping loudly. It was like he stared right at her soul, and pleaded it to speak to him. And she had never been able to say no to him, not when he looked like that, “When I came back from London, I came back to tell you that…”

She breathed again, because she felt like she was holding it while she confessed, she knew it was no wonder she felt so dizzy, but she couldn’t look away from him, where his face was morphing into realisation.

“I came to tell you that.. I-I’m in love with you, Spencer,” A single tear dribbled down her cheek, but he let go of her hands quickly to catch it, his lips pressing together in a silenced word, most like ‘oh’. His brows quirked above his nose, his eyes turning into devastation as soon as she’d said it. But it was out there now, so there was no use in trying to keep it in anymore. “I have been, for a while I think, and I wanted to tell you because I thought you might-might-” She gulped, the finger that had brushed the first tear stroking down until it rested under her jaw, the feeling of it damn near making her whine, “I don’t know, I just hoped you would feel anything back- but you don’t have to say anything, I know you’re hurting and so I just kept it in, but every time I see you I feel like I’m choking and I don’t know how to make it stop-”

“Tell me you’re lying,” Spencer said with a biting tone, his eyes honey comb gold and glistening when he looked at her. It couldn’t be true. He never got this lucky. It couldn’t be, he refused-

She shook her head frantically, her eyes pleading and wet, “Never, Spencer. I would never lie to you. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you- I know you’re hurting, I know you’re grieving and I shouldn’t have assumed-“

“I love you too,” He whispered, and it was like her words came to fruition as her voice was robbed, the air leaving her lungs. Her jaw dropped, her wet eyes boring into his chest, his hands skirting up to hold her face in his hands, thumbs stroking over her tear ladened skin, “God, Bug, I’ve loved you for so long, I thought you didn’t want anything like that after that kiss-”

Her expression dropped, eyebrows scrunching together, “What kiss?”

He blanked, for once speechless. Only the kiss he’d torn himself to pieces over for weeks and weeks. “The night- that Derek brought you over when you’d had…” He trailed off, wanting to throttle himself for how dumb he’d been in retrospect, “When you’d had the Molly,”

Her hand slapped over her mouth, his own hands flying to palm at his eyes, because how could he be so incredibly stupid. Ecstasy was a memory suppressant. He knew, he knew better than most, that taking recreational drugs like that robbed you of even the most life shattering moments.

She didn’t remember. How could she? She was so out of it she could barely walk without stumbling over a flat surface. And instead of asking her, instead of simply growing a pair and seeing what she remembered, he’d gotten a girlfriend.

This was all wrong. This was so wrong. The guilt from Maeve dying was a wound that had cut him deep, and yet having Bugsy in his arms so placid and warm and adoring was a salve he had never dreamed would feel so numbing.

“We kissed?” She asked, her eyes blazing with embarrassment, her hand running through her hair in shock horror, “I don’t- how don’t I remember that- that’s all I dreamed of for months-”

“Technically you kissed me,” He explained, despite the fact his cheeks had set on fire hearing her confess even the smallest bit more to him. She loved him. She was in love with him. She had been for months, she said. She loved him. “It would have been wrong if I did anything even if it was all I’d thought of too. And I just thought, because you never mentioned it, that you didn’t want to remember it at all,”

He felt like he’d taken some sort of truth serum, like he should shut himself up any second now because he was spilling his longest kept secret to the one person who should have never been privy to it. But it was okay if she knew. Because she loved him.

She looked at him, and he swore he’d never seen eyes so beautiful, but then he’d always loved her eyes. But the way they looked at him, as if he’d had a bag pulled from over his head, or his glasses had been given the correct prescription, because it was like he suddenly saw just how adoring she looked when she watched him like that.

And despite herself, she laughed.

It was girlish, and carefree, and happy. So, so happy. And he started laughing too. She fell into his chest, her face hot with embarrassment, and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling her giggling into his shirt, shaking her head.

“We’re so fucking stupid,” She said, and it was mumbled, and the sound of it made him smile wider.

“I’m a stupid, stupid man. I’m so sorry, Bug,” He replied, his large hand stroking down the back of her hair though a sour taste crawled up his throat.

He still owed Maeve that dance. Just as he’d told Rossi. Who had told Bugsy, because he knew she had some magic way of getting her way with everyone.

She pulled away, her eyes young and so incredibly pretty when she smiled at him like that. Sensing his hesitation, she tried to pull away from his embrace, worried like it was second nature to her by now that she’d overstepped. Only he didn’t let her. He kept his hand at the back of her head, one under her arm to pin her close to his body, because he wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let her go twice.

“You said you tried to tell me when you got back from London?” He said softly, and she nodded, like her confession had taken everything out of her, “But then when you got here… I was with Maeve,”

She swallowed, worried where he was going, and nodded again wordlessly.

He chewed the inside of his lip, taking a deep breath for courage, “I’m still- I feel terrible if-”

“You can still grieve, Spencer,” She cut him off, knowing what he was struggling to say, and his eyes crawled back up to meet her gaze, “It’s not heinous to need time to think, I know it’s a lot to ask, I never expected you to-”

He cut her off with a kiss to the apple of her cheek, warm and angelic, the feeling of it forcing her mouth shut, because she worried she might just whimper in delight if she didn’t. Her hand flew up to his forearm that moved around to cup neatly under her ear, his fingers weaving into her hair as he kissed again down near her jaw, her eyes fluttering shut. And when she thought it was done, when she thought her luck was spent, he kissed her again, on the cusp of her lips, a ghost breath slipping from a parted mouth, because she thought she might have just died and gone to heaven.

“Bugsy, I love you,” Spencer said, and her heart felt full, so full her eyes welled up all over again because it was everything she had ever wanted, “I just need a little time,”

Her eyelids flicked open, and the bliss written over her face took a knock, her head reeling back like he’d burned her. But, as before, he didn’t let her go, He refused to let her run away again. Not when he had everything he wanted, “That’s not a ‘no’. It’s just a very stupid man who has loved you for longer than you’d know hoping on everything that you’ll be willing to give me a month or two. I want to do this right, you deserve to have this done right, and I want to give you only the best version of myself,”

Spencer’s heart pounded against his slender ribcage as he waited for her response, because he knew he was pushing his luck. But he’d meant every word of it, and he figured if he had any chance at being the guy he’d always told himself she needed, he’d need to be honest with her. They’d need to be honest with each other.

But she smiled at him, sweet and besotted beneath his palm, and he didn’t know why he’d ever doubted her.

“I waited six years, what’s a few months on top of that?” She smirked, her face glowing when he pressed another gentle kiss to her forehead, and he felt how hot her blood ran under his touch. He hoped she couldn’t feel how his did the same.

“I promise. Just a few more months, bug,”

And he meant it. With everything in him, Spencer meant it. He wouldn’t let her go ever again.

TAGLIST:

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

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gureumz · 1 year ago

Text

liar, sweetheart

rating: explicit

member: sunghoon

premise: your best friend, benj, is a twin but he's the complete opposite of his brother. his brother, sunghoon, is all kinds of sleazy, or so you've heard. knowing about your big fat crush on your best friend, this sorry excuse of a twin brother agrees to put in a good word, in exchange for a good fuck, of course.

notes: fem!reader, dom!sunghoon, sort of rivals-to-lovers, unprotected sex, slight breeding, dacryphilia, dirty talk, degradation, praise, clothed sex, accidental voyeurism, sunghoon is two people here lmao, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: fifth entry for my 1k follower special! we're in the endgame now, people. one last after this and my 1k event is ending. how did that happen :') anyways, i really got back into my writing groove for this one so i hope you all enjoy!

"what do you think of sunghoon?"

your ears perk up as you turn your head to give your best friend a look.

oh, benj. sweet, sweet benjamin park.

awkward but in a cute, boyish sort of way, tall almost to the point of gangly, but handsome in the way supermodels were.

benj is a figure skater, a very good one at that. he's at the level where if he did well enough, he'd be international news tomorrow. you've seen him skate and to you, it was nothing short of mesmerizing.

oh, you. clueless, utterly clueless you.

honestly, it was all so predictable.

a situation right out of booktok's latest favorite friends-to-lovers novel by some up-and-coming author. the comfortable silence, the memorized starbucks orders, the pining, oh, the pining. booktok lives for the pining.

sitting here in benj's room as he casually games, fingers lazily moving over his ps5 controller, you realize just how utterly shortsighted you were.

of course you'd fall in love with your best friend. it's law. it's fate. a canon event, as the kids say.

but, you're getting out of topic here. right now, benj is asking you about his twin brother.

"what do you mean?" you ask, swiveling around in the office chair by benj's desk. benj is perched on his bed, leaned up against his headboard as he plays.

"like...what do you think of him...?" benj repeats, as if in an attempt to rephrase his question but ultimately failing.

your forehead creases even more.

"you have to be more specific than that," you chuckle.

benj pauses the game, setting the controller down. he shifts on his side so he can get a better look at you.

"do you like him?" benj deadpans, raising an eyebrow.

you nearly choke on your own saliva.

sunghoon. benj's twin brother.

the younger twin, as benj always reminded. your thoughts drift to the other park brother, complete in all his dark clothes and equally dark hair.

while benj afforded himself the preference of dying his hair an icy blonde, sunghoon kept his own hair jet black. benj wore sweaters and cardigans and loose-fitting shirts, but sunghoon wore button-ups, with the first three buttons popped open, paired with jeans ripped to the heavens.

benj is the shining star in this family, a star figure skater, an overachiever. sunghoon battles his way around ice hockey, dabbles in dance, keeps his triumphs to himself.

benj is the sun, while sunghoon is the moon. yin and yang.

you get the picture.

oh, and sunghoon is a complete asshole. benj is not.

"he's okay," you finally answer. benj looks at you like he's waiting for more.

"that's it?" benj asks after a second.

you roll your eyes. "i don't know what you want me to say. i barely talk to him since i spend most of my time with you."

benj cocks his head to the side, as if curious.

"weird," he says. "he asks about you all the time."

this piques your interest.

"he does?"

benj shrugs, returning his attention to the tv. he picks the forgotten controller back up, resuming his game.

"yeah. asks if and when you'll be coming over," benj explains. he shoots you a quick side glance.

"you're not hooking up behind my back, are you?"

you physically recoil at benj's words, the idea initially repulsive to you.

"absolutely not," you practically spit out. "he's not my type."

benj bursts out laughing, his eyes forming cute crescents as he does so.

"you basically just called me ugly with that," benj points out, eyes unmoving from the tv screen.

you stutter for a second. "that's not what i meant. it's just—well we're not close, at least not like how we are and—"

you sigh, cutting yourself off. you've embarrassed yourself enough, you think.

benj shakes his head, one side of his mouth turning up in a half-smile.

"okay, no need to explain, ______. i was just asking," benj says. "but the way you're so defensive about it is raising a few questions, not gonna lie."

you rub exasperatedly at your temples.

"i am not sleeping with your brother."

---

"hey."

you nearly jump a foot back in surprise. looking up, you're met with the stern gaze of sunghoon, black hair falling over his eyes. he's wearing one of those compression shirts, ridiculously tight against his toned upper body.

you turn away before it gets weird.

"oh, sorry, is benj home?" you ask, peeking momentarily past sunghoon.

"he's at training," sunghoon informs. "didn't he tell you?"

you glance at your watch. "he said he'd be done by now."

sunghoon raises an eyebrow. "well, he's not."

your mouth falls open, your mind momentarily going blank. you shift your expression to one of stony resolve.

"you know what, i'll just come back. sorry to bother you," you say, already turning away.

"i didn't tell you to leave, did i?"

you turn back, giving sunghoon a look. you stare hard, noticing just how much he resembles benj. but some things differ, naturally.

an extra beauty mark. the slightly sharper upturn of his nose. the seemingly eternal frown on his face.

"you can come in," sunghoon says with a sigh, stepping aside. you duck your head as you cross the threshold.

"and don't be so uptight next time," he adds. you can practically hear the smirk as he says this.

you glare daggers at sunghoon and he's still smiling as he closes the door behind him. he crosses his arms and studies you.

he leans back against the door and you straighten yourself up as much as you could.

"what's your problem, sunghoon?" you ask, planting your hands on your hips.

"what's yours?" sunghoon replies. you feel a twinge of annoyance spark in your chest.

"nothing," you emphasize. "and that's exactly it. i don't have a problem but if you don't stop acting like that, i might just have one soon enough."

"acting like what?" sunghoon questions, tilting his head to the side.

you swallow. you rack your brain for something to say, and don't be mistaken, you have a lot, but it's like your train of thought has halted altogether.

"like...that," you say, gesticulating vaguely with your hands.

sunghoon laughs, a hand coming up to run through his hair. you watch him, observe as his muscles shift beneath that stupidly tight, stupidly attractive shirt.

...what?

"are you this jumpy with my brother?" sunghoon asks, shoving his hands in the pockets of his grey sweatpants.

"i don't follow," you say, taking a step back. being close to sunghoon seems suffocating now, as if the air is stuffy with something you can't quite put your finger on.

"of course, you don't," sunghoon mutters under his breath.

it takes everything in you not to punch him square in the jaw.

"you like benj, don't you?" it's more of a statement rather than a question and it's so unexpected to you, you nearly stumble back in surprise.

"what?" is all you can say.

sunghoon snorts as if your confusion is oh-so-amusing.

"no need to deny it, _______," sunghoon reassures. "everyone with one working eye can see it."

you decide to stay silent. maybe if you don't react, sunghoon would drop the subject.

sunghoon seems satisfied with himself as he grins, nodding to himself, probably mentally patting himself on the back for his 'detective work'. he brushes past you and you get a whiff of his perfume and what you can assume is his body wash.

fresh. powdery. clean.

you wait a second before you hear his bedroom door close.

you let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding.

your phone vibrates with a notification and you're relieved to see it's a message from benj.

'are you at my place yet? i'll be home in a few. sunghoon will let you in. sorry, love u!'

you smile to yourself as you lock your phone.

---

you couldn't stop thinking about it.

were you really that obvious? or is it just some twin telepathy that's why sunghoon could tell? could benj tell?

you sit up, careful not to jostle anything in your immediate vicinity. you peer up at benj's sleeping figure from where you're situated on his spare mattress, positioned on the floor right next to his bed.

he seems to be deep in slumber, shoulders rising and falling steadily. you swallow, realizing how parched your throat has gotten. you get up on your feet, treading carefully around benj's room to get to the door.

you exit, walking down the hallway of the parks' penthouse apartment, trying to make as minimal sound as you can. you round the corner to where you know the kitchen is and you immediately stop in your tracks.

"shit—" you curse, startled by the figure standing by the kitchen island.

your eyes adjust to the dim lighting and you realize you've come face to face with sunghoon.

"hi, _______," sunghoon greets. "fancy seeing you here."

you huff, approaching the refrigerator. "ha ha. you scared the shit out of me."

you hear sunghoon laugh quietly from behind you.

you take the ice-cold pitcher out of the fridge, setting it on the counter before walking over to the cupboards where the parks keep their glasses.

you can feel sunghoon watching you, aware of the burning attention. you can feel your neck prickle with it.

you pull the cupboard door open and it's only now that you realize you can barely see. afraid to just reach in and possibly knock over and break something, you pause, willing your vision to adjust even more to the low lighting.

"hey, can you turn on the—"

your words are cut off when you feel warmth press up against your back. you flinch, watching with wide eyes as sunghoon's arm braces itself against the countertop in front of you. he reaches over you, his breath tickling the top of your head.

you shiver involuntarily.

you turn to face him, pressing yourself fully against the granite behind you. sunghoon pulls a glass down from the cupboard, handing it to you. his arm is still planted firmly to your side, half caging you in.

"here," sunghoon says.

you can just make out his face in the low light, his scent invading your senses once more. you take the glass from him and he steps away, freeing you.

you wordlessly return to the center of the kitchen, pouring yourself the water you desperately need. and boy, do you need it.

you gulp down mouthfuls of it, unsure why your legs are suddenly weak, your knees threatening to give out.

"hey," sunghoon calls out. you pause, turning to where he's still standing by the cupboards.

he has the same easy stance he had earlier in the day. leaned back, arms crossed. even in the dark, you can feel him staring.

"what?" it comes out a little more harshly than you'd like and you wince.

"do you hate me or something?" sunghoon asks brusquely.

once again, you find yourself rendered speechless by sunghoon.

"no," you answer simply, setting your glass down.

"then why don't you hang out with me like you do with benj?" sunghoon asks, approaching you.

"because benj is my best friend, you're not," you respond. sunghoon stops right in front of you and you have to crane your neck to meet where you think his eyes are.

"your best friend that you're in love with," sunghoon says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"that's not true," you deny.

sunghoon snickers. "sure, keep lying to yourself, sweetheart."

you inhale at the term of endearment.

"you know, i never understood why you got closer to him but you stopped spending time with me altogether," sunghoon muses. "the three of us grew up together, remember?"

you do.

the afternoons spent in the local playground. you and benj sat on the swings while sunghoon pushed. you and sunghoon on the seesaw while benj attempted to balance in the middle (much to their mother's horror). the twins hiding while you played seeker.

a smile tugs at your lips at the memory. and then it falters just as quick.

"you were the one who stopped hanging out with us," you say, a little accusatory in the way you did. "you had newer ice hockey friends and when middle school rolled around, you decided those girls were worth your time more than us."

'more than me,' is what you wanted to say. but you swallow it down.

sunghoon stays silent at this. after what you estimate is a minute, he sighs.

"sorry," is all he says.

you shake your head. "it's okay, we all drift apart from our childhood friends at one point."

sunghoon steps even closer. you can feel him now. a strange crackle of electricity tickles your fingertips.

"that's not the case with you and benj," sunghoon observes.

it's your turn to say nothing.

"i can help you," sunghoon suggests. your head snaps up as you try to process sunghoon's words.

you can see him now, illuminated by the faint hallway lights behind you. sunghoon's looking at you, expression unreadable.

"help me?" you parrot back. sunghoon nods.

"i can help you get with benj, if that's what you want. plant the seeds, so to speak," sunghoon explains. "he is my twin brother, after all."

you consider this for a moment. there's no denying the giddy feeling you get in benj's presence. the comfort it gives you when you spend the whole day together. the butterflies in your stomach when he beams at you, all bright and shining.

this should be an offer you can't refuse.

"i just have one thing to ask of you," sunghoon cuts through your thoughts.

"what?" you ask.

sunghoon pauses, turning away as if gathering his own words.

"do you ever feel that there's this weird...thing between us?" sunghoon asks.

your whole body seems to stiffen. your hands turn cold, clammy.

"like tension," sunghoon elaborates. "something you can't really explain."

"no," you answer a little too quickly.

sunghoon chuckles. "there you go again, lying."

you avoid sunghoon's gaze, staring hard at a spot behind him where his shadow dances against the cabinets.

"if you agree to...try this thing with me just this once, i'll help you get together with benj," sunghoon concludes, bending lower so he's in your line of sight.

unable to avoid him any longer, you look into sunghoon's eyes. he's much clearer now, your eyes well-adjusted to the dark. he's looking at you, expression soft, unlike the other times you've come face-to-face with him.

"so, you're offering to be my wingman, but only if i let you fuck me?" you string your words out carefully. "is that it?"

sunghoon sighs, shrugging. "basically, yeah. sounds fucking weird but you can always say no."

"it is weird," you confirm. you cross your arms as you narrow your eyes at sunghoon.

"can't we just skip the part where we fuck and go straight to the part where you help me?"

sunghoon grins down at you, dipping even lower so you're eye level with him.

"it's as if you don't know me at all, _______," sunghoon says lowly. "that hardly seems fair, sweetheart."

you grit your teeth.

"besides, do you want to skip the part where we fuck?" sunghoon presses on the last word, holding your gaze as he said it. you feel a warmth spread all over your body.

you take a deep breath, steadying yourself. your mind is at war with itself, warning you that this is a bad idea. if you get together with benj after, what then? take the secret that you fucked his brother to your grave?

"just this once, and when we're done, you'll help me, correct?" you say, raising a brow at sunghoon.

sunghoon nods. "exactly."

you pause. you want it. what 'it' is, you're not so sure.

you reach your hand out.

"deal."

sunghoon grasps your hand in his, squeezing firmly. his fingers envelop yours easily, your palm almost cartoonishly smaller than his.

and he's warm. so warm.

your eyes meet his and it's like something snaps.

you feel sunghoon grasp at your waist and your own arms come flying up to wrap around sunghoon's neck. he kisses you fervently, harshly, desperately. you respond with the same enthusiasm, pulling him closer to you.

sunghoon pushes you against the fridge, the contents rattling within. you gasp as the cold metal presses through your thin pajamas, but sunghoon drinks in any noise from you with his mouth.

"fuck," sunghoon mutters softly.

"god, ______," sunghoon continues, hands splayed against your back, his lips exploring the expanse of your neck.

"sunghoon," you whisper, clutching onto his wide frame. you mewl softly when you feel him suckle on a spot just above your collarbone.

you pull sunghoon away from your neck, guiding his face back to level with yours. you kiss him some more, a strange feeling bubbling within you.

it's making you want more of sunghoon, as if your whole being craved him.

you hear a soft click of a door opening somewhere down the hall and your eyes fly open, your hands forcing sunghoon off you. he jumps back as well, a panicked look on his face.

footsteps echo in the hallway and a voice immediately follows after.

"_______?"

benj. it's benj. his voice is thick with sleep and you look over at sunghoon, eyes wide with alarm.

"i-i'm in the kitchen," you call out. "just needed a drink."

you rush out of the kitchen and into the hall, running right into benj's firm chest. he catches you before you stumble and he holds you at arm's length, looking at you through half-closed eyes.

"there you are," benj says with a laugh.

you let out a nervous giggle of your own, gently pushing benj back towards his room.

"i'm right here," you assure him. benj rambles on about hearing noises from his room and you quickly dismiss it as you just messing around in their kitchen.

just as you herd benj back into his room, you look back down the hall and see sunghoon sauntering casually towards his own door. he catches your eye and winks, stepping quietly into his room.

---

"i know what you were doing last night."

you stop dead in your tracks, hand frozen in midair just as you're unwrapping your hair from your towel.

you had just stepped out of the bathroom adjacent to benj's room, dressed in his shirt and your shorts from yesterday. it's the morning after your little tryst with sunghoon and you were nearly a hundred percent sure you had successfully lied your way out of an explanation to benj.

it turns out, you haven't.

"you were hooking up with sunghoon, weren't you?" benj says, looking at you expectantly.

you put on your best attempt at an appalled expression, eyes wide an lips turning down into a frown.

"no, i wasn't," you muster up with as much disgust as you can.

benj just laughs. "i've lived here for nearly half my life, ____. i know the sounds of this house better than you."

"well, you thought wrong," you argue, busying yourself with brushing through your hair. you keep your eyes trained on the full body mirror in front of you, setting your sight on your own face.

benj comes up behind you, looking at you as if he could see right through you.

you think maybe he can.

"you're such a bad liar," benj accuses.

"i would never hook up with your brother," you protest, raking through your hair aggressively. you're getting antsy and you pray that benj would just drop the subject.

"why not?" benj questions.

you look at his reflection, scowling. "i don't like him like that, benj."

"hooking up with him would feel like hooking up with you," you add. 'a red herring, yes,' you think. 'distract him, make him feel weird for even asking.'

benj gives you a look. "what's so bad about that?"

you stare open-mouthed at benj. a million thoughts are flying through your head and something pinches at your chest.

"you're my best friend, benj," you try to reason. "that's weird."

"and hooking up with my brother isn't?"

you groan, letting your head fall into your hands.

"i didn't hook up with sunghoon!"

benj nods, pouting as if not fully convinced. "okay, whatever you say."

he steps out through the door, leaving you in his eerily quiet room.

you sigh, turning back to your reflection.

"not yet," you whisper to yourself.

---

"aren't you leaving yet?"

you look up from your phone and you're met with sunghoon peeking through benj's door. his hair is damp and you can smell his aftershave from where you're sprawled out on benj's bed.

"nope," you reply curtly, turning back to your phone.

"you've been here two days," sunghoon points out, stepping into the room. you ignore the jolt of excitement in your gut.

"i'll leave once benj comes back from training," you say.

"oh sure, then the two of you will get caught up again in whatever nerd things you do, and then it's the evening and you'll stay another night, walking around in your skimpy pajamas," sunghoon rambles sarcastically.

you narrow your eyes him as you sit up. "what's wrong with my pajamas?"

"they make me impossibly hard, _______. that's what's wrong," sunghoon admits, expression unchanging.

your eyebrows shoot up in mild surprise. "that down bad, huh?"

"nah," sunghoon replies nonchalantly.

"whatever you say, sweetheart," you say, throwing the pet name back at sunghoon.

sunghoon lets his eyes travel over your body, expression darkening, and you feel every hair on your skin stand up under his unrelenting gaze. you shift around, unsure of what to do with sunghoon's undivided attention.

you watch as sunghoon approaches, his jaw set as he pauses right before benj's bed. he meets your eyes and before you know it, sunghoon is crawling over you, stopping once he has you caged in between his arms.

"you're seriously not thinking of fucking me on your twin brother's bed, are you?" you whisper. you're nearly nose to nose with sunghoon now.

"i am," sunghoon answers simply before kissing you, effectively driving you back against the plush mattress.

the same bubbling feeling reappears and you grab at any part of sunghoon that you can, hooking your legs around his waist. he grunts against your mouth and you feel him harden against your core.

"this is my shirt by the way," sunghoon grins against your lips. "benj stole it from me a while back."

you moan at the thought of it. you feel sunghoon reach under your—his—shirt, chuckling when he feels the absence of a bra. he cups one of your breasts in his hand, kneading as he continues his assault on your lips.

"lose this," sunghoon commands, his other hand tugging your shorts down harshly. you oblige, reaching down to discard the piece of clothing along with your underwear.

"but keep this on," sunghoon adds as he kisses along your jaw, referring to the large shirt swallowing your frame.

you kick off your shorts and underwear the same time sunghoon pulls back to undo his own joggers. he throws them off to the side unceremoniously before hovering back over you, his eyes scanning every feature of your face.

"if you're so in love with benj, why are you about to sleep with me on his bed?" sunghoon asks, his fingers trailing down delicately from your chest down to your stomach. you flinch, fighting the urge to curl into yourself at the ticklish feeling.

sunghoon continues down towards the space between your legs, wasting no time swiping through your folds. you gasp, back arching as sunghoon rubs up and down, finger circling teasingly around your entrance.

"you talk too much," you counter, voice shaking. "are you gonna fuck my brains out or what?"

sunghoon sneers, shoving two fingers in without warning. you yelp, turning to bury your face in benj's pillow. it smells like him, but you barely register that, seeing as his twin's fingers are knuckles deep in you.

"go on, run your mouth like you always do, slut," sunghoon taunts. you involuntarily clench down at his use of such a degrading word and sunghoon notices, of course, his mouth curling into a smirk.

"should have known you were into that," sunghoon wonders out loud. he moves his fingers in and out of you, pumping his thick digits into your wanting hole.

you clamp a hand down on your mouth, suppressing every noise that threatens to escape you.

"let me hear you, pretty, come on," sunghoon coos, prying your hand off your face. "it's just the two of us here."

you bite your lip but let yourself be heard as sunghoon continues to fuck you with his fingers. he curls them up inside you and you thrash about, the pressure building within your abdomen.

"gonna cum already? you're so fucking easy," sunghoon comments, leveling his face with your cunt. he blows softly against your clit and you cry out in pleasure.

you feel the wet heat of his tongue press against your bundle of nerves and coupled with sunghoon's fingers, you can't help but curse loudly at the sensations.

"shit, sunghoon!" you whine. "yes, just like that, please."

sunghoon wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and running his tongue over it alternately. you feel like you're about to lose your mind. you're seconds away from orgasm and you barely have any time to warn sunghoon.

"i'm gonna cum, sunghoon i'm gonna—"

you're cut short by your own loud moans as you feel yourself come undone, your whole body seizing up. you grip at the sheets beneath you with one hand while the other reaches down to thread through sunghoon's hair. you hear him grunt against your pussy as you tug at the strands.

eventually, you relax, easing up on sunghoon's hair. he comes up to face you, his mouth glistening with your release. he licks his lips, smirking at the way you watch him with awe.

"you still with me?" sunghoon asks with a raise of his brow. you nod weakly, hands coming up to cup at his face.

sunghoon leans down to kiss you tenderly and you moan as you taste yourself on his lips. he moves his lips against yours slowly, savoring each pass of your tongue over each other's, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away.

you peek down and see that sunghoon's cock stands red and angry against the black of his shirt.

"fuck me raw," you say before you can stop yourself.

sunghoon's eyebrows shoot up.

"are you sure?" he asks.

you nod, angling your hips up. restraint be damned, you want sunghoon and you want him now.

sunghoon chews down on his bottom lip as he lines himself up against your dripping hole. he coats his tip with your juices and you throw your head back as he teases you with his leaking cock.

"please," you whisper.

sunghoon presses a kiss on your cheek. "i got you, angel."

you feel him push in, stretching you out more than you anticipated. your mouth falls open in a silent moan as sunghoon slowly but surely bottoms out. your heart races and your mind loses all coherent thought. all you can register is that sunghoon feels like he's splitting you open with his dick.

"fuuuuck," sunghoon drawls into your ear.

"so fucking tight and so fucking good," he continues, bracing himself on either side of you. he moves his hips experimentally, pulling out then thrusting in and the two of you moan at the same time.

"give it to me," you pant, pulling sunghoon closer. "don't you dare hold back."

sunghoon grunts as he snaps his hips forward. you whine and moan like a whore as sunghoon fucks into you with reckless abandon. he keeps his eyes on your face, observing every expression that passes over your features.

"look at me," sunghoon orders as you let your eyes flutter close. "i said, look at me."

you obey, peering up at sunghoon through your lashes. he grabs your jaw as he hammers even harder into you. you cry out brokenly as you feel him deep within you. he's like a man starved, eyes wild as he takes you like this. rough and uncaring and oh so desperate.

"waited so long for this," sunghoon grunts. "to have you moaning and begging under me."

you feel tears prickle in your eyes, half from sunghoon's sharp nails digging into your cheek and half from the way his cock repeatedly punches against your cervix. it hurts but it's a pain you'd like to savor.

"god," sunghoon says, his face scrunching up in pleasure. he momentarily closes his eyes as he moves his hips even faster. he turns back to you, and by this time, your tears have escaped, streaking your face.

"fuck yeah, cry for me," sunghoon curses. "my pretty slut, weeping over my dick."

"oh, fuck—"

it came so suddenly, so unexpectedly that you can physically feel your body jolt. your second orgasm of the day rips through you, brought about by the filthy words escaping sunghoon's mouth. you hear him practically growl above you as he stills, your cunt clenching down so hard he's unable to move. you feel him twitch inside you and a second later, the warmth of his cum follows, shooting deep inside.

you're full-on crying now, mind hazy from pleasure as sunghoon catches himself before completely crushing you with his weight.

you wrap your shaky arms around sunghoon's shoulders, stroking his hair as the two of you calm yourselves down. sunghoon pulls out a minute later and you wince, immediately clamping your legs together to keep all of him inside you.

sunghoon plops down next to you, breathing heavy as his eyes stare at the ceiling. you hug your knees to your chest, hoping that nothing stains benj's sheets.

"fuck, that's a good girl, keeping all my cum in," sunghoon says through breathless chuckles. you groan, swatting at his chest.

"get tissues or something," you demand weakly, rolling over to your side. sunghoon pulls you close and cradles you against his chest.

"later," he murmurs, kissing you on the forehead. "just wanna hold you."

you hum in agreement, letting your eyes droop close. the two of you lay there, unmoving for a few minutes.

you initially think it's your imagination but you can hear faint footsteps coming down the hallway from outside benj's room. just as your eyes fly open, a loud knock thunders against the door.

"are you done?" comes benj's muffled voice from the other side.

"as much as i wanted to stay and watch, that might not be something you guys are into, so i gave you your privacy," he continues.

you and sunghoon look at each other, clearly panicking.

"but please, for the love of god, don't do it on my goddamn bed next time!"

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon smut #sunghoon scenarios #w: sunghoon

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shurisasthmaticgf · 7 months ago

Text

calling my boyfriend my husband to see his reaction: lando norris x black fem social media influencer! reader

authors note: lets all pretend this trend isn't old now :) also feedback is highly appreciated and encouraged 🫶🏽

tw// anxiety mention, internet translated spanish

you looked into the lens of your vlogging camera and sighed deeply in frustration, bringing your hands to your head and smoothing your palms over your slicked back hair. nearly a year ago you'd made reservations to visit the Canary Islands with your best friend as a girls trip. when the two of you were younger you'd learned about the islands during a geography class and promised one another that you'd visit when you all were older. the reality of being an adult in your young 20s hit harder than a freight train and the two of you nearly gave up on the trip as a whole because it was so costly. however, when your social media career took off and the brand endorsements, monetization, partnerships, and other deals rolled in the ability to take the trip became a reality.

now, you were only a week away from flying into Gran Canaria and of course a problem came up with the reservation for your first hotel. you explained in a whisper to the camera in front of you, "so i've been trying to fix this problem with our reservations. basically, they've cancelled one of the rooms and i've been emailing back and forth for two days and it's not getting anywhere so i'm gonna go call on the phone and see if that works better." you held your phone in one hand and paced around your hotel room, adding and taking things out of your suitcase nervously.

you muted yourself and picked up your camera to move to another room instead. peeking from behind the door your spoke quietly, "well, while we wait for someone to answer i've been wanting to do this tiktok trend and lando isn't doing anything...oddly enough so i'm taking my chance." a smile crept onto your face as your rounded the corner and saw your boyfriend sitting on the sofa typing away on his laptop. you placed your vlogging camera down on the table in the middle of the room so it still showed you in the frame. then, you moved and sat on the other end of the sofa and stretched your legs out so your feet were just touching the side of his thigh. he lightly flicked your socked foot with one of his fingers and wrinkled his nose, "your feet stink." the eye roll you made made him laugh and you shot back, "you're just smelling your upper lip." he pulled one of the throw pillows from behind his back and tossed it lightly at your face, "no that's your feet, you muppet." you burst into a fit of laughter and pulled the pillow into your chest, squeezing it when you heard the hold music stop on your phone.

an older man on the other line answered, "hello miss?" you unmuted yourself and responded, "yes?" he quickly informed you, "all of our english speaking representatives are busy right now please continue to hold." before you could even respond he put you back on hold making you clench your fist and raise it to the phone. your boyfriend asked you, "what's going on?" you swallowed back your frustration and explained, "the reservations jada and I have for our first hotel were cancelled or something because they're not showing up in my email or anything and i've been trying to sort it out for two days over email and nothing worked so now i'm calling and they don't have any representatives available. i told them i can use a spanish speaker but they cut me off and i just don't have time for this. i'm freaking out because we get back to monaco in two days and the guest room isn't ready and jada is flying in right after we get back. and on top of it i didn't remember to book a hair appointment while we were here so i'm gonna have to go on vacation with my natural hair- i'm gonna have to wear a swim cap in the ocean-" the minute that last realization dawned on you tears began to well in your eyes. you felt your stomach drop and your chest tighten as you were reminded of the many things you had to get done in a short time span. a heavy feeling of panic coursed through your veins in the most nauseating and unsettling way possible.

before you could even spiral further into a full blown anxiety attack lando cut you off, "hey hey take a deep breath. relax for me okay? don't get yourself worked up, we can fix this, yeah?" he held one of your socked feet in his hand, his thumb and pointer finger pressing into a specific spot on your foot out of routine habit. he asked you, "do you remember i had to put two of the reservations under my name?" when your brows furrowed he reminded you, "they were telling you that there weren't any rooms available so we called back later and they found a room for you and under my name." suddenly you did in fact remember that small detail from a year ago that slipped your mind the minute after it was handled. a soft, "oh....y'know after you said that it's now starting to ring some bells." an awkward laugh fell past your lips and you wiped the tear that only made it halfway down your cheek.

lando let his thumb rub circular motions into the pressure point on your foot as he continued, "baby, don't worry about your hair, we can find a stylist to do it before we leave even if you have to stay an extra day and fly back without me. when we get home i'll help you pack your bags so it can get done faster, okay? the guest room is ready because i set it up before we left because i knew you'd worry. everything will be fine, angel." you sniffled and mumbled through a pout, "thank you..." you slowed your breathing, thanking the gods above that your boyfriend was literally perfect.

right as you were about to thank lando, the representative on the phone ended the hold music. quickly you picked up the phone and rushed out, "hello? hola?" a woman now spoke on the other line, "buenos días señora. me dijeron que creías que una de sus reservas había sido cancelada sin su aprobación, ¿es correcto?" you immediately switched from english and answered, "sí, me equivoqué. mi esposo colocó la reserva a su nombre en lugar del mío cuando hicimos la reserva el año pasado. " "Good morning ma'am. They told me that you believed one of their bookings had been cancelled without their approval, is that correct?" // "Yes, I was wrong. My husband placed the reservation in his name instead of mine when we made the reservation last year."

lando's head shot up from his laptop when he heard the word "esposo". although his spanish vocabulary was extremely limited, he recognized a few words, and he knew for a fact that you just called him your husband. you pretended not to notice him staring at you as the representative responded, "entiendo que esto sucede muy a menudo con nuestros huéspedes y sus cónyuges." you lightly chuckled and replied, "sí, ¡especialmente cuando la reserva se hizo hace tanto tiempo! pero, antes de colgar. ¿podrían confirmar la reserva si les digo el nombre de mi esposo?" I understand that this happens very often with our guests and their spouses. // yes, especially when the reservation was made so long ago! but, before hanging up. could you confirm the booking if I tell you my husband's name?

your boyfriend watched mesmerized as the foreign language fell effortlessly past your lips. studying in both high school and university left you with a high level of understanding to the point where you could speak well if you chose to...much to his dismay, you often refused because you were convinced you didn't "speak it right". in the back of your head you knew he'd remind you of this as a way to hear you speak spanish more often, even if he didn't understand much of it.

the representative asked in english, "what is the name?" you tried to hide the smug tone and grin as you responded clearly, "my husband's name is lando norris." your eyes remained glued on the pillow between your arms until you slowly dragged your gaze to meet his. that same look that made his whole body heat up with one simple stare, and if you hadn't lifted your head and smiled brightly things would have turned out much differently in that moment. the representative snapped him out of his thoughts when he happily confirmed that the reservation still stood before you hung up.

not even a second after your phone was off lando looked at you expectantly making you laugh. pretending not to notice anything you stood up and said, "i'm going to go call jada and tell her everything is fine." as you shuffled away lando stood up and looped his thumb gently through the strands of beads that sat between your waist and hips. you turned to face him and felt his warm hands against the small of your back, toying with the glass beads until he felt the one he claimed as his. you shyly asked, "why are you staring at me like that?"

your boyfriend asked, "your husband? you want to marry me?" you turned your head away to dodge his kisses and said playfully, "no i just said that so the guy would give me the information i wanted. it was a name drop and a tiktok trend, nothing more." lando slipped his hands from beneath your shirt and squeezed your side suddenly making you jump in surprise, "stop it that tickles!" he pushed you gently back to the sofa, not letting up and saying, "not until you admit that you actually love me." you tapped out on his back and caved not even ten seconds later, "fine! i love you now stop it i can't breathe!" instantly his hands were off of your stomach and grinned cheekily, "i love you too."

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eddiemunsonw · 10 months ago

Text

Snow Storm

Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Summary: You're on a 'date'. Sort of. You're really not feeling it, especially when you realize that the guy has been lying. Steve, witnessing it all during his shift at Family Video, is more than happy to meddle a little.

CW/Disclaimer: Hmmmm things start to get a little heated and sexy but nothing too dramatic. So... idk. Mention of porn?

Author's note: I have a tendency to post fics out of their season, it seems

Words: 3435

Steve’s POV

He watched as your eyes followed the section of horror movies slowly, scanning each title to try and remember if you had seen them before. Next to you, a guy stood impatiently as he eyed the curtain that separated the adult section. Steve watched with interest, as it was all that was currently happening in the store apart from a regular who looked into the slapstick classics on the other side.

“Come on, I just wanna see.”

The guy sighed, nudged you with his arm. You were having none of it and Steve couldn’t help but wear an amused smile. Eventually, when you had picked out two movies, you followed him towards the curtain. Steve, feeling particularly menacing today, quickly left the counter and approached the curtain just in time.

“Hello there! ID’s please.”

He held his hand open and you took it out immediately, showing that you were 23, a year younger than he was. When the guy handed it over with some reluctance, his curiosity piqued.

“Oof, sorry dude, can’t let you in. It’s 21+”

“What? Since when?” the guy responded, but Steve clocked something much more interesting.

“Clark… You said you were 24. Jesus this is why I never wanna say my age first,” you groaned and rolled your eyes. Steve bit down on his lip to stop himself from smiling, but it was too hard not to.

“Damn, why’d you have to lie to the lady? That’s not cool,” Steve added on.

Your POV

“You weren’t supposed to know. Now come on,” Clark mumbled and attempted to pass the curtain but Steve quickly moved in between, the smooth glide of his body grabbing your attention.

“Still a no, Bud.”

You were already tired of his pushy behavior earlier, so while Steve had him occupied, you entered the adult section. You didn’t even want to go in there, but it was better than staying.

“Grab some deepthroating! And some lesbian porn?”

Steve’s POV

Steve shook his head at him as he leaned against the wall right next to the curtain.

“Jesus, dude. Are you trying to make her run away from you even harder?”

“Shut up,” Clark grumbled, side eyeing him with annoyance.

“Hm, no,” Steve said, a small smile on his face. “Not for a pipsqueak like you.”

“Oh fuck off, says the failed jock whose daddy no longer funds him so he has to do a shitty job like this one, the highlight of his day being to be a total asshole to a guy trying to have sex with a girl.”

Steve stared ahead of him, taking a deep inhale before replying.

“Yeah. Sure. That’s a neat description of you and me both. Emphasis on the trying.”

“The day’s not over yet.”

“Oh but it is, pipsqueak. Cause you’re gonna turn around and leave now.”

They looked at each other, eyes dark and challenging. Steve wasn’t sure what came over him. He just knew that he needed to do you the favor of getting rid of him.

“The hell I am,” Clark bristled.

Steve chuckled darkly. Woah, when did he become this super villain huh? Hmm. Interesting.

“Oh you are. She wants you gone and so do I.”

“You don’t know shit about what she wants.”

“Let me go ask,” Steve said as his hand lazily slid the curtain aside. “What’s her name again?” he asked, pretending like he hadn’t checked your name on your ID. He didn’t wait for his answer and walked behind the curtain despite his protests. This, however, made him miss out on the emergency alert on the radio.

“We interrupt your favorite tunes for an important message. The blizzard is getting worse. If you haven’t yet, go home. Chances are you won’t be able to if you wait much longer.”

Clark, however, did. Besides, he wasn’t that much of an idiot. He knew he had lost his chances with you the moment he tried to get you to grab his favorite porn videos. Whatever.

Your POV

“So… see anything you like?”

His voice startled you, but at the same time it was met with relief from your end that it wasn’t Clark. Steve slowly walked closer and quickly noticed you didn’t seem interested in any of it in the slightest and chuckled.

“Or are you just planning to stay here forever until he leaves?”

You shrugged.

“Something like that. Also, you don’t just ask a lady about her favorite porn, Harrington.”

Delighted by your response, he cocked his hip against the wall as he crossed his arms with a grin.

“I mean… we both already know Clark’s…” Steve said jokingly, earning a smile from you.

“All men are the same,” you sighed. Steve pouted and scanned the titles for something interesting.

“You say that now but… wait until you find out that my favorite is actually… Granny getting a— nope, nope, forget I started that sentence,” Steve said quickly as he put back the tape he just had in his hands.

“All the grannies over the world are crying right now,” you said sadly, a smile on your lips.

“Too bad, I’ve set my eye on girls who actually are the age they say they are.”

“I’ll admit that’s the most interesting belated opening line I’ve ever heard,” you said dryly.

“As long as it catches your intrigue, I’m satisfied,” Steve said with a playful, cocky grin.

You grabbed a tape and smirked, holding it out for him.

“So I’m guessing you don’t need yourself a… Satisfyer 2.0, then?” You asked, holding up the tape which had sensual “instructions” for a vibrator.

Steve laughed and shook his head.

“These satisfy just fine,” Steve said, holding up his hands. Your mind drifted off to what he could do with those big hands. Not just to himself but to—

“… left?”

Steve had apparently just asked you a question.

“Huh?”

He smirked and nodded towards the curtain.

“I think he left. Just heard the bell above the door.”

“Maybe someone came in though…” you wondered out loud.

“Maybe. I’ll go check.” He spun on his heel and approached the curtain when—

“Wait—” It was out before you knew it. Steve halted, turned back around and looked at you patiently.

“Yeah?”

“If he is in fact not gone, can you… get rid of him somehow? I normally wouldn’t ask but he’s just such a—”

“Dick.”

“Yeah…” You smiled a small smile and watched as he approached you again. His eyes were on you, taking in even the smallest changes in your expression.

“So is he like… your boyfriend?” Steve asked softly. “Or uh, was?”

You chuckled and shook your head.

“Nah, this was the second date which I had reluctantly agreed to.”

“Why’d you say yes?” Steve asked curiously. He followed your movement as you skimmed some more tapes and smiled at the playfully quipped corner of your mouth. “I mean, it didn’t look like you wanted to be here.”

“I didn’t. I just… I kind of never said yes but he just showed up on my doorstep and then I felt too bad to not go with him, so… yeah. Didn’t know he had plans to rent some porn and spend the second date in his bedroom or whatever.”

Steve crossed his arms and nodded thoughtfully.

“Hmmh… yeah that sucks. Well, I’ll make sure there won’t be a next time,” he said as he shortly winked at you and once again turned on his heel, this time actually continuing his walk through the curtain. He was out there for a few minutes when he turned back with a frown.

“Uh… Y/N? We’ve got a little… hiccup.”

You approached him with a frown of your own and followed him to the front, unsure what to expect. What you certainly didn’t expect, was to see a snow storm going on outside.

“Apparently there’s a code red. Just heard a repeat of it on the radio but it keeps breaking up. They urge everyone to stay inside until it’s over.”

Steve stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared ahead. It was the worst storm he had ever witnessed and the fact that nothing had seemed to be going on apart from some gentle snowfall surprised him.

“Stay… here?” you asked eventually.

“I mean, yeah? You can’t drive in this weather, it’s too dangerous. So is walking. So…”

“But I can’t just…”

“Hey, I don’t bite,” Steve said softly, nudging your arm with his own. “Besides, Clark seems to have left after all. Maybe he heard the warning and decided to bolt? If so, very nice to let us know as well but I will say that I wasn’t nice to him, so…”

You smirked.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing, nothing. I mean, genuinely, I didn’t say much. Just that he had to fuck off, using different wording. He didn’t seem all that ready to leave when I went to look for you though.”

“Oh well, good riddance.”

“Agreed.”

Steve walked forward and locked the door, putting the closed sign up front just in case.

“Let’s go to the back, it’s warmer there. And there’s a coffee machine.”

And so your “Stuck at Family Video with heartthrob Steve Harrington” began.

Once you were settled around the table in the break room, Steve gave you an odd glance. It was hard to figure out what he meant by it, although his frown disappeared the moment he got up from his chair.

“Coffee? Tea? I think we even got a few of those instant hot choc packages,” he offered, his back already turned to you as he searched the cabinets.

“Oh, hot chocolate sounds nice actually. Is it just me or is it… still kinda cold, even here?” you asked hesitantly. Steve nodded ruefully and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet he was currently facing.

“Ah, yeah… it looks like the heating is struggling again. I could kick it to see if it helps but… chances are it’ll get worse.”

“How could it get worse?”

Steve shrugged.

“Beats me, but I’m speaking from experience. Sometimes it does the trick and other times it really, really doesn’t.”

“Let’s not risk it then. At least we have a warm drink, right?”

Steve nodded and grabbed the kettle. You watched him busy himself with putting it on, emptying the hot chocolate powder and grabbing two spoons. He was humming along softly to whichever song he seemed to have stuck in his head and shot you a smile when he caught you looking.

“So what do you usually—”

Suddenly, the room turned pitch dark. You heard Steve swear softly when he shuffled back towards the table and bumped into a chair.

“Uh… okay. That’s… kind of a problem,” he mumbled as he managed to sit back down. “No hot choc I guess, sorry. No… heating either. Maybe we should check how the weather’s doing?” he opted.

“Yeah, sure.”

There was a small strip of light seeping in from the doorway, slowly turning brighter as you adjusted to your surroundings again. Warm fingers teased your arm before your wrist was grabbed and Steve helped you up. As he opened the door, the brightness of the snow outside was almost blinding. The thin windows made it a lot colder at the front, making you shiver as you watched the outside. It wasn’t just snow anymore, as heavy hail rained down, large enough to leave dents into cars. Steve groaned and let go of your wrist.

“Let me check if I can get the power back on,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. He grabbed a flashlight from below the counter and went to the back again. After a few minutes, he returned, looking apologetic.

“Sorry, nothing. I guess it’s my fault you’re stuck here, huh?” he sighed. “If I hadn’t bothered Clark as much you’d be on your way already. Or if I just… I don’t know. Sorry, I guess.”

“It’s not your fault the weather decided to fuck us over, Steve,” you said with a soft smile which he returned with some hesitance. “What do you usually do for fun around here?”

Steve gave you a wry smile.

“Watch movies?”

“Ah, yeah.”

There was a short silence until Steve clapped in his hands and rubbed them together. “I’ve got this huge blanket in the back, brought it here once because Rob, Robin, my colleague, gets very cold easily so sometimes we’d just huddle under the blanket during breaks and stuff. I think we might as well sit out here, at least it’s light… for now.”

You nodded, smiling as you thought of Robin Buckley. You knew her of course. Not super well, but well enough to know she was nice.

“Yeah, it’s already getting dark, huh? A blanket sounds good though.”

Steve nodded and once again disappeared for a short moment, until he returned with a bright blue blanket, which he partially draped on the floor in front of the counter before he motioned for you to sit down and wrapped it around your shoulders. He joined you after grabbing you both some water and put the other end around his shoulders once he settled down.

“How’s this?”

You were really trying not to let it get to you that you were cozying up to Steve right now. Heat was radiating off of him and it made you wonder if he was actually cold, or if he was basically doing the whole “it’s better to stick together for body warmth” kind of thing. With the addition of clothes, of course.

“It’s nice. Better than without for sure,” you told him softly. Steve’s shoulder brushed yours and soon enough you felt the pressure build up until he was actually resting against you. Not in an uncomfortable way at all. It was really… nice, actually.

“Your parents? Do you think they’ll worry?”

“Ah, no. My mom’s visiting my grandma in another state actually and my dad’s no longer around, so. Doubt he can worry,” you joked lightly. “What about yours?”

Steve snorted, then realized it probably wasn’t all that funny and shrugged.

“Dunno, they’re somewhere in Europe now, I think? So no.”

Another silence. It was by that point that you remembered how little you actually knew about Steve Harrington. Sure, he had been popular in school for some time, and then he wasn’t, and then he graduated. But you had never really talked to him other than giving him a pen or two in English class. You were from different social ladders, really. Although, right now you felt quite equal to him, somehow. Which felt weird, considering he looked like a freshly cut out of a painting model and you were… you. Mr handsome decided to steal you away from your brain, which honestly, was a good thing.

“Hey, wanna play a game?” he asked, peering into your eyes as he leaned forward a little. You watched him with newfound curiosity.

“What kind of game?”

“I spy with my little eye.”

“Isn’t that just called “I spy”?” you wondered aloud.

“Dunno. So. Yes?”

“What else is there, right?”

Steve grinned and rested his head against the counter.

“That’s right. Okay. I spy with my little eye… something green.”

“That tape,” you said as you pointed. Steve leaned into your space, following your hand.

“Which one?”

“The green one.”

“There are maaaany green ones.”

“The green one with… Fuck I can’t read,” you sighed as you tried to squint. Steve laughed warmly, which you could feel the tremble of against your shoulder. “Okay so. The sci-fi shelf, yes? Fifth on the second row.”

“Aaaah, I see it now. Nope!”

“You knew that wasn’t it from the start.”

“I had to make sure.”

“Mhm, sure.”

Steve grinned and nudged you with his shoulder before tapping your thigh with his hand.

“Your turn, your turn!”

He left his hand on your thigh. Oh shit. Yeah, you were totally normal about that. You could still think. You could definitely still find some kind of object that you could use—

“Wait, I didn’t even guess it, how is it my turn?!” you questioned. Steve, who had been looking at… somewhere that wasn’t your eyes, quickly lifted his eyes to meet yours and grinned.

“Right. Guess!” “Your vest?”

“You are absolutely right. See? Your turn.”

“It wasn’t— okay. Hm… I spy with my little eye… something red.”

“Your cheeks.”

“Shut up, my cheeks aren’t red.”

“They are a little.”

“If you keep talking about it, yes, they will turn red.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

Once again Steve leaned forward to look you straight in the eye, this time lifting a hand to cup your cheek gently. “Hm, they’re a little pink at the very least.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and took his hand off your cheek as you looked away. Steve chuckled softly and turned his hand around so he could grab yours.

“Fine, then… the bike outside?”

“Nope.”

“Damn, I thought that was it for sure. That red blob of paint that Keith never managed to get off the ceiling?”

“That’s it!”

Steve grinned at you and gave your hand a squeeze. For a moment you had forgotten about his hand, too drunk on his animated face. Fuck.

“I spy with my little eye…” Steve turned his head to look at you and smiled. “Something pretty.”

“What?”

“Purple! Purple.”

“My shirt.”

“So clever.”

It was getting darker rapidly and soon enough, even your little game became harder to play. You did some other ones, word games, guessing games, whatever you could think of. The blanket was wrapped closer around you both now, as the store became colder without the heating. You sat hip to hip, your arms a little awkward sometimes although neither of you really minded.

“Would you have stayed here if I hadn’t been around?” you asked softly.

“Hmm, nah, I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t really care if— I mean, I’d only be risking myself in that case.”

“That’s a bad reason. You’re just as important.”

“Am I?” Steve asked, and for some reason you felt like he needed an honest answer.

“Yeah, you are, Steve.”

“Hm…” A beat of silence. “I spy with my little eye… someone pretty.”

“You can’t even see.”

“I’ve memorized her by now.”

“Is it the blonde babe cardboard cutout?”

Steve, not expecting that answer at all, burst out laughing.

“Fuck, no,” a giggle, “it wasn’t.”

“Oh… hm. What about that girl from the ring? Samara?”

“Shush.”

“Or the woman from that movie where—” “Ssshh.”

You felt his hand cup your cheek and it was as if your heart was gonna jump out of your chest at any moment now. His breath tickled your cheek, warm and comfortable against your cold nose. Your lips parted on their own, eyes closing even though there was only an outline of his face to see.

“You sure it’s not the blond babe?” you murmured teasingly.

Steve giggled softly and shook his head, causing the stray strands of his hair to tickle you a little.

“Positive.”

A faint sound of lips being licked, and then his lips brushed against yours. Soft and pliable, eager to taste yours. He hummed softly, pleased, as he pulled you closer. You were easily pulled into his lap as his tongue teased your bottom lip for access. Hands smoothed up and down your waist, the blanket forgotten as your kiss provided enough heat between the two of you. It was silent, save from the gasps and soft, pleasant hums leaving you both. He gently moved his hips while simultaneously guiding yours, a gentle moan leaving him as he found a rhythm. His lips found your neck and your hand made its way into his hair to have something to grasp onto. One hand found the hem of your shirt and he was about to lift it up when—

Brightness. Light. The electricity was back on. Meaning… everyone outside could see you. If there had been anyone, that is. Still, it broke the moment instantly as Steve dropped his hand to your thigh and looked up at you.

“Shit,” he murmured, a lopsided grin on his face. “They really know how to spoil the fun today, huh?”

You smiled down at him and turned around to look outside, one hand resting on his chest for balance.

“Hm… I don’t know. It seems safe to go back home.”

Steve dug his fingers into your hips with eagerness before leaving a soft kiss on your lips.

“Your place or mine?”

end.

If you enjoyed reading this, please know that comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) Likes are lovely but sadly do nothing to spread the fics around! Help your favorite writers (not saying me - in general) out like that so you can continue to enjoy consuming the free work they put out, it's a win-win.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fanfics #joe keery #i'm so great at promoting my fics with a cool description #not

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sebscore · 2 years ago

Note

Hi!

I wanted to request for fem!driver. Like I can’t stop thinking about two situations.

One being if she started dating a guy or a girl. Not a driver or anything like that. I would feel like everybody would either be protective or make fun of her. I can also see them stalking her date.

The other one being what if she got into a crash. How would she react? Or how would everyone else react?

(I just wanted to say that I love this series you have going on with fem!driver. It’s so fun and cute!)

LET IT SPIRAL

pairings: sebastian vettel x driver!reader / george russell x driver!reader / carlos sainz x lando norris / (indirect) lewis hamilton x driver!reader

warnings: car crashing. swearing. medics. mentions of the hospital. reader passes out for a moment.

author's note: thank you so much for the request, I had fun writing this one and I hope you enjoy reading it! 🙂 I’ll get to the reader having a significant other another time! ❣️

• • • • • • •

''Y/N? Are you okay?'' Her engineer sounded over the radio, surprised by the sudden turn of events.

Up until moments before, the qualifying had been going fine. Yes, there was a lot of rain and there wasn't much grip, but there hadn't been an incident yet and it was still manageable. She had made it into Q2 and she seemed to be on her way to make it into the next sector.

She knew she was taking a risk by going into the corner that fast, but those kinds of risks had paid off in the past, so she didn't think twice about it. Only this time her car started spinning and she crashed into the barrier at quite a high speed.

The lack of response made her team worried, her usual snarky comment not coming through the radio.

''Hello? Y/N? Can you confirm if you're okay?'' Her engineer tried again to get some sort of response out of her, not immediately wanting to think about the worst case scenario. However, nothing came through the radio again from the female driver.

Meanwhile, the two remaining cars behind her were informed to slow down and watch out for debris on the track. Sebastian and George right away reduced their speed, but reacted concerned as to why they needed to do that.

''Red flag, Sebastian. Y/L into the barriers. Lots of debris.''

Sebastian wasn't too pleased to hear about Y\N's crash as earlier he had complained to the directors that they shouldn't be allowed to drive in these rainy weather conditions. ''I told them to red flag the whole thing! There's too much fucking water! I fucking told them!''

As soon as the German saw her car, he pulled up next to her and put his car in neutral, ready to jump out if he needed to. Sebastian held his thumb up in the air, hoping she would see it and would hold hers up. His heart dropped to his stomach when she didn't do that.

He didn't waste one second and jumped out of his cockpit, running up to her and crouching down. ''Y/N! Can you hear me? Are you hurt?'' He pulled up the visors of her helmet and saw her eyes were closed. Upon seeing that, he grabbed her arm and felt her pulse, relief going through his body as her heart was still beating.

George reacted more reserved and calm than Sebastian, but still voiced his concerns for his friend. ''Is she okay? What happened?''

''She lost control of the rear, there hasn't been a response from her.''

He fell quiet when told that she wasn't responding to her engineers, it wasn't in her character to just go radio silent. ''That's not good.''

Turning into the corner, he saw Sebastian by Y/N's car and just like the older driver did earlier, he pulled up next to them and swiftly got out of his car, seeing if he could be of any help to them.

''Is she alright?'' George asked Sebastian, crouching down on the other side of her car. Sebastian shook his head. ''I think she passed out, we should get her helmet off that way she gets more air.'' He told the younger one.

They both stood up and carefully tried to move the helmet from her head, not wanting to hurt her. The two men successfully got the helmet off and Sebastian cupped her cheeks, lightly shaking her. ''Wake up, Y/N dear.''

Her eyes slowly opened, blinking due to the sudden light causing pain to her eyes. Y/N groaned, her muscles hurting immensely and also still not realizing what just happened.

''You okay, darling?''

George's question remained unanswered as the arriving marshals and medics pushed them out of the way, getting the driver out of her car and quickly getting her into the vehicle that would bring her to the hospital for a check-up.

They watched as the car drove away with their colleague in it, Sebastian holding onto her helmet. George patted his fellow driver's shoulder.

''Come on, let's go, Seb.''

In the Mercedes garage, Lewis had already made his way out of the car and was discussing with Bono when he saw the spinning car crashing into the barriers on the small monitoring screen.

''Oh, that doesn't look too good.'' He noted, his face in a frown as the red flag was called out. ''Wait, is that Y/N?'' The Brit took a closer look at the car and realized it was Y/N who had fallen victim to the rain.

Angela joined him, growing concerned for the younger woman she had grown very fond of in the last years. ''Why isn't she getting out?'' She mumbled to herself, confused as to why there was no movement coming from the car.

''Oh, Seb's getting out of the car.'' Lewis' focus was solely on the scene in front of him, his heart rate raising as now both Sebastian and George were by her car, yet there was no movement coming from Y/N's side.

''Why aren't there any fucking medics helping her?'' Lewis cursed to no one in particular, frustrated that the two drivers had to help the woman on their own.

Bono calmed him down. ''Look, they've arrived, Lewis.''

''I hope she's okay.''

On the paddock, several drivers who were giving post-qualification interviews watched with worry as the crash replayed over and over again on the big screen.

Carlos stopped talking in the middle of giving the reporter an answer, more concerned with seeing for himself if Y/N was okay or not. Lando appeared next to him, his eyes wide and attentively looking at the screen. ''That's Y/N, right?''

The older one nodded. ''Yes, that's gonna leave some bruises later.''

''I hope her nails are fine, remember the last time when Daniel crashed into her? For weeks she would walk up to him and shove her newly done nails into his face.'' Lando recalled, trying to lighten up the tension.

Carlos chuckled, remembering all the times Y/N would proudly show off her nails to Daniel and the rest of the drivers. ''Yeah, I think Daniel will think twice before taking her out on track again.''

''Look, George and Seb are with her.'' The McLaren driver pointed out, grabbing Carlos' attention. ''What are they doing?''

''I think they're trying to take her helmet off.'' Lando answered, narrowing his eyes as he tried to get a better look at what was happening.

Sighs of relief came from them as the marshals and medics helped Y/N out of her car, and they could see she was conscious and didn't have any significant injuries. They resumed their interviews and made their way back to their own respective hospitalities.

As soon as Sebastian was informed that Y/N was back from her check-up at the hospital, he made his way to her garage, knowing the young lady well enough that she would want to check out the damages that had been done to her car.

''Hi, little one.''

Sebastian's voice made her turn her head in his direction, greeting him with a soft smile. ''Hey, Seb.''

He walked towards her and pulled her helmet from behind him, handing it over to her. ''I thought you might want this back.'' She laughed as he gave her the helmet, only now realizing she had been missing it. ''Thank you, I appreciate it.''

''How are you?''

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. ''My wrist hurts a bit, but it's just bruising. Besides that, I'm fine.'' She showed off the supporting tape the doctors had put around her wrist.

''I'm happy to hear that, I was scared you might had a concussion or something.'' The German told her, recalling finding her passed out form in the car. ''I'll leave you then, I'll see you tomorrow.'' Sebastian was about to take off when she stopped him.

''Hey, Seb,'' he turned around upon the call of his name, ''I already talked to George, but thank you for helping me out there, I don't remember it, but it was very nice of you and you could have just kept driving, but you didn't.'' She thanked him, taking a few steps closer to him.

He brushed it off. ''You don't have to thank me, Y/N. It was the right thing to do and I wanted to make sure you were okay.''

''You know, I don't wanna get sentimental and all, cause that's embarrassing,'' he laughed at her words, ''but I really appreciate that you've been kinda taking care of me ever since I joined you guys, even before when I was still karting, and you didn't have to do that, but you took it upon yourself to guide me and stand up for me, and I- well, I'm just really thankful, that's all.''

The sincerity in her voice almost brought tears to his eyes. This sport hasn't always been kind to people who fell out of the usual norms of F1, especially to women. So, when he heard about a young girl that had been winning against boys older than her who had more resources, he took it upon himself to reach out to her and her family. Sebastian saw potential in her and offered to mentor her, and even financially help her out. Now, many years later, she's racing alongside him and many other top drivers.

He remained silent, but pulled the girl in a heartwarming embrace. Y/N was surprised, but nevertheless put her arms around his shoulder while his were around her waist.

''Don't make me cry, I just put on mascara and it's not waterproof.''

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fics #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #george russel x reader #carlos sainz x lando norris

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sc0tters · 1 year ago

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Night Before Christmas | Quinn Hughes

summary: as you struggled to fall asleep on christmas eve quinn had something to help solve your problem.

kinkmas: day five (cockwarming)

warnings: sexual themes, fingering, p in v.

word count: 1.87k

authors note: I am truly in love with this one! It’s much softer than my usual smuts but as I’ve been watching love actually whilst writing it we needed a bit of a breather for all that is kinkmas!

Holiday parties with the Hughes family had quickly become one of your favourite things.

Dating Quinn for the last three years meant that you were always his plus one for this event like any other. It also meant that you were officially in the stage where his family had moved on from questioning you to teasing Quinn about how he’s kept you for so long. Christmas Eve dinner had gone down a charm as everyone enjoyed seeing the Hughes boys back together. Of course though as the entire family watched you get dragged off by Quinn’s younger cousins who wanted to show you their newest dolls that have been added to their collections. Your moved presence came with questions of when he’d be putting a ring on your finger, and when you’d be having a family.

Quinn‘s blush as the questions came made the entire family laugh as they truly believed that the eldest son of Ellen and Jim had found his person, hitting the jackpot of love. It seemed that every time you or Quinn would reach for one another someone in his family was watching. The way your hand found itself in his hair during dinner softly scratching the nape of his neck as you smiled listening to whatever he had to say.

You treated his words like honey that you just wanted to soak up as you sat there in awe. Sure the family thought Quinn was wrapped around your finger but you were just as wrapped around his. They all thought you were his sweet innocent girlfriend who could do no wrong as you would bat your eyelashes at Quinn. But if only they knew the side of you that only came out at the hands of Quinn.

As the majority of the house lay fast asleep you couldn’t help it as you stared at the alarm clock next to your side of the bed. The starlight barely shone through the curtains reminding you of how late it was and Quinn’s soft snores weren’t helping as your mind went rampant struggling to find a moment of calm. You were brought back to your childhood when you were an excited kid desperate to catch Santa in the act of delivering presents into your stocking.

A loud sigh left your lips as you rolled over facing your boyfriend “Quinn?” You frowned bringing your leg up to brush your foot along his calf in a lousy attempt to wake him up.

Yet as you were met with silence you tried once more “Quinn.” Your voice was in a sing song tone that made Quinn smile as his eyes remained shut.

You took it as defeat huffing as you rolled back over deciding to try to catch some sleep before his cousins would inevitably come and wake you both up “c’mere.” Quinn mumbled reaching out to place his hands on your sides pulling you closer to him.

It resulted in a squeal leaving your lips “thought I’d surprise you.” He smirked kissing your earlobe making you roll over back to face him.

With the extra space between you both now being nothing you could barely make out Quinn’s features “now what’s wrong?” His tone was softer as he brought his hand up to cup your cheek.

The gesture alone was enough to make you melt “I can’t sleep.” You pouted making him laugh “it’s not funny!” You complained as Quinn leaned over to peck your lips.

As your mood didn’t improve it made him sigh “okay I’m sorry.” The hockey player apologised as he propped his head up by his elbow “what’s keeping you up?” The question frustrated you as it was one of those things that if you knew you would have sorted out.

You shrugged as you mimicked the way he leaned against his hand “I don’t know.” You shrugged making him roll his eyes “so you woke me up for that?” His sarcasm was missed by you as you frowned.

It made you drop to your pillow again “I’m sorry.” You were quick to stare at the ceiling “babe seriously what’s wrong?” Quinn groaned wanting to hear what plagued your mind.

A yawn left his lips at the worst time “just go back to sleep.” You mumbled shaking your head as Quinn reached for your hand pulling you back onto your side “what’s on your mind pretty girl?” He asked letting you see how concern coated his face when his fingers traced figures on your hip.

You chewed at the inside of your cheek “I feel off.” You announced acknowledging how weird it sounded “were they too much tonight?” Quinn knew that Jack and Luke had been teasing you about how Ellen’s friends called you Quinn’s wife at the beginning of the night.

His concern made you smile “no Quinn.” You shook your head “I’ll just go to sleep.” You sighed hearing footsteps in the hallway that shared the wall with your room “feel better already with you here.” You smiled pecking his lips as you lied to him.

In truth you still felt off but you now felt guilty keeping Quinn up “just want you to hold me.” You added as you rolled over backing yourself up against his body “you sure?” Quinn kissed your cheek as his legs laced between yours when his arms wrapped around your waist.

Quinn’s body was warm under the thick blankets that were layered on top of you both “like it when you do this.” You nuzzled your head into your pillow as your eyes latched onto the red lights of the alarm clock “sweet dreams princess.” Quinn grumbled into your ear sending shivers through your body.

Even as you two went silent Quinn knew you hadn’t gone to sleep as your breathing remained stable leaving you awake “baby?” You called out feeling Quinn’s hand travel down your stomach but were ultimately met with silence as his hand went below the strings of your shorts stopping when his tips of his fingers found your clit.

A cough left your lips as you couldn’t tell what he was trying to do “you trust me?” Quinn’s voice was soft as his breath fanned against the shell of your ear “o-of c-co-course.” You stammered as his fingers settled into a more consistent rhythm against your clit in a clockwise motion.

You moved your head back against his chest as you felt your body grow calm against him “gonna make you feel so good.” He cooed making you smile as his movements were slow enough to lull you to sleep.

The beds creaks were muffled by the sheer amount of blankets that you had over your bed and Quinn had never been more grateful about your tendencies to get cold when you slept “please Q.” You whispered like you were worried the house would have been alerted to what was going on if you spoke any louder.

His lips only response was to nip at your neck as you kept your hair in a bun “don’t be shy love.” Quinn’s smirk pressed against your skin making you feel all that more weaker as you grew weak to his touch.

Every minute of this was something Quinn wanted to soak in, using all of his self restraint to not turn the lights on as the intimacy of this moment “let the house hear how I make you feel.” For a man who was once so tired Quinn was now wide awake as his only objective was making you feel good.

Your wetness pooled his desires as his fingers sped up taking you even closer to your release making near in audible grunts and gasps leave your lips as you had one hand tugging on his hair and the other gripping at your bedsheets. Quinn’s cock grew hard pressing against your back and with each pretty sound that came from your plump lips “please don’t stop.” You begged whimpering as your body began to shake.

Tears formed in your eyes as it seemed like whatever block within your mind was coming undone with the mere movement of his fingers “I’m gon-” your eyes fluttered as you found your words getting caught in your throat.

Clothes stuck to your body as sweat formed on your body making you feel slick in places that went beyond your cunt “is this what you wanted from me when you woke me up?” Quinn kissed your neck as you knowing that this was better than any dream he had been in the middle of before you stopped it “no Q.” You called out as you felt your head growing heavy “don’t lie to me.” He warned sinking his teeth into the soft skin of your ear that was accessorised by your earrings.

Of course he knew you well, well enough to know that you were bullshitting him “just wanted to feel you.” You mewled arching your back from against him as you knew you could never fully come without Quinn’s cock inside of you.

It was like music to his ears as he began to slow his fingers “feel me?” The hockey player taunted clicking his tongue as you cried feeling over stimulated “n-n-no!” You sobbed as Quinn removed his fingers entirely from your shorts bringing them up to your lips.

A laugh left his lips “taste yourself for me.” Quinn tapped them against your lower lip making your jaw go slack listening to his requests “now you don’t go whine when I’m going to give you what you really want.” A shifting noise came from behind you making your eyebrows raise as you grew confused.

You didn’t have the chance to ask him as he pulled your flannel shorts down “don’t worry princess.” Quinn laughed as he shook his head “always gonna give you what you want.” Your questions were answered as his cock slid up your slit bringing delicate gasps from your lips once more.

He throbbed against you “Q.” You clenched around the head of his cock as he refused to let himself bottom out against your cunt “I’ll be good to you.” Quinn scoffed as his fingers pinched at your hips as your walls finally hugged his cock.

But as his hips remained still even after you adjusted to him you couldn’t help but grow confused “you feel better now?” Quinn asked yawning again as he grew sleepy.

Your clenching cunt was loosening as you too grew tired “thank you Quinny.” You smiled against your pillow “I’ll keep you like this for the evening.” His words were soft as his body melted against yours making you two some perfect statue.

A whimper fell from your lips as you thought about it “I love you.” Your words were muffled as a heavy sleep took over you making Quinn smile “love you too my sweet girl.” The hockey player cooed kissing your head once more before he too joined you in the state of slumber totally unaware of the moment the clock on your table hit midnight. Not only did it bring on the new day but it almost brought sounds of jingle bells that warmed the streets making anyone who was awake feel like they were dreaming too.

#ambers kinkmas 2023 #Quinn Hughes imagines #Quinn Hughes smuts #imagines #oneshots #hockey imagines #hockey oneshots #hockey smut #nhl smut #amber writes fics

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veronicaphoenix · 6 months ago

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talk some sense to me | n.s.

Summary: Everybody thinks Noah is a Casanova. The truth is, that's just a façade to keep his romance with his best friend's sister a secret.

"Nicholas' sister was off-limits. It was never stated, but implicitly understood. And maybe because of that reason, Noah couldn’t stay away."

one shot ✨ word count: 2.9k pairing: noah sebastian x reader (nicholas' sister) tags and trigger warnings: 'forbidden' romance', reader is nicholas ruffilo's younger sister, reader is a uni student, long-distance relationship (sort of), fluff, angst, implied and mentioned sexual scenarios (but not described in detail), open ending (sorry).

author's note: i wrote this in a couple of hours and i did some minimal editing after. i had this random story cross my mind yesterday and thought i could turn it into a short fic, but with so many wips, i decided it to keep it a one shot <3 maybe one day it'll turn into a fic, who knows. For now, I hope you like it! 💕

“This is wrong,” Noah whispers as he kisses her, his mouth trailing down her jaw and neck.

The way she tilts her head to give him more access makes him feel dizzy and lucky at the same time.

“So wrong,” his voice vibrates against her pulse.

Her hands tangle in his hair, and he revels in the way she occasionally pulls at it, sending a jolt of ecstasy down his spine. “Your brother’s in the next room.”

“Then stop,” she murmurs, her voice equally breathless, consumed by a sensation she can’t quite name.

But she can; it’s called Noah, her brother’s best friend.

“I don’t want to,” he replies, sucking at a spot on her neck he knows drives her crazy.

He hasn’t wanted to stop for over two years.

They know they’re playing with fire, especially tonight.

Nick is in the living room, the ongoing party keeping him oblivious to the fact that his childhood best friend, Noah, has taken his little sister to an adjacent room at the back of the house to devour her mouth and touch her in ways no other man ever has.

It’s not the first time.

Noah has been captivated by her long enough to be her first. If Nick ever found out, he would surely kill him.

His sister was off-limits. Always had been. It was never stated, but implicitly understood. And maybe because of that reason, Noah couldn’t stay away.

He’d seen her grow up, transform from a shy teenager into an independent, confident woman. He saw her reject boys and girls who weren’t enough for her, saw her move away to pursue her studies at Harvard. She was away for an entire year, only coming home for the holidays. Noah didn’t see her for over 365 days, missing every chance he had to see her. After so long without seeing her, he grasped why he felt so miserable, why he’d felt like something was missing from the moment she said goodbye at a party and he stood there stupidly waving his hand, wishing her a safe flight and a good time at Harvard. Pathetic, he thought.

Two summers later, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her as she joined the band to watch his brother and friends make music or play at nearby venues. She was no longer a teenager. Her hair was trimmed shorter, she had gained some weight and looked healthier, and the color in her cheeks and the spark in her eyes whenever she stared at something that fascinated her didn’t go unnoticed.

Noah thought he was out of his mind when he saw that spark every time she looked at him.

When the 4th of July came and the group was at a bonfire party by the beach, watching the fireworks, his hand had brushed hers as they stood looking up at the sky. She turned her head to look at him, and the smile she wore lit up his entire world.

She was the missing piece in his life, the muse behind all his writings, dreams, and songs.

Two hours later, as everyone dispersed, he found her alone, sitting by the shore, her arms wrapped around her bent legs. He was the first to notice something wasn’t right. She confided in him: it had been a hard year at school. She wasn’t sure she was good enough or if she wanted to continue her studies. She questioned whether it was truly her path, what she was meant to do.

The insecurity wasn’t unfamiliar to Noah. He reassured her it was just a phase, a cloud of self-doubt that had settled over her.

“But it’ll soon pass,” he told her, sitting down next to her. “I know how much you love what you’re doing, even if you don’t feel like it right now. You’ve been interested in that field since you were a kid, right?”

How did he know that?

“Nick,” he said, “he used to mention it a lot.”

That was a lie, of course. Noah had been paying attention to her interests since she was barely a teenager, always captivated by her enthusiasm and eagerness to learn new things.

By midnight, he let her cry against his shoulder, her face buried in his chest, wearing his hoodie, holding on to him with eyes full of tears. Unexpectedly, she kissed him, then quickly moved away, expecting him to leave, horrified that she had crossed the line. Instead, he grabbed her and pulled her flush against him, kissing her back. Not much later, he had her pinned against a street wall after offering to walk her home, his mouth pressing down on hers, one hand cradling her face and the other holding her waist. She kissed him with the same intensity, as if she had been waiting for that moment all her life.

That’s when she said the same words he was uttering two years later: “This is wrong.”

It was, but neither of them cared, and so they met again the next day, alone, for a walk on the beach. Noah bought them ice cream and held her hand as they walked barefoot on the sand, the waves lapping at their feet with the Californian sun setting on the horizon. They talked about her studies, about the band, about Nick. They decided to keep this (him and her) a secret. After the evening spent together, he kissed her goodbye and chuckled when she said she wanted to see him again, like this; that she wanted to have him all to herself.

He wanted the same.

It wasn’t the thrill of danger that brought them together; they learned that very quickly. It was a pull that had always been there, perhaps even before she turned eighteen. Noah had only ever had eyes for her, no matter how many other girls came and went. She had always been the girl from his dreams, and he made sure he was in hers from that moment onwards.

Two years later, she finds herself perched on a piece of furniture at someone’s house. She doesn’t even know the host’s name. Noah doesn’t either. But it’s her last day in California before returning to Boston to complete her degree, and damn it if he’s not going to spend every last minute with her, kissing her.

The problem?

Nick is also there.

For the past two years, they had been meeting in places where Nick wasn’t, at times when he wouldn’t wonder why Noah and his little sister were missing at the same time. It had been hard. The opportunities were few, and even though they never labeled themselves a couple, they behaved like one, even in the dark. Noah would call her right when he knew she was about to sleep, and she would text him updates on her studies and daily life, letting him know she wished he were there with her in Boston. She dreamed of going to cafés together and taking walks along the coast.

Noah had hoped to make that dream come true more than once, and that one time he took a flight to Boston to surprise her was well worth it. Her roommate was gone for the weekend, and Bad Omens had just returned from an overseas tour. He didn’t hesitate before hopping on another plane just to see her.

The most memorable moment of that weekend was probably Nick’s unexpected and ill-timed phone call. Noah and she had been lazily lounging on her bed, tangled in each other’s limbs, sharing stories, tender kisses, and innocent touches. When her iPhone’s screen lit up and they read Nick’s name, their hearts skipped a beat.

“Shit, he said he would call me to discuss our parents’ anniversary,” she groaned, putting a hand to her forehead, cursing her brother for such bad timing. She didn’t want to miss a second with Noah.

“Pick up, it’s fine,” Noah said, lying on his side with an arm draped across her stomach.

“What? No. What if he hears you?”

“I’ll stay as still as a statue.”

She eyed him suspiciously. She knew him well enough by now to know when he was just pretending to behave. “You promise?”

He lifted his pinky finger to her.

With a resigned sigh, she hooked hers with his and a moment later answered Nick’s call.

Of course, Noah didn’t stay still.

The moment she sat upright on the bed and greeted her brother, Noah started tickling her. At first, it was just a little, making her squirm and swat at his hand. She was still able to have a normal conversation, but then Noah’s ministrations increased and her laughter couldn’t be contained.

“What’s going on?” Nick asked from the other side of the phone.

“Nothing,” she said, trying to kick Noah, but instead, he grabbed her foot and took her sock off before pretending to want to bite her toes.

“I thought you were in your room.”

“I am,” she said firmly, sending a stern look to Noah, who lifted his arms and pretended to retreat.

Pretended.

Just when she thought he was finally going to behave, he undid the button of her jeans, eyeing her wickedly as her eyes widened. She mouthed a “no,” but it fell on deaf ears. Noah took off her jeans and removed her underwear. A moment later, he was settled between her legs, his nose brushing her most sensitive area.

She sucked in a deep breath, thinking she was going to die for more than one reason.

It was Nick who disconnected the call. The moment he realized she was with a boy, he shouted, “Ugh! You could’ve told me! This is disgusting!” and without a goodbye, he ended the call.

She was already lost in pleasure. Her iPhone dropped to the floor, and soon enough, all she could utter was Noah’s name over and over again.

But things weren’t always this beautiful and fun.

It got hard sometimes. Some nights she cried, and other times Noah was sure she would find someone else—probably another student her age who could take her out on dates and introduce her to his family.

It had been a struggle, but they fought to make it work. Every time she returned to California, Noah was the one to pick her up at the airport. Nick thought she always took an Uber, completely unaware that his sister had arrived hours earlier and was already in Noah’s bed, savoring the weight of his body on hers, or maybe his tongue between her legs, or the weight of his length in her mouth and his words of praise flooding her senses.

Despite their deep feelings for each other, maintaining a relationship that they refused to label grew increasingly difficult.

That’s why tonight they had abandoned all the rules and locked themselves in a room, mere feet away from the rest of the party—and from Nick.

“I don’t want to go,” she whispers as Noah’s lips trail across her chest. She’s wearing a thin V-neck tank top, and he can’t help but kiss the valley of her breasts.

“We have to tell Nick,” he murmurs back. “I’m fucking tired of this—of not being able to kiss you in front of everyone, of not being able to follow you wherever you go, of not being able to take you on dates in town.”

“He’s not going to like it...” she’s half-gone, half-present. She can’t think straight when Noah’s lips and hands are on her. But she’s faintly aware of what he’s saying, of what he’s proposing.

“Not my fucking problem,” he says, sucking at her sweet spot and making her moan. “I want to be there when you graduate,” he continues, nibbling at her shoulder, “to take pictures of my girl and use them as my wallpaper. I want to take you back to your dorm afterward and give you graduation sex.”

She snorts, then grabs his face to pull him away from her chest so she can look into his eyes.

“Graduation sex? Is that even a thing?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, smiling with eyes full of adoration, “but I’m willing to make it a thing.”

After a moment of staring at each other, their eyes soften.

“I want you to be there more than anything,” she admits.

“Then we have to tell him,” he concludes. “It’s time.”

She can do nothing but agree. He’s right. At some point, Nick needs to know, and so do the rest of their friends and family.

Noah hasn’t said he loves her yet, and neither has she, but isn’t it obvious? At least, that’s what she likes to think. She knows she’s been in love with him for years but hasn’t mustered the courage to tell him. A devil on her shoulder keeps whispering that he’s an artist, a rockstar. What if he eventually gets tired of her? They’re on very different career paths. What if he chooses to let her go?

If Noah senses her sudden distress, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he leans down again to capture her lips, his hand creeping up her thigh beneath the black skirt she’s wearing. His tongue is about to dance with hers when the door swings open.

“Noah, have you seen my sister?”

It’s Nick.

The room is dark, but it’s obvious he’s going to find out in the next two seconds. “She’s been missing since...”

As they pull away from each other, her face comes into view. Nick’s eyes widen, but he’s frozen in place. She jumps down from where she’s seated, and Noah steps back, putting some distance between them.

“Nick...” Noah starts, lifting an arm.

For a moment, no one says anything. The heavy music from the party thumps in the background. Nick’s hand is still on the doorknob, and he suddenly looks paler.

It doesn’t take much for him to understand. It’s the aura of comfort surrounding his best friend and his sister, the confidence exuding from them the moment he caught them, the shared look they exchanged a moment ago. This has been going on for a long time, right? They’ve been seeing each other behind his back. Who knows what things Noah has done to her?

Nick’s throat tightens. When he’s able to react, he storms out, slamming the door behind him.

“Fuck,” Noah mutters, making a move to go after him, but she stops him.

“Let me,” she says. “He’s my brother. I’ll handle him.”

She searches for Nick for five minutes until she finds him outside, sitting on the pavement with a cigarette in his mouth. He doesn’t care about her apologies, her stories, her feelings for his best friend, or the fact that they were planning to tell him soon. He doesn’t want to listen.

It shouldn’t be like this. It should have never been like this. Not Noah and her. Not ever. They lied to him, deceived him to his face, kept it a secret. How many times had they laughed behind his back?

He’s never going to forgive them.

“Please, listen to me,” she begs.

He continues with his back to her, refusing to face her, to see her expression of guilt—or perhaps the lack thereof. Maybe she doesn’t feel guilty, which just makes it worse.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed this game,” he says, a cloud of smoking leaving his lips.

She’s confused for a second, then she understands: Nick is not going to believe whatever she says about her feelings. He also thinks that Noah is not the kind of guy to have just one girl. Nick has had to deal with the version of Noah that she and he had decided he would show in front of others: one totally uninterested in the little sister and completely into every girl they met at the club.

Nick thinks Noah is a bad influence on her, that he’s going to break her heart.

“It’s not a fucking game,” a voice says from behind them. She turns around and finds Noah approaching. She wants to tell him to stay away, to let her handle it, but she knows Noah is more stubborn than she is and won’t let her deal with this alone. “It’s never been.”

That elicits a reaction from Nick. He chuckles, a sarcastic sound, and stands up to face them both, letting his unfinished cigarette fall on the ground.

“You’re a fucking Casanova, Noah. Playing with girls is all you do.”

“I’m not that kind of man,” he says, sternly, maintaining his cool.

She was about to let panic take over, but Noah was keeping his composure on check, even though they’d both been scared of this moment for weeks, months, years.

“You’re not?” Nick’s voice drips with cynicism. “How the fuck am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe that you’re not using her?! That you didn’t get into her head and are playing with her?! That you’re not going to break her heart the moment you get what you fucking want?!”

His words sting her, as they do Noah. He wants to tell Nick that he’s completely wrong, but it’s not his fault. He and she had made her brother believe that he was that exact type of man to avoid him finding out about them, but now the consequences are showing.

Instead of trying to explain or justify himself in any way, Noah just says what he should have said long ago, what he should have told her. He’s honest and raw. He’s admitting what he should’ve admitted even before he had her naked under him for the first time.

When she hears him, all the fear she’s ever had about the boy she loves disappears, because finally, she knows he feels the same, that all that connection they’ve had and built for years has been real.

“I’m in love with her.”

It just a sentence, but it changes everything.

Taglist: @crossedxoceans | @somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel <3

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian one shot #noah sebastian x reader #brother's best friend!noah #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens #bad omens one shot

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d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 2 years ago

Text

Still be here in the morning?

Nikolai Lantsov x F!Reader

Summary: You drive Nikolai wild. You want him to see you, to see you, but you're scared. If you give in to your desires and you let yourself fall, will he still be there in the morning?

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT, LOTS OF SMUT, lots of teasing, a lil bit of angst, and some fluff. Also the reader's nickname is Mouse - but it's not a size thing, it's an occupation thing *thumbs up emoji*

Author's Note: This started off as a smut thing but became a whole story thing so enjoy ;D

It was safe to say you drove Nikolai wild. You hardly listened to his rules, questioning your Captain in his every decision and driving him crazy with your constant bickering. You knew that you could, you were Nikolai's star crewmate and he would never risk firing you. No one was a better diplomat, marksman, or sailor - except perhaps Nikolai himself. You were a good detective too - you were the only one of his crew to have figured out his true identity.

You had teased him about it on a brief visit to West Ravka - an old family painting had given it all away.

"You'll never guess what I found, Cap." You said, waltzing into his quarters and jumping up onto his desk. He tilted his face up to you - indicating that he was listening - but kept his eyes focused on the maps laid in front of him, studying new routes out west. You were only docked in Os Kervo to collect a round of new supplies - enough to keep you afloat to Novyi Zem or even further.

"Tell me, Mouse. What have you found that is so worth sharing that you break into my quarters?" He used the affectionate nickname you had picked up since joining the crew - you were quiet, almost undetectable when need by. Of course, Nikolai knew how annoying and boisterous you could get when you were comfortable. Still, the nickname had stuck. In fact, you were almost certain that aside from Nikolai, and the twins, no one could remember your true name. It didn't matter. You had moved on from that life.

"Well, Tolya and I spent most of our afternoon in the galleries in Os Kervo-"

"-leaving Tamar to collect the supplies? Yes, I heard about that. Just because you keep us out of trouble with the law does not mean that you get to delegate all your duties to someone else. We work together, Mouse, you'd do well to remember it."

"Yes, yes, she said she was fine with it. Something about getting Tolya's poetic arse off her back for a few hours," Nikolai chuckled at that, "And anyway, the interesting thing is what I found in the galleries. You see, despite the Fold, West Ravka is still a united nation-"

"I'm aware."

"Stop interrupting me!" You swatted him with a loose piece of paper on his desk, "It's rude. You'd have thought that you had some manners - what with your pretentious nature."

"Is there a point to this, Mouse? Because I suggest you get there soon."

"Well, what I was saying was, I came across a portrait. A new one - well, sort of. It had the King - Pyotr, that is - and his wife, and their sons. Did you know that they had 2? I had simply forgotten." A cheeky grin had snuck onto your face and Nikolai was now looking directly at you. You leaned in close to his ear, "I'd say they did the younger son a disservice, wouldn't you? Your Highness?"

Nikolai moved swiftly, clamping his hand down over your mouth. "Does Tolya know?"

You move his hand off your mouth, "Of course not. I'm not one to be going around spreading rumours that are not mine to spread."

"Good. And you're going to keep it that way. Especially if you want to stay on this ship."

"Oh, Nikolai. You're not going to fire me. You won't risk having the biggest threat to your secret not on your side. I'm a diplomat - I know how intimidation works," Nikolai fixes you with a stare, "Ok, I was a diplomat, whatever. Semantics. Point is, you're not going to fire me. Your secrecy depends on it."

After that day, your teasing had increased ten-fold and Nikolai's patience with you had decreased just as much. He hardly spoke to you if he didn't have orders to give you. And it pissed you off.

To be perfectly honest, you made his blood boil. Nikolai didn't know what it was about you, but you knowing who he was had tipped him over the edge. He thought that he was untraceable - a new persona, a new look. He'd made a point to never dock in Ravka - but needs must and there was no way they'd survive a trip to Kerch. They'd been running on fumes. To be honest, the trip had gone better than expected. But of all the people to find out, it just had to be you. He stewed alone in his chambers. They were currently in Novyi Zem, planning to head further west. Ravka had no power further west than Novyi Zem, a notion which many - including you - were grateful for.

He'd never taken the time to understand what you were running from - almost everyone in his crew was running from some demon, but you had never once let slip who you were before you joined Sturmhond's crew. He knew that you were a diplomat of some kind and that you were half-Ravkan, but beyond that, you were a mystery to him. Perhaps that's what pissed him off. That you knew exactly who he was and who he had been and he knew nothing about you.

A knock came at his door. Who the fuck could that be? To his knowledge, everyone was out partying in the taverns. Who could resist a peaceful night out when you spent every other night on a ship sailing in the middle of an ocean? Nikolai could. And so could this mystery person apparently. Nikolai opened his door before the guest knock again, groaning when he caught sight of who it was. You were standing at his door - coat and boots discarded and your shirt haphazardly untied. You pushed past him and made yourself comfortable in his chair, smiling as he ran a hand over his face.

"Awhh, don't look too happy to see me, Sturmhond. Or should I say, Nikolai?" You'd taken to teasing him in the privacy of his room, where you were sure no one could hear you.

"What do you want, Mouse?"

"I just wanted to see how my dear Majesty was holding up. It has been a rough week for us all."

"Cut the bullshit. I know you're here to piss me off. Not tonight, Mouse. Please."

"Ooh. I like it when you beg. Do it again." You grinned at him. You knew you were getting under his skin.

"I said not tonight. Get out, Mouse. Go piss off some drunkard in a tavern." Nikolai said, nearly pushing you out of the door. "Maybe he can fuck the attitude out of you," he whispered under his breath.

"Make me."

"I'm sorry, what?" Nikolai said, turning around to face you again.

"I said, make me, Lantsov."

"I told you to stop fucking using that name," Nikolai growled, pushing you up against the wall, his arm pushing under your boob. You flushed pink, heat pooling in your stomach.

Nikolai grinned, "Oh, I see." He looked you up and down, scanning your figure. You could feel your underwear soak with every second of his gaze.

"What do you see, Captain? Need me to get you a spyglass. Could help you-" You were cut off by Nikolai's lips on yours. They were soft, gentle, and yet demanding at the same time. It was nice. This was nice.

"Is that what you wanted, Mouse? Attention from your Captain?" The honourific felt dirty coming from his mouth. You felt the desire to push him further - to piss him off until he gave you what you wanted. What you needed.

"Are you sure it's not what you wanted Captain? You seem to be a lot more excited by this than I am."

Nikolai nearly growled at that, attaching his lips to yours again, before slipping your belt off. He slipped his hands down to your core, feeling the wetness and smirking.

"Not as excited as me, huh?" He rubbed a circle around your clit and watched your defenses crumble. You grabbed a fistful of his jacket in your hand as your hips bucked away from him.

Nikolai lifted you up easily, depositing you on his desk, "I wanted to fuck you that day. When you hopped up on this desk and threatened me the first time. Should've done it. Should've shown you exactly who the boss is around here."

He grabbed the small knife he kept in his breast pocket off the desk and flicked it open. You gasped. Nikolai grazed the knife against the outside of your hip, slicing cleanly through your underwear. You were glad you'd taken off your stays earlier - you weren't sure if you could survive him ruining your most comfortable stays.

He placed a gentle kiss on your throat before pulling your shirt off. He gazed at you, momentarily starstruck, before latching his mouth onto your nipple. A hand came up to toy with the other, and you dissolved into a moaning mess.

He pulled away from your nipple to grin at your state. You looked at him breathlessly, grinning, "Is that all you've got, Lantsov."

His stare turned dark. He dove down and buried himself in your pussy. He licked and nipped, flicking your clit with his tongue. He played you like a well-tuned instrument. He fucked your hole with his tongue - alternating between stroking your walls with his tongue and sucking on your clit.

Your orgasm washed over you unexpectedly, sending waves of pleasure through your veins. You clamped your thighs around Nikolai's head, throwing your head back as you cried out.

Nikolai lifted his head up, eyes glinting dangerously, wetness smeared all around his lips. He looked devious. In that moment, he was not Nikolai Lantsov, spare to the Lantsov name, but Sturmhond, masterful privateer, Captain of Volkvolny. You loved him for it.

"You've caused me a lot of trouble, Mouse."

"What are you going to do about it?" You bit your lip, hiding a smirk.

He threw his coat off, carrying you towards his bed. You were lucky that no one else was on board - if they heard what was going on you'd never live it down.

Nikolai laid you on the bed, stripping his clothes off at extraordinary speed. He was quickly inside you, eliciting whimpers from you at every movement. He gave you a moment to adjust before he started to thrust. His hips snapped into you at an ungodly pace and it was all that you could do to not fall apart on his cock.

Nikolai grinned at your silence, his eyes scanning over you. Your face was blissed out, eyes rolling to the back of your head every so often. Sweat glistened on your skin, as you rocked forwards at the force of his every thrust. He couldn't help the small praises that fell from his lips as you moaned lowly.

"Look at you, so fucking beautiful under me, spread out for me like a whore. That's what you are, my beautiful little whore." You moaned at the filth dripping out of his mouth, "What's wrong, sweetheart? Have I fucked the little mouse stupid? No words left to taunt me now, huh?" You moaned softly, your mouth almost stuck in the shape of an 'O'. "Maybe I should do this more often, keep you quiet for longer." You nodded your head, head too foggy to come up with another smart-ass response.

Your second and third orgasms crashed over you in quick succession - Nikolai clamped his hand over your mouth as you screamed 'Nikolai' over and over again. He promised that next time he'd fuck that name out of your brain, before pulling out and cumming all over your chest.

You lay on his bed - dazed from the intense fucking you just received. You were surprised to find yourself alone in Nikolai's bed - he'd disappeared moments after cumming. He'd said something but you were still coming down from your last high when he moved away. You began to spiral. Of course, he was only fucking you to teach you a lesson - why else would he be interested in you? You idiot! He's the prince of fucking Ravka and the Captain of this ship. What do you have that would interest him, apart from your bratty mouth and attitude? He said it himself - the attitude pissed him off.

You were startled when something cold made contact with your chest. You looked up to find Nikolai with something in his hand - a wet washcloth, maybe? - and a sheepish grin on his face. He was still naked, his hair still tousled and his face still flushed. An involuntary beam broke out across your face. He didn't leave you after all.

Nikolai was taken by surprise at the tears that gathered on your lash line. He pulled you up into his chest when you were clean, sitting on the edge of his bed with you held tightly in his arms.

"Hey, hey, hey." He said, drawing mindless shapes on your back as tears streamed down your face, "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He was confused - surely, if he hurt you, you wouldn't be seeking comfort in him.

His heart slowed slightly when you shook your head, but the confusion remained.

"Talk to me, Mouse. What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not. If it matters to you, then it matters to me. Tell me, whatever it is, I'll fix it." Another wave of emotion washed over you. You climbed into his lap and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

"I thought you were mad." You whispered quietly, almost hoping he wouldn't hear you and that he would let it go.

"Why would I be mad?"

"You left." You shrugged, "You left and I thought you were gone for good." He pressed a kiss to your temple and pulled your head into his chest.

"Oh, Mouse. For all your genius, you are oblivious." You looked up at him, confused. "I love you, Mouse. I always have." You shook your head, "What?"

"You're just saying that." You said, tears filling your lash line again as you tried to pull away, "You're just saying that 'cause you fucked me and you don't want me to leave." You tried to move out of his arms but he held you firmly. You hit his chest, trying to force yourself off him, but he stood his ground. Eventually, you just melted into his arms - he held you as you cried, hands stroking your hair soothingly.

You calmed down slowly, chest heaving as you tried to replenish your lungs. You stayed relaxed in his arms. He laid his head on top of yours. "Wanna tell me what that was about?"

You shook your head.

"Do you trust me?"

You nodded your head.

"Do you trust me enough to believe me when I say I love you?"

You hesitated.

"Well, we've found our problem."

"You don't love me."

"How do you know? You been inside my head? Pretty sure even Grisha can't do that." You chuckled.

"You hate me. You can't even look at me - let alone talk to me for long enough to fall in love with me."

"I can't look at you because if I start looking I'll never look away. I can't talk to you because I look like a fool every time I try and string two words together in front of you. Ask Tolya - he'll tell you how hopelessly in love with you I am. And for someone who's not interested in romance, he's a fucking hopeless romantic." His words involuntarily brought a smile onto your face.

You looked into his eyes, "You're sure you love me?"

"Honey, you drive me wild."

You nestled into his arms, and he leaned you both back onto the bed. Your head hit his pillow and suddenly you're surrounded by him. His arms wrap around you tightly, his pillow smells like him, his face is right next to yours. It's nice. Comforting.

You looked up into his face, studying his features while he slept. He was pretty - objectively. His face was long - pointy. Someone had done a terrible job of fixing his broken nose - but it seemed off at a second glance. He seemed so different than the paintings in the gallery - more difference than age alone could bring. His eyes were the giveaway - they were muddy green at first glance but under the right light and if you stared long enough, they were the same hazel green as the ones in the painting. You reached up to stroke his face. How long would this all last? How long until he wouldn't be able to play pretend anymore? How long until he had to go back to being Prince Nikolai Lantsov of Ravka? How long did you have with him in this beautiful bubble that you had created? You could already hear the rest of the crew filtering in from their nights out.

A hand came up to wrap around yours, "Sleep, Mouse. I'll still be here in the morning."

You smiled. He'd still be here in the morning.

fin.

#grishaverse #nikolai lantsov #netflix shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov being kind #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov my beloved #nikolai lantsov x you #no y/n #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfic #nikolai x reader #siege and storm #nikolai lantsov imagine #shadow and bone x reader

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beanmachine69 · 1 year ago

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You’ve got me in the Nando feels now! Could you write a smutty (if you do smut) Nando x Lances Sister forbidden relationship/ secretly dating situation where you almost get caught in his drivers room?! Age gaps don’t hurt either 😏😂♥️

Good team, great time | Fernando Alonso

minors dni!

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” You whispered as Fernando dragged you by the arm, sneaking past cameras and people and straight to his drivers’ room.

“Finally.” He sighed, as he pushed you against the door, moving closer till his face was mere millimeters away from yours.

“If Lance finds us-” You started, nervous at how close he was to you, and just generally nervous about the whole situation.

“He won’t doll, relax.” He said, smiling.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not going to get killed if anyone finds us.” You hissed, slightly annoyed at how nonchalant he was about this.

He hummed, nodding and choosing not to verbally respond, instead pulling your face closer to his by the chin and kissing you. You closed your eyes and melted into the kiss, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him lower. You both spent a few moments like this, slowly just kissing and smiling before he quickened the pace a bit, deepening the kiss and moving his hands under your shirt.

Your slight whimper as he pinched your nipple made him smile into the kiss, pulling away to look at your face. God, what an adorable sight it was; your eyes all wide and expectantly looking up at him as your plump lips were parted and slick in anticipation. Though he’d only been acquainted with sights like these a few times before, Alonso truly felt the undeniable urge to see them again, and again- he was addicted to it and all possible hurdles didn’t seem to matter at all.

“Fuck, fuck, Fernando I don’t think we should be doing this here.” You whispered, fear lacing your voice.

“Where else baby? Do you want me to take you in the garage? I mean I don’t mind but-” He teased, smiling at how scared you looked.

“No!” You responded, slapping his arm playfully, “I mean Lances’ room is right next to yours, he could hear us.” You warned, brows raising to see what his response would be.

“I guess we just have to be quiet, no?” He smirked.

You hated it whenever he smirked, not because he looked bad or anything, but quite the opposite. He just looked so stupidly attractive, it annoyed the shit out of you- especially considering how often he did it too. It had become a thing between you two the past few weeks where he’d pass a smirk at you in the garage or the paddock and you’d just go bright red- he got some sort of joy from it. He found it so adorable the way you’d blush and look away, trying to play it off even though your face was a major give away.

Fucking his boss’ daughter was not part of the el plan, yet here he was, sneaking around wherever and whenever he could to spend time with you. You were significantly younger than him, and though you were old enough to make your own decisions, your age gap would definitely earn you two more than just disapproving frowns from others. Fernando liked and respected Lance a lot as a teammate, hell he even really liked Lawrence, maybe he just liked all the damn Strolls, especially the one who was looking up at him now, mouth full of his dick and eyes watering as you choked on his length.

“Fuck yes, just like that.” Fernando sighed, relaxing on the stiff sofa under him.

His hand was in your hair, guiding you as you rhythmically bobbed your head up and down his length, pulling away and watching as your spit spilled from your mouth and onto the dark pink tip of his dick. Your face was in close proximity to his member, so when you attempted to catch your breath, you were immediately hit by his scent, motivating you to lower your mouth back onto him, flattening your tongue on his head as you licked slowly. As much as Fernando appreciated your skill, he was more desperate for release, and so he exercised his authority and pushed your head further down so fast that you audibly gagged as he hit the back of your throat. You tried mumbling a ‘I’m fine’ but it only came out as a gargled noise as you began moving your head up and down again.

Alonsos’ breathy moans were really, really turning you on; the way he groaned out your name from the back of his throat, and the way he moved his hips upwards and moaned louder every time you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him properly. Your mouth was eliciting the most satisfying sounds you had ever heard- his noises were so addictive, you didn’t want to pull away, not even for air- you just began steadily focusing on breathing from your nose so you could stay down for longer. At that point, you were willing to do whatever it took to keep those deep moans and sighs coming from the man above you.

“Yeah cariño, just like that.” He moaned, a little louder than before, indicating that he was close, “Keep going, I’m close.”

You nodded a response, not attempting to speak and focusing on picking up pace. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked him off like he was some sort of lollipop, you moved your head up and down as your hand came up from your underwear to caress his balls, massaging them gently. You continued this for a brief moment before his thrusts stuttered and his hips made a final, deep thrust into your throat the same time his hand grabbed onto your head and held it in place as he came inside your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, cariño.” He let out, barely able to control his volume.

You couldn’t breathe, and were gagging more than before with the extra pressure, but you kept it together and pulled away with a final suck on his head. You looked up at him and as your eyes met his dazed look, you visibly swallowed, bringing your thumb to clean the edge of your mouth.

“Fuck, you look so good like that princesa.” He sighed, hand still in your hair as you relaxed against his leg.

You were just about to reply to his comment when you were both startled by a knock at the door. You jumped up to pull your skirt up as Fernando struggled to put his trousers on. The knock repeated, except this time it was followed by Lances’ voice.

“Hey Alonso you in there?” He asked.

You panicked, frozen in the spot, terrified that you’d be caught by your own brother. You snapped out of the trance when Lance knocked again, your reflexes kicked in and you bolted to the cupboard, shoving yourself in there.

“Yeah Lance, uh give me a minute.” Fernando replied, cursing himself for not locking the door.

He fixed himself up, picking your panties from the floor and shoving them in his pocket when he saw you close the door to the cupboard. He went up and opened the door himself, trying to make sure Lance wouldn’t enter the room itself.

“Hey man, whatsup?” Lance asked when Fernando opened the door.

You were frozen in your hiding spot, terrified of the idea of getting caught by your younger brother. You were in no state to be meeting him at this moment, and as the brief conversation between the drivers continued, your panic subsided, Fernando had managed the situation and Lance hadn’t even made it inside the room. The closet was small, and you could barely hear what the conversation was about, so you just sat there, recalling not just todays’ events, but last nights’ events too. You and Fernando had been sneaking around for a while and though it was all fun and games, you had unfortunately developed some feelings for the older driver along the way. He was funny, cute, and really caring and not to forget an incredible driver who was also indescribably attractive. Though neither of you could deny your attraction towards one another, you just weren’t so sure if the tender moments you two shared afterwards were something more than just extended aftercare.

The closet door opened, Alonso stood in front of you, hands folded over his chest and a cocky expression washed over his face.

“What?” You asked, a little confused at the expression.

“That was exciting.” He replied, trying to contain a smile.

“My brother almost walked in on us, and you think that was exciting?” You questioned, mirroring his stance and folding your arms over your chest.

“Isn’t the idea of almost getting caught kinda fun?” He pressed further, leaning closer and trapping you into the closet with his strong arms.

“I mean-” You were cut off when he kissed you again, leaning in and pressing his lips onto yours far more gently than he did earlier.

“You’ve been such a good girl princesa.” He mumbled as he pulled away, a small smile on his lips.

“Mhm, have I?” You asked, knowing very well that the question was redundant and you knew where this was going.

“Yes baby, now you decide, what do you want?” He asked, smiling and doing the thing with his lips where he pushes them out momentarily mid-smile.

“You,” You replied, re adjusting yourself to wrap your legs around him, your torso firmly trapped under him in the cupboard, “I want you fuck me, right here, right now.”

“And what if someone catches us?” He asked sarcastically, eyebrow quirked.

“Isn’t that exciting?” You replied, smirking as you leaned upward to take him into a kiss.

Wrapping your hands around the back of his neck you brought his face lower as you deepened the kiss. You moved your hips upwards, rubbing your clothed core against him. At this point your skirt was pushed up so high, there was practically no use of wearing it. You ground against him for a moment before he took charge again, thrusting his hips into yours and pinning your hips down into the closet base. You moaned at the contact, surprised at how hard he was again.

You mumbled something before reaching out to help him out of his pants as his fingers hooked onto your panties and pulled them off of you, toying a bit at your wet entrance.

He aligned himself as he leaned in to kiss you, mouth capturing yours in a kiss so indulgent that he managed to muffle out your very loud moan when he slipped inside you. He didn’t bother waiting for you to adjust to his size, the door was unlocked and the only bit of a cover you two had was the open cupboard door, anyone could walk in at anytime- the thought of which was so exciting that Fernando began his thrusts, hard and fast, fucking you like he needed to. He knew that time was of essence, and he also knew to make you cum around him.

His pace was relentless, and if it weren’t for his mouth on yours, muffling your moans, the whole damn paddock would have heard the way you moaned out his name with each one of his thrusts. For a split second you were convinced the wood of the cupboard base would snap under the pressure, your thought barely lasting a moment before it got discarded by the feel of your orgasm approaching faster than you expected. You tightened your legs around Fernando, barely managing to announce your situation before he nodded,

“Yeah princesa, me too.” He panted.

His dick was repeatedly ramming itself into your g-spot, making your limbs quake under him. At that point your head was so devoid of thoughts, you simply could not think of anything apart from how good he felt inside you and how deep he was inside you. Your orgasm was threatening to explode, the only thing holding it off was your wait for his hip stutter to indicate that he was close, except no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t stop yourself from releasing all over him, head falling back as moans spilled out of you and as your walls squeezed him until he came, shooting his warm load into you.

Your high had you seeing stars, your body shaking as the after effect of it. Fernando fell on you, collapsing onto you and wrapping his arms around you in a warm hug.

“Santo Dios mi amor, I can’t get enough of you.” He panted, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You giggled, not understanding the first bit but smiling anyway.

“What?” He stopped, pulling away to look at your red face, “You like that? You like it when I can’t control myself around you?”

“Maybe.” You smiled, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth as you searched his eyes for any hint of some emotion akin to yours.

“Good, I like that.” He smiled, kissing your forehead again. “Come on, come to the couch I wanna hold you for a minute.”

He hadn’t pulled out of you, instead he scooped you up from under your arms and carried you to the small couch in the room, gently laying you on top of him. He stroked your hair as you made little patterns on his clothed chest, still blissfully dazed as his strong arms held you.

“Y’know,” Fernando started, taking a deep breath in, “I was thinking you and I go to dinner sometime, maybe after the race?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” You replied, avoiding looking up at him so he wouldn't see you blush.

“Great, because I don’t want to keep sneaking around.” He chuckled, “Your dad asked me what my good-luck charm was these past few races, I wasn’t too sure he’d like my answer.”

A/N: I LOVED THIS REQ SM! I'm sorry for making it a bit more romantic than requested, but I love this man and can't help it heh.

Please correct my Google translate Spanish if I've made any errors, it would be appreciated!

Thanks for the request Kat, apologies for the delay <3

As usual, the ask box is open for criticism and requests! Much love <3

#Fernando alonso #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 blurb #fernando alonso blurb #fernando alonso smut #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso

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muiitoloko · 1 month ago

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Hi! I LOVE your writing!!!!

I have a request for Frank x younger reader, maybe where the reader works as his assistant, but it's temporary—like a substitute for a while. Obviously, there's a connection between them, but Frank, being so professional🫡 wouldn’t act on it because technically, he’s her boss. (IMAGINE ALL THE TENSIONNNNN)

Then, when the reader’s time is up and the regular assistant returns, on her last day, she tells him it’s her final day and that she’s done for the day—so, technically, he’s no longer her boss 👀👀

If you want to write it, feel free! If not, no worries at all!🥰

Title: Office Hours

Summary: After months of unspoken attraction, Frank finds himself caught in a late-night showdown with his secretary, where no rules apply.

Pairing: Frank Benson × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: Thank you very much for your request. I hope you enjoy it.

Also read on Ao3

Frank sat at his desk, his hazel eyes trained on the papers in front of him, though his mind was entirely elsewhere. You stood at the far end of the room, your fingers deftly sorting through files, your expression focused. The sight of you—the curve of your figure, the way your hair framed your face—was enough to make his chest tighten. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away. Two more weeks, he thought, his baritone voice muttering under his breath. Two more bloody weeks.

You glanced up, catching the faint tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers drummed against the desk in a rare show of impatience. “Is something wrong, sir?” you asked, your voice warm and professional, but with a hint of genuine concern that always made him feel seen.

Frank’s head snapped up, his hazel eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he was silent, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he exhaled through it. “No,” he said finally, his tone brusque. “Everything’s fine. Just… a lot to get through today.”

You nodded, offering a small, understanding smile before returning to your work. Frank swallowed hard, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment too long before he forced himself to focus. The sexual tension that crackled in the air between you was impossible to ignore, and it was getting harder for him to maintain the calm, composed demeanor he prided himself on.

The problem wasn’t just your beauty, though that alone was enough to drive him to distraction. It was the way you seemed to anticipate his needs before he even voiced them, the way you moved through the office with a quiet confidence that both impressed and unnerved him. You weren’t just competent—you were exceptional. And that made everything more complicated.

“Lieutenant General?” Your voice cut through his thoughts, soft but insistent.

Frank blinked, realizing you were standing in front of his desk now, holding out a file. He reached for it, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. The contact sent a jolt through him, and he immediately withdrew his hand, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Thank you,” he muttered, his baritone voice quieter than usual.

You hesitated, studying him with a slight tilt of your head. “Are you sure everything’s all right?” you asked, your tone gentle but probing. “You seem… distracted.”

Frank stiffened, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m fine,” he said firmly, though his voice lacked its usual authority. “Just a long week.”

Your lips quirked into a small smile, and for a moment, the tension between you felt almost playful. “Well,” you said lightly, “if there’s anything I can do to help, you just have to ask.”

Frank’s mind immediately went to places it shouldn’t have. He could picture it all too clearly: you leaning over his desk, your hands braced on the edge as he buried his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer. His cock stirred at the thought, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, clearing his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his tone clipped as he forced himself to look back at the papers in front of him.

But you didn’t leave. Instead, you lingered for just a moment longer, your gaze steady and knowing. “You work too hard, sir,” you said softly, almost teasingly. “You should let yourself relax once in a while.”

Frank’s jaw tightened, his hazel eyes snapping up to meet yours. The way you looked at him—like you knew exactly what he was thinking, like you were daring him to act on it—was maddening. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he said coolly, though his voice held a faint edge.

You smiled, a slow, almost mischievous curve of your lips that sent heat rushing through him. “Good,” you said simply before turning and walking away, your hips swaying slightly with each step.

Frank watched you go, his hands gripping the edge of his desk as he tried to steady himself. Two more weeks, he thought again, his baritone voice muttering low and bitter. God help me, I don’t know if I’ll make it.

The day dragged on, each interaction with you a careful balancing act as Frank struggled to keep his composure. By the time the office emptied out for the evening, he was a mess of frayed nerves and pent-up frustration. He stood by the window, a glass of whiskey in hand, staring out at the city lights as he tried to collect himself.

“Sir?” Your voice startled him, and he turned sharply to see you standing in the doorway, your coat draped over one arm. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said quickly, though there was a glimmer of amusement in your eyes. “I just wanted to say goodnight.”

Frank set his glass down, his hazel eyes scanning your face, searching for… something. An excuse, perhaps. A reason to keep you here just a little longer. “Goodnight,” he said finally, his voice soft but firm.

You nodded, hesitating for a moment before stepping closer. “Frank,” you said quietly, dropping the formality. The sound of his name on your lips sent a thrill through him, and he tensed, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he inhaled. “You don’t have to keep holding back, you know.”

His eyes widened, the carefully constructed walls he’d built around himself threatening to crumble. “What are you talking about?” he asked, though his voice was rough, betraying him.

You smiled, your gaze steady as you stepped closer still. “I’m saying,” you murmured, your voice low and warm, “that maybe you don’t have to wait two weeks.”

Frank’s breath hitched, his heart pounding as you closed the distance between you. He wanted to stop you, to tell you this was a terrible idea. But when your hand brushed against his, when your eyes locked onto his with that unmistakable heat, he found himself frozen, unable to resist.

“Two weeks,” he muttered, his baritone voice trembling as his control began to slip. “Just two more bloody weeks…”

Your smile widened, and you leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Or maybe just two more minutes.”

Frank turned sharply on his heel, distancing himself from the intoxicating heat of your presence. His jaw tightened as his hazel eyes fixed on the window, the city lights beyond blurring into a kaleidoscope of frustration and longing. His white hair caught the dim glow of the lamp on his desk, and his hooked nose flared slightly as he drew a deep breath, his baritone voice firm yet trembling as he spoke.

“No,” he said, his tone resolute. “This is inappropriate. You’re my subordinate, and I’m your commanding officer. I won’t… I can’t cross that line.”

You stepped closer, your voice soft yet imploring. “Frank,” you murmured, your eyes searching his with a mix of frustration and desire. “We’ve been dancing around this for months. Why keep denying it?”

He turned to face you, his gaze sharp but filled with unspoken longing. “Because,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, commanding register that sent a shiver through you, “I won’t be the man who abuses his position. Amy will be back in two weeks. Two weeks. And then, maybe…”

You exhaled, a mixture of disappointment and resignation washing over you. “And then, maybe?” you asked, your voice tinged with a sadness that made his chest tighten.

Frank clenched his fists at his sides, his hazel eyes darkening as he fought the urge to pull you into his arms. “Then,” he said softly, “I’ll be free to want you. Freely, without question. But not now. Not like this.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly, and you gave a curt nod, the professionalism you’d always carried slipping back into place like armor. “Goodnight, sir,” you said, your voice steady but distant.

As you turned and walked away, Frank’s heart twisted. He wanted to call you back, to tell you to lock the door, to throw propriety to the wind and finally claim what he’d been denying himself for so long. His hand even twitched toward the glass of whiskey, as though it could drown the torrent of desire coursing through him. But he held firm, his military training keeping him rooted in place as the sound of your footsteps faded into the night.

He took another sip of whiskey, the burn doing little to ease the ache in his chest or the throbbing heat elsewhere. His mind betrayed him almost instantly, conjuring images of what he would have done if he’d let himself slip—if he’d grabbed your wrist as you passed, pulling you back into the room, into him.

He imagined the startled gasp you’d let out as his lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he pressed you against the wall. His voice, deep and rough with years of restraint finally breaking, would growl your name like a prayer. He pictured the way your body would melt against his, your fingers clutching his shirt as you whispered breathless pleas for more.

Frank’s grip on the glass tightened as his mind wandered further, the fantasies growing more vivid. He could see it so clearly: you kneeling in front of him, your eyes wide and filled with trust as he undid his belt with deliberate slowness, his cock hard and aching, thick and veined, begging for your touch. He would guide you gently at first, his voice low and encouraging as he murmured, “That’s it, love. Take me. All of me.”

He groaned softly, his free hand running through his white hair as he struggled to pull himself back from the edge. He could almost hear the way you’d moan his name, feel the way your lips would wrap around him, warm and willing, pulling him deeper until he couldn’t think straight.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, his hazel eyes staring at the now-empty glass of whiskey. His hooked nose flared as he exhaled sharply, setting the glass down with more force than necessary. This was madness, he thought. Utter madness.

And yet, as he sat there in the quiet of his office, the scent of your perfume still lingering faintly in the air, Frank couldn’t stop himself from imagining what two weeks might bring—and how much harder it would be to hold himself back when the clock finally ran out.

Frank sat at the head of the conference table, his hazel eyes scanning the room as the officers around him discussed the latest intelligence reports on operations in Afghanistan. His expression was as calm and composed as ever, the weight of his rank and experience evident in every line of his face. But beneath that facade, Frank Benson was seething.

His gaze kept straying to the corner of the room, where you stood with a young soldier, your head tilted slightly as you spoke in hushed tones. Frank didn’t need to hear the words to know they weren’t work-related—the easy smiles, the soft laughter, and the way the soldier leaned just a little too close made that abundantly clear.

You should have been taking notes, cataloging the meeting as you always did with meticulous precision. Instead, you were there, entertaining some wide-eyed boy who clearly didn’t know his place. And it was driving Frank mad.

He clenched his jaw, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he tore his gaze away, trying to focus on the discussion at hand. The officers were speaking of strategic deployments, air support logistics, and humanitarian considerations—things that demanded his full attention. But his mind was elsewhere, filled with the image of you, the sound of your laugh, and the irritating sight of that soldier’s grin.

“Lieutenant General?” one of the officers prompted, drawing Frank’s attention back to the table. “Your thoughts?”

Frank blinked, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the question. “Continue,” he said curtly, his baritone voice low and commanding. “I’ll provide my input shortly.”

The officer nodded and resumed speaking, but Frank’s attention had already drifted again. His grip on the edge of the table tightened as he glanced toward you once more. The soldier was leaning in, his lips moving as he whispered something that made you smile. And that was it—the last straw.

Frank pushed back his chair, the legs scraping against the floor as he stood. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to him as he fixed you and the soldier with a glare that could have frozen molten lava. “Miss [Your Last Name],” he barked, his baritone voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Do you have something to share with the rest of us?”

You froze, your smile fading as you straightened, your eyes darting toward the soldier, who now looked as if he wanted to melt into the floor. “No, sir,” you said quickly, your tone steady despite the flicker of embarrassment in your expression.

“And you,” Frank continued, turning his glare to the soldier. “Is this how you behave in a serious meeting? Whispering and grinning like a schoolboy while your colleagues are discussing operations that involve life and death?”

The soldier stammered, his face turning crimson. “No, sir! I—I apologize, sir.”

Frank stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back as he loomed over the younger man. “You’re a disgrace to that uniform,” he growled, his hazel eyes cold and unforgiving. “Since you seem to have so much energy to waste on idle chatter, why don’t you go outside and give me fifty push-ups? Now.”

“Yes, sir!” the soldier barked, snapping to attention before practically running out of the room.

Frank’s gaze shifted back to you, and the tension in the air was palpable. “And you,” he said, his tone softer but no less firm. “Your job is to take notes, not to flirt. I expect you to conduct yourself with professionalism at all times. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” Frank said sharply, turning back to the table. “Let’s proceed.”

The meeting resumed, but the tension lingered. Frank kept his expression neutral, his hazel eyes fixed on the reports in front of him. But inside, his thoughts were a storm of frustration, jealousy, and something darker—something he refused to name.

When the meeting finally ended, Frank lingered behind, pretending to organize his papers as the officers filed out. You hesitated by the door, clearly unsure whether to leave or stay. Finally, you stepped closer, your voice hesitant. “Sir, may I speak with you?”

Frank glanced up, his expression unreadable. “Make it quick,” he said curtly.

You closed the door behind you, your hands clasped nervously in front of you as you approached his desk. “I didn’t mean to be unprofessional,” you began, your voice soft but earnest. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

Frank stood, his white hair catching the light as he rounded the desk to stand in front of you. His hazel eyes bored into yours, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he exhaled. “Do you know what upset me, Miss [Your Last Name]?” he asked, his baritone voice low and dangerous. “It wasn’t the distraction, though that was bad enough. It was the fact that you allowed that boy to think he had even a fraction of your attention.”

You blinked, your breath catching at the intensity in his gaze. “Sir, I—”

“You’re mine,” he interrupted, his voice dropping to a growl as he stepped closer, his hands bracing on the desk behind you, effectively trapping you in place. “Do you understand that? Every smile, every glance, every bloody laugh—it’s mine. Not his.”

Your heart pounded as his words sank in, his hazel eyes blazing with a mix of possessiveness and desire. “Frank,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough as he leaned in, his hooked nose brushing against your temple. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

Frank let out a low growl of satisfaction, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Good. Because if I ever catch you entertaining another man like that again, love, I won’t stop at fifty push-ups. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing as heat coursed through you.

“Good,” Frank said again, his baritone voice softening as his lips trailed down to your neck. “Because you’ve got a lot to make up for, and I intend to make sure you learn your lesson.”

The fire in his eyes left no doubt—this was a punishment you wouldn’t forget.

But Frank straightened abruptly, his hazel eyes hardening as though some invisible wall had slammed down between the two of you. You blinked up at him, confused and breathless, your body still humming from the way his low baritone voice had growled those possessive words just moments before.

But now he was backing away, his hands adjusting his uniform as if nothing had happened. “This is highly inappropriate,” he said, his voice curt, devoid of the heat that had filled it just seconds ago. “I’ve already crossed a line by saying too much.”

You pushed yourself off the desk, your legs trembling slightly as you tried to steady yourself. “Frank,” you said, your voice wavering between frustration and desperation. “You can’t keep doing this.”

His gaze snapped to yours, sharp and unyielding. “Doing what?” he asked, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he gathered the papers he’d left scattered on the desk. “Maintaining my professionalism? Upholding the integrity of my position? Is that what you’re accusing me of?”

Your jaw clenched, and you crossed your arms, staring him down despite the ache in your chest. “No,” you said, your tone sharper now. “I’m accusing you of provoking me, of making me feel things I can’t act on, only to walk away like none of it matters.”

Frank’s hand froze mid-motion, his hazel eyes darkening as he stared at you. For a moment, you thought he might say something, might finally admit what you both knew to be true. But instead, he shook his head, his white hair catching the soft light of the office. “There’s still a week and five days,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Until Amy returns. Until this…” He gestured vaguely between you. “Is no longer an issue.”

Your heart sank, and you bit your lip to keep from shouting at him. “That’s all this is to you?” you demanded. “An issue?”

Frank exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “You don’t understand,” he said softly, his baritone voice tinged with regret. “If I lose control now, I won’t be able to stop. And you deserve better than being someone’s mistake.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening as his words hit you like a physical blow. “I’m not a mistake, Frank,” you said, your voice trembling. “And you’re not as composed as you think you are.”

He flinched, the truth in your words cutting through his defenses. But instead of responding, he simply nodded once, gathered the last of his papers, and turned toward the door.

“Goodnight, Miss [Your Last Name],” he said formally, his tone cold and distant as he walked out of the room without another glance.

You stood there, still leaning against the desk, your body burning with unspent desire and simmering frustration. “Damn him,” you muttered under your breath, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “Damn that man.”

You tried to calm the pounding of your heart, but it was no use. Every interaction with Frank felt like a carefully orchestrated game of push and pull, and you were growing tired of always being the one left behind, yearning for something he refused to give.

And yet, as infuriating as he was, you couldn’t stop wanting him. His sharp wit, his commanding presence, the way his hazel eyes softened just enough when he looked at you—it all made you crave him more, even when he left you seething in his wake.

“He can’t keep doing this,” you whispered to yourself, running a hand through your hair as you tried to steady your breathing. But even as you said the words, you knew they were hollow. Because no matter how much Frank provoked you, no matter how many times he pulled away, you couldn’t seem to let him go.

Not yet. Not until you had your moment. And you would have it—if only you could survive the next week and five days without losing your mind.

Frank sat at his desk, his hazel eyes scanning the last document of the day, though his attention was half-hearted at best. The tension that had been building between you over the past few months hung in the air, thick and oppressive, and he could feel it wrapping around him like a vice. Today was your last day as his secretary, and while he’d done his best to maintain his composure, the thought of you leaving left an ache in his chest he couldn’t quite ignore.

You stepped into his office, the soft click of your heels against the polished floor drawing his gaze. You held out the final paper of the day, your expression calm and professional, though your eyes sparkled with something he couldn’t quite place. “Here’s the last one,” you said, your voice steady. “Anything else you need before I go?”

Frank took the paper from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. He set it down on the desk, glancing up at you with a faint, almost reluctant smile. “No,” he said, his baritone voice low. “You’re excused.”

You nodded, your lips twitching as if you were holding back a smile of your own. “Goodnight, sir,” you said softly, turning toward the door.

Frank exhaled quietly, thinking that was it. The end of months of tension, of longing, of resisting the pull between you. He’d let you walk out of his office, out of his life, and he’d never have to face the maddening temptation you represented again.

But then he heard the soft click of the door locking.

His hazel eyes snapped up, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he saw you turn back toward him. Your expression had shifted, the professionalism gone, replaced by a sly, knowing smile that sent a jolt of heat through his body. You leaned against the edge of his desk, crossing your arms as you looked at him.

“Today’s my last day,” you said simply, your voice steady but laced with a teasing edge. “My shift is over. That means I’m no longer your secretary.”

Frank swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he realized exactly what you were saying. He nodded slowly, his baritone voice calm but tinged with something darker. “No,” he agreed. “You’re not.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him with a look that made his pulse race. “So, what are you planning to do now, Lieutenant General?” you asked, your voice soft but full of challenge.

Frank stood slowly, his white hair catching the dim light of the office as he straightened his jacket. He took a step toward you, his hazel eyes dark and locked onto yours. “I was planning,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “to call you tomorrow. To ask you to dinner. To take you somewhere nice, wine and dine you properly. Do everything by the book.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a small, wicked smile. “And now?”

Frank stopped in front of you, his gaze unwavering as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch was deliberate, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Now,” he murmured, his baritone voice dropping to a growl, “I think we can skip all that.”

Your breath caught as he leaned in, his hooked nose brushing against your cheek as his lips hovered just above yours. “You’ve driven me mad for months,” he whispered, his voice rough and filled with restrained desire. “Every smile, every glance, every bloody word out of your mouth—it’s been torture. And now that you’re not mine to protect anymore…”

He let the sentence trail off, his hands moving to grip your waist as he pulled you flush against him. His hazel eyes burned into yours, his control slipping with every passing second. “I don’t have to hold back anymore,” he growled, his lips finally crashing against yours in a kiss that was all-consuming, filled with months of pent-up frustration and longing.

You moaned softly against him, your fingers tangling in his white hair as you returned the kiss with equal fervor. Frank’s hands roamed over your body, his touch firm and commanding as he lifted you onto the desk. His hips pressed against yours, and you could feel the hard evidence of his arousal, thick and insistent, through his trousers.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered against your lips, his baritone voice trembling with need. “I’ve waited too long for this.”

He stepped back just long enough to undo his jacket, tossing it aside before pulling you closer again. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Tell me,” he growled, his hooked nose brushing against your collarbone. “Tell me you’ve wanted this as much as I have.”

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice breathless as his hands gripped your hips. “I’ve wanted you, Frank. Always.”

Frank’s hazel eyes darkened as he hovered over you, his hooked nose flaring slightly with every labored breath. His large hands moved with careful precision, one gripping your thigh to keep you steady on the edge of his desk, the other teasing slow circles over your clit. His touch was deliberate, his baritone voice low and thick with desire as he murmured, “Let’s take our time, love. I need you nice and ready for me.”

His eyes darkened at your words, and he let out a low, guttural groan as he began to unbuckle his belt. “Good,” he murmured, his voice rough and commanding. “Because I’m not stopping until I’ve had every inch of you.”

The desk creaked beneath you as Frank claimed you, his touch, his kiss, and the sheer intensity of his presence leaving no doubt in your mind that he’d been waiting for this moment as desperately as you had. And as he pulled you closer, his baritone voice growling your name like a prayer, you knew that this was only the beginning.

Your breath hitched as his fingers pressed against you with just the right amount of pressure, coaxing soft whimpers from your lips. You clung to the straps of his shoulder holster, your fingers curling tightly around the leather as your body trembled beneath him. His white shirt was still tucked into the waistband of his trousers, which were bunched awkwardly around his ankles, held in place by his polished black shoes. The sight of him—partially dressed, utterly commanding, yet entirely undone—was enough to make you clench around nothing.

“Frank,” you gasped, your voice shaky as his fingers worked you expertly. “Please… I need you.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich, his hazel eyes glinting with both amusement and something darker. “You’ll have me,” he promised, his voice a growl as he slid a finger inside you, testing your readiness. “But not until you’re dripping for me. I’ll be damned if I hurt you, love. You’re going to take every inch of me, but you’ll enjoy it.”

You moaned as his finger moved inside you, slow and deliberate, stroking your inner walls with practiced precision. His thumb continued its relentless assault on your clit, the sensation sending shivers through your body as he leaned closer, his hooked nose brushing against your cheek. “That’s it,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Let me feel you getting wetter for me. I want you soaking by the time I bury myself in you.”

Your nails dug into the leather straps of his holster as your hips bucked against his hand, desperate for more. “I’m ready,” you pleaded, your voice trembling. “Frank, please. I need you inside me.”

He groaned softly, his free hand sliding up your thigh to grip your hip, steadying you. “Patience,” he growled, his baritone voice laced with a mix of command and affection. “You’ll take me when I’m sure you can handle it.”

Frank pulled back slightly, his hazel eyes locking onto yours as he withdrew his finger and brought it to his mouth. He licked it slowly, savoring the taste of you as a low, satisfied hum rumbled in his chest. “Sweet as sin,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “But I need more.”

Without warning, he dropped to his knees, his trousers straining around his ankles as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider. You gasped as his tongue flicked over your clit, the sensation sharp and electric. His hooked nose brushed against your mound as he buried his face between your legs, his tongue working you with the same calculated precision as his fingers.

“Frank!” you cried out, your hands flying to his hair, tangling in the white strands as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. Your legs trembled, your body arching off the desk as his tongue plunged inside you, stroking you in ways that left you breathless. “Oh, God… I’m going to—”

“Not yet,” he growled against your skin, his voice muffled but no less commanding. He pulled back, his hazel eyes blazing as he straightened, towering over you once more. “I want you to come while I’m inside you, love. While you’re wrapped around my cock, taking all of me.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he positioned himself at your entrance, his thick cock already leaking with need. He stroked himself once, twice, his baritone voice dropping to a husky whisper as he murmured, “Relax, love. Let me in.”

Slowly, carefully, he pushed inside, his cock stretching you inch by inch. The sheer size of him made you gasp, your body tensing instinctively. Frank stilled, his hands gripping your hips as he whispered soothingly, “Easy, love. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

You did as he said, your body relaxing as he slid deeper, his cock filling you in a way that was almost overwhelming. He groaned low in his throat, his hazel eyes dark with lust as he watched your face, gauging your every reaction. “So tight,” he muttered, his voice trembling slightly. “Christ, you feel incredible.”

When he was fully seated inside you, he paused, his hooked nose flaring as he struggled to keep himself in check. “Tell me,” he said, his voice rough and low. “Tell me you can take me. Tell me you’re ready for me to move.”

You nodded, your voice a breathless whisper as you clung to his shoulder holster. “I’m ready, Frank. Please… I need you.”

With a growl of satisfaction, he began to move, his hips rolling in slow, deliberate thrusts that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Each movement was measured, controlled, as though he was determined to make you feel every inch of him.

“You’re perfect,” he rasped, his voice breaking as his thrusts grew deeper, harder. “So tight, so wet… taking me so damn well. God, I’ve never—” He cut himself off with a groan, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he lost himself in you.

Your moans filled the room, mingling with the sound of his labored breathing and the soft slap of skin against skin. Your nails dug into his shoulder holster as you clung to him, your body arching with every thrust. “Frank,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “I’m close… I’m so close.”

“Then come for me,” he growled, his hazel eyes locking onto yours as he drove into you with renewed intensity. “Come while I’m inside you, love. Let me feel you.”

And when you finally did, your body trembling and your walls clenching around him, Frank let out a shuddering groan, his own release following moments later. His hips stilled, his cock buried deep inside you as he pressed his forehead against yours, his breath hot and ragged.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of what had just happened settling over you. But as Frank pulled back slightly, his hazel eyes meeting yours, a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face.

“Worth the wait,” he murmured, his baritone voice soft but filled with warmth. “Every bloody second.”

#alan rickman x reader #alan rickman #frank benson x reader #frank benson

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

Unorthodox 5

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you bring order to the disordered life of Captain Syverson.

Characters: Captain Syverson, this reader is known as Izzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“I think that’s everything,” you smile at Conrad across the table.

Sy continues to loom and pace around the edge of the room. He’s been doing that. Hovering like a vulture. Even when you try to get him to participate, he only has grumbles and glares. You’re used to his grumpiness but lately, he’s been nearly intolerable.

“Mm, yes, I think it is,” Conrad smirks, “shall we have a celebratory drink? Seems the old boar could use it?”

“I’m younger than you,” Sy stomps over, his ears sharp. “So how’s that?”

“Yes, well, one might not guess it by looking. Do relax, I am merely making fun,” Conrad crosses his arms. “Is there a reason you are so antsy to be away? I was rather happy to receive an old friend such as yourself.”

“Nice seein’ ya and all but we gotta get back,” Sy crosses his arms. “Izzie’s got friends waitin’, don’t ya?”

He nudges you with his elbow and you send him a skeptical look. Since when did he care so much?

“Ah yes, so you mentioned some wonderful ladies back home. Do have a drink in my honour. Such a considerate boss, eh, Syverson?” He smirks.

You stand and press your fingertips to the table, “thanks. Uh, I guess he’s right. The sooner we’re on the road, the sooner we’re back. It was nice meeting you. And doing business.”

“Always a pleasure, Syverson, and I do enjoy a beautiful lady darkening my door now and again.”

Sy growls and you try not to notice. You’re not sure if it’s territorial or what but you don’t need him acting like a guard dog. You prefer his slightly oblivious gruffness to his intense derision.

“Thank you. You’re a great host.”

You shake Conrad’s hand and he tugs it up. Once again, he kisses your knuckles and sends you a wink. Sy grabs your other arm and yanks you away.

“Get on with it, Izzie,” he snarls as he drags you away.

You stagger with his furious pace, not mentioning that he hardly bothered to give a proper goodbye. The way he’s gripping you so tight, you can’t think of much else but the creak in your bones. You dig in your heels as you get through the compound door.

“Yow! Sy!” You yank your hand away at last. He takes a few steps before he stops and faces you. “What is your problem? You can’t grab me like that.” You raise your arm and rub the tender skin, “you hurt me.”

“Ah, I’m-- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, Iz. Ya know I wouldn’t ever--”

“But you did. What’s gotten into you, anyway? Why are you being so rude?”

“I’m not,” he harrumphs and drops his shoulders. “I just wanna be home. Bein’ out here in all this sand, takes me back. That’s it.”

“Is that it?” You challenge and stand straight. Even with perfect posture, you hardly measure up to the large man.

Sy frowns, “I’m sorry, Izzie, truly. Why don’t ya give me a smack then? I deserve it.”

You almost laugh, instead snorting, “I wouldn’t-- I’m not that sort, you know that.”

“I do. It’s why I like ya, Iz. You temper me out. I’m a big oaf without you,” he looks away bashfully. “How about you go grab your bag and I’ll go say sorry. You’re right. No way to treat a friend. And partner.”

You consider him and slowly nod. “Alright, I’ll meet you at the gate then.”

“Sure thing, sugar.”

You tilt your head at the pet name but have no time to comment. You move aside as he moves towards you and let him pass. You stare after him for a second then turn back to your path. You know how he feels. You just want to be home in your bed. Oh, and it would be nice to have cell reception.

You find your room after a few stray wanderings and grab your bag. You head back out, still lost in the maze of the compound. You find the sunlight and walk out into the blaze of the noontime apex. You go to the gate and peer around at the mercenaries in their padded vests and harnesses.

As you wait, you grow uneasy. You’re still not entirely used to this job. Not always. It’s easier to manage Sy’s grocery list or his forgotten appointments, but out here, in the shit as he calls it, you feel lost.

He appears with a wave of his large hand. The fingerless glove nearly blends into his skintone from the wear and tear. You face him fully as he approaches and he points behind you.

“Ready to go for a ride?”

You follow his finger to the buggy just on the other end of the yard. You squint and turn back to him.

“Conrad can be nice when he wants to,” he grins, “you wanna drive?”

You stare at him, deeply considering the prospect. You don’t know if you trust him to make the drive and yet, you don’t if you should trust yourself either. He dangles the key from a thick finger and you roll your eyes.

“I wanna get outta here in one piece,” you snatch it.

He chuckles and lets you have it. He reaches for you and you wince. He grabs the strap of your bag and hauls it onto his shoulder next to his.

“I’ll get these secured, Iz,” he offers.

You hesitate. He’s being awfully helpful. Not that he can’t be but the last few days have been strange. You guess both of you might be getting a bit homesick.

#au #series #drabble #captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #sand castle #unorthodox #bad bosses

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yandereunsolved · 10 months ago

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Roses are Red; Violets are Blue - ,, yandere pre-death Tate

cw(s): yandere themes, suggestive themes, mention of cocaine, Tates actions (the lighting of a human on fire & a school shooting) a/n: Tate is aged up here and is in college instead of high school. He dies at age twenty-one instead of seventeen, because it feels weird to write an older teen as a romantic yandere. Mentions of Violet— she's eighteen and a senior in high school.

✧ You both grew up together, sort of. You were always someone Tate could never talk to. He was a bit too scared to speak with you. You just seemed so perfect, and he was not. You moved into his neighborhood when you both were much younger. His hellish 'mother' didn't like your family for a reason; he never quite paid attention. It was something about you all not being holy enough. About how you were going to corrupt her perfect golden son. There was nothing you taught Tate about himself that he wasn't bound to figure out. He learned about boners after peeping through your window one night while you were changing after a shower. He learned the true meaning of the words 'I love you' after he overheard you speaking of how excited you were for the new Nirvana album. You even taught him how to follow people and not get caught by that person or the authorities. All this, and he still hadn't had a proper conversation with you yet.

✧ You legally started your friendship relationship sometime early in your freshman year, on October 30th, 1991. It was just something else that made him fall head over heels once again for you. He was having an already shitty day when some athletic losers began bullying him. He was getting pushed around for the umpteenth time this week when he tried to fight back. He got knocked on his ass and a nose that was both broken and remarkably bloody. You rushed over and offered to help him. He brushed you off and was a bit snappy; he still regrets that to this day. He just didn't want you to see how desperate he was for your attention. He craved your touch. If it weren't for all the blood on his face, you would have easily noticed how flushed his face was from just being in your vicinity.

✧ You offered to take him to the nurses office, and he 'begrudgingly' agreed. He was bouncing on his heels in his mind, and he swears that his nose bleed got worse. You even offered to help him walk there if he was dizzy, and naturally, he leaned on you. He even took a whiff of your scent near your neck. He had to resist nuzzling into you because you just felt so warm, like home. Like a home he never had. He asked you to stay even after the nurse said you could go back to class. He'd made up some lame excuse about you being a witness and him having to report it. Such a fucking lie. None of the administrators would give a shit. Everyone in this godforsaken college is an adult. So 'bullying' doesn't exist, apparently. At least the college is near both of your houses.

✧ That's the best part. This is your first real interaction, and you are already inviting him over. You feel bad that his nose got sprained and that the nurse had to reset it. So you—

'Oh my god, you called me cute!? You said you saw me around the neighborhood all these years and were too shy to talk to me. You've always been so shy. You've always been someone who needed someone to take care of you. You'd take care of me so well. We could happily take care of each other. Wait, sorry. I'm rambling too much. Iris, get back with the headcanons before I go on about them for another three hours.'

Made sure that he didn't get left alone. You heard from around the neighborhood that his mother is kind of nuts. So you thought he would be the same, but he's actually kind of awkward and distant, and sweet. You two spent the entire night together and ended up having a sleepover. Tate likes it a lot more when the sleepovers are consensual and not him climbing through your window, crawling into your bed, cuddling into you, then leaving you right before you wake.

✧ Something you have to know about Tate is that he is undeniably a pervert. Constance ruined any chance he ever had to take a girl out on a date. Then, when his casual interest turned into an obsession, he was able to sneak out without alerting her. So just being around you makes his mind run wild and his hands perspire. He steals your undergarments the most—it doesn't matter what they are. It could be anything from a lacy bra to a pair of men's boxers. He always steals your oldest items because your scent is ingrained into their very fabrics. He hides the items he 'borrows' from you in a box behind a brick in the basement. He goes down there every night and inhales your heavenly scent. His eyes roll back in his head, and suddenly he has a problem that he has to take care of.

✧ That's not where his perverted nature ends, either. He suddenly became very interested in photography. He buys a secret camera to use whenever he 'sees' you. Whenever he watches you when you aren't aware. He takes photos of you doing the most mundane things: exercising, cooking, working on homework, walking, breathing, and blinking. He also takes photos of you while sleeping, getting out of the shower, stretching, and wearing those skimpy little clothes of yours. It makes his mouth water fervently. The photos quickly pile up. He keeps the physical photos in the same box behind the same removed brick.

✧ He buys you more pretty clothes. Most of them are revealing, but you seem to like that. At least that's what he's seen in you in your private life. Of course, you don't know they are from him. He's too insecure for that. So he wraps them up all nice and pretty and leaves them on your bed. He always writes down 'your secret admirer' on the packaging. He opens your window when you and your family are gone and leaves them then. If he is feeling more confident, then he'll open your window and put the package on the floor. You start locking your window after that. So he's constantly breaking the lock on your window. When the family gets the police involved, he gets extremely upset. He begins to ignore you, so you know exactly how he feels when you ignore his gifts and say it's from some 'creepy stalker'.

✧ You are understandably confused when one of your closest friends begins ignoring you. You think he might be scared of the fact that you have a stalker. It makes you desperate. You don't want to be left alone. You need your friend. That makes Tate all giddy inside. He gets to stay near you whenever he wants. As much as he pleases? You seem so scared of some hypothetical boogeyman. It's just sweet ole' him! Not that you know that. He understands, though. He'd be pretty upset if some random man started doing the things he's doing for you. No other man could be as devoted to you as he is.

✧ Slowly, the number of your friends and close family dwindles. Each of your friends either cuts contact with you or disappears altogether. Now, now, Tate has put so much effort into this for you. It wasn't easy. It wasn't something he could pull off on his own. He had to scrounge around for as much money as he could to hire a hitman on several occasions. He stole the money from his mother's various rich and fleeting boyfriends. She would use them up soon enough anyway. So there's no reason for him to care about their financial well-being. Besides, he is doing it for a noble cause—a war is yet to come.

✧ He takes a different approach when it comes to isolating you from your family members. He will get along well with your family. Insert himself as a shy, college kid that lives down the street and is best friends with their child—their only friend, really. His mother picks up on this and is immediately displeased. Of course she has only scratched the surface of the iceberg that is Tates twisted delight.

"As long as you don't fuck that godless slut, I suppose you can be around them."

He wanted to snap his mother's neck right then and there. Lucky for her, he had other plans. He inserts himself into every facet of your family's life. He slowly learns the skeletons in your family members closets. Did you know your cousin once had a lewd dream about your partner? Did you know your grandfather cheated on his spouse not once but twice? Did you know your Aunt once tried to poison you? Did you know? Did you know? Did you know?

Some of those may have been slightly exaggerated or entirely made up, but you completely trust him, so what is there to worry about?

Soon enough the only one you trust is Tate.

✧ You connect the dots somewhat, but at this point, you don't quite care. You just want this stalker to stop. You just want Tate. When Tate learns his feelings are somewhat reciprocated, the stalkings become less frequent. After all, if he is always allowed to be around you, then he doesn't have to stalk you anymore.

✧ He starts giving you love notes after the two of you begin dating. The stalker fades into the background, and suddenly only Tate is there. He is perfect for you. He is your dream boyfriend. He writes these cheesy and poetic letters about his adoration for you. Some of them are creepy—really creepy. You can look over that, though. It's just Tate being Tate. He was never confident enough to share them with you while he was just your 'creepy stalker'. Now he gives them to you freely. Sometimes they are just little doodles. Other times, they are cheesy words. Occasionally, they do have a tendency to get a bit violent.

'Me & U 4ever.' '1+1=Let Me Fuck You Up' 'Love you more than Kurt Cobain' 'Let's go to a music festival and have fun~ ;)' 'Wanna sneak out later when your parents aren't home?' 'Is that bitch bothering you again?' 'Commit arson?' 'The thoughts are back.' 'Need you' 'I just want to keep you in my pocket and then lock you in a cage that only I have the key to for all eternity.'

✧ Everything was perfect until it wasn't. For some reason, you started distancing yourself from him. You had found a new friend group. You had found someone more healthy than Tate. Tate's hold on you was beginning to crumble. It was like he was trying to hold your disintegrating heart in his hands. You weren't spending every single moment with him. Whether this was actually happening or if this was just his paranoia is unknown. It got to him, though. It got to him worse than anything else could.

✧ He lost it one day. He snapped. It was a comment that his mother's new boyfriend made. Well, multiple comments. He found a secret collection of your things. He had done a bit of digging and began to learn just how unhinged his girlfriend's son was. Instead of immediately reporting him to the police, he confronted Tate instead. He threatened him with calling the police. He said that he was going to tell everyone about how much of a freak Tate was. He was going to tell Tates, dear mommy, that her golden child was actually a depraved, perverted loser who got off on stalking his partner.

✧ He needed to be gone. That was the one thing that ran through his mind. They had gotten into a screaming match that night. Luckily, no one was home except them and the ghosts. The energy was charged and electrified. The Murder House had set its sights on its next victim, and it was more than eager to swallow him whole. The devil in his mind didn't whisper any longer; he shouted. He spoke in a loud and commanding tone and told Tate exactly what to do and when to do it. How to win your affection back.

✧ He snorted a line of cocaine and grabbed his rifle and some gasoline. He lit that fucker up at his work. He was no longer his mother's boyfriend. He was just a charred corpse. He had one problem taken care of. Now, just one more stop—your college, our college. He needed to get rid of those little friends of yours. So, he did. Every single one of them he shot dead in front of you. He looked you straight in the eyes and pointed the barrel at your head. There was no restraint or morality in his hazel eyes. There was only darkness—a certain unhinged spark you had only seen in fleeting moments. Now it was a mighty flame, and it was coming to burn everything you knew to the ground.

✧ He made you beg for your life. He made you like it. He took you right there at that table and acted like it meant nothing. He kissed you deeply and dug his fingers into your living flesh. He knew it would be the last time he would have you in such a way—as long as he was living anyway. You were covered in bite marks and his residue by the time the cops came.

You heard the next day that they shot him multiple times. You had mixed feelings. They had asked you if he had your consent. You said yes. They didn't believe you. You didn't like that. You didn't like that you liked it so much. You hated yourself for it. You couldn't help but admire the marks he left on you. They were like pieces of art. They'll fade, but the feeling of his fingertips ghosting your body in the most intimate manner won't.

✧ He gets extremely lonely; boredom overtakes him. He still has that box filled with your things, so he's always going through it. It's almost sadistically hilarious. He started with only his fantasies, and now they are the only thing he has again. At least he now knows what your skin feels like and how you taste. You have those things to keep him company. Not to mention, some of your clothes still smell like you. They're his comfort items. If any entity in the house tries to touch them, he will have an immediate meltdown. So, they've all learned to leave him alone when he's having his private time—his fantasies of you, him frenzily groping the cloth like it were your own soft, tender, plush flesh.

✧ He was surprised when you came to visit the house once again. Tate revealed himself immediately and hung on to you needily. He peppered kisses all over your face and neck. He was so unbelievably relieved by the fact that you forgave him. You promised to visit again and again over the years. It made his soul soar; he almost feared that he had passed onto heaven and that you were only an illusion in his mind. You both did what you always did. You seemed cautious at first, but some part of you just stuck with Tate.

✧ Many seasons passed, and you visited him less and less. You moved on to better and greater things in your life than him. He isn't exactly sure what happened to you. You just stopped visiting him one day. The entire house became a lot more frigid and foreboding after that. There would be no heavy make-out sessions that left the both of you breathless. There would be no more late nights spent talking about everything and anything going on in the world. There would be no seeing your age, your beautiful face, and your figure known only to his mind. There would be none of that. Only him. All alone...

✧ Now, after all these years, he admires a girl who reminds him of his first love. Those tendrils of obsessive ectasy sneak into his heart once again as he hears her name, Violet. It was like the world had regained its color—well, a singular color. One fact about you rang in his mind over and over like a never-ending church bell as he watched the new family move in.

"Oh, my favorite color? It's Violet, silly."

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⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @t4telangd0ns1ut @etheral-moon @evanpetersmybf @evanpeters-posts @fear-is-truth

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

#american horror story #tate langdon #tate lagdon x reader #yandere tate langdon x reader #yandere tate langdon #ahs fanfiction #ahs murder house #yandere #yandere american horror story #violet harmon #violet core #yandere headcanons #ahs yandere headcanons #my headcanons #ahs headcanons #headcanons #hcs

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